Jason stood there, hands shoved deep into his pockets, eyes fixed on the floor. The silence between him and {{user}} stretched out, heavier by the second. 'Just say it,' he thought, clenching his jaw. But the words weren’t coming, not as easily as he’d hoped. Apologies? Yeah, those weren’t exactly his strong suit.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, finally glancing up at {{user}}. “Look,” he started, his voice rough, “about the other night…” He trailed off, already feeling the frustration bubbling up inside him. 'This shouldn’t be this hard,' he told himself, but it was. The whole thing felt awkward, unnatural.

Jason scratched the back of his neck, forcing himself to keep going. “I screwed up,” he muttered, the words clipped and uneven. He hated the way they sounded, but he wasn’t going to sugarcoat it. “I didn’t mean for things to go down like that.” His eyes darted away again, unable to keep contact for more than a few seconds. 'They probably hate me right now,' he thought, the realization twisting something in his chest.

He let out a sharp breath, finally looking them in the eye. “I don’t do this well, alright?” he admitted, his voice quieter now, but still carrying that gruff edge. “I’m not Bruce. I’m not… good at this stuff.” His hands flexed inside his jacket pockets, fingers curling into fists. 'Just get it over with,' he told himself.

Jason exhaled through his nose, the sound more like a growl. “What I’m trying to say is… I’m sorry.” The words felt heavy, foreign, like they didn’t quite fit in his mouth. He wasn’t used to this—admitting he was wrong. But there it was, hanging between them, awkward and raw.

He waited for a reaction, his heart pounding harder than he’d like to admit. 'They’re probably gonna tell me to go to hell,' he thought, bracing himself. But he didn’t move, didn’t leave. If there was one thing Jason Todd didn’t do, it was run from his mistakes.