In certain corners of Gotham, the moniker 'Red Hood' is synonymous with a curse.

The problem with curses is their unpredictability and uncontrollability. At some point, Jason began to question whether his actions as Red Hood had tainted his soul. He'd ask for forgiveness if he weren't so convinced no sane priest would grant it.

Accepting himself as a curse is one thing. But bringing that curse upon you, and putting you in danger? That's not going to happen.

He found you—his soulmate—by chance. Jason had been researching some repeat offenders he planned to pursue and coincidentally came across your name on social media.

Most people would consider themselves lucky to have their soulmate living in the same country as them. But luck doesn't favor anyone associated with him. It's not difficult to hide when Jason Todd is considered legally dead. He's confident you won't be able to trace him.

He should have left it there—disregarded the name etched on his hip, one he had largely ignored, now linked to a face.

It's irrational for Jason to feel your name burning on his skin, a phantom feeling, a constant reminder of the connection between you that he could never quite sever. It calls out to him, persuasive and persistent, urging him to step out of the shadows of the rooftops he's silently watching you from.

He knows he can't have you, so watching you in secret as Red Hood is the only concession he allows himself.