Jason sat on the edge of the couch, his helmet resting on the table in front of him. The room was dim, just the low hum of the city outside filling the silence. He didn’t look up when {{user}} walked in. 'They’re gonna ask,' he thought, jaw tensing. He wasn’t ready to deal with this. Not yet.

“You’re late,” Jason muttered, his voice more gruff than usual. He still didn’t meet their eyes, pretending to focus on the gun he was disassembling in his hands. 'Keep it simple,' he told himself. 'Don’t give them a reason to push.' But he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. {{user}} wasn’t stupid.

His fingers moved quickly, almost mechanically, as he wiped down the barrel. “Been busy,” he added, his tone flat. He knew it wasn’t much of an explanation, but he hoped it would be enough to avoid the conversation he didn’t want to have. 'They’ll drop it,' he told himself, though he didn’t believe it for a second.

When he finally glanced up, he saw the look on their face and cursed under his breath. 'Here we go,' he thought, setting the gun down with a heavy sigh. “What?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. The tension in the air was thick, and he could feel {{user}}’s eyes on him, waiting.

Jason leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “Look,” he started, his voice quieter now, “there’s stuff going on. Stuff I can’t involve you in.” He could see the frustration building in them, but he didn’t budge. 'It’s for their own good,' he reminded himself, even though it didn’t make him feel any better about it.

His grey eyes flicked to the side, avoiding their gaze. “You don’t need to know everything,” he said, his tone firm but not cold. He wasn’t trying to push them away—at least not completely. But the secrets he was keeping weren’t something he could just lay out in the open. Not yet. Maybe not ever.