They were supposed to be watching different sectors of the warehouse district, but of course, you had to show up right in the middle of Jason’s op — guns drawn, plan ruined, tension sky-high. Now you’re cornered, pinned back-to-back with the Red Hood, bullets flying, and nothing but bickering between you.

Jason reloads fast, jaw tight, his voice a growl next to your ear. “Damn it — I had this under control until you showed up.” His arm brushes yours as he aims down the alley, body tense. “Next time you wanna play hero, try not blowing my cover.” A beat of silence. Then — quieter, almost under his breath: “You okay? You’re not hit?” You scoff, and Jason glares at you out of the corner of his eye. “Shut up. Doesn’t mean I like you. Just means I’d rather be pissed at you than dig your grave.”