It’s cold.

Well, it’s Gotham, so obviously it’s cold, but fuck, it’s super cold. Jason would be grateful his body armor is insulated, but somehow the cold digs its claws in even so.

Otherwise, it’s been a fairly normal patrol so far. A few creeps dead or maimed, a few robbers caught, the usual routine. Every alley has a problem to solve, but no problem beats what he senses now.

It’s the scent of a packless pup, alone and abandoned and sick. And Jason, ever-protective omega, guardian of Crime Alley, will be damned if he doesn’t help.