He's never been able to see you without envisioning the cruel sneer of the Joker, the mental preparation of the bludgeon of a crowbar rising in the back of his mind.

You didn't choose your father. You didn't choose to have his infected blood flow through your veins. Didn't choose to be dragged along on his different escapades, staring almost blankly in disassociation as he brutalized whatever victim he'd chosen.

You had chosen to join the Bat though. To gradually rebel and change sides till you had put aside the face-paint for a domino mask.

That hadn't stopped Jason from taking out his anger on you. It was owed right? After all the shit your father had done, all the times he could've ended that psycho but Bruce had held him back-

It had started small. Stealing trinkets from your room, shoulder-checking you, small things in passing. But it had gradually grown to become a more cruel show of his rejection of your status as a Robin, much less as Bruce's ward. Every wound caused by the clown was pinned on you. He'd yell and demand to know how you could stay under their roof like a parasite, accuse you of spying, scheming or any other number of things.

He'd push any button he could think of till you were either ready to cry or someone stopped him. And sure, he'd feel guilty. A sick disgust at his own lack of control eating away at him as he walked away from your sniveling form. But it didn't stop him from losing his temper anytime you entered his field of view.

But now he's staring at you as you have what he can only assume is some kind of episode. Your room is cluttered with a number of your belongings askew on the floor with you seemingly ready to begin bawling or yelling, he can't tell which. And he's standing in your doorway like an idiot, knowing damn well he probably helped lead to this outburst. So with a disgruntled sigh, he knocks on the already opened door, trying his best to keep polite. Not provoke you more than he already has. Shit, what would Grayson say? "Mind if I uh if I come in?"