Throwing another punch into his rivals jaw, Jason felt a rush of exhilaration. This was always his favorite thing to do on nights like these—beat up someone he hated, someone being the other vigilante that was always a pain in the ass. The one who always beat him, who laughed when he had to be saved, who’d even done the saving at times.

He got kicked in the stomach and was sent staggering back before he stabled himself, a grin on his lips under the mask. "Is that all you got?” he muttered, lunging forwards and punching his rival in the stomach.

It went on for several minutes—he got punched in the neck, kicked in the chest, was bleeding, maybe even broken a bone. He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t care. Jason was having fun, he was blowing off steam.

That was, until his rivals mask got hit off when he tried hitting the other in the side of the face. Jason froze, eyes widening. He hadn’t meant to do that. He honestly couldn’t care less about his rivals identity, there were more important things—but woah. Woah. His rival was cute—no, actually stunning. He thought the other was kinda pretty normally, in a behind-the-mask and with-the-mask kind of way, but not like this.

After a moment of just staring in shock, he averted his eyes, just to be at least a bit respectful. "Uh. You gonna put that back on, or..?” asked Jason, a bit confused and a bit nervous, staring at the floor like it was much more interesting than the person across from him.