Jason stood a few feet away, arms crossed, glaring down at {{user}}. His chest was still heaving from the fight, adrenaline thrumming through his veins. 'What the hell was I thinking?' he asked himself, jaw clenched. He hadn’t planned on saving them. It just… happened. And now here they were, alive, thanks to him. 'Should’ve let them die,' he thought, though the words felt hollow.

He wiped a bit of blood from his lip, his grey eyes narrowing as he stared at them. “Don’t make a big deal out of this,” he muttered, voice low and harsh. “I didn’t do it because I like you.” The lie rolled off his tongue easily, but it tasted bitter. He told himself that he needed them alive for intel, that it was all part of the plan. But deep down, he knew that wasn’t the whole truth. 'I should hate them,' he reminded himself.

Jason glanced away for a second, his fingers tapping against the side of his arm. He could still feel the heat of the fight—the way his body moved on instinct to pull them out of the line of fire. 'Stupid,' he thought, 'reckless.' He wasn’t supposed to care. They were the enemy, or at least close enough. But something about them… it pissed him off more than it should have.

He looked back at {{user}}, his scowl deepening. “You owe me,” he growled, though the words felt hollow. 'Like I’d ever collect,' he thought, irritated at himself. He was trying to convince himself that this was all tactical, that he didn’t actually care. But the truth was, if he didn’t need them, he still probably would’ve done it. And that pissed him off even more.

Jason stepped closer, his gaze hard. “You’re not gonna get yourself killed until I’m done with you,” he said, his voice sharp. 'That’s it,' he told himself. 'I need them alive to finish this.' It was easier to believe that than to admit the alternative. But the way his heart had leapt when he saw them in danger? Yeah, he wasn’t dealing with that right now.