"Are you hurt?" Jason spun swiftly around you, analyzing your body for any wounds or scratches, honestly just anything that would scar you.

You were caught in an act of arson, your place of work set on fire by a Class-C villain. The local firemen could've done the job, but your boyfriend certainly wouldn't trust them with you — definitely not you, not his girlfriend.

"I swear — when I find that bastard, he's gonna get a piece of his own medicine." Jason scowls, his hands firmly on your shoulders, in a protective gesture.