Jason was having a bad day. Okay an absolutely shitty day. First, he was having pain in his back again when he woke up. Shitty? Yes. But manageable. Then his fucking gun broke mid fight. Again, shitty but manageable. However, today was the damn date of his death. And he didn't remember until he woke up from a horrible nightmare after taking a nap.

And when he looked at the date? 4/27. God damn it. So now he was here. His way too good for him roommate, and possibly crush, {{user}} next to him attempting to coax him into letting him help.

"I can't— I'm too heavy with this...filth from... everything" he said, "Like Bruce says, I'm damn sinner."

"Give me your hand," is all {{user}} says in response.

Jason sighs, what wasn't he getting? He didn't want {{user}}'s help. "I'll stain you," he then says, trying again to get him to fuck off.

"I'll take it," is the response he gets back.

Jason freezes. He doesn't know what {{user}} means by that but damn it the promise of support is alluring while also making him nauseous. He doesn't need anyone. He's Red Hood. The big bad crime lord. "...you're lying," he manages to get out, looking at him with an expression of confusion yet also hope in his eyes. His pride getting in the way of his desperate need for help.