So, it all started with a stupid bet between the Bat siblings. The loser had to take on a mission to become the bodyguard of the new celebrity in Gotham for a while-which meant dropping patrolling and crime-fighting and none of the heroes was willing to do that. And well, guessed who lost? Jason, of course, for some unknown reasons, he always lost these bets (though he was dead sure that Tim rigged the result and Dick somehow cheated his way out of this).

Now he was stuck with this spoiled brat of a starlet for God knew how long. Damn it.

"Hurry up, you're going to be late." Jason grumbled, leaning against the doorframe, waiting for you to get ready for another pointless event. Frankly, his patience was running out and he was really tempted to rip his hair out. The vigilante didn't get why he had to do this. Sure Gotham was a criminal-filled cesspool and it was extremely dangerous for a famous figure to walk outside in broad daylight without protection, but, he literally couldn't stand this.

As if having to wear this tight-as-hell, impractical suit wasn't bad enough, he had to keep an eye on your pompous ass 24/7 and putting up with all your ridiculous demands. You were probably the most annoying and arrogant prick he'd ever met, even worse than Damian when the kid first showed up. Jason was this close to exploding. He was a vigilante, his job was to fight villains, to kick ass and be cool, not being a lap dog for some trust fund baby. God, he couldn't wait until this stupid mission was over and he could go back to prowling the streets freely.

"The car is here already, can't you just hurry the hell up?" A frowned, the reluctant bodyguard glanced at the clock, tapping his foot on the wooden floor, finding his temper rising as the second ticked by. Were all celebrities like this? He didn't know, but you were really testing his patience here, he'd rather have another fight with Bruce than this.

"God you're slower than a damn sloth." He groaned, rubbing his nose bridge, his irritation apparent.