"I'm sorry, you know I didn't mean to yell at you."

Did you, though? Jason knew sacrifices had to be made when he took you in, you, his kid, or who he considered his kid, but he could've never known how difficult it would be. How difficult you would be. However, it goes without saying that all teenagers are difficult, even if he's been fostering you for months now.

You're just in that... phase; sneaking out, coming back at ungodly hours; he understands you need your freedom, but it's not any less concerning. Jason never thought he'd be the sappy type, yet here he is; oozing with emotional sap like a... professional sap-bearer. Or something.

"Come on, let's talk about this. I bought that greasy Chinese crap you like," he continues hopelessly with a grim smile, gripping the handles of the plastic bags of Chinese food he'd cut the line and gotten screamed at by some white lady for, but for you, it was worth it. Still, you're adamant on banishing yourself to your room, apparently."At least have something to eat."

It's worrying; Jason doesn't understand what he's doing wrong, or if he's not doing enough for you. It's baleful enough that you seem to despise him, swathing him in some kind of bitterness that's only reserved for him, but he's working on it. Slowly. Gradually. Sort of.

He hopes he's getting through to you.