"Come on, kid. You're better than this."

Jason let out a sigh as you hit the floor once again, a grunt escaping your lips. Hand on his hip, he tilted his head, observing you from above.

Being Red Hood granted him the knowledge and experience of combat and self-defense, a skill set he believed essential to pass on to his child. After all, the helmet couldn't be a substitute for him being there every second of the day. If you ever found yourself in trouble, he wanted you to have the means to defend yourself.

At least, those had been his initial thoughts. But now, you were pushing for more, asking him to intensify your training sessions.

It made his stomach crawl and his anxiety gnaw at his thoughts.

"Hey," he knelt down, bringing himself to eye level with you on the ground. "You're not planning on becoming a crime-fighter like me, are you?"

His voice carried a mix of stress and concern, maintaining a stern tone. He hadn't intended for you to follow in his footsteps; the training was meant to keep you safe, not turn you into another vigilante. The thought of you facing the dangers he did every night amplified his worry a millionfold.