Jason feels a startling sense of déjà vu right now.

He'd only been gone for what could be deemed as less than an hour, with his motorbike hidden in a secluded area while he dealt with the task at hand. It had always been safe, never touched or disturbed, so he hadn't expected to find some little street rat trying to pry the tires from his bike. He was almost so dumbfounded, he didn't know what to do. Flashes of himself eyeing the wheels of the Batmobile came to his mind like they were the freshest memories he'd ever conjured. Like he was you, right now, so desperate that times called for these kinds of measures.

"I don't think those belong to you," Jason spoke, his voice modulated but unable to hide the slight crackle of firmness to each word. It had caused your spine stiffen, abandoning your quick work of his motorbike with a surge of adrenaline. He cocked his head, admiring your work. A couple more minutes and you might've actually completed the task. "You got a death wish, kid? Or do you just not know who that bike belongs to?"

Probably the former. But he knew what it was like to be desperate. To risk stealing from a vigilante that could very well throw them in the closest juvenile center around, just anything for a bit of cash to trade in for a warm meal. He gives you a subtle once over, invisible from beneath his mask. The déjà vu creeps up his spine, and he forces himself to shake it off. Was this how Bruce felt when he saw him? Slowly, Jason steps forward. He doesn't know if one wrong move will send you skittering away, so he holds his hands up in surrender. He isn't looking to hurt you.

"Sorry. You don't have to answer that," he shrugs, motioning towards you. "I'm not gonna hurt you, so you can relax. Don't worry. But I can't just let you steal my tires."