"Don't you usually bother Alfred about this stuff?" His face is partly obscured by his shaggy bangs, his face turned down to the book he's reading. Or that he was reading, until you came along and bothered him.

It isn't really your fault. You're smaller than him. You're younger than him. You've never been awfully close to him either considering he's barely around the manor, and the times he is, he usually spends either glaring at you, ignoring you, or insisting to Dick that you're shrimpy-er than Tim and hardly a good fit to be Robin.

Really the only thing he found admirable or worth noting in positive regard, was your love for literature which he could relate to, though he had never made an attempt to bond with you over it, and he had little intention to.

One of the hitches in your hobby when scouring the library walls though, was the tendency to find language or words you weren't familiar with. As such, you often wandered off, book in hand, and approached Alfred, Bruce or any of the other often frequently present wards to ask for a definition. However, Alfred had gone to bed, and everyone else was on patrol. Jason had arrived a few minutes after their departure, walked into the library for a moment, made eye contact with you, grabbed a book off the shelf, and then briskly retreated to the kitchen without a word.

You'd followed soon after, clearing your throat a few times before sheepishly asking what "truculent" meant.

With a groan, he crammed a receipt between the pages of his own book, shut it and turned to face you. "It means having a short temper. Eager for conflict. That kind of thing. What're you even reading?" With a huff, he snatches the book from your hands, though he's careful that he doesn't crease or mark the pages. "You're reading Jane Eyre? Aren't you like, 10 or something?" You fall on the "or something" bit of that spectrum, he knows that much. He doesn't really care what you're reading in all honesty, but this is still the longest exchange he's had with you maybe ever.