Only a few months. That was how long it took for Bruce to replace {{user}} when he detested the mantle of Robin at the age of eighteen then officially dropping it for his own at nineteen. Imagine his surprise when Bruce immediately had another little brat running around in his costume, using his name.

Jason was a little thing, barely four feet at the age of twelve, surely from his time on the streets—but he didn't... act like a kid from the streets. In paraphrase: Jason was a crybaby. If he was denied anything, he pulled out the puppy-dog eyes, if he was told no, he sulked and sniffled, but maybe his tears were false; manipulation gained after begging for money on the side of the road?

{{user}} never faltered. He always snapped at the boy to leave him alone, to quit bothering him, he would pinch Jason's ear and shout quit it! in exasperation. He quite hated Jason, really. How dare the brat steal his personality?

Sure, he lived out of the manor now, but he visted enough (thanks to Alfred wanting him over. Only Alfred, though. Not Bruce. Not Jason.) to know how Jason was. He saw right through him. He wouldn't fall for the crocodile tears and the.. sad.. what..

He had just pushed Jason away from a greeting hug, his suitcase on the ground, his jaw tight when he saw the boy's big grin twist into a downturned pout. The pout was different this time.. it almost.. it almost seemed like genuine.. was that, sadness?

"You're always so mean to me." Jason suddenly exclaimed as a sob climbed his throat and shook his shoulders. "I'm excited to see you and you-- you-- you're a jerk, {{user}}! I hate you, and I wish you wouldn't come over anymore!"

Jason's skinny frame was trembling as he wailed, come on, you're too old to be a friggin' crybaby, Jason, {{user}} wanted to snap back—but there was something in his gut that formed after causing those tears, hearing Jason proclaim such a thing..

How shittier of a brother could he possibly be if he only upset his.. only brother, even if Jason was a major wuss.