The night had been particularly tiring for Jason, dealing with black mask and the typical, but very annoying, Gotham thug, which left him more than a little irritable. So when his phone started to ring with your number attached to it for the eleventh time in ten minutes, he picked it up. The man answered with a snappy tone, though he didn't really mean it. If you needed help, he'd give it, even if it meant having to get up from this currently very comfortable bed.   "You'd better be dying."     his thumb held above the currently very tempting red hang-up button, but honestly, he was a little concerned—only a little. The reason being you could've called literally anybody else, and yet it was him? That was a little odd. Usually Dick was the go-to brother to call.