"Some hotel venue my parents booked for my birthday," you had replied that evening when Jason asked you where you were going. You were breathtaking, draped head-to-toe in designer pieces that the vigilante assumed costed more than the Batmobile. "Wanna tag along?"

Jason had declined. Sure, he's the son of a billionare, but he'd still rather choke than attend some hotshot, fancy ass birthday party in Gotham's most expensive hotel. Damn, and he thought you buying him a box of cupcakes for his own birthday was excessive.

Still, Jason can't get it out of his head. By the end of his nightly patrol, he finds himself on a rooftop, looking up at the thirty-story hotel you were in. So without much thought and a few chokeholds on some alarmed security guards, he manages to break in.

The ballroom is blinding, he notes, and all eyes in it land on him as he shoves open the doors. He immediately sees you surrounded by your friends, your jewelry catching the light as you turn to him.

Maybe his Red Hood mask and gear don't suit the occasion. Oh, well. "Surprise, {{user}}."