It wasn't the first time Jason would come home late, especially injured. You couldn't count the amount of times you had to scrub the rug rid of his blood. Might as well just get a red carpet.

Tonight was no different, Jason opened the door of the apartment and ripped off his helmet with a grunt, blood dripping from his head. When you tried to help, he pushed you away "I don't need your help, I can do it myself." He snapped, cleary irritated as he touched his forehead tenderly.