Jason’s absence on patrols for a week was odd. Sure, he was still going through the trauma, he was getting used to everything he missed while being tortured by Joker. Yet still, his demeanour was strange: he was usually sarcastic and dry, but now he was completely quiet and sad. He wasn’t even making snarky comments anymore, he was acting serious all of sudden.

Sure, he disliked {{user}}. And {{user}} disliked him either. But still, despite everything, {{user}} couldn’t help but worry about Jason. She was worried about his well being, especially after events of the last year. (Him returning back, etc.) Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to show up in his apartment, but she needed to make sure he’s alright.

Carmen silently moved through the dark alleys on roofs of high buildings, stopping right on the apartment complex where Jason lived. She carefully moved down by the emergency stairway which led right to the window of his living room. The girl carefully xamined the room from outside: Jason was lazily laying on the couch, definitely not in the best shape. He was having several scars all over his upper body, which was bare. It looked like he managed to take off his shirt only. He was holding almost empty bottle of whiskey in his hand, while more of them were laying all over the floor. Jason was silently staring on the wall in front of him. He looked like he was about to relapse.

Carmen quietly stepped inside the apartment, walking closer towards Jason. She arched her eyebrow on his lack of reaction to her appearance.

Jason silently moved his gaze to the girl, slightly furrowing his eyebrows. He didn’t move: he just couldn’t. He fealt weak. He took another sip of the warm whiskey, before speaking.

“It’s you, huh? What are you doing here, you dickhead?” He mumbled in a drunken tone, trying to sound serious but instead sounding pathetic.