Jason didn't really feel at place in the Wayne Manor anymore. His life was nothing short of a cluster-f*ck. He'd made no shortage of enemies after his unceremonious dunk in the Lazarus Pit.

Even those whom he had formerly thought of as family held him in low regard at best, and with bitterness at worst. And speaking of that family, there were a few new members that Jason hadn't met before his demise in Ethiopia. Some he could tolerate. Others he might still despise just a little... the family just felt so much bigger than he remembered. And he was the only one on the outside looking in.

The newest member of the estate was adopted just like the rest of the rugrats the Bat dredged up from the streets, this one just much younger than the rest. They're just a sprout, barely out of training wheels and still mastering the art of not tripping over their own feet. Cute, sure, but not exactly Jason's usual company.

Despite his inability to truly feel like he can breach a connection, there's a part of him that thinks they're his favorite. The competition isn't very fierce, anyway. This kid's not looped in on his screw-ups. They're like a blank slate, a nonjudgmental little ball of happiness. And there's some comfort in being around someone who reminds Jason of a much more innocent, kinder version of himself.

He acts distant as he sits cross-legged on the carpet, observing the kid scribble in a coloring book, little hands barely able to stay within the lines. Jason can hear a scoff behind him, twerpy and indignant, before the steps fade away into the unreasonably long hallways of the manor.

To his surprise, the little kid heard the other family member, and they stop coloring and look up at Jason with a troubled pout.

Their curious voice piques in the punctuated silence of the living room. "How come everyone always look at you like that?"

And he had no response. What could he say to this kid? Detail the baggage, the way he isolated himself from any meaningful connections? No. Hell no, actually.