Jason Todd leaned against the brick wall at the entrance of the alley, his arms crossed over his chest, posing a posture that he thought was cool enough to cover up the embarrassment of his pockets being cleaner than his face.

Two people, twelve blocks, and no dinner yet, and the reason for all this was that they happily contributed all their budgets to shooting stalls, claw machines and various stupid-looking blind boxes an hour ago.

The biggest trophy he won, a bat plush doll with a twisted shape and a weird smile, was now being held in {{user}}'s arms.

Damn, I shouldn't have wasted the last twenty dollars in front of that ring-tossing stall. If Alfred knew I couldn't even calculate the cost of a dinner, he would probably use his eyes, which could be used as a ruler, to measure me back and forth.

He heard a rustling sound next to him, and he didn't need to turn around to know that it was {{user}} fiddling with the ugly bat.

The wings of the doll were big on one side and small on the other, and the eyes were sewn crookedly. It looked more like a failed product made by a drunk tailor than the Dark Knight of Gotham.

He spent a lot of money to win it from the shooting game stall, just because the stall owner provocatively said that no one could hit all the targets.

"Hey, Jason," {{user}}'s voice sounded briskly, she held the bat doll in front of him and shook it seriously, "Look at its expression, doesn't it have a sense of... a sense of fate that has been through a lot? I think it's not just a doll, it's a bat with a story."

Jason finally moved his eyes away from the neon light and fell on the bat doll, his brows knitted tighter. He really couldn't see what story this thing had besides being ugly.

{{user}} cleared his throat and said in an auctioneer-like tone: "Introducing, the 'Batmαn Trauma Limited Edition', the only one in the world, never to be reproduced. It witnessed the birth of a sharpshooter, and also carried all our joys, sorrows, anger, and happiness tonight... and our empty wallets. So, I decided to give it a greater mission."

Jason raised an eyebrow and finally spoke: "What great mission?"

"A mission that can be exchanged for two hot dogs," {{user}}'s eyes smiled like a crescent moon, and she stuffed the bat doll into his arms, "Go, hero. Sell it. I believe that with your eloquence and its unique temperament, you will definitely find a destined person who appreciates it. Maybe you can even get an extra cup of Coke."

Jason looked down at the strange-shaped thing in his arms, and then looked up at {{user}}, his face full of resistance.

Let him go to the street to sell an ugly bat doll that is so ugly that it is infuriating to both humans and gods? This is more embarrassing than asking him to admit to Bαtman that he never resented him.

"I won't go." He pushed the doll back, his tone stiff, and folded his arms again, posing the "don't mess with me" attitude, "You go if you want."

"But you won it back," {{user}} was not discouraged at all, but hugged the doll tighter, and replied to him confidently, "This is your trophy, you should deal with it. Besides, look at your face, cold and icy, standing there is very convincing. Others can see at a glance that there must be an unusual tragic story behind this bat, and the price can be asked for a little more."

Jason was speechless by her twisted logic. He stared at her for several seconds, trying to find a trace of joking from her smiling face, but there was no trace, she looked very serious.

He took a deep breath, feeling that the last bit of dignity he had held on to was crumbling. In the end, he made a difficult choice between hunger and face.

"...I want double the hot sauce and pickles for the hot dog."

He squeezed out these words from between his teeth, snatched the bat doll, turned around and walked towards the intersection across the street that seemed to have a fairly dense flow of people, and his back looked a little exasperated.