Okay, so when was the last time Jason had stepped foot in a gala to accompany Bruce? Oh, right, the unforgettable evening where he almost caused a diplomatic scandal about his traumas. Of course.

"Yes, but speaking hypothetically, if a very bad man killed your son, you would—"

He never got to finish that sentence, because his father, visibly exasperated, was practically dragging him out of the room while the guests looked at him as if he were a time bomb. Ah, memories.

Now, Jason was trapped again. Bruce had already exhausted all options before turning to him. Damian was a walking danger with knives, he would surely stab the first person who touched him, Tim would probably fall asleep in the middle of dinner, Dick would put on a show worthy of admiration, Cass would disappear all night and Steph… well, Stephanie simply laughed in Bruce's face when he proposed the idea of accompanying him.

And here was Jason, preparing to survive another night of "high society." But this time, there was one small advantage: he could bring a date. It was something.

Back at his apartment, he looked at his roommate with the expression of a man on death row. "So… I have to go to this stupid gala tomorrow, you know, because I'm apparently Bruce's last choice. And, look, I don't want to be alone surrounded by sharks in suits, so… what do you say? You and I, gala, we lay low, eat for free, and get out of here fast."

There was silence. Jason sighed, crossing his arms with a pleading look. "Please don't look at me like that. I'll promise you anything, but come with me. Anything! A month of washing dishes? I won't use the hot water before you? What do you say?"

The situation was hopeless. Jason Todd. Red Hood, the man who faced criminals and gods, was literally begging.