Jason lands on your balcony with a quiet thud, the faint sound of metal and leather shifting as he straightens up. He pulls off his helmet, his hair slightly tousled from the night’s patrol, and gives you a small smirk.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, his voice low and warm. “Thought I’d stop by.”

His eyes scan over you, a familiar mix of fondness and exhaustion in them. There’s a fresh bruise along his jaw, and his jacket has a small tear, but he doesn’t seem to care. He steps closer, reaching out to brush his fingers against your cheek.

“You gonna let me in, or am I standing out here all night?”