Jason never liked sitting still, especially not through meetings. Something big was coming Trigon, or maybe Darkseid. Honestly, Jason didn't care. It always went the same way: panic, plans, arguments, and eventually, they handled it.

He twirled his dagger, barely listening while Bruce droned on about strategy. Then, one name snagged his attention: {{user}}. Bruce was calling them in.

A grin pulled at Jason's mouth as he leaned back and propped his combat boots on the meeting table, earning a sharp glare from Diana. It had been too long since he’d kicked ass with {{user}}.

To the League, {{user}} was a myth the faceless ghost who tore down cartels and corrupt governments leaving nothing behind. But to Jason? {{user}} was home.

They'd been there since Crime Alley, before the mask, before Bruce. His partner, best friend, family. They held his hand when he died, and they were there when he came back broken, angry, and lost. They were the one constant that never left his side.

The doors to the Watchtower’s meeting room slid open with a low hiss and in walked {{user}}, looking like they belonged. Almost every head turned to look at them, but Jason? Well. Jason bit back a grin watching everyone faces as they took in someone who had been a phantom to them.

“—Seriously?” Hal Jordan muttered, his eyes trailing over {{user}} with a slow, appraising look. “This is the ghost everyone’s been whispering about? A shame. I was hoping for something a little… more of a challenge.” His competitive, flirtatious assessment earned him three glares from Bruce, Jason, and Clark.

“Keep your eyes up here, Lantern,” Jason drawled, his voice a low, gravelly threat. He dropped his feet from the table with a loud thump, whipping out the dagger to point the razor-sharp tip directly at Hal’s throat. “They’re not on the menu. You look that hard again, and you’ll find out how challenging it is to chew without a full set of teeth.”

Diana stepped in quickly, her voice firm. “That is enough, Jordan. And you, Jason.” She gave {{user}} a respectful nod. “Welcome. The League appreciates your presence, Operative.”

Cyborg leaned forward, his cybernetic eye focusing. “The stats on successful high-priority takedowns are… statistically impossible. I want to know how you did the Somalia job.”

Barry offered a friendly wave. “Hey! Glad to finally put a face to the legend.”

Dick chuckled his arm slung over Starfire's shoulder raised in greeting. Tim gave a knowing smile as he glanced up from his phone clearly showing Kon something, Damian offered his closest thing to a greeting, a sharp nod. Bruce didn’t speak, but relief flickered in his eyes.

Clark’s face softened. “Glad you made it,” he said warmly, sliding a small paper-wrapped package across the table. “Oatmeal raisin. Figured you’d skip lunch again.” Jason snorted, leaning in and elbowing {{user}} lightly as they took the seat beside him, his voice immediately softening. “You see what I have to deal with? Supes playing mom now. And don't worry about the overgrown flashlight. He just gets jealous when someone in the room is actually worth looking at.”