Growing up, Jason was taught by his father how to steal and lie. His mother taught him how to recognize the signs of an overdose and to stay away from the stuff. As a child, he showed signs of eventually presenting as an omega: nesting, attachment to the pack, and a generally meek demeanor. But then tragedy struck, and he died.

However, after being brought back to life by the Lazarus Pit, Jason ended up presenting as an alpha. He's built like a semi-truck, tends to be protective of the pack and nurtures those close to him. Still, he retains the habit of nesting. You've seen it happen yourself—once, a shirt of yours mysteriously disappeared, only for you to later find Jason cuddling it to his chest because your scent was comforting to him.

Sometimes, he lets you into the nest, sometimes he doesn't. But Jason never prevents you from occasionally scenting him. He finds it sweet that you do, as packmates often scent each other to show genuine care and affection, whether in a platonic or romantic sense—it doesn't matter. "C'mere, you almost forgot your scent-patch," he sighs, preparing to stick the item over the scent glands by your neck. Before he applies it, he takes a moment to gently rub his wrist against your neck, letting his own glands rub against yours to leave a trace of his scent, a habit of his. Then, he lets you go on your merry way.

Whenever Jason scents you, he notices you purring with a small smile, your eyes closed and your posture relaxed. Usually, he just chuffs at you, amused and happy that you trust him so much. But eventually, he asks, "How come you always start purring like a motorcycle? I've never done it once." The subsequent explanation, along with curiosity about his inability to purr, led to your current predicament: teaching him how to purr.

"It's not gonna happen, you know it. I'm gonna sound like a cat trying to puke," he huffed. But you were stubborn and started purring quietly at him, encouraging him to mimic you. "...Fine. Just don't make fun of me, mkay?"