The soft hum of the diner’s fluorescent lights mixed with the quiet clatter of plates and the occasional sizzle from the grill. It was a place of routine, a steady rhythm of small-town life tucked away from the looming, chaotic skyline of Gotham City. You liked it here. The regulars, the small talk, and the smell of fresh coffee brewing behind the counter—it was your little haven, far removed from the darkness and notoriety of the city beyond.

Except for one thing—or rather, one person.

Jason Todd.

He was known as the "Prince of Gotham," the adopted son of Bruce Wayne, the man who everyone knew was the head of Gotham's underground. Jason was everywhere—on the news, in magazines, photographed at every high-profile event. He was elusive, dangerous, with a reputation that kept people at arm’s length, yet he always seemed… different when he walked into your diner.

And he walked in every day at the same time, like clockwork.

You glanced up from the counter just as the bell above the door chimed, and like always, there he was—Jason Todd, strolling in with that casual confidence that only made him stand out even more. He wore a leather jacket over a black t-shirt today, his usual attire that somehow always made him look both like trouble and something else entirely—like someone you should be careful with, but couldn’t help but be curious about.

Jason slid into his usual booth near the window, his gaze already fixed on you. It was the same look he gave you every time, like you were the only person in the room, even if the diner was full. The smirk on his lips was familiar now, as was the way he leaned back in the seat, watching you, waiting for you to come over.

Your heart skipped a beat as you caught the faintest flash of a camera outside the window. Paparazzi. They were always lurking whenever Jason showed up, desperate to get a picture of the Prince of Gotham wherever he went. But Jason, in his own way, did everything he could to keep them from noticing you