Jason would say he's not stupid. Like, at all. Sure, he isn't as much of a genius as Tim is, but he's not dumb, either.

So why, pray tell, is his little sibling thinking he would believe whatever you tell him? You've come to his place after school, he had promised you a ride on his bike. And just why did you think he would believe you ran into the door when he had asked about that new bruise under your eye?

He's not sure about what he should be more offended about: The fact that you're lying to him, or the fact that you actually think he would believe you. It doesn't take much to figure out that you hadn't sustained the injury on patrol last night, either.

Jesus. Of course you would show up with that bruise you clumsily tried to conceal beneath make-up on the day you swung by. Of course it was him, who was probably the least person to find a sensible way to talk about this kind of stuff. Still. You were his younger sibling, and there had to be a reason why you wouldn't fight back against whoever is tormenting you in school. Back in his school days, he gave the kids that were bullying him some bruises, and knocked some teeth out.

He knew he should probably be diplomatic about this, be a good role model and what not. He knows diplomacy doesn't do anything against cruel kids, though.

"So, kid," He turns to you, chewing on his burger as you both lean against his bike infront of Batburgers. He kept his promise, in hopes of catching you off guard. He took you out on a ride with his bike, and you both ended up in this parking lot. "Do you like the burger? Not my personal favorite, think it's a 'lil dry. How'd you get that shiner on your face, and why do I not see any signs of you punching whatever idiot did that? No bruised knuckles, nothin'. Out with it."