Jason Todd (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asinisterkid) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2015-04-18 04:11 pm
asinisterkid) wrote in driftfleet2015-04-18 04:11 pm
Entry tags:
001
Who: Jason Todd and YOU!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: The Marsiva
When: A few hours before the shuffle.
[ The broadcast begins with a close-up of a man's face, brow furrowed, head tossing slightly in the throes of some flavor of bad dream. His mouth shapes words that could be no and Mom. When he starts to move more energetically, the camera zooms out and pans down, giving the audience a good view of the thrashing and -- yep, that's actual fighting, pure muscle memory and surprisingly good technique, given that he's unconscious. Probably a good thing this guy's sleeping alone, because anyone in bed with him would be being beaten pretty badly right about now. By the look on his face, though, the fight he's dreaming about is one he's losing, no matter how good he might be.
There's a sharp indrawn breath when he wakes up, but besides that, the biggest clue is that he goes perfectly still for a moment. Then he takes inventory, eyes still closed, flexing his ankle to test for the feel of the boot knife, stretching and moving in ways that would let him locate weapons by feel, rather than just reaching for what he should have on him and letting anyone watching know just where he hides the goodies.
...Nothing. He opens his eyes, reaches for the ones that would be less obvious -- nope, even the garrote wire's gone. Whoever searched him was thorough.
Though somehow his jacket's back, and in one piece. Huh.
He sits up, looks around for a minute, and then speaks to the empty air. ]
...Hey, Bats, if this was your idea, consider me incredibly unamused.
[ Or, wait, no, that's not right, there's something... he knows something... ]
Wait, I'm in space?
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: The Marsiva
When: A few hours before the shuffle.
[ The broadcast begins with a close-up of a man's face, brow furrowed, head tossing slightly in the throes of some flavor of bad dream. His mouth shapes words that could be no and Mom. When he starts to move more energetically, the camera zooms out and pans down, giving the audience a good view of the thrashing and -- yep, that's actual fighting, pure muscle memory and surprisingly good technique, given that he's unconscious. Probably a good thing this guy's sleeping alone, because anyone in bed with him would be being beaten pretty badly right about now. By the look on his face, though, the fight he's dreaming about is one he's losing, no matter how good he might be.
There's a sharp indrawn breath when he wakes up, but besides that, the biggest clue is that he goes perfectly still for a moment. Then he takes inventory, eyes still closed, flexing his ankle to test for the feel of the boot knife, stretching and moving in ways that would let him locate weapons by feel, rather than just reaching for what he should have on him and letting anyone watching know just where he hides the goodies.
...Nothing. He opens his eyes, reaches for the ones that would be less obvious -- nope, even the garrote wire's gone. Whoever searched him was thorough.
Though somehow his jacket's back, and in one piece. Huh.
He sits up, looks around for a minute, and then speaks to the empty air. ]
...Hey, Bats, if this was your idea, consider me incredibly unamused.
[ Or, wait, no, that's not right, there's something... he knows something... ]
Wait, I'm in space?
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How comparable were they? Would they get along, would she like him, would he want to know that for a short time her suit was hung beside his when Bruce had relieved her from duty. She's always had these questions, always wanted to know everything there was to know about Jason, but the chance to find out never came. Jason brought too much pain to too many people when he was brought up.]
No. I know you. He compared us, sometimes. I never thought... I'd get to see you.
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Yeah, well. The whole death thing didn't really stick. Don't ask me how that works, 'cause I don't know, but here I am.
[ He gives her a little one-shouldered shrug. ]
So what did the old man have to say about me? [ Not that it matters, now that he's crossed the line a hundred times over. He knows he's damned in Bruce's eyes. Knew that before Bruce opened his throat with a Batarang to save the Joker's life. But part of him still hopes that there was something good about him that survived to be passed on. ]
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[She's never met anyone who talked about death that way, lightly like it didn't matter when it obviously did. Maybe it's different when it's your own death, when it's something you've come back from and the best option is to move forward instead of dwell.
Dwelling only leads to questioning, and that's hardly ever helpful. It's why she hesitates to answer when Jason goes and does it, focusing in on Bruce and his opinions. That's something they share, wanting him to be proud, to see their worth. The truth is, Bruce rarely says anything about his feelings in words. She knows more than the others, excluding perhaps Oracle, but where is the line that says what's fair to share and what isn't?
Does it matter when Bruce isn't here to fix what was broken between himself and Jason.]
Would you believe me... if I said, he thought good things? That he knows... he failed you?
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I'd believe that he thought good things about Robin. ...But that's not who I am anymore.
And I already know that he and I don't see eye to eye on exactly what that failure was. [ It's not the death that bothers him, it's that Bruce let the Joker live, afterwards. Took another Robin like what happened didn't even matter, just one more target for someone who'd learned that he could kill Batman's partner without any kind of reprisal. ]
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[Even when Bruce made decisions she didn't like, ones that had caused her more pain than she'd thought she could ever experience, it had always been clear in his body language that he was trying to do what was best for her. He made the wrong choices more than once, with more than just her, but she had never seen it come from a place without love.
His version of it, at least. One of the things all of the people she'd worked with in Gotham had in common was their very shaky grasp on how to show they cared about each other.]
But he's not here. You are, and I am. Will we be friends?
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That's not the subject at hand, though. ]
That depends. Does your friendship depend on being friends with Tim? Because thaaaat's kind of a dealbreaker.
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Nope. Wouldn't ask for impossible things. Took him months, to like me.
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[ He smiles a little. ]
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Can we meet? After you're... off the Marsiva?
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[ His smile widens a little: he wasn't expecting any of the Batclan to be happy to see him. The fact that he seems to be getting along with everyone but Tim is strangely gratifying. ]
What ship are you on? ...Or is there someplace else you'd rather meet up?
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Three Twins. [That's the one where just about everyone walks around in various states of undress, you'd have the time of your life Jason.] Can meet anywhere, though.