( Wherever he is, there's an audible groan. God dammit. And he knows it, too. He's being a dick on purpose. He just can't. Help it. Cause it scares him; it scares him that someone's nice, someone's invested. )Fine.
( He liked Claire. That was the problem. He liked Claire, and now she was his warden, and now he had to carry the burden that he's going to fail her. Jason doesn't think he's hopeless. He just doesn't particularly think he's wrong. About some things, at least. So why, of all people, did he have to be paired up with another person that's going to die because of him.
But Jason makes his way to her cabin regardless, bringing up two knuckles to knock. He stopped, thought again, and lowered them with a sigh. Feet took a circle around the hall before coming back and finally actually knocking. )
[He's a stubborn young man. Claire's not unaccustomed to the type, but for each step forward with him, it feels like he tries to drag them three steps back. But it's no wonder, after reading his file. Stubbornness kept him going.
So, she's grateful he shows without too much of a fight, and she opens the door and motions for him to sit in one of two chairs positioned by a small table.]
There you are.
[She gives him a small smile despite his file breaking her heart.]
( Each step forward made everything more and more real. It was almost as if he had wrote off this entire experience as some kind of fever dream. The withdrawal felt real. The panic attacks had felt real. Somehow, the true reality of his situation, the fact that he was deader than dead, didn't quite sink in until he realized that Claire would now have access to everything about him.
And that included his death.
It included a lot of things. About his parents, his past, about Bruce, and Dick, and the rest of the Titans. Hell, it might even include things about Molly or Rose. He wasn't sure how much details they were given but he was sure the "key points" were there. Along with whatever long trail of offences.
Crossing the threshold felt like he was dropping of a cliff. His stomach lodged itself all the way up into his throat, but he swallowed it back down and played it cool, taking to lean against the door frame. ) Here I am.
( He watched her; watched her put that Comm on the table and knew exactly what it meant. At least, how he interpreted it was simple: trust. She's not recording, she's not got anyone on standby (or the illusion of that, at least). But when his eyes dance from her to the file on her desk he can't help feel a wash of... guilt, shame, hatred, disgust, a thousand other things--hurt.
Jason breathes. Crosses his arms and tries to play it off like he doesn't care. ) What for, you think I don't already know the shit written there?
I know you know. It doesn't have every fine detail of your life in there. Just the broad strokes. [She nods towards the device.] I don't want you to wonder about the exact things I know, now.
( He struggles. Looks away. Hugs his arms around himself a little more, but you know... more manly. Gaze holding itself on some random spot on the wall. ) Nah, I'm good.
( Dangerous thing to think him of, but not untrue. Problem was, he was a lost little child who had the training to be a lethal weapon. Turned that pain into rage into a sharpened knife. He's far from innocent and now Claire knew that. Her claim, though, would have made him chuckle if he wasn't trying to be such a hardass.
Jason thinks a few more moments before turning his eyes up to Claire: ) What happens if I don't graduate if they decide I can't?
I'm not. ( He's confident in that, at least. Somehow that was all the fire he needed to kick him from that threshold and into the room. His hands unfurled from across his chest as feet firmly marched forward. ) In theory.
The problem is, I don't think this place understands that circumstances change what's right and what's wrong. ( He's animated--not violent, but impassioned--as he speaks. Becoming more with every word. Emotion bleeding into every syllable; body language moving with every truth he desperately believes. ) That if you're starving, stealing from corporate America isn't a big fucking deal. Walmart can eat my ass. Punking the tires off some white-collar asshole who makes six digits and owns five cars doesn't fucking matter, the chop shops are the only place that hires punks like you.
( Is he done? No, no he is not. They're in the thick of it now. His feet almost square with her body; knuckle on the table where her Com had been. Pale blue eyes not leaving her face for a second. Defiance. Anger. Not at her, though. At the world. ) These assholes who wear badges, who swear under law to serve and protect, Claire I have seen them walk away while women in the lower east get beaten and raped on the side of the fucking sidewalk because she couldn't pay her pimp and that pimp works for Two Face and Two Face lines their pockets. Hell, sometimes they join in. ( He only breaks for a second before continuing. )
I don't give a god damn about what's in my fucking file, what bullshit this place thinks I've done wrong, I did what I had to do and what is right. I've beaten the shit out of people like that before and I'll fucking do it again. Tell me that they don't deserve it.
[He bursts like a dam. Claire isn't terribly worried about her own safety--she tends not to--and she's too busy listening, as it is. Eyes a touch darker blue than his don't look away, though the downwards curve of her mouth does deepen as he goes on.
None of this is about her, but her thoughts flick to Randall. Bonnet. Men that killed and hurt and felt no remorse for any of it, even up until their deaths. People the world didn't miss.]
I can't.
[She admits easily enough.]
People don't always get what they deserve, good or bad. But is it really your place to play the role of judge, jury, and executioner?
[Her voice is calm, quiet. He'll have to listen if he wants to hear her at all.]
You're angry. It comes from a good place, I believe. But anger is... dangerous. Worse than fear.
( That wasn't supposed to all come out and once he's finished speaking he reels back on his heels with a deep inhale. Hands rise to wash over his face and drop unceremoniously after only a moment. It's all there, Jason figures. The important stuff at least. He doubts he said anything that Claire didn't already read or infer from his file at least. There was... some relief, though. At her initial answer.
Still, Jason needs to walk it off. His body needs to move and he pivots his body to take a tour around the room. He can hear it--her quiet words. It takes him a moment to find the right ones in response. ) Is it the place of authorities whose payroll comes from mobsters that make their money on the ownership and control of others?
( His feet stop, eyes turn back over toward Claire. ) I'd rather have anger fire me into action then be complacent. Gotham's a shithole, but it's my shithole. Someone has to save it.
[A genuine question rather than a harsh reminder of how he came to be here in the first place. But he's been troubled his whole life, it seems, and latching onto this desire to save a city and its people didn't help him.]
But I understand, Jason. I do. When the war came, I was first in line to volunteer. I learned that you may not be able to save the world, but you can save the man before you. So please know that I do understand that your heart is in the right place. You want your home to be better. Safer.
( Even if her question wasn't harsh, he couldn't help the immediate reaction. His entire body jerked forward with it. Gesticulating vigorously as he spoke. Heated, but pointed. Every syllable pronounced. ) That wasn't why I died, Claire. I died because no one was willing to do what was necessary, not even Bru-- ( He'd started moving toward her but that name just about to come out of his lips stops him in his tracks. A pause, a long one. He looks aside. Then, back. ) Not even him. Not even Bruce--Batman, whatever. ( A hand flicks over toward Claire. ) You have my file, no point in hiding that shit now, I guess.
[From what she's read. Claire quietly corrects herself:]
I think a lot of people have let you down. I'm not keen on joining their ranks, so I'm not going to make you any grand promises. I don't want you to remain dead. So, I'm going to try and figure out--with you--how we get you to a place where you're... able to graduate. Help better people, help better your Gotham.
( Jason looked away again for a moment, thoughts milling in his mind. He should have seen it coming. Bruce was rich, and just because he lost his parents didn't mean he really understood what the underbelly of Gotham looked like. He was surprised when he found out who Batman was. Guess it made sense, the shit the guy could do wasn't something some kid from the streets would have access to. For a while, Jason wanted to believe in him. He still wanted to believe in him.
It just wasn't what Jason was, who Jason was, and he's not sure what that is right now he just knows its not Robin anymore. Dick was right, and he kind of hates thinking about that but. Here they were. As Clair continues to speak, though... not going to make grand promises. He... really appreciates that.
Those pale blue eyes move back up to her. Resigned, quiet: ) thank you.
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And I want you to see your own file so that there's no doubt about what I've read.
I've only ever tried to help you since we've met, Jason.
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Fine.
Come to my cabin, then. We'll talk.
Actioooon
But Jason makes his way to her cabin regardless, bringing up two knuckles to knock. He stopped, thought again, and lowered them with a sigh. Feet took a circle around the hall before coming back and finally actually knocking. )
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So, she's grateful he shows without too much of a fight, and she opens the door and motions for him to sit in one of two chairs positioned by a small table.]
There you are.
[She gives him a small smile despite his file breaking her heart.]
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And that included his death.
It included a lot of things. About his parents, his past, about Bruce, and Dick, and the rest of the Titans. Hell, it might even include things about Molly or Rose. He wasn't sure how much details they were given but he was sure the "key points" were there. Along with whatever long trail of offences.
Crossing the threshold felt like he was dropping of a cliff. His stomach lodged itself all the way up into his throat, but he swallowed it back down and played it cool, taking to lean against the door frame. ) Here I am.
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You can look at your file. If not now, whenever you feel like it. I think that's more than fair.
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Jason breathes. Crosses his arms and tries to play it off like he doesn't care. ) What for, you think I don't already know the shit written there?
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Later, perhaps.
[She takes a breath, weighing her words.]
I'm glad it's me that's your warden. I don't think I'd approve of anyone else.
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Jason thinks a few more moments before turning his eyes up to Claire: ) What happens if I don't graduate if they decide I can't?
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[A part of him wanted to do good. Be good.]
CONTENT WARNING!!
The problem is, I don't think this place understands that circumstances change what's right and what's wrong. ( He's animated--not violent, but impassioned--as he speaks. Becoming more with every word. Emotion bleeding into every syllable; body language moving with every truth he desperately believes. ) That if you're starving, stealing from corporate America isn't a big fucking deal. Walmart can eat my ass. Punking the tires off some white-collar asshole who makes six digits and owns five cars doesn't fucking matter, the chop shops are the only place that hires punks like you.
( Is he done? No, no he is not. They're in the thick of it now. His feet almost square with her body; knuckle on the table where her Com had been. Pale blue eyes not leaving her face for a second. Defiance. Anger. Not at her, though. At the world. ) These assholes who wear badges, who swear under law to serve and protect, Claire I have seen them walk away while women in the lower east get beaten and raped on the side of the fucking sidewalk because she couldn't pay her pimp and that pimp works for Two Face and Two Face lines their pockets. Hell, sometimes they join in. ( He only breaks for a second before continuing. )
I don't give a god damn about what's in my fucking file, what bullshit this place thinks I've done wrong, I did what I had to do and what is right. I've beaten the shit out of people like that before and I'll fucking do it again. Tell me that they don't deserve it.
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None of this is about her, but her thoughts flick to Randall. Bonnet. Men that killed and hurt and felt no remorse for any of it, even up until their deaths. People the world didn't miss.]
I can't.
[She admits easily enough.]
People don't always get what they deserve, good or bad. But is it really your place to play the role of judge, jury, and executioner?
[Her voice is calm, quiet. He'll have to listen if he wants to hear her at all.]
You're angry. It comes from a good place, I believe. But anger is... dangerous. Worse than fear.
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Still, Jason needs to walk it off. His body needs to move and he pivots his body to take a tour around the room. He can hear it--her quiet words. It takes him a moment to find the right ones in response. ) Is it the place of authorities whose payroll comes from mobsters that make their money on the ownership and control of others?
( His feet stop, eyes turn back over toward Claire. ) I'd rather have anger fire me into action then be complacent. Gotham's a shithole, but it's my shithole. Someone has to save it.
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[A genuine question rather than a harsh reminder of how he came to be here in the first place. But he's been troubled his whole life, it seems, and latching onto this desire to save a city and its people didn't help him.]
But I understand, Jason. I do. When the war came, I was first in line to volunteer. I learned that you may not be able to save the world, but you can save the man before you. So please know that I do understand that your heart is in the right place. You want your home to be better. Safer.
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[From what she's read. Claire quietly corrects herself:]
I think a lot of people have let you down. I'm not keen on joining their ranks, so I'm not going to make you any grand promises. I don't want you to remain dead. So, I'm going to try and figure out--with you--how we get you to a place where you're... able to graduate. Help better people, help better your Gotham.
[Maybe with less violence.]
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It just wasn't what Jason was, who Jason was, and he's not sure what that is right now he just knows its not Robin anymore. Dick was right, and he kind of hates thinking about that but. Here they were. As Clair continues to speak, though... not going to make grand promises. He... really appreciates that.
Those pale blue eyes move back up to her. Resigned, quiet: ) thank you.
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Do you have any questions for me? Concerns?
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