( closed ) worse than you've ever been

[reneger]

Who: jason todd & misc
What: a catch-all
When: january-march
Where: milton, mostly.

Content Warnings:

Comments

( kate ) we're all crucified in the end.

[reneger]

( a storm is coming.

they've all been warned, and the signs are obvious. but jason - as much as he hates the cold weather, he hates huddling up with the entire population of milton even worse. he's spent the last several months intentionally avoiding joining the community when they've all grouped up together, and he had full intentions of continuing to do so until they figured out how to get the hell out of here.

and while most people are preparing for the worst, jason is - avoiding it entirely by opting to warm up in his winter coat. if he's lucky, he can avoid going inside entirely by finding a nice warm spot to curl up in until the storm passes.

and given tim currently has bitewing, it leaves just one massive black wolf wandering around in the snow, nose twitching as he follows the familiar scent of tim who - jason assumes is still in lakeside. he starts following after the scent, because tim is stupid enough to stay outside despite having lost a fair amount of muscle mass and not being built to survive out here in the cold - no human really is. and if jason has to grab onto the back of tim's shirt and drag him back inside, he will.

the closer he gets to the scent, the more sure he is that it isn't tim, but just - someone whose rubbed up against him enough to get his scent all over them. which is curious enough to warrant continuing to follow it to the source regardless: tim's been acting fucked up and odd, if he's been hanging around someone long enough to have rubbed himself all over them, jason wants to know who the hell they are.

the benefits of being wolf-shaped: only bigby would be able to identify him as jason, so he can follow the scent without concern over someone figuring out who he is. )

[castitas]

[ The scent will end up taking him towards the Community Hall. Outside, sprawled in the snow is a pale-colour wolfdog pup. He's stolen a small branch of fir, holding it between his gangly front paws — entertaining himself with chewing at it. Every so often, he tries tossing it, rolling in the snow and wriggling after it.

He'll pause and look towards the Hall, waiting expectantly, before resuming.

It's on one of these pauses he notices, clambering to stand and stare at the large black wolf. There's a slow, cautious wag of his tail and he keeps the branch in his mouth because it's his stick, thank you.

But he will, after a moment, dip into a bow: play? ]

[reneger]

( tim isn't a dog kind of guy, is the thing.

it's not that he doesn't like them, it's that dogs require a lot of attention, affection, and care, and tim can barely take care of himself half the damn time. jason knows he had a whole bunny farm going a while back, but like - look where that got him. he's not a dog person, but jason knows to expect bitewing and damian's dog, wherever he is, to smell of tim - because tim has no choice but to deal with them. but this guy doesn't smell much like damian, even if he does smell a lot like tim. like he's been rolling in tim's scent.

aw, cute, timmy has a friend. a friend he's close enough with to spend a significant time with their dog, which jason - well. he could grab his pack, shift back, and see who the hell it is. or he could stay out here and grab onto yet another stick to take it over to the little guy, dropping it down a little bit away from him before jason takes a step back and - lays down on the snow, tail wagging.

an offered new toy, since that stick is his stick. this stick can be their stick. )

[castitas]

[ Gasp. A new stick! There's a little thundering of paws, Merry practically dancing on the spot as he drops his stick and trots over. He sniffs inquisitively, because of course he needs to check the stick over first before very slowly—

sloooowly—

grabs the stick and pulls back quickly, trying to make off with it.

He doesn't go to far with it, though. He's quickly turning back round with an excitable, wagging tail and bowing again: chase! Ducking and dodging with a little grumble, trying to get the wolf to try and get the stick from him. ]

[reneger]

( jason isn't one who's much for play; or at least not this kind. he and bruce had roughhoused when he was younger - learning to fill grayson's shoes in a role that was never meant to become passed down but did. there wasn't much opportunity before that, and none after. his version of play is usually significantly - rougher. more violent.

but who said you couldn't teach an old dog new tricks? no one knows who he is, there's no need to posture, so he waits until merry's grabbed hold of the stick, waits until he's turned around and made it clear what game he's playing, before jason lurches after him with an excited half-howl. he's not as fast as merry, but he is big and makes up for his slower speed with the ability to just tank his way through crap.

like he is when he playfully tries to shove merry right over into the snow, nipping at his snout, his ears, anything he can feasibly reach when he manages to get close. the stick is mostly unimportant. )

( tim ) you're getting better all the time

[reneger]

( the dog had been left in tim's care less because jason believes tim is capable of taking care of another living creature, but more because - well. tim seemed like he needed a pal along for the ride who wouldn't be an asshole as he processed whatever stupid as shit thoughts were going through his head when he decided he needed to break out to avoid having to talk to jason on his way out.

considering the storm, jason doesn't regret that choice. he had full intentions of roughing it out away from the crowds because fuck 'em. bigby had other ideas, instead opting to scruff jason and drag him inside despite his bitching. he'd have fought back with a little more enthusiasm if he didn't recognize it for what it was: concern, rather than a need to control. the former, he's not all that adverse to listening to. the latter - it's not hard to recognize how having a guiding hand shoving jason along would cause him to riot against anyone trying to lead him along.

but it does leave him trapped inside the community hall with a shitton of other people, and the lack of an easy way out of a crowded room is enough to leave him antsy. he paces, wrings his hands, finds loose threads on the jacket he'd picked up before and starts yanking them loose, finding every little thing he can do to keep himself from sitting still, because being still and quiet is only going to encourage him to get lost in his own damn head, which is never a fun place to be.

until the dog catches his scent, tail wagging and giving a soft yip to grab jason's attention and pull it towards him and - tim.

see, he knew tim'd at least get the dog somewhere safe.

the antsy energy doesn't dissipate, but jason does his best to cover it by being an ass as he saunters towards tim and the dog, then drops himself down to a low crouch so he can put both hands on each side of bitewing's face and pull him in to press the tip of bitewing's nose to the bridge of jason's own. )

Good boy. Knew I could count on you to keep Tim from keeling over in the snow. Did you drag him here all by yourself?

[ployboy]

[There's absolutely no way Jason wouldn't be flipping his lid if he was as tied up as Tim is: the threads are moving now, and it's like they're conspiring to bind him up and keep him gagged. Of course the don't- the things are like tricks of the light, aren't solid or real. For much of the month Tim has to wonder if it's worth it to keep the colors so... nonexistent. (Because apparently people are out here with colors.) But one red... maroon... burgundy... is tricky enough, and the other mud-and-fool's gold sting when he tries to figure them out.

So he doesn't try to figure them out.

The people in the Center move around him like the tides. The constant is Bitewing, and the way Tim will rest a hand in the thick fur of the dog's shoulder or neck when everything becomes too quiet save for the storm.

And then the puppy up and leaves and wow okay screw you too.

Tim is antsy and restless and so damn antsy he has to dig through his backpack, fiddle with a panel of a Polaroid camera that he can't open without better light to ensure he doesn't lose anything. So that's how Jason (you asshole) finds him, hunched over on one corner of the cot. Fidgeting.

Tim thinks one of the many (many, many) muddy strings moves with Jason's rough hands over his puppy. Hell if Tim's gonna pay attention to which. Or why. Or-

ow, goes the little electrical shock.]

He ate my good gloves. You owe me new ones.

[reneger]

( that's his secret, timmy: he's always on the edge of freaking out regardless of what's going on. there's a fine line between mentally stable and losing one's shit, and jason todd likes to dip his toes over the edge on whichever side feels best at the time. or trip his way right into falling face-first over the line. either way.

he has a collection of threads, but they're mostly ones he's opted to ignore: countless black threads tying him back home, a few mostly-golden ones with flecks of black, and an even rare-er couple golden ones that are purely gold, without even a fleck of black in them at all. there are the - couple red-gold strands, one tying him to a girl here and another that feels like getting sucker-punched right in the face.

and the muddy-gold one leading straight to tim. jason doesn't pretend to be the world-class detective tim or bruce are, but he's not an idiot either. he can figure shit out for himself. but it doesn't get much of his attention currently; there's more important crap to worry about right now. )

Sounds like a you problem. Who left the gloves where little Gray here could get them?

( gray as in, short for grayson, since it's clear as day who jason opted to name his dog after. there's a grin on his face as he goes back to addressing the dog directly, rubbing their noses together. )

Were they tasty? I bet they were made from the nice leather.

[ployboy]

[Yeah, he know-] You can't just name your dog after him. [Bitewing was a... tribute, a pun, an homage, and Tim had lamented how fitting it was. Mischievous eyes, an effortless and wild grace. A stubborn streak that'll put any one of them to shame.

Tim feels the mud-thread pulse gold.

It's stupid as all get out.

It's true that Jason hadn't exactly enacted violence (with extreme prejudice) against him, and it's equally true that Tim himself has been running out of ways to make it happen. It's true that Tim doesn't-- can't-- about Bruce, not anymore. But when had Jason gotten to the point where...

Where he names a puppy after his brother? This rowdy, affectionate, cute... and Jason's been toting him everywhere.

(Somewhere between calling Tim cat-barf after Tim had foolishly left the gates to jail well and open for Jason, figuratively, and learning to not only do but talk like this brotherly-whatever is important. Somewhere in that time that Tim doesn't have.)

Tim's looking at his camera like it's a Motherbox, holding all of the answers to all of his questions.

Stupid dog.]

The gloves were on my hands, for your information.

[And,]

But he's a good hunter. So it's fine. Don't worry about it. He met some of his brothers, by the way. Got to play a little.

[reneger]

Who's gonna stop me? He's not here to bitch about it. And look at him -

( he's still holding the pup's face between his hands, and jason gently turns him enough for tim to get a good look at his face, before the dog starts mouthing playfully at jason's hands. there's a soft grin on jason's face; it doesn't meet his eyes, but it doesn't look disingenuous. there's layers: the dog is great, watching tim fumble with his camera as if he's trying to find something to keep him busy is entertaining, the snowstorm outside is fucking horrifying, and if jason has to spend too long thinking about the intangible threads coming off of him he's going to lose it.

instead, he's shoving a hand down against the dog's head, ruffling fur. )

He's got the same dopey smile as Grayson himself. I'd say they match pretty well.

( his hand raises, leaving the puppy to instead shove down against tim's head, ruffling his hair. )

You good?

( ruby ) like a hunter caught out in the cold

[reneger]

( something's been following him.

he's caught it out the corner of his eye on occasion, massive paw tracks beside jason's old tracks as he makes his way through the forested areas, looking for the ever elusive wild game out in the middle of fucking nowhere. he's used to being followed, to the uncomfortable feeling of goosebumps on his neck, signaling something's out there. it's not usually a goddamn fucking bear though.

the first time it comes at him, he twists around, knife in hand ready to fight it off if necessary. only to find the thing gone, dissipated into - nothing. the second time, he could have sworn he felt it's breath on his neck right behind him, growl low in it's throat as jason's instincts kicked in and he ducked down, getting his head away from it's maw only for it to disappear again.

this time, he sees it in his pathway, teeth bared and ready to charge at him.

he's fed up with this bear's bullshit.

the knife's out, held in his hand just in case, but he's not holding it as if he's prepared to gut the creature with it. he's using it to gesture towards the charging bear while he yells at it. )

You gonna actually do something this time, asshole!? Don't be a chicken! I'm waiting!

[guidemyway]

[Ruby was used to hunting, or being hunted by creatures that in loose terms could be compared to a bear. She wasn't used to being haunted by them though. So there comes a point where she's ready to go on the attack or the defense only to be left with her blood pumping fast and no injuries or dead bear to show for it.

Enough times of that and even the most well trained of people are going to get a little a loopy about it.

She's wandering through the woods tense with her guard up when she hears Jason shout out. Her feet start to move on instinct toward the sound of the shout- Not quite thinking how charging through the brush when a ghost is on the loose might be a bad thing.

Jason had been here for awhile, and while she didn't exactly know him all that well- He still lived in town and that meant she'd have his back if necessary.]

[reneger]

( he'll yell at this bear as long as it takes for yelling to get some kind of result.

okay, no, he won't, but he'll continue to be pissed as hell about the bear continuously trying to sneak up on him. jason's paranoid by nature, he doesn't need to stand here feeling eyes on the back of his neck any more than he already does. it's one thing when it's tim. or damian. or, hell, bruce. any other damn person here. it's another when it's a goddamn ghost bear driving him batshit.

which is why he's still yelling at the thing, despite there being no evidence it even had been following him.

but the noise quickly approaching him is enough to get his attention - elsewhere. he's only got a handful of knives here, and only a couple decent ones, but it doesn't stop him from committing to his first reaction: take knife, throw knife at what's likely the ghost bear rampaging through the snow in an effort to try to scare the shit out of him, despite it just making jason angry more than anything else.

and it's a nice knife: a speedgoat 2.0, well taken care of despite their circumstances. luckily for the both of them, jason is intentionally aiming off-center, tossing it wide because maybe the bear is out to scare him, but he's out to scare the bear. )

( sansa ) when it's all said and done

[reneger]

( the eye of the storm leaves everything eerily quiet, but jason's not an idiot. and when an old man who's clearly communicated with storms before and knows his shit says that whatever's going on is suspicious, he's not going to question him. maybe he's just batshit, that'd be par the course, but better to be safe than sorry when it comes to being buried alive in snow.

then everything starts freezing over. the windows, the walls, all the shit that's a little too close to the outside world, and jason liked those walls, thank you. the dark shadowy corners were a great place to lurk and avoid attention.

not now.

the frost starts, and jason's cursing under his breath as he moves in, away from the tables and chairs and towards the open space towards the center of the room. there's a familiar red-haired girl on his way in deeper, and jason notices how one of the threads attached to him, the redgold one that's similarly colored to the one that feels like artemis and leads - nowhere, seems to lead directly towards her, too.

doesn't pay it any mind, given he's a little busy grabbing onto the hand the thread attached to his leads right to so he can drag her forward along with him, pulling her in until they're in the mess of bodies towards the center with jason's back turned towards everyone else so he can twist back around, pull her in against his chest, and - keep an eye on the frost that's still creeping in. )

Sorry. ( he's not really all that sorry. ) But christ, I hate winter.

[clothed]

[ even the coldest false winters were never this sharp, but then again, sansa had only met true winter as it was crawling its way across the kingdoms. she hasn't truly felt its merciless touch since she was born.

life in milton had fallen into its own kind of peace, recently. she would wake early to ready lady randvi's home for the day, setting the table for breaking fast even if jon still handles the cooking better than she does. then she would check upon lady and ghost, who have taken to sleeping indoors as of late; she would towel their paws and ears to keep the melting snow stuck to the fur from freezing, warm the wolves' snouts with her own hands. the windows that had been broken months before have been boarded up, same as most the other windows all over save for a few. house raven is as dark in the day as it is during the night, and sansa takes it her personal duty to make sure the candles are properly lit.

from there — there are many other things to do. her own forays into scavenging are half-successful, now that she dares to go into the empty houses to find what she can for practical use. scraps of cloth, mostly, if it hasn't been eaten away by time and exposure; plates and utensils to bring to the community centre, in case of new faces arriving; and shoes especially, they have a dearth of good shoes for the cold, but thin ones are vastly better than barefoot.

sometimes there are children's clothes and toys that she finds. she brings those with her, too. then she goes on with her day, changes into her other skin at night, and spends a few hours out in the cold running freely with lady and ghost, red and white and grey playing in the cold until jon or randvi eventually call them back in. then she goes to sleep, smelling clean on cooled sheets. come morning, she does it all over again.

she goes to the community centre in the morning despite her better judgement.

morning comes and she ventures out as her usual, her now-trusted basket cradled in her arms. this morning she'd found only a few pillow covers, but they're good linen, and with her new sewing tools and threads she thinks she might make a shirt or two out of them. she could use them as lining for coats or jackets, pack them with stuffing for insulation.

and then it snows.

it ices, crawling over the door jambs first then over the walls, into the window frames, racing throughout the building. sansa has seen this kind of ice before, but it doesn't chase you — it doesn't draw itself in patterns on the walls. so she does what she knows best to do in situations like these: she retreats to the centre of the room, backing up until she's joined the room where a small cluster of people are similarly trapped inside.

she's pulled by a warm, familiar hand, the shape of the fingers known to her own. jason. ser red, no longer just a stranger with a strange broken hat, but a dear friend. a dear one close to heart. sansa follows the pull of his grasp, her long legs able to keep up with his wider strides. then they're settled, and her heart is beating hard against her ribs, panic slow to rise but rising nonetheless when he pulls her again — this time into a loose embrace.

there is a thread of gold and red between them. it winds from her ring finger to jason's, this string of light, almost too delicate for sansa to see through the fringe of her hair.

she should be more alarmed. she should feel odd at ease, being held so closely. but she feels safe instead. ]

I would say it's not as terrible as it is, [ sansa remarks with no small amount of distress in her voice, despite the tension in her shoulders easing, ] but it's truly not reassuring.

The green mist from before, has it returned? Do you think the feral wildbeasts— What if Ghost is outside?

[reneger]

( gotham winters have a tendency to be cold. brutal, to those who can't afford four walls and proper insulation to keep the warmth inside. and jason - well. he'd grown up on the outside. he's experienced the cold as a scrawny little thing with barely any muscle mass on him, shivering hard enough one could hear it while he did everything in his power to not show how it was affecting him. he's not that boy anymore, hasn't been for well over a decade. years spent honing his body, building himself out in addition to taking advantage of resources beyond what he could have imagined in his childhood have left him sturdy and well-suited to survive damn near anything thrown at him, except there's always, always bullcrap like this.

the shit that doesn't make sense. that, theoretically, should not be possible in any way. magic and sciences beyond human understanding, much in the way zatanna's able to pull rabbits out of a hat and superman can shoot beams out of his eyes hot enough to slice through steel. the stupid fucking ice, crawling it's way deeper into a place many of them have opted to take refuge. what he imagines is happening outside, given how aggressively this appears to be coming after them.

his arm tightens around sansa, after he's certain she's registered it's him and not anyone else. it's protective; jason has her, he's not going to let anything happen, even if it means he has to break his way out of this place and fight the storm itself. fuck it, he's fought weirder crap and he still owes that ghost bear a good sock in the face. jason's intentionally not slouching, instead holding himself up straight enough he can press his chin down against the top of her head, effectively wrapping himself around her as best as he can.

she brings up ghost, and eyes immediately move over to one of the windows that has frosted over, considering whether or not it's feasible for him to get out there and find the stupid dog. )

Ghost'll be fine. ( maybe he won't, fuck if jason knows. but those wolves aren't fucking stupid, they'd know better than to stay out even if it looked calm. ) But it ain't the mist, this is something different.

( it's not green, first off. second, that crap burned, this is doing - the opposite. )

( randvi ) hate when morning comes.

[reneger]

( the storm returns, and the frost doesn't go away so much as it just - stops spreading. jason feels like he's cold down to his bones despite the fire meant to keep them warm, and he hasn't slept in fuck knows how long. the cold, the being surrounded by everyone (okay, not everyone, but too many goddamn people), then the frost and now - more cold, just not the freezing everything cold, has him more on edge than he'd like to be.

especially around this many damn people.

but he's here, whether he likes it or not. the lighter he'd arrived with is getting real close to running out of fluid, but he's got it in hand and is fucking with the spark wheel as he leans against one of the walls, large wolf-pup resting on the leg that's out straight on the floor while the other one stays up and bent so he can rest his forearm on it. the wall itself is still too cold, but - with enough body heat, maybe it'll get back up to tolerable. )

[meadqueen]

[Once they can safely move around again and she no longer requires the refuge of Randvi’s enhanced body heat, Ulfrùn is immediately sniffing around the community hall, intent on bothering her siblings.

Randvi finds her poking at another wolf pup with her nose, this one lying on the leg of a man whose name she doesn't know, despite the fact that she’s quite familiar with him. One of the brawlers, he had of late taken an interest in Lyanna. She had seen the way that they'd been clinging to each other and isn't quite certain what to make of it.]

She does not know when to stop. Are you all right?

[reneger]

( ulfrùn is just a little baby, and they're all freezing here. she wanders her way on over, and jason doesn't object when she shoves her nose into the dog who has been affectionately nicknamed bitewing, because he's quickly raising his own snout and mouthing right back at her. his hand lifts off of his own pup, sitting upright so they can continue their playful banter over him without his limbs getting in the way. bitewing still manages to get a leg between jason's own, knocking him over as he tries to scoot backwards, and jason's -

snorting at the exchange. because they are both little kids doing dog-kid things, as far as he's concerned. without even looking up, he answers randvi, )

They're fine. Ain't like they have anything else to do in here.

[meadqueen]

It's true, I would rather have her doing this than chasing after the birds, but she can be a bit of a bully.

[Konstantin’s farm animals and these wolves could be an unfortunate combination.]

She does understand 'no' if you find that she's pushing too far.

[reneger]

She's just a baby.

( it's like damian: small and feral because they don't know any better. but knowing no is a step in the right direction, even if he's not going to use it. instead, he's putting his hands on either side of her head and scritching behind her ears, pulling her attention away from the other puppy. )

If she gets too rowdy, I can bully her right back.

[ployboy]

The trek to Lakeside is bad and the trek back is going to be worse-- a problem for future them to figure out.

Whether Jason had finally reached an understanding of Tim he had previously, recklessly, lacked or if the matter at hand simply lent itself to the older guy's insecurities shining brightly through, didn't seem to matter. Both of them were hours into the grim expedition and the mood wasn't made any worse because of Jason bitching to Tim over the matter of his (abhorrent lack of) health. Good.

When Tim said he was going to check the Blackbear cabin for clues, he had meant it.

Company... made it more bearable, what with the Bear still fresh in his mind despite everything else. There's Jason and Bitewing on either side of Tim, and he thinks he'd even feel fine with letting the vertigo get the better of him for a moment--

screwing his eyes shut against the nausea, Tim puts down the binoculars.

"Nothing," he informs. Blindly puts his hand out to offer said binoculars to-- his brother, thin dandelion-yellow thread flickering between them. And then disappearing. The same way several things just happen to disappear here, in the snow, in the harrowing freeze. In the silence. "The storm wiped out the markers I had set before. I don't even know where the traps are now or if they're still standing."

His fault. And it means there's no way to detour to go check if the snares have been pulled or tested... unless... but no, "There's n-no- no tracks either."

[reneger]

They say time makes the heart grow fonder, but continued exposure to this hellhole has not made Jason grow any more fond of it, and he doubts time away from this would make him miss it at all. He's got his arms wrapped around his midsection, hands tucked under his upper arms as he, Bitewing, and Tim make the trek through hell-infested lands searching for -

"I told you that you shouldn't be out in this crap, y'know." It was a brief thing, the way Tim squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the world around him for just a moment, but Jason caught it. He's not reaching for Tim; if he wants to be out here suffering, he can handle himself. Jason does reach for the binoculars, but doesn't bother raising them up to his eyes to double check. He trusts Tim.

"He wouldn't leave tracks. But if the brat was still around, I doubt he'd watch your pathetic ass searching out here for him this long. He's gone."

And that hurts. First Bruce, now Damian. Damian had been. . . elusive at best, but disappearing on them like this? Jason doubts it was his choice; the kid is loyal to a fault, and wouldn't leave the rest of them in the lurch if he could help it. Just like he wouldn't go off and die in the snow. No, Jason's fully confident he's still alive and kicking, just not here. "Which means we should get your ass back inside. 'wing." The binoculars get lowered, offered out to the pup who gently bites down on one side of them to carry them in his mouth.

[ployboy]

Once again, Tim 'spoke' too soon and he closes his eyes a second time against the grumbling. "I heard you the first five times." He hisses, "I'm not deaf." --yet, he tells himself. The earache hadn't gotten any better since Tim ditched the Center during the storm; it has no reason to. And now his brain threatens to explode, the space between both halves packed with bootleg C4. Or ice picks. Or ice picks and C4 and barbed wire, and Tim does nothing but continue to try to barrel through that space until connection is made: Robin is gone.

But was he taken or did he leave?

Tim holds out a hand to take back the binoculars-- then he makes a noise, disgruntled, not because the mutt has something valuable in between his teeth but because where was that eagerness to please when Tim was asking for compliance. Like father, like son.

Tim shivers, violently even, turning away and stepping experimentally to the left. He's met by suddenly being knee-deep in slush and ice and he has to stop with just that one step.

He already went and lost Bruce (again) so he can't just pretend that losing the hellion makes sense and-

"I'm looking for the cow," Tim points out needlessly. Like it doesn't put the lunacy of this entire thing in flashing neon light above his own broken head. "Or his dog's prints."

But regardless... the best way forward would be to keep moving forward. They're not to the resort lodges yet. Tim's legs wishes they were; he hears his own panting when he marches free of the short snowbank. The brief whistling of his breathing can't be a good sign- it'll cut short the work he should do to... to...

Tim insists, "It wouldn't be the first time he -breaks camp like that."

[reneger]

Damian has run off on his own countless times. He disappears off in the field at a rate that almost, almost rivals Bruce's own. Worse: he's small, and his ability to just fuck off from right under their noses is also on par with Bruce's. If the kid wanted to disappear, he would. But he's sentimental, too - and while giving Tim a heart attack is a great way to pass the time, letting Tim wander around in the snowbanks while he's ill because he's worried doesn't feel right. Damian'd pop up from whatever mound of snow he's managed to dig himself under like a tiny little snow gremlin, bark out insults and tell them to fuck off before he'd vanish once again to do whatever it is he gets up to out here. Jason doesn't ask questions he doesn't expect answers to, and that feels like a great one to avoid bothering with.

"You think he'd leave his cow behind? The same one he got into the Cave? And the dog he'd just added to his collection? Nah." Just like he wouldn't leave behind without them, but that goes without saying. Jason has more faith in Damian's ability to stand beside them than he does Bruce's, which just makes this all the worse. Bruce's disappearance, Jason could explain way. Damian's? Not likely.

Something's up, and it isn't Tim.

Which is why Jason's giving a frustrated sigh, and yanking an arm out of his outermost coat.

"Your turn," Which isn't all that obvious, but Jason helps by taking a big step forward, testing the snow under his feet to make sure he's not about to slip like Tim had two seconds before, then drops down to his knees in the snow. "but if you get snot in my hair, I'm gonna tell your girlfriend you were out here in the snow, sick and spleenless."