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Jason's passing through Baltimore on his way to Gotham and looking for a fight. Of course he is; gotta keep in shape for what's gonna go down when he gets home.
He gets a beer at the bar and then heads for the corner, where he can study the room at his leisure and pick the mark for tonight.
That’s when he sees the guy at the end of the bar, hunched in on himself, with a drunk girl trying to pick him up. The guy’s pretty, no doubt about that, and also absolutely broken – Jason can tell, having been completely broken himself. (And still is, he can admit only very early in the morning when he hasn’t slept in about a week.)
The guy – Jason knows that body language. He’s about to snap and he’s trying so hard not to, for whatever reason. And maybe this could be his fight, but…
He sighs and then stealthily makes his way to the bar, where he carefully comes up beside the guy and says, “Dude, where’ve you been? I’ve been waitin’ forever!” He barely leans in, whispering, “Don’t kill me,” before he puts an arm around the guy’s shoulder and kisses his cheek.
The girl pouts but moves on and Jason slides onto the stool next to the guy. The guy immediately relaxes just a hair but he’s still primed for what looks like it’d be a shitload of violence. The guy doesn’t say anything, but ice-cold eyes pin him in place.
Jason says, “Hi, I’m Jason” and tries his most winning smile, the one that hasn’t actually worked since he died.
The guy still says nothing.
“Okay,” Jason says. “Well, I’m planning on starting a barfight later. What are the chances of you being involved and not killing everyone in a three block radius?”
The guy’s lips quirk a little and he tilts his head to the side.
“Not great, okay,” Jason interprets. “Huh.”
A fight and beating the shit out of someone is one thing; wholesale slaughter? Nah, not yet. Not until –
He taps his fingers on the bar and orders another beer. He still wants a fight, and this guy could definitely give it to him… but for all that he’s probably as dangerous as Talia and Bruce, it feels too much like beating up on a kid. This guy is even more broken than him, holy shit, that takes work.
“Do you have somewhere to go for the night?” he asks. A guy this dangerous – he either needs a keeper or someone to watch his back, and Jason’s pretty sure keepers are what got him into this mess. You don’t get this broken unless someone did their damned best to break you.
The guy’s eyes flick to him before back down at the counter.
“Alright,” Jason says. “Mind if I tag along?”
He gets an actual shrugs this time. “Awesome,” Jason says.
What the fuck is he doing? He’s got a schedule to keep. He can’t go around picking up strays.
The guy murmurs, “Jimmy.”
“Jimmy? That your name?” Jason asks.
The guy nods, the tiniest incline of his head.
Fuck. Fine then. Gotham can wait. Not like it won’t still be there.
Jimmy finishes his beer and slips silently off the stool; Jason leaves his half empty on the bar, putting down enough money for them both. They slip through the crowd together, keeping each other in sight and moving in sync like Jason hasn’t since he left the League.
“I’ve got a place for the night,” Jason says. “If I promise not to try anything, you wanna come with me?”
The look Jimmy gives him rivals any stare from Bruce, and Jason waits until Jimmy finishes studying him. The smile he gets – fuck, whoever this guy is or was, Jason knows he’s in trouble. The smile is tiny but it’s so beautiful… god, Jason wonders what it’d take to get it again, get it bigger. Jimmy has a face made for smiling.
“C’mon, then,” Jason says. “Everything’ll keep for the mornin’.”
Jimmy looks underweight but he’s clean so he must have some care for bodily needs, good. The clothes are old and probably stolen or picked up at a shelter. About the only thing worth anything that he’s wearing are the boots – they look like serious business, the kind Jason wears when he goes out at night, looking for criminals to terrorize.
This could either be one of the best things Jason’s ever done, or the stupidest. He’ll make it work – he always does.