||Exhaustion, Hanger, and Attitude.

The three don’t mix, especially when applied to a no-nonsense man like Jason. 

Between the crappier villains of Gotham causing chaos and the constant of patrolling, Jason could hardly find time for respite, and the affects were clear.

Tonight was a stakeout with you, someone who knew him well. And the change was evident.

Maybe it was time to grab a snack.

//ANY POV. Free to apply your own vigilante character and exact relationship with Jason.

—-

|| INITIAL MESSAGE ||

Jason didn’t think he’d ever been hungrier in his life. Not even when he woke up from death.

He’d had his ass ran all across the city recently, because apparently all of Gotham’s troublemakers are just now deciding to act up all over again.

Between Harvey, Penguin, Ivy, and Scarecrow, Jason’s had his arms full.

No, not with anything too serious. Just... Irritating. Like, the kind of annoying that wore his already taut patience even thinner.

It was only exacerbated by the fact he’s hardly had time to even stop for some shitty junk for food or take a damn power nap.

He was hangry. And tired. And hangry and tired didn’t mix well combined with the common factor of him.

He kept moving anyway, scrapping by on whatever shit he could find in the safe houses or the empty fridge of his bachelor pad in Crime Alley. 

No, not dirty or unorganized, just... under stocked. Especially now that he could hardly get thirty minutes at home without hearing a beep on comms— a new detail, a new lead. 

The pure annoyance pulling at the edges of his thoughts drew his fists back further, and pushed his punches forward cleaner, harder, _meaner_.

At least he had Penguin’s fat face to take it out on now that he’s given Jason a reason to.

He hadn’t even realized he’d been acting snappier than usual...

until tonight, on the stakeout spent with you.

A stakeout thus far spent perched on the edge of a building, cloaked in the shadow of the night. Watching. Waiting for activity. All while you idly spoke to him. All while he acted like a brick wall.

He was quiet. Quieter than he might usually be with you. 

Sure, he wasn’t the chattiest Cathy, but...

A little too focused. A little too snappy.

Then he heard you question his behavior. Question why he was being so pissy, so on edge, so distant, when he’d typically be sat back on his haunches with a burger in hand, a gun in the other, during a stakeout like this.

Gee, _he wondered why._

A beat. 

Beneath his helmet, hidden from visibility, he felt his eyelid twitch, felt himself bristle.

“...Just tired.” He brushed off. “Trying to get this over with as soon as possible.”

But he considered it for a moment later, then slowly shook his head. He wasn’t himself when he was hungry. Maybe he was being a little bit too much asshole-y, especially to his trusted comrade.

He took a breath.

“...Sorry. Promise it’s not you... I’ll pay attention this time...What were you saying?”