( he's pissed off and depressed all rolled into one big emotion and it's enough that he's not watching his back as well as he should be. he's focused on bruce, the threat in front of him, not ones that might be approaching from behind. he's about to tell bruce to fuck off, to go back to limping his way through the city, that jason hopes he gets eaten by a plant and shit back out in pieces.
and then there's the batarang. jason's immediate reaction to move himself out of the way, but he realizes it's not even aimed at him, so he's turning himself around, hips pivoting so he can see what bruce is aiming for, and still be facing towards bruce enough that he's ready for one to come straight for him. but it doesn't, because there's a spike embedding itself into bruce, and a batarang cutting one of those same plants straight in half.
bruce falls down to the ground. the threat of the plant is gone, over, and jason's just--
squinting down at bruce. puts the gun away so he can instead use his index finger to point down at him. )
See, that's also just like you. No, ( a deeper timbre, mimicking bruce's voice: ) "sorry I'm an emotionally constipated asshole, Jay". Just your "lemme take a bullet for you because I don't give a shit about my life" bullshit. I hate that too.
( he's rolling his eyes, but with the amount of wounds bruce is sporting, it's either leave him here to suffer, call dick and take off, or handle it. and if he called dick, he'd need to wait around for dick to show up before he could take off, so clearly the last option's fastest. jason clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, but he's reaching back into his jacket. pulls out a smaller first aid kit, among some bandages from another pocket. )
no subject
and then there's the batarang. jason's immediate reaction to move himself out of the way, but he realizes it's not even aimed at him, so he's turning himself around, hips pivoting so he can see what bruce is aiming for, and still be facing towards bruce enough that he's ready for one to come straight for him. but it doesn't, because there's a spike embedding itself into bruce, and a batarang cutting one of those same plants straight in half.
bruce falls down to the ground. the threat of the plant is gone, over, and jason's just--
squinting down at bruce. puts the gun away so he can instead use his index finger to point down at him. )
See, that's also just like you. No, ( a deeper timbre, mimicking bruce's voice: ) "sorry I'm an emotionally constipated asshole, Jay". Just your "lemme take a bullet for you because I don't give a shit about my life" bullshit. I hate that too.
( he's rolling his eyes, but with the amount of wounds bruce is sporting, it's either leave him here to suffer, call dick and take off, or handle it. and if he called dick, he'd need to wait around for dick to show up before he could take off, so clearly the last option's fastest. jason clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, but he's reaching back into his jacket. pulls out a smaller first aid kit, among some bandages from another pocket. )