"I never spent much time in Bludhaven when I was alive," Jason says in the same conversational tone he'd started their other two meetings with. Tim, remembering how he'd fared on both those occasions, begins considering which of his apartment's boobytraps would be the most useful to deploy.
Jason picks a paperweight up off the desk and throws it lightly in one hand, as if measuring the heft.
"What do you want?" Tim asks, trying to keep his voice cool.
"I don't know if Dick ever told you this, but we used to have this joke going. If someone made eyes at both of us, or at one and then the other later on, we'd say they had a Robin fetish going. Could be an upstanding citizen we were saving, or a skel, or a hero in tights and a cape. Robin fetishes all over the place. You ever get that?"
Tim swallows. "Chicks dig the uniform," he answers after a beat. He's never been overly fond of the banter portion of standoffs, but he'll make do in a pinch.
Jason laughs. "Chicks? Kid, do I look like I was raised from the dead yesterday?"
"What do you want?" Tim repeats, words downright icy this time.
"Well, as far as I can tell you're not getting any, and the people I used to mess around with all think I'm evil now for some reason, so I was thinking we could hate each other in the naked way. Or in uniform, if you want. The Robin fetish has never been my kink, personally, but it wouldn't be the first time I catered to it." Jason gives him the wide, fuck-you smile Tim remembers so well from his photograph collection.
"How do I know you won't just cut my throat?" Tim asks.
"I'm not exactly into necrophilia. Though I kind of hope you are, since I'm legally a dead guy and all. I won't try to kill you until the afterglow's at least mostly gone. Soldier's honor."
Tim shrugs. "Deal."
It's not like he hasn't equipped the bedroom against intruders, anyway.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Not actually porn, but better than a kick in the face. Or something. Hopefully.
Date: 2005-11-21 06:56 am (UTC)Jason picks a paperweight up off the desk and throws it lightly in one hand, as if measuring the heft.
"What do you want?" Tim asks, trying to keep his voice cool.
"I don't know if Dick ever told you this, but we used to have this joke going. If someone made eyes at both of us, or at one and then the other later on, we'd say they had a Robin fetish going. Could be an upstanding citizen we were saving, or a skel, or a hero in tights and a cape. Robin fetishes all over the place. You ever get that?"
Tim swallows. "Chicks dig the uniform," he answers after a beat. He's never been overly fond of the banter portion of standoffs, but he'll make do in a pinch.
Jason laughs. "Chicks? Kid, do I look like I was raised from the dead yesterday?"
"What do you want?" Tim repeats, words downright icy this time.
"Well, as far as I can tell you're not getting any, and the people I used to mess around with all think I'm evil now for some reason, so I was thinking we could hate each other in the naked way. Or in uniform, if you want. The Robin fetish has never been my kink, personally, but it wouldn't be the first time I catered to it." Jason gives him the wide, fuck-you smile Tim remembers so well from his photograph collection.
"How do I know you won't just cut my throat?" Tim asks.
"I'm not exactly into necrophilia. Though I kind of hope you are, since I'm legally a dead guy and all. I won't try to kill you until the afterglow's at least mostly gone. Soldier's honor."
Tim shrugs. "Deal."
It's not like he hasn't equipped the bedroom against intruders, anyway.