#12thlevelintellect

   To Jason, settling into the manor feels like a bit of a fever dream.

   The first few weeks there, he’s not quite the same rowdy brat who tried to steal the tires of Batman’s car and then smacked him with a tire iron, making a run down the alley. His brashness and abrasiveness from Ma Gunn’s home dims down a bit—or rather, takes on a new shape.

   For the Wayne manor is large and it sits behind an iron gate down a driveway that requires a care to navigate, and the windows are grand tall, checkered with panes of glass like a lot of the old homes in Gotham, and the lawn it neatly trimmed, the hedges freshly cut, and the steps leading to the main entrance coalesce in a semi-circle of what might be marble. Jason doesn’t really know the difference between one white rock and another, but it’s always smooth and cool to the touch.

   And his room—his room might be as big as the entire first floor of the apartment his parents had down in the narrows, and it’s his room, logically he knows this, but it doesn’t feel like his room, all dark, cherry wood and a plush window seat for reading and a wall of empty shelves primed to be filled with books. His books. As many books as he wants.

   The most bizarre thing about the manor, aside from the hallways of old-looking paintings and the one wing that’s permanently closed and the piano that doesn’t have a speck of dust on it despite Jason never hearing anyone play is the sheer amount of rooms. There are so many rooms, and so many beds, one might think this manor was housing four families.

   But no. It’s just him. Jason Peter Todd, freshly adopted orphan of Bruce Wayne, multi-billionaire of Gotham, part-time Batman, his wife (who introduces herself as Lex, but Jason notices it switches to Alexandra whenever Bruce is in some mood or another), and the butler, Alfred. Jason thinks it’s kind of weird to have a butler for only three people, but Alfred is kind, and he makes him all sorts of breakfasts because Jason seems to be up at the same odd hours Alfred is and is always hungry—and he encourages Jason to explore the manor.

   Nothing will bite him.

   At least, it shouldn’t.

@12thlevelintellect

“You know I could’ve gotten out of there without your help,” he tells her, quietly, after they’ve boarded the yacht in the harbor.  “Arkham is practically made of cardboard.  Horrifying, deeply disturbing cardboard.”

Part of him is still grateful, though.  He can’t remain in prison with Superman having come back from the dead.  It’s an unconscionable idea — beyond unbearable.  

“Mom, it’s fine. I can handle a little bit of gross ignorance now and then.” It warmed her, though, in a way she knew would frighten the Justice League.

Lex glanced over at his counterpart.  He didn't trust her, because he knew better than to trust someone with his own level of capacity and the amount of ambition and trauma she clearly had.  But in some ways, he did enjoy her company.