#rndork

says who!

sounds fake

new york city kiddo. course it is

i'd argue time was long before this, kid. like over the past week.

well that’s just bad manners.

you don’t try to blow up your host’s house when they say the party’s over.

i always feel validated when someone just says morning instead of good morning.

Sometimes, you just need to unwind.

After dealing with the Society’s C-list hired help, Jason’s due for something relaxing, something mindless to get out the rest of the energy that’s buzzing in his veins, and egging the home of some other universe’s “hero” version of Lex Luthor sounds like fun to him.

He goes to the local grocery and asks for eggs past their expiry; no sense in wasting good food on this; paying half-price for four dozen eggs and taking them home to suit up before he’s putting the coordinates he’s been given into his skimmer and letting it pull him out of his universe and into another.

Almost immediately, it’s brighter than Gotham, and he’s glad for his helmet to keep him from squinting too hard at the fact that there’s actually sunlight here. It’s an appropriately fancy home for a rich tech mogul, a fence closing off the property, and Jason slings the duffle of egg cartons across his body before scaling the gate across the driveway, jogging towards the house when he hits the ground.

As he figured, his approach triggered the house’s security: drones approach and he slows down, takes the time to work out some of his aggression on them, too. It does him good, really- just mindless violence in a universe where no one knows his name or what buttons to press. He’s laughing a little by the time he hits Stark’s front door, the drones used as target practice littered on the lawn behind him.