𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀 | jason todd

v. speed and accuracy

CHAPTER FIVE
( speed and accuracy )

❛ let's go drinking ❜

†

THE SHOWER WAS COLD. THE DROPLETS like shards of ice on the back of Athena's neck. She hated cold showers. But, she needed to cool down, to collect herself again, smother the flames growing in her chest. Temper, Bruce had once told her, could be just as deadly as a double-edged blade. And her temper, if she couldn't put a reign on it, would be her downfall.

She was usually good. She could control it—even if it was only to stop her from dragging her victims by a chain from the back of a truck. But whenever she was around Jason—god, he infuriated her. She couldn't stop herself; she lets everything go, the leash suddenly slipping through her fingers. And what made it worse was that she didn't even care.

The way he held himself, his smug grin he had glued to his face, his constant thirst for chicks to bone, his unnecessary white-tinted fringe—his entire being set her on fire. And it fucking killed her that no matter how absolutely aggravating his smile was, it was the most attractive thing about him. Being around Jason, she truly understood the meaning of 'burning with rage.'

It was dead quiet when she stepped out the shower, the white walls around her grinning in torment. It reminded her of the boy outside the door, probably snooping through her stuff and finding anything he could use against her. She knew she would've done the same thing if she was in his situation—which only infuriated her more as she realised how similar they were.

She couldn't look at the walls for too long, in fear she'd lose her temper and slam her fist into it. One thing was for sure: she did not have the money to cover the insurance of a broken wall. So, she wrapped the towel around her body and strode passed them, not failing to snag a glance at herself in the small mirror above the sink, and pulled open the bathroom door.

She was half expecting Jason to be thrown on the bed, shoes kicked off and sharpening one of his prized knives. The other half, the little whisper in her ear, told her he was hiding; ready to strike home if she let her guard down. So, even as she walked out into the silent room, she was positioned to defend herself; her arms at easy reach to the dagger permanently strapped to her thigh.

           But to her surprise, the room was empty. Jason's belongings were shoved poorly in the cupboard, kicked in with a half ass attempt to slam the door shut before it all fell out. She was tempted to go through it, to get the advantage over him. But she really wasn't in the mood to find the stash of condoms and porn magazines he'd brought along. She wouldn't make that mistake again. 
           Besides from the faint smell of his cologne lingering slightly, any other trace of him was gone. And with a quick glance to the side draws, so were the keys.