It wasn't something that Bruce had taught him, either. Or the League, though he'd honed the skill during his time under Talia's tutelage. No, being a community and keeping a constant flow of trust between people, that was something that Jason had learned during his time in that ally. He'd learned it because he'd lived it. Hell, one of those men he'd been talking to had been off and on the streets for as long as Jason knew. The man had no idea he'd been talking to one of the kid's who'd huddle around the fire with him, but Jason sure as hell remembered.
He tore into his food as soon as Tim had settled into eating, making pleased sounds between bites. He'd eaten before he'd left for patrol, but they were only a week or so away from the last full moon, his metabolism was still set to 'stupid' high. It would slow over the next few days, but until then he'd be snacking ever few hours or so. His gyro disappeared far faster than Tim's, but he didn't mind the wait. It gave him a chance to sip at his drink....and pull a book out from one of the inner pockets of his jacket.
"Honestly? I don't got a clue, kid. But...this might help." He reached out, offering the leather bound pages. It was a journal of some kind, handwritten in sharp, precise lettering that Tim would probably recognize fairly easily. "I have no idea how Talia got it, but it's yours. At least, it should be. Pretty sure it's a grimoire she wrote for you, but I didn't read too much of it. Wasn't my place. She was trying to use it to make me hate you more." He shrugged, refusing to look over at the younger boy. "She was a piece of work, your mom. Pretty sure she only used your name once."
Just because Janet had left something to help her son didn't mean she wasn't still Janet Drake. It was still more than he had of Catherine, which had been Talia's whole point, but that clipped, abrupt handwriting hadn't been quite as motherly as Talia had hoped.
"Read on your own time. I've got shelters to check on and lock down. Come on, I'll introduce you to the girls on the way."
no subject
He tore into his food as soon as Tim had settled into eating, making pleased sounds between bites. He'd eaten before he'd left for patrol, but they were only a week or so away from the last full moon, his metabolism was still set to 'stupid' high. It would slow over the next few days, but until then he'd be snacking ever few hours or so. His gyro disappeared far faster than Tim's, but he didn't mind the wait. It gave him a chance to sip at his drink....and pull a book out from one of the inner pockets of his jacket.
"Honestly? I don't got a clue, kid. But...this might help." He reached out, offering the leather bound pages. It was a journal of some kind, handwritten in sharp, precise lettering that Tim would probably recognize fairly easily. "I have no idea how Talia got it, but it's yours. At least, it should be. Pretty sure it's a grimoire she wrote for you, but I didn't read too much of it. Wasn't my place. She was trying to use it to make me hate you more." He shrugged, refusing to look over at the younger boy. "She was a piece of work, your mom. Pretty sure she only used your name once."
Just because Janet had left something to help her son didn't mean she wasn't still Janet Drake. It was still more than he had of Catherine, which had been Talia's whole point, but that clipped, abrupt handwriting hadn't been quite as motherly as Talia had hoped.
"Read on your own time. I've got shelters to check on and lock down. Come on, I'll introduce you to the girls on the way."