crowbcrsâ:
Jason would hardly admit it out loud, but heâs a little nervous as Cass takes the seat opposite to him. In many ways, more so than Dick, sheâs everything he couldnât be. Sheâs been at the bottom of a darker and grimmer pit than Jasonâs and still managed to climb back out of it without the stench of anger and bitterness trailing behind her. If he ever pauses before squeezing a trigger, itâs because of her story lurking in the back of his mind â after everything sheâs been through, she can still believe in justice without murder, so why canât he?
Itâs hard not to concede a little ground â to give her space and a gentler voice, free of the mocking and ridicule he lodges at their other brothers.
âNot usually. Not today,â Jason shakes his head, though his brow furls slightly in concern. A broken apart memory floats back to him, and for a second heâs twelve years old and laid up in bed with a concussion while Alfred reads Anne of Green Gables by his bedside. Something in his chest clenches tight for a minute and then releases, pain thatâs more like the memory of hurting than anything else. âIs it always like that for you?â
   âbarbara tried to teach me.â cass is lucky, she supposes, that she feels more comfortable thinking these days, but sheâs intensely aware of the things she canât do, as compared to the rest of her family. still, theyâve worked to accommodate her, regardless, so thereâs not much worth complaining about. her mind wanders, too, to the evenings spent curled up by dickâs side, listening to him read fairy-tales. it makes her smile despite her sour mood.  âmost of the time. itâs like...â she hums, searching for the words, âitâs just lines. squiggles.â
she rests her elbows on the table and pillows her chin on my interlocked fingers.  âi have to learn. eventually.â















