Jason never understood what love really was, he had lovers, people he took care of and cared. But it's was never like in the books he read, that gut wrenching feeling that songs and poems tried to describe.
He liked them and it was okay, nothing extraordinary, just him his love and the other person.
It was like this before noticing Tim. He knew Tim obviously, he was aware of him even though with the pit effect he forgot many things. But he never noticed him. It started casually, one day when he was at his apartment and Tim knock on his window. He asked help with a case, nothing drastic just a job you want to finish the fastest way possible.
He accepted, maybe a little reluctant. If was awkward at first, they had to get use to each other, but with time the discovered their similar sense of humour, their habits. How each other react to physical contact, how Jason is more open and Tim is more cautious. And from there it was almost impossible not to fell in love.
And it started like the usual, normal amount of affection but something went wrong. It was like his affection would grow everything he saw him, it became stronger every time Tim laughed at his jokes. And somehow it ended with him waking up thinking about him, going through his day trying not to think about him but ending with anxiety.
He couldn't stop thinking about him, but at the same time how he was too wrong for Tim. How his scars were ugly, how his personality was aggressive and it made him feel sick.
Sick because how dare him to like someone as Tim, and how dare him to hope for something. But he couldn't stop, and he knew he couldn't regret it. But he knew what that books meant by now. But now there was just his love and Tim, there wasn't space for him in his own mind
Jason and Tim keep meeting on rooftops. It's not a Thing™. (Except that it kind of is.) It grows from there.
JayTim Week 2026 Day 10 - Sunday, June28th
Sunset/Sunrise, Stargazing, Rooftop Rendezvous
for @jaytimweek 's JayTim event week! (posted late on tumblr my bad 😬 it's the time zones and need for sleep lol)
title from Come Along by Cosmo Sheldrake
cross-posted on ao3
wc: 3.1k
CW: does deal with implied/referenced suicidal thoughts, not a huge recurring theme but does feature in some scenes, so take care of yourselves <3
For Jason, it was a way to escape the anger. He reasoned he couldn’t be angry with anyone if there was no one around to be angry at. He climbed up to the roof and stared at the sky, the clouds, the buildings, the gargoyles. Didn’t even necessarily run around, just sat down or laid back and breathed, waiting for the green to slip away.
For Tim, it was a way to escape the boredom. There were, of course, the computers in his room, or the library, books, other things to occupy him. But they didn’t interest him most of the time. So, he climbed up to the roofs to find adventure. That was where Batman and Robin were, which was more than enough to pique his interest, and then they were Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson, then Bruce Wayne and Jason Todd, then, just Bruce. Then it was Bruce and Tim. Always Batman and Robin. Even as Robin… no, even outside of Robin, he still found himself stalking the rooftops, camera or no. He just liked it up there.
It was the third time Jason’d escaped to the roof of the Manor to get away and calm down when Tim had shown up.
He hadn’t heard the footsteps at first, he was silent as a bat, not until they drew close and he rolled his head to the side to take a look. Tim clearly hadn’t been expecting anyone to be up there either and when he noticed someone else, he flinched.
A batarang whipped towards Jason and he caught it. “What the hell? Trying to kill me or something?” he asked, sitting up.
“I didn’t know anyone else was up here!” Tim defended. “What are you doing up here anyways?”
Jason debated with himself for a second and surprised himself by landing on the truth. “Needed to get away or I was gonna punch someone’s face in.”
“Should I take a step back?” Tim asked dryly.
They weren’t close enough for Jason to be able to tell if he was joking or not. He raised the batarang and an eyebrow to silently say, do you need to?
Tim shrugged and walked to the corner of the roof and sat down, staring at the sky. That was a no then.
Jason continued to stare at him, one hand fidgeting with the batarang. “So, why’re you up here?”
Tim shrugged again and didn’t answer for several minutes. Not until after Jason had laid back down to stare at the dusky sky, finger mindlessly tracing the edge of the weapon.
“It’s interesting.”
Jason couldn’t see him, not without sitting back up. He stared at the slow drifting clouds and focused on Tim’s voice.
“Sometimes, sometimes I get bored. Can’t focus. Everything’s too… boring,” he scoffed. “But up here, there’s a whole sky.” He let out a self-conscious laugh. “I mean-”
“No, I get it.”
“You do?”
“Up here’s where the magic is. Stars, even if you can rarely see ‘em. The sun, too, on those rare days. Can stare at the clouds and forget about life for a minute.” Jason kept his gaze on those clouds above him, ignoring the green in the corner of his vision, the shadows within the clouds creating a shape that Jason could imagine was a bird. A robin. “And Robin. Batman and Robin. It had the magic of Robin. Of bright colours, witty remarks, showy backflips and protecting kids on the streets from the creepy fuckers out there.”
“It had Robin,” Tim echoed.
They were quiet a while. The clouds danced and shifted and the sky darkened further. Neither moved.
“Sometimes I don’t care for life,” Tim said. “It’s boring.”
Jason watched a pirate ship dissolve into a dinosaur. “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t come back,” Jason said. It was the first time he’d admitted that out loud. He realized, belatedly, that at some point while lying here, the green had faded out of his vision without his notice. “Probably woulda been easier on everyone.”
They didn’t speak anymore that night. Both stood when the last remnants of the sun had faded to go down to the cave. Jason thought that would be it, he and Tim would never acknowledge it, they’d move on but maybe towards building a more mutually respectful relationship.
Instead, it became a thing. No matter how Jason wanted to deny it, it became a thing.
They’d meet randomly on rooftops all over the city, or at the Manor. Whenever the anger and green got too much for Jason or the dullness and boredom for Tim. If the other was already out there, well, they’d usually end up on the same roof until one of them had to leave.
Sometimes one of them found the other on the edge and joined them. Sometimes they stood on the ledge and tempted fate together. Except when Jason wobbled, Tim was grabbing him before he could even catch himself, and when Tim seemed about to float away in the wind, Jason was there with a hand in his shirt keeping him steady.
Most times they’d just sit, legs swinging above the city as they stared out at the lights and smog and shadows of their home.
Each time, however, Jason found the green slipping away quicker and quicker. He tried not to think too hard about it.
Tim knew Jason refused to acknowledge the growing frequency of their “rooftop rendezvous’”, but he still smirked to himself when he heard Jason stomp over, purposefully loud. (If he’d noticed Jason start consciously making sound after the second time Tim had flinched at being startled… neither of them brought it up.) He kept staring through the scope of his camera at the city skyline, waiting for… click.
“Bored?” Jason’s dry voice asked.
“Angry?” he replied, not looking away from his camera.
Jason made a sound that Tim took to be a shrug accompanied by a grunt and listened to Jason sit a couple feet away from him.
(The distance between them seemed to be shortening ever so slowly. Not that he was paying attention to something like that or bringing out a measuring tape each time to know for sure. It didn’t matter if he thought about it, because he didn’t dwell on it, so it didn’t count.)
“It’s the prose that gets me. The word choice! The descriptions! The way the characters speak! It’s all so…”
“Precise?”
Jason hummed. “And eloquent. No one talks like that anymore. No one spends three pages describing trees anymore.”
It was Tim’s turn to hum acknowledgingly.
He continued rambling on about his favourite books, authors, the difference in writing styles, arms waving passionately in the air as he lay on the roof, eyes closed.
Tim fiddled with his camera to get the lighting settings right, the evening could be so finnicky. He took some test photos, check them, adjusted again, another test, rinse and repeat, letting Jason’s voice wash over him.
In between taking photos (settings finally right for the moment), he glanced over at Jason and his breath caught. He looked so beautiful, lying there, hair a mess, arms waving and lost in thought, his face so peaceful yet intense from his speech.
Tim took a picture.
Tim kept taking pictures of Jason. Only when he wasn’t looking or paying attention. Kept taking his city photos, skyline photos, gargoyle photos, even printed and framed a few when Bruce asked. But when Jason let himself close his eyes or before he knew Tim was there? Tim would take a moment to immortalize his being. He hoarded those moments.
Jason finally, inevitably, caught him one morning when they were both up to witness the sunrise behind a surprisingly clear sky.
He was once again laid back, hands pillowing his head, looking an angel in the morning sun’s rays. Tim couldn’t resist snapping a picture. Another. Even when he saw Jason’s eyes opening through the viewfinder, he paused but kept his camera up. Not when his muse was yearning for more.
Jason lifted his head slightly and raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.
Tim didn’t either. Click!
Jason lowered his head and closed his eyes again.
Tim took another photo.
“Do I ever get to see them?” Jason asked, part teasing, part genuine curiosity, as they sat on one of their more habitual rooftops in the city. Jason, with his feet dangling over the ledge, Tim, huddled in a ball a couple feet from the ledge, camera in his face.
“Hm?” Tim’s fingers fiddled with something on the top of his camera as he aimed it at Jason. He’d gotten bolder since that time Jason had caught him and took his silence as permission (he wasn’t wrong), not even bothering to wait for him to close his eyes or look away.
“The pictures,” Jason clarified, raising his eyebrow as he stared down the camera lens.
The shutter snapped.
Jason huffed a laugh, turning back out to the city. He heard the camera click a few more times before Tim finally spoke.
“You wouldn’t like them.”
Jason whipped his head around to look at him incredulously. “I’ve seen the pictures you’ve given to B and Dick. Not portraits so it’s different, I get it, but still. You’re incredible. No way you could fuck up my ugly mug more than it already is.”
“You’re beautiful,” Tim responded immediately, automatically.
They both froze.
Normally, this would be the part where Jason would crack a joke to break the tension and brush past the honest words. He wasn’t sure why this time he didn’t. Instead, what came out was, “If I had half the talent and practice you do, I’d take so many pictures of you.”
Tim inhaled sharply.
They stared at each other, neither breaking eye contact.
“Go fuck your own husband for once, Theresa!” A door slammed in an apartment below them.
They both flinched. Looked down. Looked back at each other and started cackling.
“Think Jerry’s sleeping on the couch tonight?” Jason asked between giggles.
“Jerry? Who the hell is Jerry?”
“Oh yeah. I named them in my head. Yelling lady’s name is Manda, her husband, Jerry. I had homewrecker as Patty and her husband as Donald, he seems like a Donald.”
“Those aren’t their actual names.” Tim frowned. “It’s Bernice and Chris who live there, and Theresa’s husband is MacDowell. Pretentious asshole.”
Jason blinked. “You know their actual names?”
Tim shrugged and went back to fiddling with his camera. “Yeah. I got bored.”
Jason hummed, nodding slowly, watching, observing, considering.
Tim was fiddling with his camera in the living room of the Manor, trying to figure out the right settings for the dim indoor space. He knew Jason liked the Manor library and since he wasn’t ready to share his photos of Jason with the man himself yet, he figured he could offer something else but didn’t want to give away the surprise if Jason came across him before he was ready.
“It’s good to see you with your camera again,” Dick said, scattering Tim’s thoughts.
“Huh?” Tim looked up at him.
Dick smiled and sat on the couch arm. “Just seemed like you hadn’t taken pictures in a while, but now I see you with your camera again. I’m glad.” Dick ruffled his hair and walked off.
Tim puzzled it over. He didn’t feel like he’d ever stopped his photography? It was practically the only thing that kept his interest, other than running over the rooftops in costume, fighting and thwarting bad guys. He supposed he’d been bringing his camera out more often recently and not just sneaking off to rooftops in the middle of the night. He had started taking some pictures in the Manor, and had been going up at random times with less effort to avoid passing anyone on his way.
He was so lost in thought as he wandered back up to his room, he jumped when Jason called out to him.
Jason raised his eyebrows, walking closer and leaning against the wall. “What’s got you so in your head?”
Tim couldn’t respond. The lighting in the hallway… the shadows over Jason’s face as he leant against the wall in front of him, he seemed to be posed like a marble statue, a perfect muse the way his hands were in his pockets, ankles crossed, relaxed posture. Beautiful.
Jason opened his mouth.
“Don’t move!” Tim cried.
Jason raised an eyebrow. (But didn’t move.)
“Just-” he held a hand out “-stay there.” Tim took a step back, bringing his camera up to yet again fiddle with the settings. He couldn’t fuck this up. When he finally looked through the viewfinder, his breath caught.
Sometimes Tim wished he could paint. Some sort of Renaissance or Baroque style. The grand paintings, the way the artists crafted their art. To capture what a camera couldn’t, what he imagined around his subjects. Dragons hiding between gargoyles, faeries dancing under streetlamps, Nightwing’s wings glowing golden behind him, creatures in Batman’s shadows. Right here, with Jason looking like that? He glowed. In a way he didn’t think digital editing could do justice. Jason deserved a giant oil painting. The kind that took up an entire wall in a museum, that people could look at a million times and want to look again because the subject was so beautiful, so breathtaking, so enigmatic.
Tim would work with what he had here, but he longed to manipulate the scene. Strategic lighting and curtain backgrounds, help the camera capture the glow he saw around his muse. Create the setting he wanted to see, but there was no time for that, not with Jason right in front of him like that. Click!
Jason stood there as Tim took picture after picture of him. Neither of them said a word, it was silent except for the shutter of the camera. Only when Alfred’s call for dinner came did Tim finally pause. And only when Tim put his camera down for several seconds did Jason finally shift, stand from the wall, and ask, “We goin’ then?” with a raised eyebrow.
Tim could only stare.
Jason rolled his eyes and bumped his shoulder gently into Tim’s. “C’mon.”
Tim followed robotically. Jason hadn’t moved. Had stayed still, in position, until Tim signalled the end. How much longer would he have stayed, uncomplaining, if Tim had kept going? For as long as he asked, came unbidden, but seemingly true. Tim didn’t know how to feel about that.
Jason didn’t know why he was headed up to the roof. Well… rather, he didn’t want to admit it. Because he wasn’t angry and there wasn’t green tinting his vision, had been having less moments where he struggled with control, yet found himself on the roof more and more often. This time he barely had an excuse.
He told himself he was just looking for Tim, to check up on him. The truth he didn’t want to admit, even to himself, was that he wanted to see him. Wanted to hangout with, talk to, be around Tim.
It wasn’t a thing.
He slipped out the upstairs window and pulled himself onto the roof. His eyes scanned the area, corner to corner, around all the chimneys. He ignored the pit of disappointment growing in his stomach.
He sat down and waited.
It wasn’t a thing.
He watched the sun set. He watched the city lights flicker. He saw the occasional star peak through the gaps in the clouds.
Tim never showed up.
It wasn’t a thing.
“For you,” Tim said, holding out the flat box after having cornered Jason outside his room in the Manor.
Jason frowned at him. “What is it?”
Tim rolled his eyes. “It won’t bite. Take it.”
Jason took the box, his eyebrows raising when he felt the weight of the box. “What’s in here?”
“Open it.”
Jason made a face and Tim sighed again.
“Just open it.”
“Fine, fine, but if something jumps out at me, I’m stealing your chargers.”
“Rude.”
Jason gave Tim one last suspicious look before turning it over to look for the seem of the paper wrap. Tim graciously supported the box as he sliced the paper open and tossed it to the ground to deal with later.
“A cardboard box, I’m so touched,” Jason said dryly.
Tim rolled his eyes. “Shut up and open it.”
Jason chuckled and did as asked, slowly lifting the lid off. His breath caught when he saw what was inside. “Tim…” Jason breathed and picked up the frame, eyes glued to the image.
“I tried to pick the best one, I wasn’t sure what you’d like and honestly you’re just too beautiful to take a bad photo of, so it was a difficult choice in that respect, but then again-”
“Tim,” Jason interrupted, eyes flickering up to look at him. “Thank you.”
“Oh. You’re welcome.”
“It’s- beautiful. I’m… how- you made me beautiful.”
“You are.”
“Tim.”
“I- it’s how I- it’s how I see you,” Tim said softly. “Magnificent. Glowing.” He shrugged. “You’re beautiful. I wanted you to see that.”
“Fuck,” Jason exhaled, still mesmerized by the photo Tim had taken of him. Had taken, edited, printed and framed. Put effort into making. Put effort into Jason.
It wasn’t any of the photos he’d been aware of, and he was slightly surprised it wasn’t from the night in the Manor when time had seemed to slow as Tim and his camera circled him like crows. It was just one random evening, immortalized by Tim. He was lying on a rooftop somewhere, legs dangling off the edge, eyes closed, with one arm behind his head, the other in the air gesturing as he talked about… something he couldn’t recall now, but there was a curl to his lips and a calm to his face he didn’t think he’d ever seen in the mirror. The way Tim had captured the evening lighting made it look like the sky was on fire, like Jason was on fire, he couldn’t describe it. This is how Tim sees me.
“Thank you,” he said, looking up at Tim. “It’s- thank you.”
Tim shrugged bashfully. “My pleasure,” he said softly.
“Do you-” Jason started, then stopped himself. He swallowed. “Believe it or not I’ve never been on top of the Clocktower… I hear it’s got a great view of the city.”
Tim’s lips started curling up at the corners.
“Wanna meet up there later?”
Tim smiled and Jason imagined this was how Tim felt when he wanted to take a picture, he wanted to bottle up this moment, Tim's smile, forever. “Love to.”
“Wanna help me hang this first?” Jason held up the frame. “This really awesome photographer took this picture of me, it’s really great actually, you might’ve heard of him-”
“Shut up.” Tim rolled his eyes, smiling.
“Is that a yes?” Jason teased.
“Yes.”
thanks for reading!! feel free to rb and leave nice comments <3
Me rn: Okay my wip is tim and jason IN LOVE but fucking up and then idk bdsm or smth???? anyways moral of the story tim and jason IN LOVE and maybe they make eachother bleed a bit idk
Chapters: 4/4
Fandom: DCU (Comics)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Tim Drake / Jason Todd
Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake (DCU), Roy Harper
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Getting Together, Pining Tim Drake (DCU), Idiots in Love, Insecure Jason Todd, Insecure Tim Drake (DCU), Unrequited Love, Light Angst, no beta we die like jason todd, guys tbh I don’t know how to tag, From Tim’s perspective this is a hurt/comfort slow burn angst love story, but for Jason this is fluff galore, accidental date, Accidental Relationship, Jealous Jason Todd
Series: Part 1 of DC Fanfics (Mostly JayTim)
Summary:
If you asked Jason how he felt about Tim’s soulmate he would say he hated the bastard. If he was being honest he didn’t know much about the guy at all, no one did not really. But Jason didn’t need to know who he was to hate his guts. If the guy ever got his head out of his ass and finally realized that Tim was very much a wonderful person to be around, Jason was sure that the first thing he’d do upon finding out his identity would be to sock him in the face.
AKA Jason and Tim are soulmates in a world where when you realize your in love with your soulmate your timer goes off. Tim realizes first, Jason falls harder.
Im looking for a fic on ao3, it’s Tim/Jason. Where Jason is tipsy/drunk (hanging out with Roy at some point ?) and accidentally sends a nude to Tim? Or maybe not accidental?
But I remember Jason specifically mentioning his autopsy scars? And being self conscious about it all. And I remember it being a shirtless mirror selfie.
That’s all I have to go on, could someone please let me know if you know which fic I’m looking for ?
Little excerpt from a fic I started way back and have never gotten around to finishing. I really love it though and wanted to show some of the dynamic going on between Arkham Knight!Jason and Joker Junior!Tim:
Jason stares at the corpse laid out on his doorstep. It’s as if a cat has deemed him worthy enough to bring back its kill, except Jason doesn’t even have a cat, let alone one big enough to kill and drag a man up six flights of stairs.
Really, this is just getting ridiculous.
There’s a bloody smile painted onto the man’s face and a note taped to his chest. Jason yanks it free to glare at the neat script.
What do you name a knight that won’t die? Sir Vivor.
For a moment, he can’t process what he’s seeing. He flips the paper over in search of further writing, but there’s nothing. Just a stupid smiley face and that same neat handwriting staring back at him.
Is that a threat? Up until now his mystery killer has been malevolent to Clown lovers only. Are they widening their pool?
They know where he lives—or at least, they know of one of his safe houses. Are they watching him right now, trying to make him squirm?
He casts his gaze around, lip curled back into a bitter snarl. They’ll learn the hard way that he doesn’t squirm. Hasn’t since he was left in the Clown’s hands.
He forces himself to keep the paper despite his desire to rip it to shreds. A solid kick is landed to the corpse’s ribs as he lets out a vicious curse. His comm crackles to life with a touch of his hand.
“I need a body pickup,” he barks, “and a full scan of my location. Anybody suspicious found lurking around is to be detained.”
He doesn’t give time for a response. He shuts the line off with a sharp twist of his wrist before turning on his heel to stomp away, paper clutched tight in his fist. Or, at least, that’s what he tells himself to do. It’s the smart thing. There could be an ambush inside; it wouldn’t be the first time. He has better things to do than bother with some asshole’s idea of a practical joke.
Except someone decided to wet his doorstep with blood. And Jason’s pissed.
His leg swings up to smash his own door down in three hard kicks. He can feel the contact reverberate up his leg but it doesn’t stop him. His own alarm starts to wail before he reaches up to throw the small shrapnel bombs above the door into the kitchen and living room respectively. They go off in a shower of razor sharp metal, piercing through furniture and embedding into the walls.
Jason pulls a gun and stalks inside.
“Geez,” someone says from the hall leading into his bedroom. The angle was off or he would have thrown one of the bombs that way too. “If ya hate the place so much, ya could just sell it. No need to go around vandalizin’ property, yanno?”
“Get out here,” Jason barks, “and keep your hands where I can see them, asshole. You’re lucky I didn’t blow the whole place up with you inside.”
There’s a quiet little giggle that sends a chill down Jason’s spine. He’s trying to figure out why it sounds so familiar when a small figure steps out into the light, hands held up by his head. He’s wearing what looks like a kevlar bodysuit with an actual suit jacket overtop that looks like it’s seen better days. An arm and half of the side has been ripped off entirely, while the pants are nowhere to be seen. Thick soled boots cover his legs from slender ankles to muscled thighs. There are belts hanging from his waist and chest, connected to several different holsters. There’s a machine gun strapped to his back, what looks like a modified pistol with a silencer on his thigh and an assortment of knives on his arm. And that’s just what Jason can see.
It’s the smile that gives it away though. Crooked and stretched around the scar tissue cutting up through his cheeks. Just like the smiles on the bodies of the Joker’s goons.
“You,” Jason breathes, “you’re the one that’s been leaving bodies around the city.”
“I would hardly say ‘m the only one,” comes the mild response. “You leave bodies behind almost every day.”
“And yet you decided it was a good idea to break into one of my safe houses. Why?”
“I wanted to meet you.”
“What?”
He grins and gives a little wiggle of his fingers, like a mockery of a wave. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I even saw ya fly a few times, back when ya still had a shadow. I wanted t’ meet you now, to see if yer still the same.”
There’s only one shadow he could mean. It belongs to someone he’s been doing his best not to think about for months now. Instead, he focuses on the strange rise and fall of the stranger’s accent. It doesn’t sound natural. It’s as if every other sentence his brain catches up and realizes what he’s doing. Jason just can’t decide which one is the truth: the careless syllables or the posh upper crust accent.
“Why now?”
“I only got out recently—couldn’t come see ya, even if I tried. And then I got up ‘ere and saw those idiots dressed as clowns,” a dark look crosses his face. His smile turns sharper, more dangerous, but it doesn’t fade. “I couldn’t help myself.”
“You were in Arkham?”
“Something like that.”
Jason doesn’t remember anyone like him visiting the cell he was kept in. Judging by his kills, he could’ve been on bad terms with the Clown. Then again, the Joker had run Arkham. If someone he didn’t like came in, they didn’t last very long.
Jason doesn’t lower his gun.
“Who are you?”
For the first time, the smile disappears. His head tilts to the side like a bird. “Who am I?” He repeats. “I don’t really know.”
Jason scoffs. “Bad place to come to find yourself, kid.”
Another giggle raises the hairs at the back of his neck. “I lost myself a long time ago, Jason. I’m not looking anymore.”
His name sends a chill down his twisted spine but Jason gives no outward signs of just how unsettled he is. “That doesn’t give me much of a reason to let you live.”
“No, I suppose not.” His hands drop to his sides as he moves to examine the shrapnel embedded into the wall. He pokes at a sharp edge carelessly, though his gloves hide any blood. He makes no sign of caring about the gun trained on his head.
It’s really starting to piss Jason off. An unintimidated enemy is either stupid or has something up their sleeve. He’s not banking on stupid.
“Tim,” he finally says, “that’s what my name was Before.”
“Tim,” Jason echoes, “get the fuck out of my house.”
There’s a grin and a giggle and then he’s gone in a rain of smoke pellets. Jason waves it away from his face with a cough and wonders if he shouldn’t’ve just shot the bastard anyways.
