Chapter Text
The problem with saying it wasn’t personal was that it was a lie. Of course it was personal; they cared for each other. Sometimes it felt like they were the only ones who did, even though that may not have been entirely fair. Oliver cared for Roy, in his own way, but he didn’t care in any way that mattered or helped, so it didn’t count. Dick cared about Kori--her whole team still cared about her--but it was the kind of care that was for a ghost, all nostalgia and grief and regret. And Jason? He wasn’t convinced that he even had that anymore.
So it was personal, the falling into bed together night after night, but maybe that wasn’t the best word for it. This wasn’t romantic. Roy and Jason had already given that a shot and understood that what they had wasn’t good if you looked at it like a romance, and they didn’t want it, and Kori had expressed doubts about the whole idea of romance altogether. So maybe it was more accurate to say they didn’t have a relationship so much as an extension of a partnership, that this was just something the Outlaws were together. Jason hadn’t heard of relationships between three people before he fell into one anyway, apart from talk on the street of threesomes or orgies, and that didn’t seem to apply. It wasn’t important because none of them applied importance to it, and they didn’t talk about it extensively because there were bigger things to worry about.
Kori rose first, while the boys still lay curled up together, drowsy and satisfied. She slipped out of the room and returned twenty minutes later, wrapped in a towel, hair dripping all over Roy’s safehouse floor. “I miss good water pressure,” she admitted, sitting down at the edge of the bed while Roy extricated himself from Jason’s grip despite Jason’s protests.
“I miss carpet,” Roy said, hissing as his bare feet hit cracking linoleum. “Never had carpet growing up. No landlord in the slums would shill out for it. Too much of a hassle to clean. Ollie carpeted almost every room, that plush deep shit. He wouldn’t have done it if he was cleaning the floors himself. But damn if it didn’t feel good in the morning.”
Jason’s safehouse didn’t have central heating. He could probably afford it, but he didn’t see the point of it when he’d just have to move out when this address got burned or they stopped feeling safe there anymore. Three rooms in a part of town where no one asked questions, a queen-sized mattress on the floor, a stack of suitcases in the corner, a broken radiator--they didn’t need anything else. Why spend the money when they didn’t plan to stay? It was safer to spend their earnings on supplies and keep a little available in case of emergencies.
Jason huffed and muttered “fuck Oliver,” still half asleep, one hand coming up to rub eyes that swirled green and blue. Mornings were hard. He rolled onto his side and looked around for where his boxers had been tossed the night before.
“Bruce didn’t show off?” Roy asked with a smirk, tossing Jason a pair of sweatpants.
“Bruce didn’t need to show off. He didn’t buy his manor, he inherited it. Old money fucker vs new money fucker.”
Roy snorted and echoed “fuck Bruce,” which made Kori chuckle. The boys both growled as she flicked her soaked hair in their direction, a small shower of ice cold water hitting skin that was still oversensitive. Roy handed Jason his sweater next. Jason ran cold, ever since the Pit, and they all knew it, even if it was one of those things they never talked about. He pulled the thin cotton over his head and tried not to shiver. “You know,” Jason said slowly. “They do have these things called rugs. If you’re gonna bitch that much about the floors, you can just get one.”
“Harder to take it with you when you go,” Roy shot back, standing and stretching, shirt riding up to expose his side, littered with tiny bruises. Kori pinched one that looked suspiciously like a bite mark that stretched over a rib and he hissed and threw a punch at her arm. It wasn’t a glancing blow, but the impact just made her laugh.
“I will buy you a rug for every safe house,” Jason said dryly, “just to end your fuckin’ bitching.”
Roy laughed and shook his head, going for his backpack and hunting down a protein bar. “We should celebrate later.”
“I thought that’s what we did last night,” Kori said.
“Last night was just sex. I’m talking loud music, good food, a little cocaine.” He nudged Kori, who grinned at him and pulled him in for a brief kiss.
Jason’s eyebrows furrowed. “You said you wanted to quit. That’s what got you in trouble last time.”
“Yeah, but now I’ve got you to help me out if I need it.”
“And we promised we wouldn’t judge,” Kori said, shooting him a look that promised lightning incoming.
“I ain’t judgin’. Just sayin’ you wanted to quit before.”
Roy shrugged, his arm wrapping firmly around Kori’s waist. “Yeah, before we had money or a name for ourselves. We’re the Outlaws now. We can afford to cut loose once in a while, live a little.”
It wasn’t living that Roy wanted. Jason knew what self-loathing looked like, in all its forms. He’d seen it often enough growing up. On his father, on Bruce, on every sorry motherfucker in the streets. He didn’t like seeing it on Roy. “Isn’t that just what Oliver expects you to do?”
“So what?” He said it easily, tossing the words out even as his fingers curled. “What you want me to say, Jay? That he’s right and I ain’t worth two shits just cause I like to have a little fun now and then? I don’t give a flying fuck.”
Kori hooked one leg around Roy, lifting them both off the ground effortlessly with a sly look. “But what if I want a flying fuck,” she purred.
Roy grinned back. “I could be persuaded to make an exception for you, Korikat.” Jason rolled his eyes, grabbing the nearest pillow, flat and covered with stains, and throwing it at the two of them.
“Lay off. ‘S too early to get back into that shit. And you know what I meant Roy. Thought you wanted to prove him wrong, yeah?”
Roy laughed once as Kori set back down. “I’ve changed my mind. Who cares what Oliver thinks? He ain’t the boss of me anymore.”
“ Nobody’s the boss of us anymore,” Kori added, eyes crackling green. “Nobody gets to tell us what to do or how to be.”
“That so?” Jason huffed, scooting to the edge of the mattress and throwing Roy his pants. “Well, I’m tellin’ the both of you to get dressed and go get some g-ddamn breakfast. I’m starving and there’s jack to eat around here.”
“Alright, alright. You’re so fussy in the morning, Jaybird.” Roy ruffled Jason’s hair and tugged on the jeans, grease-stained with holes in the knee, as most of his clothes were. “Go back to sleep if all you’re gonna do is grump.”
Jason frowned and pushed his curls back from his face. “Don’t tempt me. Fuckin’ nightmares kept me up half the night.”
Kori hummed sympathetically, flopping onto the edge of the mattress and looping an arm around his chest, fingers tracing the line of his autopsy scar. “You want to talk about it?”
Jason leaned into her, letting his head tip back to rest against hers. “Nah,” he said quietly. “Same shit as always. Just gotta deal.”
Kori growled, top lip lifting to expose bared teeth. “I ever see that bastard, I’m tearing him to shreds. Then your dreams will be sweet.” Roy sat on the other side of the mattress with a grunt, forcing his feet into boots that were on their last legs.
“Which one? B-man or Jokes?”
“They’re both on my list.” she sneered. “Nobody hurts us and gets away with it.” She pressed a kiss against Jason’s cheek even as her arms tightened possessively. He let it happen, savoring the heat of her skin before he shrugged her off.
“You won’t catch me complaining if you rip Joker apart,” he said “but you’d better leave the Bat alone.”
“What’s the Bat matter?” Roy asked. “You tried to kill him. S’worse than I ever gave Ollie.”
“It’s different,” Jason said in a growl. Oliver was--Oliver was a billionaire. He liked the trappings of things, the symbol of a family and a sidekick and a son. He just wanted to bail when it all started getting messy. Bruce had never bailed, not until Jason was dead and gone. Bruce had cared, or at least he’d done a good job of convincing Jason he had . And if he believed Dickiebird, it might have been real, once. But sometimes it was hard to believe Oliver cared about anything, and there was a big difference between ‘my adopted father never loved me’ and ‘my adopted father can’t love me anymore.’ “I don’t care who takes out the Joker, so long as he goes. But the Bat is mine. Shit’s personal .”
Roy scoffed as he stood. “Only ‘cause you let it be. I say, fuck ‘em. He don’t matter and neither does Ollie.” He reached down and tugged on Jason’s arm. “So let’s forget about them and go have some fun!”
He yanked his arm back with a growl, elbow smacking into Kori’s stomach though she didn’t so much as grunt. “Leave off, Roy.”
“What’s a matter?” Roy taunted. “Afraid Daddybats would disapprove? That’s just another reason to do it. Come on, Jay.”
Kori frowned and turned her glare on Roy. “If he doesn’t want to come, he doesn’t have to,” she said tartly. “I’m already going with you. Aren’t I enough?”
“Course you are,” Roy said easily, shoving his hands into his pockets. “And I ain’t makin’ him do shit. I’m just sayin that if he wants to get over all that shit in his head, he’s gotta quit worryin’ so much about what Daddybats thinks and get out and let loose.”
Jason laughed harshly, eyes flaring as he ducked out of Kori’s hold and stood toe to toe with Roy. “Yeah? And how’s that working out for you? Because from where I’m sitting, I’ve got a life. I do whatever the fuck I want whenever I want. I got goals . And all you can think about is getting your next fix and doing every little thing you can think of that Oliver wouldn’t want you to do.”
Roy’s lip curled and his hands jumped back out of his pockets as he leaned into Jason’s face. “What’d you just say?”
“Admit it,” he sneered. “You can’t stop thinking about Ollie. You think you’re proving him wrong, but you keep this shit up and you’re gonna fall flat on your face all over again. And then what, huh? Kori and I ain’t always gonna be there to pick your ass up. And what’re we s’posed to do when you take so much of that shit you don’t wake up again? Getcha a tombstone, write ‘he died doin’ what he loved?’ Or maybe you want us to call Ollie, tell him he was right , you-” The right hook took him by surprise and the next thing he knew, he was snarling and contorting to get away from something hot and heavy and immovable wrapped around his torso, another voice- guttural and incomprehensible- matching him shout for shout.
The room tilted and wavered, fuzzing in and out, and something was wrong with this picture, but he was grasping at thoughts slipping through his fingers like sand. He threw himself backwards, trying to gain space between his chest and the steel bands around him, cut off mid-snarl to cough and suck at air when whatever was restraining him tightened. He couldn’t breathe .
The other voice quieted, but kept up a steady rumble just behind his ear and he stilled. Behind his ear. The voice was a someone and they were behind him and hadn’t he been- there was something, he’d been doing something . His eyes darted wildly, snagging on cracks like spiderwebs and broken- ceiling tile. It was ceiling tile. And when he looked down, flame-bright hair and burnished skin and he went limp with a gasp, twisting as best he could to burrow into the space between Kori’s chin and chest, hands curling over his heart, as if he could soothe the raw, ragged ache that burned up his throat. She stopped talking, one hand releasing its bruising grip to cradle the back of his head as she leaned back far enough to catch a glimpse of his face.
“Jason? Are you back with us?”
He felt like he'd just been ripped out of a nightmare- pulse thrumming high in his throat, on edge and threatening to shake apart, but his head felt thick and heavy, out of sync with the rest of him. He exhaled in a hitching puff of air and nodded stiffly as he shoved his face back against her skin. Her fingers scratched gently at his scalp and neither of them spoke for a while as Jason pieced himself back together, chasing down stray thoughts and forcing them into straight lines, doggedly sorting through hazy maybes until he picked out the memory of yelling at Roy and then a fist and the all-consuming howl of the pit.
His tongue darted out to wet his lips and he pushed away from Kori's chest, sluggishly searching the room for his best friend. "Roy?"
"Waiting in the kitchen until you won't kill each other." Kori said matter of factly, scooting back on the mattress to give him some space. "Our eyes matched, and Roy was angry, too." Jason grimaced and scrubbed at his face, willing his brain to get back in gear.
“Damn. How long?”
“Ten minutes for you to stop fighting. Another five for you to hear me.” She leaned back on her hands, tossing her mostly dry hair over her shoulder. “The neighbors called the police.” She added in a helpful tone. “We might have to move again.”
Jason dropped his hands and glared at the floor. “Of fuckin’ course we will,” he grumbled. G-d forbid they have their shit together long enough to make it a solid month without needing to find a new place. The door creaked open and Jason jerked his head up in time to see Roy peering around its edge, wary and guarded with a freshly busted lip. He hesitated when he caught Jason’s eye, but pushed the door open wider and shuffled in.
“Hey,” he said stiffly, staring somewhere above Jason’s head. Jason grunted in reply, letting his eyes drop back down to the floor. “Sorry for punching you, I guess.”
“Yeah.” Jason’s mouth twisted. “Sorry for… that.” Roy’s feet shuffled and the floor groaned under his weight. A stilted silence followed and Jason glanced up at him, catching the shadowed edge of some messy emotion between guilt and anger.
“I know you’ve got, like, ghosts in your blood or some shit. But that-” Roy stopped, nostrils flaring. “You don’t get to say shit like that. You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on your side,” Jason said flatly. “I just-” He sighed. “I thought you were getting over this, man.”
“If you are on my side, then you’ll drop it and let me have this,” Roy snapped.
“Roy, I’ve seen this play out before. And it ain’t a good look for you, okay? Ain’t a good look for anyone .”
Roy went rigid and his hands balled up into fists again and before Jason could blink, Kori was off the bed and between them both, eyes blazing and upper lip raised to show off an incisor as she hissed something in Tamaranean. He didn’t think it was a compliment. Roy tried to say something and she hissed again, shoving at his chest hard enough to send him skidding back several steps. Roy grunted and glared at her, rubbing at the spot on his chest, but the only concession she made was to let her eyes dim to a dull glow.
“Wait for me outside.”
“Kori-”
“No! I am tired of listening to you two screech like a pair of flopnar. Wait outside. I will be there in a moment.”
Roy huffed, and stomped his way out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. Kori watched him go, expression unyielding. As soon as the echo died away, Kori turned on Jason, the glow of her sharpening into somethin piercing and painful as she narrowed her eyes.
“Roy wants to go out. We are going out. You do not want to go out. You can stay here. We all do what we want here. We do not judge or force each other into things we do not want to do. We do not keep each other from doing things either. And when we come back, we will kiss and we will make up and we will not fight about this anymore.” Jason grimaced and chewed on his bottom lip, sorting through the words in his head.
“Kori… it’s not that simple. Not this time.”
“It is that simple! We are Outlaws and we promised. That we would be there for each other, no matter what. That we wouldn’t shove each other into boxes that don’t fit anymore. That we could be who we are, do what we want, be free. ” Searing light flared in a starburst around her fists. “You are breaking your promise.” She snarled.
“He wants to die!” He snarled right back, surging to his feet and pushing into her space.
“No, he doesn’t . But if he did want to die,” Her voice deepened to a growl, harsh and low in her throat. “It would be his choice. And we would respect it.” The edges of his vision flickered and he fought to calm down, sucking in a ragged breath and exhaling through his nose. He fought to keep his voice quiet and level, spitting the words through gritted teeth.
“I’m not gonna stand here and watch my best friend kill himself because he’s too sick to know any better.”
“He is not sick .” Kori hissed, thrusting her face into his as her feet left the floor. “He says he is fine, so he is fine!”
Jason bared his teeth and spun away, prowling the bedroom like a caged animal. “You don’t understand. The drugs, they- they’re screwing with his head. He thinks he knows what he wants, but it’s not him, it’s them . It’s-" He stopped, spun to face her. "It’s like when I have an episode and all I want to do is tear into somebody, but you stop me. Because you know the real me doesn’t want it. That’s what’s happening to Roy. We have to stop him until he remembers he doesn’t really want this.”
Kori’s light dimmed and the starbursts around her fist shrank to nothing, confusion flitting across her face. "But he says he is fine. We don't lie to each other. We don't- you are wrong."
Jason shook his head, frustration softening into something closer to regret. "I'm not wrong." He scowled, kicked at a pile of dirty clothes. "I know I can't actually stop either of you from doing what you want, but I wish to G-d Roy wanted anything but this . And even if it means fighting with him, with you , I'm gonna keep doing everything I can to convince him to quit." His eyes darted up to check Kori’s expression- hesitant and mulish all at once. “I ain’t tryin’ to do anything but help him, Kori.”
She touched back down to the carpet and her eyes returned to their natural color though she wrapped her arms tightly around her torso, frowning. “I do not know what to think, then. I believe you do want what is best for him, but… I have not seen any signs of illness. And surely he knows what is better for him than you do. He is him, and you are you.”
“It doesn’t look like other sicknesses. It’s… it’s mostly just in his head, like mine. Listen, when you go with him today, look at the people he’s getting that shit from. And watch how he changes once he gets the stuff. Maybe you’ll see what I’m talking about then. ”
Her lips thinned. “I will do as you ask. And maybe-” She cut herself off, huffed and dropped her arms. “Maybe I will consider helping you then. But if you’re wrong, I will make you leave Roy alone.”
“Fine.”
She nodded again decisively and left him standing alone in the middle of the bedroom. He waited until he heard the front door swing shut before he collapsed back onto the mattress and stared up at a water stain on the ceiling.
He didn’t think about anything for a while, just let himself go limp and trace the browning spot that got a little bigger with each storm that blew through the city. He listened to the morning pass him by- water rattling through old pipes, a car alarm down the street, another couple in a screaming argument, and the susurration of voices that nestled in the base of his skull. A thud loud enough to make the string on their ceiling light sway. He closed his eyes.
He remembered- a lifetime ago. Another screaming match that he heard more than saw. A thud that knocked paint from the wall and sent him scurrying into his closet. Waiting until the noise had stopped and crawling out of his room to find his mother sat against the wall picking through a busted piggy bank for silver coins. When she smiled at him, the sore on the corner of her mouth had cracked open and bled into her teeth.
Está bien, cariño. She’d crooned. Tu padre no lo decía en serio. Mamá necesita su medicina, eso es todo. Volveré pronto. Está bien.
And he’d let her go and hid in his room, not daring to creep back out until his belly clung to his spine and he hadn’t heard his father again- no tromping boots or hammer-heavy hands or syllables slurred more than spoken. But he’d known someone had come in the house while he hid and Mamá had always come to get him when she was done taking her medicine and it was safe enough to curl together and sleep. But it had been hours and he’d slunk through the house and eaten a slice of bread moistened with the last scrapings of refried beans from a can and licked the crumbs from his fingers quieter than breathing before holing back up in the corner of his closet to sleep. And he’d woken up, once, and stumbled to the bathroom without turning on any lights and he’d tripped over her, needle still in her arm, and he’d- he’d just turned around and gone back to bed because maybe it was just a bad dream that he hadn’t quite woken up from.
But it had been real and he couldn’t shake the prickling deja vu that settled in every part of him, even in the smallest gaps between clenched teeth. And with that settled in his bones and the curdling anger in his gut and the glut of others bouncing around his skull- it would be madness to call himself the most well-adjusted of the group. The most prepared to deal with the world at large. But-
When they’d first started this, it had felt like he’d been stuck in a hole he couldn’t escape and Roy and Kori had jumped in without complaint, put him on their shoulders, and helped him claw towards the top. But now it felt less like a rescue and more like mutual destruction. Like fighting to tread water without letting go of another’s hand, more afraid of losing that small comfort than drowning. He let the thought sit until it soured, the sharp taste of it leaking down and coating his throat.
His stomach gurgled and he pushed himself upright, grimacing with the realization that he never got breakfast and it was late enough that calling his next meal lunch would be generous. He strapped up and grabbed his share of their last job, a thick stack of hundred dollar bills, stuffing it into a pocket and shuffling outside. The apartment’s security was shit, but he twisted the deadbolt and locked the door all the same, glaring down a neighbor that watched too closely for comfort. Probably the same miserable bastard that had called the cops.
He started walking without much idea of where he was going, stopping at the first corner store he came to and walking out with two limp slices of pizza folded into a sandwich and a pack of cigs. He ate the pizza so fast he scarcely tasted it, only a film of grease lingering on his tongue to convince him that he had eaten at all. But he lingered over the cigarettes, tapping out one and lighting up, holding the smoke deep in his chest to savor the menthol’s numbing chill.
The problem was that he had something else, something more than the Outlaws. And they didn’t. He’d always been good at channeling his emotion into things he could actually do and working at the theater, breaking it down and building it up again, had been doing wonders for him. It was steady in a way that so many things in his life weren’t.
He didn’t have to question what the theater troupe wanted from him. Didn’t second-guess their motives or why they cared for him. He was a large part of their income but worked just as hard as they did. He was someone they needed, someone that they were even beginning to like. Though, he thought wryly, Avraham and Tiffani had passed the liking stage and were both firmly convinced that he was family, despite his frequent protests to the contrary.
So he had a place and other people to anchor himself to and Roy and Kori didn’t. And now that they’d passed the- hell, might as well call it the honeymoon stage- he was starting to think that maybe he and Roy and Kori were just as bad together now as just he and Roy had been. But there was an ease to it all that made him think that they could be better together if they tried. Could be a real safe haven for each other until they grew apart, drifting out of it as naturally as children growing out of their first crush. Because this thing they had couldn’t last forever. He knew that; they all did. Eventually, one of them would want to tip the balance into something more or something less and things would change and they’d never exactly intended for this to be forever anyways. That sort of thing only happened in story books.
But getting better- digging his heels into the ledge he’d found halfway up this pit and hauling up Roy and Kori behind him- that was something they could do. The others just needed some… inspiration. A kick in the pants, like the theater had been for him. He stubbed out the last of his cigarette before it could burn all the way to the filter and slipped it behind his ear out of habit. He glanced at a street sign and blinked at the realization that he’d walked clean through the Bowery and straight into one of the slum streets of Crime Alley.
He hadn’t walked all the way to his old neighborhood, but it was close enough to that apartment block that he recognized the buildings- more crumbling apartments broken up by the occasional laundromat or bodega. He paused at the street corner and shifted from foot to foot, torn between starting the long walk back before it got dark and visiting an old haunt as himself rather than the Hood. Before he could make a decision, a shout drew his attention further down the street.
A sullen cluster of people huddled together in front of a derelict tenement and behind a growing pile of stuff as men armed with gloves and cover-alls made trip after trip between apartment and curb. A young black man with fire in his eyes stood furthest forward, facing off with another man- middle-aged and white with a paunch that hinted at working behind a desk and drinking too much beer. He’d seen this play out before and he was already moving toward the shouting match, moth to flame.
“You can’t do this. We have rights .”
“You don’t have shit until I have my money” the landlord sneered, cleaning thick-rimmed glasses on the hem of his shirt. “ I have all the rights here.”
“Tenants have the right to live in housing that is safe, clean, and decent.” He recited. “We have the right to heat and-”
“Oh, shut up. No one wants to hear that shit. You’re evicted. That’s it, end of story.” The man pressed his glasses back onto his face and looked at the tenants as if they were something unpleasant stuck to the sole of his boot.
“We’ve got family- kids to take care of.” His hands curled into shaking fists. The landlord laughed.
“Should have thought of that before you didn’t pay rent. And if you’re thinking about suing, good luck finding a judge that’ll rule in your favor.” He laughed again, nasal and nasty. “Or a lawyer you can afford.”
Jason threw his head back to let loose a wild laugh of his own, pasting a grin on his face and rocking back and forth on his heels. The landlord’s laughter cut off abruptly and everyone’s eye snapped to Jason. “Oh don’t mind me,” Jason drawled, sauntering closer and making a show of looking everyone up and down. “I’m just enjoying the show.” He jerked a thumb at the landlord, sharpened his grin. “Guy’s got jokes, don’t he?”
“Get lost, punk. You aren’t wanted ‘round here.” The landlord strained to make himself taller, trying to look down his nose at Jason as well though he was a good foot taller than the older man.
Jason tutted, trading his smile for a caricature of hurt. “I’m not… wanted?” He grinned again, showing more tooth than strictly necessary. “Hey, you might be right about that. Here’s the thing, though.” He slung an arm around the landlord’s neck, forcing him to match him step for step as he moseyed toward the building. “Just so happens I’ve been on the prowl for some real estate and this place looks just right. So you’re gonna sell it to me, comprendo?”
“You’re out of your mind.” The landlord hissed, clawing at Jason’s arm. He tightened his grip into a chokehold, grinning cheerily as the other man’s eyes popped and his words turned to wet gurgles in an instant.
“Maybe,” he agreed. “But I’m also right.” He released his hold on the other man and waited for him to remember how to breathe.
“You sonuvabitch,” he managed between gasps. “You got no idea who you’re messing with. I work for Boss Maroni; I’m under his protection. When he gets done with you, you’ll wish you’d never been born.”
And then Jason really did laugh, raucous and loud and long. “Wait, wait, wait. That’s what you’re going with?” His grin took on a decidedly predatory gleam. “What a moron. You know where you are, right?” He gestured at the neighborhood as a whole. “This is Crime Alley, fuckwad. You’re in Red Hood’s territory. That little turf war earlier this year settled that.” He lifted the edge of his overlarge sweater just enough to show the glint of the handgun tucked into his waistband. “And just so happens I’m one of his boys. So if you are one of Maroni’s-” He looked him up and down again with a derisive chuckle. “Which I doubt, by the way. But if you are .” He drew the gun and pressed it into the man’s skull, all evidence of mirth gone. “You’re in the wrong neighborhood, motherfucker.”
He sold Jason the apartment.
Which, now that he thought about it, meant that he owned an apartment building. He stared at the thick sheaf of rental agreements scattered on the desk and the handwritten note that had been witnessed by every adult tenant in the building. The one that stated, in no uncertain terms, that Todd Peters owned the place.
“Fuck. I did it again.”