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Charity events were only fun when they weren't in the manor. Everything was too loud and Jason wasn'tsure if he could handle it anymore. He hated the thought of being leered at by the rich and elite and when he gets that nervous itch all he could do was pull out a cigarette.
Jason grabs the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, shaking the box. He'd been running low and, quite honestly, he knows he should have went to the corner store to pick up more if he wanted to last out on this gala event—far from all the rich people in the main room of the manor who'd try and bum a cigarette off him despite having more money to their names than Jason could ever manage to think about in his lifetime.
He steps out on to one of the balconies with his cigarette and his lighter clutched tightly into his hand.
The rain was really fucking him over. The flame from his lighter flickered and then sputtered out before he could even light the cigarette between his fingers. His way out from all the thoughts swirling around his brain was being dampened by rain that fell from the sky.
All the people in the building right now probably thought Jason was a rude bastard, not greeting anyone and immediately opting to go outside rather than being sociable. They'd probably whisper about him while he wasn't there then fake pleasantries when he came back inside
Jason couldn't help but find all of that so incredibly ironic.
He tries to light the cigarette between his fingers one last time before deciding the rain was fucking it all up. All he could do now was stare at the rain pitter-pattering on the ground, listening to the sound as he sits there.
"You're definitely not gonna make a good impression if you're soaked through your suit," Jason hears from behind him.
Jason shoots back a grin, pretending he didn't just startle at Tim's sudden appearance. "You didn't have to sneak up on me, Drake," he sighs, "This isn't a mission." Tim just leans silently on the bannister, looking at him. "Why did you come out here anyway? If you get sick, Bruce won't let me hear the end of it," Jason continues.
And it's true, really. Tim had more stakes in the Wayne Enterprises charity event since he ran the whole place and Jason knows the event wouldn't be done until Friday. It was Wednesday. Tim didn't have time to get sick and heal.
"I wanted one." It comes out far too quickly from Tim's mouth for it to be believable, but Jason had to hand it to him for thinking up something on the spot. It didn'tfool him in the lightest but there was an A for effort somewhere in there.
Jason laughs. It was a full body, incredulous laugh that ripped right from his lips. "Sure thing, short stack," Jason says, "You want a cigarette right now like I wanted to get exploded by the Joker, Timbit. You don't and you hate it. Now, tell me why you're actually out here."
"Was worried about you," Tim answers, "Wasn't sure where you dissapeared to and thought something was wrong."
The sentiment was sweet and somewhat suspicious, if Jason were honest. The rain comes down a bit harder and . "Don't you wanna get out of the rain, Red?" Jason continues.
Tim shrugs, leaning against the balcony bannister. "For sure, but I've made it my mission to get you back inside in time for food. I don't think Alfred would be too happy if you went hungry on his watch."
"That's shitty enticement, Drake," Jason mutters, "If it even is considered enticement."
"Absolutely not," Tim says truthfully. He pulls a box of Jason's favorites from his pocket, handing the box over. "Alfred's soup is enticement," he continues, "Come back inside and dry off, Jay."