15123/It's been a while..

It's been a while..
Date of Scene:	23 May 2023
Location:	Markovia Station, Old Gotham
Synopsis:	Now that Helena is back in Gotham she decides to check in on Jason to see how he's been doing. Then she denies him dessert when they go for a bite to eat. Harsh.
Cast of Characters:	Red Hood, Huntress

---

Red Hood has posed:
Jason Todd is working on his car in the garage area of his underground base. It has gotten nicknamed the Red Cave but not by him. Still it's stuck so that's just what it is now.

The hood on his '67 GTO is raised and a series of wires run from connections on the motor to a laptop. The engine is idling at a low rumble as he studies the data on the computre screen. As he makes some adjustments the engine revs briefly then returns to the rumbling idle like some great cat.

Huntress has posed:
It's been years since they've seen each other, so the choices Helena makes about this encounter can't be anything but deliberate. She's dressed in slim-fit designer jeans, a cashmere sweater, and low-heeled boots. No jewelry tonight, not with the places she passes through to get here. The designer bag over her shoulder might mark her as potential prey but the alert way she watches her surroundings as she approaches suggests otherwise. Despite the heels she walks with surety over those wooden planks as she approaches from the rail line.

Coming as /Helena/, rather than the Huntress -- that's a sure sign she means not to fight. Starting with a peace offering. Which might be a wise choice, since her choice to come to his home is just as deliberate. He may know where she lives, but she still knows where he does. Letting her heels tap along those planks rather than slipping them off to approach silently -- that's a deliberate choice too. Whether he'll hear her over the rev of that engine, though?

"I hate what you've done with the place," Helena Bertinelli says by way of greeting. Because it's nothing. He's done nothing with the place, as far as her discerning eye can tell. Trust the Huntress to greet him in such a way after more than three years.

Red Hood has posed:
Jason Todd may not hear the heels on the planks but the laptop is wired into the network and security system. He knew she was coming when she first disapeared below the Gotham streets to wind her way down to this long forgotten location. The apple doesn't fall far from That Tree. As long as someone doesn't tell him that, they probably won't get socked in the mouth for it.

As she speaks he revs the motor a few times. Displeasure? Rudeness? Probably just finishing the fine tuning he was doing as the motor then shuts off.

"You should have seen what the last guy did to it."

Looking to the dark haired woman he smirks. "I'd heard a rumor you might have come back. I was sure it was wrong. You always seemed to be too smart for that."

Turning to disconnect the data cables from the car's computer system, he sets the cables on the movable work bench and then shuts down the laptop.

"But here you are. What's going on in Gotham that's managed to lure you back, Helena?"

He faces her as he wipes his hands off on a shop towel.

"You look amazing. As always." It was just something Italian women seemed able to just.. do.

Huntress has posed:
In the same way her choices are deliberate, Helena is aware the revving of the engine is, too. It makes her laugh, though, the sound covered up until the engine dies, then it echoes around the large space as he speaks his first words to her. "Did you leave much of him left?" she inquires, archly.

She's trying to play it cool, but the unintentional narrowing of eyes at his words says he hit the mark on her return. "Well, we can't always be perfect all the time. I save that for instagram."

Her heels tap as she crosses the distance between them, her hand settling on the trunk of the GTO, curving up to follow the lines as it traces the doorframe, like she's caressing it. It leaves her standing near the open hood, leaning her hip into the side of the car, looking not at the engine but at its owner. "Oh, you know. Same old." She plays it off. Tries. But he knows her better. There's definitely /something/, a specific reason she's chosen to come back, /now/.

"I thought I'd let you know I was back, before you heard it through the grapevine. I was intending to play it more low key for a while, but with Batman jumping in to stop a robbery the other day, I guess the bat's out the bag." Helena's smile is faint, though it turns into something more genuine at the compliment. "And you look-" she pauses, considers. "-how are you?"

Red Hood has posed:
Walking over to her, he tosses the shop towel onto the bench. "Not a bit. Some small time drug dealer figured out the station was still ehre and tried to turn it into his own meth lab and HQ. I ended it. With Finality. Haven't felt like prettying this area up much. It serves its purposes well enough as it is."

"Yeah you're not going to hide much of anything from him. But I didn't hear it from him." He has his own eyes and ears out there. Someone caught just a glimpse maybe. Whatever the case may be.

He watches her slink along the side of the car. Then he smirks, "What? Don't like guys with whole face scars? I feel like I should be insulted" but the tone of his voice doesn't suggest that he is.

As for how he is?

"I'm alive. Despite all of the reasons to the contrary that I shouldn't be." Like having his skull crushed in and then being blown up.

"It's been.. interesting. Guess you can say I'm finally starting to feel human again." Lazarus Pits do tend to fuck a person up after all.

Huntress has posed:
"Hmm." Helena turns her gaze from Jason to the space, with a tilt of head as she considers. "It is a good space for a meth lab. Ventilation would be a problem though. It would leak to the surface, then you'd have every other criminal in five blocks coming to steal your shit." She has opinions on such criminal stupidities it seems -- besides the obvious one of trying to take territory from the Red Hood.

"If you want to discourage people," Helena turns her gaze from the space back to Jason, "You should've left the dried blood here." Does she believe him? Yes. Is she judging? Not in any way. If anything, his story gets something that looks a lot like approval in her regard of him.

She looks him for maybe a beat too long. Long enough for it to become uncomfortable. "I'm glad," Helena finally says. "That you're alive. Gotham wouldn't be the same without knowing you're in it." Something complex passes over her features as he says the last. She may try hard, but she's not anywhere as adept as Batman at maintaining a stoic expression. She almost certainly wouldn't mean for that pity to show, nor the relief that follows it.

"I-" the syllable slips out, and the dark-haired woman immediately regrets it, judging by the press of her lips. She changes whatever she was going to say as she straightens, looking at the car instead. "If she's ready, maybe you can take me for a drive? Give me the low down on what I've missed in the city?"

Red Hood has posed:
Jason Todd considers her tactical advice. "That's sound" he agrees. Leaving blood stains. "But it makes Batman unhappy. And we don't want that." There is no question that he is being sarcastic this time.

He looks back at her, even holds her gaze if she doesn't look away. There's no challenge in them. There is, however, the look of a hunter who has been hunted. Who is still haunted. Something Helena might well recognize given her own history. If he notices any indication of pity he ignores it. It isn't something he's after.

When she asks for a ride he nods. "Always a work in progress but never so much that I can't give a beautiful woman a ride when she asks." There's a cavalier smirk on his face when he says it.

Moving around to the front of the car, he reaches to lower the hood. Regardless of the degree of familiarity with motors Helena may have, it's clear the motor and everything under that hood is anything but stock. There are some components that don't even look legal to own, let alone drive around a city with.

The hood drops with a heavy sound that hails back to the muscle car era when cars were made from steel not plastic. But more than that. It sounds like it has been beefed up.

Walking around to the passender door he opens it and stands there to wait for Helena to get in before he'll ease it closed. Even the door sounds heavier than one might expect.

Huntress has posed:
The news that it makes Batman unhappy gets a lifted brow from Helena. "You let him come into your man cave? /Jason,/" she says his name like that's the worst kind of sin. "He can't pretend not to know what you're up to if you just invite him in." How Huntress lives her life, as described in her own words.

Whatever it was in her gaze is left unspoken. She recognizes that haunted look, definitely. It's almost certainly the reason she's back. The old ghosts that just won't leave her alone -- that she won't leave alone, either. In that, they're too similar. His smirk and response earns an upward curve of her lips. "Good to know."

She follows him around to the far side of the car, slipping into the passenger side once he holds the door open for her. "Thanks," she says, giving him a quick smile, though it fades somewhat as she hears the heavy thunk of it closing. She waits until he gets in the other side, twisting in the seat to look at him.

"Bulletproof?" Helena sounds like she's not sure if she should be approving or not. "It feels like you might be inviting fate to intervene. I think it would break my heart to this beauty riddled with bullets." Sure, she prefers motorcycles to cars, that doesn't mean she doesn't have an appreciation for their beauty, evident in the way she touches the dash. Her bag is set by her feet, and she twists to reach for the seatbelt, like she's anticipating needing it.

Red Hood has posed:
Jason Todd snorts, "You're forgetting that there was a time when I was his Little Buddy. Like Nightwing. Like the Robin he has now. He knows who I am. We don't agree on things. Probably because he let the Joker fucking kill me and I intend to return the favor." He eases the door closed and walks around to get into the driver's side before continuing.

"But we both want crime gone from Gotham. Even if we don't agree on the methods that should be used to make that finally happen." He shrugs with a little bitterness to his voice.

"You're also assuming he asks if he can come over. You don't -tell- Batman anything. Even when you're right."

The engine roars to life, shaking the whole car. Definitely not a stock set up. Of course the fact the car started the moment Jason wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel and grabbed the shifter? Probably also a good indication some things have been... upgraded.

"Bullet proof. It'll take up to an RPG before it's run off the road. Self sealing tires. Ejection seats with three or five point harnesses - depending on the type of date it turns out to be.."" his checklist of upgrades trails off as he shifts the car into gear and begins to roll out of the long forgotten station-turned-garage. He heads for one of the old and unused subway tunnels. About thirty yards in, he turns through a gaping hole in the tunnel wall and steers the car up a ramp made from segments of concrete and steel plating. Finally the ramp stops at a solid concrete wall - that raises up as the car gets within ten meters so that he doesn't even have to slow down.

On the other side of the wall, which of course lowers behind the car, they appear in an old parking garage's lowest level which has long been "condemned" and barred off. Those bars lower for the car and again raise up. Pulling out onto the street without headlights on, Jason steers the car quietly for half a block by streetlights only before switching the lights on and accelerating.

"It's my daily driver. But with an override, it's Red Hood's ride when needed. Easier to drive a car in the rain than a bike. And some busts need a bit more.. armor."

Huntress has posed:
"I'm not forgetting," Helena's voice is quiet, just a hint of bite to it. She controls whatever she was going to say next though, when he follows up with that statement about intending to return the favor. She waits until he's in the driver's seat. The touch of her fingertips on his arm is brief, landing somewhere between a wordless apology and reassurance.

"Oh you can tell him. He just doesn't listen. Or he's always listening." The Huntress has long ago gotten past the idea that she's probably being monitored. For a while there she looked for security tech outside of Wayne Enterprises for her penthouse, but in the end just she leaned into it as inevitable anyway.

Huntress is used to close calls. It's fine when she's in control, but when she's not? There's no way she's not tensing as the car approaches that solid wall. She manages to stifle the warning that wants to crawl out of her throat, but only barely, just as the wall raises up just in time for the car to cruise through without breaking speed. The noise she makes aims for cool, unimpressed, but kind of fails at both as she exhales a breath, heart pounding. She turns her head to watch the darkened streets slide by, until he flips on the lights and accelerates. Instinctively, she stretches out her legs into the footwell, bracing for faster turns.

"Please don't tell me it takes on a different shade when it's Red Hood's ride?" She might just be teasing him a little there. A hum escapes her throat. Disagreement. "I like riding in the rain. It's just dangerous enough to be enjoyable. Though, granted, my bike's overdue for a service after three years on mothballs. The garage I used to take it to apparently got firebombed."

Half of Helena's attention is on the streets, taking in familiar and changed sights alike. But, now and then, she's looking towards Jason, too, as she belatedly registers what he said. "...did you say depending on the type of date?" A laugh spills out of her. "A five point harness ejection date must be something else."

Red Hood has posed:
Jason Todd mutters as he turns a corner and then accelerates rapidly. The engine growls, the sound echoing off the buildings that race past.

"He always listens. Then he uses it against you."

He looks over. "Of course it does. Jason Todd riding around in Red Hood's car? I don't have many people that care about what I do. But I'll be damned if I'm the one that leads some... criminal.. to figure out who any of the rest of you are because I didn't bother changing up what I drive at least a little." There are only so many '67 GTOs in Gotham after all. But then.. that's assuming the car is registered in his name. Or at all.

He noticed the touch to his arm but he doesn't turn his head from the road. The indication he caught on was the tensing of the muscles and a quick flick of his eyes toward the hand then back to the road.

"You know how blind dates are I'm sure. Looks like it'll go fine at first. Then next thing you know they're trying to kill you. Much worse than having a psycho in your car you can't get rid of." There's a wicked grin with the comments. Maybe he's joking? Probably not.

"But you can relax. This is only a three point harness kind of date" he quips. The belts all connect into a circular center hum. He didn't figure she'd strapp all the way in anyway but there's no harm in reassuring her he isn't going to do anything stupid. This time anyway.

"Gotham? Hasn't changed since you left. Same shit just different faces pushing it. Cut the head off one supply of drugs and two more fill the void. We've got more Triads, Mob, Yakuza, Russian, Serbian, even Nigerian gangs trying to carve out a piece of Gotham before they try to take the slices from everyone else. It's insane. How the city isn't just a pile of rubble by now..." He glances over as the car glides through a red light. Because who stops for those in Gotham? "... hell if I know. I'm just.. trying to stop some of the hemorrhaging where I can."

Huntress has posed:
It's subtle. Helena's trying not to let it show. But when he accelerates, and she braces, there's definitely a smile every time the engine growls. For all she professes to prefer her bike, she does seem to enjoy this car. Her mouth opens, and closes. She's not up to date, and she isn't sure how dangerous this territory is. "So Jason Todd is... alive? He rents a place, pays taxes, works... somewhere?" She was careful before, not to pry into that side of his life. Now she asks.

Not at all subtly, Helena tests the seatbelt with a tug. "Well, when you jettison /me/ from the car try to aim for my penthouse. Or the nearest pizzeria." She's matching his energy. He's probably joking. So is she. When he clarifies it's only a three point harness kind of date, her laugh is soft, but she's otherwise deliberately not acknowledging it.

Her gaze flickers over the dark streets that slide past them. "I've always wondered about that. If Gotham is the place to which all crime flows, why doesn't it sink under its own weight? Metaphorically, at least. My father-" she catches herself for a moment, but keeps going, "-he used to say he was necessary. As needful for the city as the Mayor, as the tax man. Because even if we don't like it, they also police themselves and other criminals. I didn't really comprehend that until I returned to Sicily. Until I saw what happened when that collapsed, temporarily." She sounds unusually unsettled. It's not a comfortable realization. "There's a balance to be found in there, if they'd let it be. But they won't. And we won't."

Helena's looking out the window, deliberately, away from Jason as she says, "I got a letter. That's why I'm back. Someone said they had a piece of the puzzle. That I needed to be here. I don't know what it means yet. But I couldn't... not. Not even after all this time."

Red Hood has posed:
Jason Todd shrugs. "Yeah. Alive. Bruce Wayne's prodigal son, not truly dead. Just whisked off to some mysterious "Clinic" in Southeast Asia where he was treated using methods the FDA would never approve of. And, lo and behold, those treatments worked. Of course Wayne called in some favors with the media to keep it low key." He air quotes, "For my well being."

He snorts at the comment about aiming her for her penthouse or a pizzeria. "I'm not that stupid, Helena. First of all you'd find me and kick my ass for even thinking about it" he says with a grin.

He listens when she talks about her father and his perspective on the methods and business of the Mafia. "There was. And could be again. But that's no different than living with a terminal illness. Do you trust that it won't actually kill you if you leave it alone? Do you choose invasive treatment? Do you try to cut out the disease? Use powerful medications? Whatever method there are risks. Some are worse than others." He shrugs. "Doesn't seem like leaving them to try and only "slightly" bleed the city dry is any better a cure than trying to just cut the sickness out at the heart. But it doesn't hurt the city any less."

Frowning at the mention of a letter he wants to ask more but he doesn't pry. It's not really his fight. Yet anyway."

A nod as he turns onto one of Gotham's raised freeways that gives a better view of the harbor and the heart of downtown, including the almost pristine sentinel that is Wayne Tower.

Huntress has posed:
"Ah. Known in my circles as the rehab treatment." Helena sounds like she's familiar. She didn't come up with any such reasoning for her absence, though. She had no family left to explain it to. "I'm glad, that you have a place. Your name back." A beat or two. "Have they started chasing you around like they do Bruce, inquiring when you're going to settle down?" she asks, sympathetically. "Gets old, after a while. But apparently people prefer news like that than seeing the true parts of Gotham."

His snort is met with a lift of chin from Helena. "First of all, thank you for acknowledging how awesome I am and that I would, indeed, kick your ass," She's smiling. "But second of all, a date that ends with a proper New York style pizza gets double points. So I'll just leave you with that particular consideration." Her family may be from Sicily, but /she/ was born in America, and she's not afraid to admit she prefers the pizza here.

It's a good analogy, comparing it to a terminal illness. "I don't think there's any good solution. If there were, Batman would've found it." She sounds certain of that, because how could one really doubt Bruce's determination?

The silence stretches when he asks no more about the letter. Is she relieved that he doesn't? Unhappy for the same? She keeps her face turned towards the window, only the occasional reflection from the window to show her pensive expression.

An audible sigh rattles out of her as they get a view of the harbor. Or maybe it's the sight of Wayne Tower. "Are you doing okay working with him?" the question is careful. She tries not to sound jealous. In the past she has been -- and certainly was, when he stepped away from his vendetta, and settled back in with the Batfamily, but now? She steps carefully.

Red Hood has posed:
Jason Todd flashes a reckless grin. "Yeah, they've tried. The paparazzi." That grin turns wolfish. "They know better than to keep trying. Most of the time. It still happens. And I try to be more tactful. But my last name isn't Wayne. So." The grin suggests he still enjoys making things difficult for Bruce by leaving him a mess to clean up. Just.. not all the time.

"Of course you're awesome." He flashes a dangerous grin - knowing he's about to get himself into deep deep trouble. "I mean, hell, a woman of your age? Still out here beating down criminals? -Totally- bad ass." Yeah. He knows he's going to pay for it.

"The only real answer is violence. Kill them all. But you know Batman. No killing." He shrugs. "So "working" with him involves low velocity dum-dum rounds that hurt but don't kill. Which got old two weeks after I started when I took two rounds to the shoulder from the same Triad goon I'd already taken down. They just come back. GCPD is overwhelmed. Blackgate is bursting at the seams. Arkham.." he shakes his head in disgust. "It's just a revolving door for the worst of them all. Like they just get... shore leave."

She may notice that he steers the car to an offramp that turns them north - leaving Gotham - and heading toward Manhattan proper. Gotham has good pizza. But if the challenge is proper New York style Pizza, one has to go to the source to get it right. Right?

Then back to talk of work. "Most of the time I don't even see him. Not since I agreed to stop killing." Something he doesn't seem entirely committed to.

"It's never easy. I'm not a good little soldier for him. I'm the wild card. The loose cannon. Of course he thinks he knows what I'm going to do." And annoyingly he often does. Because Batman.

Huntress has posed:
"Push enough photographers out a window and they start to get the picture after a while," Helena says, her grin matching his. Knowing her, she almost certainly means it literally. "Accidentally, of course." Bertinelli isn't a name she has to worry about protecting, like Wayne is. The only person she can hurt with it is herself.

Oh, he's really poking the bear. If anyone asked, Helena would /swear/ she's not sensitive about her age, and yet- she /is/ getting older, and the vigilante game requires a level of athleticism and dedication that gets harder as one gets older. So Helena's maybe a /little/ sensitive about it. It's why she reaches over, curls fingers into his mop of hair, and kind of tugs back just a little as if to bare his throat -- not so tightly that he can't escape, or he can't see the road. Just enough to make him aware of her as she leans as close as the belt will allow, murmuring: "Do you know what they say about a lady and her age, in Sicily? Cchiu e vecchia, cchiu mortali addiventa." A beat, and she smiles, audible in her voice: "The older she is, the more deadly she becomes."

Her fingers release his hair, with a little smoothing gesture, eyes bright. The hum of her agreement to /kill them all/ makes her intentions on that regard still plain. "Stemming the tide of an endless river. The Huntress needs some new targets." There are other ways to stem the tide, both of them know, and she agrees with his sentiment about the real answer to the problem. She notices Jason is taking them out of Gotham, and she says nothing, though there's a hint of a smile about the woman. It fades, though, as he keeps talking, and for a long while, as the car growls along, she just stays silent.

"Sometimes," Helena finally says, quietly, "It's nice to think someone's looking out for you. Someone that really wants the best for you. Has your best intentions at heart, despite what you want." She leans her head against the glass. "You should go see him, Jason. He needs... you. People like you. People he can be /him/ around. Family."

Red Hood has posed:
Jason Todd knew something was coming. Even as he laughs about the idea of tossing photographers out of windows, she grabs his hair with only -just- short of a serious threat.

Perhaps oddly, he doesn't seem the slightest bit uncomfortable. His eyes rotate to look more downward to hold the road in his sight.

"I'm sure they do. You've been gone a while. I think you've missed out on what they say here." The grin shows he's already thinking of what smartass comment to fire back with.

As she pulls back he pauses a moment then adds, "Here we call women your age Cougars." Wait. Did he say that out loud?

As she talks of family, it is his turn to fall quiet. Family.

"I've seen him. He doesn't need me. I'm not even convinced he -wants- me. What I've become. Because of him. My life was hell before we crossed paths. It's been one turn for the worse after the next. Half the time when I've seen him looking at me." He pauses a moment.

"It's. Like he doesn't actually see me. But his failure. To be a step ahead of Joker. That he didn't see Joker going after me after B..." he pauses and swallows. "after Barbara. He never believe Joker would kill. I just remind him he made a mistake."

He shakes his head, "He doesn't want people like me. He wants people who do what he tells them when he tells them and don't get upset when he changes the rules to suit himself in any given moment. Only those who realize this and are willing to blindly follow along behind him are the ones he welcomes."

Huntress has posed:
Yes, he said it aloud. "I want you to know I am debating right now," Helena says, haughtily, "Whether to ask you to eject me from the car entirely, or to kick open your door and push you out and just steal your car. I'm leaning towards the latter, just because it won't destroy this beautiful beast we're riding in. You're fine with a bit of road rash, right?" She reaches down to unbelt herself, then leans towards him -- past him -- to try and grab at the door handle on his side of the car and shove. It won't be hard to stop her, really. But if he doesn't, well, she's going to give it a good shove, and him, too. All the while muttering, "Cougar. You ass. I am going to find a dead horse to plant in your bed when you least expect it."

Whatever the case, all of that stops when Jason says those words. Says Bruce doesn't want him.

"Jason," Helena says, momentarily at a loss. She listens, quietly. By the time he gets to the end, her head is tilted so she can study his profile. All that jealousy of those years before, everything else, it all seems so petty in the face of what he says. "I'm sorry. I never realized it was like that, for you."

There's a longer pause, a hesitation, her hands resting in her lap, pinned together to stop herself moving them. "You do know you're not alone. Not if you don't want to be. I would help you, no matter what you wanted to do. I owe you that." Not a thing she ever admitted at the time, but when she was younger, and far more reckless, having someone like him around to watch her back surely saved her life more than she ever wanted to admit. "...even if I didn't, I would. He may not see it, but Gotham needs people like us as much as it does him."

Red Hood has posed:
Jason Todd knew he was asking for trouble. Admittedly he didn't expect her to try and reach across to grab at the driver's door to actually attempt to defenestrate him from his own vehicle.

Curiously? He doesn't stop her from trying - but she will get first hand knowledge that his car doesn't follow her wishes. He never locked the doors but the door still won't open as she tries to pull on the handle.

He sighs a little. "Damn. Are all Italians this violent?" he teases and then continues. "You should put your seatbelt back on. You're causing at least four moving violations already." But he doesn't actually protest her leaning across him to grab at the door handle. "And really if you're wanting to get close to me, you could just wait till we've order the pizza so I can enjoy it without trying to keep us on the road." He doesn't seem to know when to stop does he?

He grows more serious again and shrugs, his voice tight. "Yeah." Maybe he's right but maybe he's not. All he knows is how he sees it. Communication in the Wayne clan has never been a strong point.

"It's fine. I'm alive. I'm making a difference on my own terms. Living my own life." Mostly.

As she makes those reassurances, he looks over at her a momeht. "I'm not alone, no. But you don't owe me anything either. We worked together when I was just trying to figure out what living again meant. If anything we're more than even by now, Helena." A tight smile is offered. "But. Thanks. It is good to know if I do need help that there's someone in my corner." Not that he doubts the others would be. It's just. Hard to talk about with them. Talking about this stuff falls under the ban that the Bat-clan maintain on emotions and feelings. The Bat version of keeping a Stiff Upper Lip.

Steering off the freeway, he begins to wind his way through Manhattan streets toward Little Italy. Right to the source. Finding parking is always an adventure but he must have some luck or a silent means to call in a favor because right in front of Lombardi's is a space.

"Should buy a lottery ticket.." he mutters in wonder as he pulls into the space. It's -just- big enough for the large muscle car.

Huntress has posed:
Helena gives up uselessly shoving at the door. Things Helena is learning today. One: Jason Todd came back to life with a breathtaking disregard for his own life. Two: Helena really hates Wayne Technology. "What is the world coming to when I can't throw a man out of his own car? Like, that's vigilantism one-oh-one." She glares at Jason, because this is clearly his fault, /and/ he's pushing her even more.

"I want you to know, I am going to buy a pair of racehorses and wait for them to get old and die, just so you're going to forever wonder just when or if I'm going to leave them in your bed." Are all Italians this violent? Maybe just the ones born to Mafioso families. She does ease back into her seat though. Because she wants the pizza. Not for any other reason.

Helena doesn't for a second seem to believe that it's fine. She's got that look in her eyes. Like maybe she's going to tackle this from an entirely different angle. That doesn't bode well. She knows just how emotion-less the Bat-clan tries to be. It infuriates her, which just makes it even more awkward when she's angry and everyone else is staring at her. Yeah, she doesn't miss that.

When he says they're even, Helena face tightens for a moment. She doesn't think so, but she takes the olive branch of that statement anyway. "You're never going to find-" but then he does find a park. She gives an amused snort at his suggestion he buy a lottery ticket. "Sure. While you're at it, why not amend your will to leave this car to me. It clearly responds well to me." Nevermind the car-door incident. She's already reaching for the door on her side, as much to see whether it'll let her do so without his intervention, as to try and beat him to playing gentleman with the door.

Red Hood has posed:
Jason Todd smiles on the inside when she gives up trying to launch him from his own vehicle while it is in motion. "That's not vigilantism, that's senseless acts of violence. Domestic terrorism" he jokes.

"I believe you will." Then he grins. "And I'll see to it that they have the finest veterinarians and care takers money can buy. I'm not dying any time soon. Already did that. I've got a lot of living left to do and lost time to make up for."

A wink is aimed at her as he scores the spot. "I'll make sure you're in my Will" he says with some measure of sincerity.

As the engine rumbles into silence and shuts off, she'll find her door does open for her. Does that make the previous failure better or worse?

Huntress has posed:
Helena actually snorts when he calls it terrorism. "Only if it's undeserved. You called me the C-word. I'll never forgive you for that, Jason Todd. If this car," she pats the dash, "Could think, she would have agreed with me and preemptively ejected you." That's a sure fire way to win an argument.

Is it better or worse the door opens now? The narrow-eyed warning look Helena gives Jason says /worse/, but she at least closes the door after the gets out gently enough. It clearly isn't the car's fault. Only once he's joined her does she move down the sidewalk, booted heels clicking faintly. "There should be a place just- ah, here!"

From the outside, it doesn't look impressive at all. The 'New York Style Pizza!' sign is faded and crooked in the window, some of the shingles are missing and the phone number of the shop's worn off. Inside, though, it smells amazing, and Helena breathes deeply, looking completely contented.

"Ciao, bella! You are back! It has been too long!" A gray-haired Italian man strides out from the back, leaning to kiss Helena's cheek, as she beams. "Antonio, you look as handsome as ever. This is Jason. He eats like twice as much as me, so like, keep the food coming." Antonio grins welcomingly to Jason and offers a clasped hand, before he gestures to a table near the back. There are a smattering of people around the place, but for this time of night it's not nearly as busy as it should be. "I get the leftovers," Helena declares with a look like she's expecting to fight Jason for them.

Red Hood has posed:
Jason Todd just grins as he gets out and closes the driver's door.

"Your arguments are baseless. Cougars are not only powerful, they have sharp fangs and claws. They just look hot while using them." He manages to say it straight faced even.

Joining her at the sidewalk he jerks his head toward the pizzeria. "You said you wanted New York style. Figured it had to be the original or nothing." At least he appreciates the classics with food as well?

Entering, he looks on with amusement as the man recognizes and greets her. He stands there, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, waiting for the greetings to be exchanged. As he is introduced, he gives a polite nod and smile. "Hello sir. It's a pleasure to meet you" he says as he shakes the offered hand.

Then they get whisked to a table and it's his turn to look impressed. "Should know that you'd have connections here" he jokes.

"Leftovers? I figured we're each getting our own pie. Or pies if it comes to that. So sure, whatever you want to take home from yours? Go for it" he agrees. When in doubt let everyone get what they want.

Huntress has posed:
"Please stop before I mug you for your car keys and we leave you behind." /We/ being Helena and his car, obviously. Just ignore that he didn't use any keys. She's going to have to find someone much better than her at hacking tech to help her out, clearly.

Once settled at the table, she sets her bag to one side, clearing her throat. "He was a... he knew my mother. And it's kind of a small world. I'm kind of related to half of the Gotham mafia, if you want to get technical. Lots of intermarrying in the older days to try and settle feuds. Not that it worked out all that well. Those that didn't want to get involved came to New York, some to join the Maggia, and others just to, well, live."

Helena tsks. "No, I get your leftovers too. That's how it works."

Red Hood has posed:
Jason Todd says nothing about the knowing of mothers and relations. His family wasn't exactly Family of the Year.

"You're not getting my car that easily." Leaning forward, elbows resting on the table, fingers clasped togther and his chin atop them he stares at her. "This isn't a dictatorship. I'm buying you dinner and adding you to my last will and testament. Maybe. Bogarting all the leftovers is just asking for trouble" he says without blinking. "You've already threatened me with the heads of dead horses - that aren't yet dead which is.. kind of gross and cruel. But it still hasn't scared me. I'm not sure there is anything you can threaten me with that will get me to relenquish my leftovers." He offers a lazy smile.

Huntress has posed:
"You're buying me dinner?" that, of everything, catches Helena off guard. "I'm buying /you/ dinner. This my home turf." Well, not literally, because Gotham, but, New York. She's got a finger up, like she's making a point. And another one, as she continues: "You know no one else will treat your car as well as I would, so it's only natural she goes to me. And I'm saving racehorses and letting them live their lives out to a happy old age, with your veterinarian making sure."

Even with all that, he still won't relent, so Helena, naturally, fixes him with a stare. It's the kind of intent look like she's trying to read his expression.

"How about a trade then, for the leftovers," Helena proposes. "I'll /let/ you buy dinner next time." Generous of her, and it shows in the brilliant smile she gives him.

Red Hood has posed:
Jason Todd bursts into laughter at the absurdity of it all.

He manages to not break the gaze, the stare down, even so.

"I guess if you're going to get the car when I'm finally really and truly gone? The least you can do to earn such a great privilege is to buy dinner." He shakes his head. Why is he surprised she is so stubborn and strong willed. She -is- Italian after all. Maybe he just likes to hear that cadence when she's angry. There really is nothing like an Italian woman lecturing someone in Angry-talian.

Leaning back he holds his hands up in surrender. "Fine. Mom." Forget shots across the bow. He's aiming for the kill shot now. The wicked glint in his eyes says as much.

Huntress has posed:
Helena can't help it; when he bursts out laughing, she can't help but to smile for a second. Only a second! Because she has to keep up the angry tirade. Which is, granted, failing far too fast under his charm. "And while you're at it, you might as well just call it my car. You're looking after it for me until it's ready for me." She's definitely seeing whether she can get under his skin just as much as he is under hers.

He surrenders. For a moment, Helena knows victory, and then he follows it up with /that/. Her brows rise, and she pokes a toe of her boot -- surprisingly reinforced -- into his leg, aiming just hard enough for him to react.

"Just for that, you're not getting any dessert. You just get to watch me eat it."

Red Hood has posed:
Jason Todd catches that momentary smile. Ah-ha. So there is one in there someplace. He couldn't recall seeing her smile much before she'd left those years ago. THen again they were usually out taking down mob goons in the most painful ways possible.

"My car. If you're good maybe you'll get it when I'm gone." He attempts to smile smugly. It's hard to do when someone kicks you in the shin with designer labled steel toe boots.

It earns a grunt from him because, yeah, that hurts a bit.

"No dessert? That's cruel and unusual punishment. I know how good the canoli is here."