"Jason, you really need to calm down."
The boy in question, who had just taken off his red hood helmet, glared at his mentor. It was hard for Bruce to take him seriously, even though his eldest son was being held at gunpoint over a matter as stupid as this.
"NO. I set my foot down here. I agreed to come home. I agreed to visit every once in a while. I agreed to not kill anyone and wear your stupid bat-symbol on my shirt. But this has gone far enough. I will most certainly not go to a therapist."
Dick, who was in a chokehold, coughed. "Come on, Jay-bird, please? I'll make sure Alfie let's you have some cookies..."
Jason shook his head determinedly. "No. I hate therapists. Leslie is as close to one as I'm getting."
"Jay, come on. This is ridiculous. Let Dick go." Bruce tried again, speaking gentler this time. He could see Jason hesitating, his stance loosening for a fraction of a second. Dick realized it, and used the slip to break free of the hold and take the gun.
"Come on… Lets go." His older brother said soothingly, somehow managing to calm down Jason enough to get him up the stairs and into a car peacefully. Jason pouted and looked at his adoptive father and older brother with a look that would have worked if he had been seven. They ignored it.
Jason looked at the book in disgust.
"Ok, I can stand the therapy. But this? No. I refuse to write my feelings down in a book like a silly hormonal teenage girl." Barbara looked up from the Batcomputer, glaring, Cassandra looking like she agreed with her mentor.
"Care to repeat that comment?" She snarled, turning in her wheelchair. "Because as a 'teenaged girl, I don't recall ever writing my feelings down in a book."
Jason gulped, retracting his statement and quickly leaving the Batcave. He wished that he hadn't let Dick drag him into the stupid therapy.