In his own defence, Jason still manages to control the majority of drug dealing businesses in Gotham city; her mistress does not see very much unfair distribution of happy times. His handling of antipsychotic drugs is nothing too major, and it's just a small thing he squeezes from the sweaty palms of those under his eye. Any doctor would probably have a fit if they knew someone was taking them without an official reason, but luckily, Jason isn't a someone anymore. He used to be. Additionally, in his own defence, he never abuses them and some pretty good reasons as to their necessity is present. It's not too hard a thing to see if you know where to look, really. People aren't supposed to see things that aren't there, even if you know they don't actually exist most of the time, and auditory hallucinations are some nasty things to experience.
Jason was about to return to his couch, maybe check to see what free-to-air television could offer him in the form of reality shows and the like, but a very familiar sound shatters the interview's continuity. Quite literally. The camera's glass fractures with little lines across it, making a kind of spiderweb to obstruct what scene is in front of it. There's another gunshot, then things go dark, returning to the news room where the lady—Angela, he recalls her name—sits with a slightly disappointed face. The fact that reporters are no longer scared when an attack happens during a live interview is somewhat upsetting, and Jason finds himself leaning forward on his island counter. Dick would definitely be okay, he always manages to be relatively fine, but the same can't be assured for Jones.
Rushing through the short length of his corridor, the vigilante bursts into his bedroom to search for his outfit, all the while calculating the situation. That shot was smack-bang in the middle of the lens, so the shooter was either lucky or very skilled (seeing as though they'd be positioned some distance away to creep past Nightwing's eye) but based upon the abbreviated albeit calm time before the next shot, the latter is a more likely option. Dickhead will've ducked to the ground, taking whoever's still alive down with him, which was probably the designated camera man, seeing as though the view needed to be impacted for what was about to go down. But why would they bother to hide the blood? Unless they're preparing to go down and take down Nightwing as well... they will fail miserably, I might not even get there in time to see the fun. Hmm. He finishes the last part of his preparation by slipping the notoriously famous hood over his head, but hesitates to leave at his bedroom door. If I show up after everything it might look as though I care about Dick's wellbeing because I took my time reaching that place specifically… but I could throw the accusation off by saying I was just enjoying the view… no, that's way too easy to question. Hold up. What the f—k am I saying? I don't care. I'm just going there to make sure this isn't something bigger, is all. Yes.
Satisfied with his makeshift excuse, Jason only takes a little glance at the TV on his way past. Now they really are talking about the weather.
"Heavy rain as far as the eye can see…" he smiles subconsciously.
Knowing Gotham like the back of his hand comes in handy—puns aside—because scaling buildings is done with ease and navigating himself through all the streets is not hard. The alley Nightwing was last known to be located is a kind of… freckle amongst the known skin; something that wasn't there before but has popped up thanks to a nasty bout of sunburn. Its existence is acknowledged now, of course, but it's a more recent discovery.
Note to self: go out some more. Get off your ass and expand your territory.
As of the past few months, Jason's patrol routine has undergone some changes to differ from that of the Bat's. He goes out during sunset for a quick scout, finds some plans, maybe stops a few petty muggings, but otherwise stays low on the ground to remain relatively hidden. That continues for the span of a few hours before he returns home to eat dinner, have some leisure time and a quick nap if he deems it necessary. Then, when nightfall has fallen entirely and the city lights fire up, he goes and executes anything he had in mind, be it swinging from rooftops to look for trouble below or straight up killing some idiots whose plans had been spilled previously. Granted, Batman and his charming replacements are still patrolling during those hours, but he's usually mapped out areas they're more prone to visit each night and he goes back earlier.
There's a lot of effort put into things, seeing as though Jason's only hoping to avoid four specific humanoids on the face of this planet.
Moreover, tonight would be breaking the cycle his mentality had just adjusted to, so he is right royally pissed and intrigued to discover what's brought him out here in the first place. The burning desire to find out only grows when he fails to hear sirens in the direction the alleyway takes him. In fact, it's peacefully quiet in nearly every aspect, aside from the pigeons that nest on every single building.
"Move, b—h!" He kicks his leg out at a persistent specimen resting upon his targeted landing spot. You can only do so much to shoo away an animal when you're soaring through the air, but the sheer speed and prospect of a large, bulky thing coming towards oneself is usually enough to fly you away out of pure instinct, or so he had originally thought. They must be getting used to people jumping around at night these days, which is a slightly sour thought.
I'm gonna kill your un-poultry ass if ya don't move in the next two seconds…
Just when his foot was about to hit the ledge and the nonchalant birdy's chest, it flaps away, almost falling downwards because of the hulking weight in its belly. He'd obviously been the victim of a free feast and had enjoyed every last little bit there was to offer.
Jason executed a roll to break any fall damage he might gain, seeing as though a shattered leg doesn't sound very fun, especially when there'd be no choice but to visit the manor for treatment. Alfred would fuss and make those small frowns, clearly disappointed in the lack of warning beforehand. Jason loves surprising him if only to put his mood on a wavering scale, because—entertainment aside—it makes him more likely to oblige with keeping his visits a secret, strangely enough… not that it'd be possible to conceal something as large as a broken leg; the old butler would simply refuse to let his new patient leave the house. Anyone who knows about the chemical mixture this family creates would also know that such a thing could only lead to massive amounts of pure disaster. There'd be a lot more broken bones for Alfred to deal with if I went ahead and stayed there so, let's just… not.
The desired destination was nearing quickly, though Jason couldn't say that his heart was still as calm as it were when a pigeon's life was on the line. How could he possibly be caring for a dick more than an animal? Or maybe he's worried for his own safety, seeing as though the (possible) murderers are yet to be caught, in his current library of knowledge.
That's when he hears an excited squeak that can only come from one idiot on this cursed planet, and his heart rate actually does skip a few beats in 'absolute terror.'
Author's note: sorry for the short chapter, just letting you all know I'm alive and remember this thing. By the way, do you guys want Dick and Jason's relationship to be platonic (friends) or… something more *lenny face*?