Jason's point of view, pre-Identity, after one of his missions. Word: Quietude.
He ascended the stairs slowly, deliberately, silently. The room, when he entered, glowed a delicate moonstone-grey with twilight. Beyond the drawn curtains came the rich gaudy glare of headlights, flaring and receding in intermittent streams of gold or blood.
He sat down on the lone chair in the middle of the floor. Gradually, the pulsing ache behind his eyes began to subside.
He remained there for a long time, not thinking, but simply breathing.
He had always loved the feeling of this empty room.