He isn't sure how he feels about the idea of experiments. Usually, experiments mean long stretches of time spent in a hurting haze. Experiments mean sharp pain and dull senses and drugs and restraints and all of the laughing and have-to-be-right-wrong-right-wrong. But when he tells Jason Todd that as they sit on the edge of the bed that's apparently Junior's now, the reaction he gets is not what he expects.
"No," Jason Todd says firmly. "No way, not a chance, no."
Junior blinks and tries not to shrink back at the firm bitterness in Jason Todd's voice. Evidently he doesn't do a very good job of it, though.
Jason Todd sighs. "Sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out. I meant… That's not what I meant by experiments. They aren't going to hurt at all. They're supposed to help."
"Help who?" Junior asks, perking up slightly. Maybe to help Batman? Junior doesn't deserve to get to help Batman, but that would be… That would be more good than anything Junior can imagine.
"Help you," Jason Todd says simply.
Junior feels his face scrunch up in confusion. Why would anyone want to help him?
"They'll be good experiments. They'll help you. Trust me," Jason Todd says.
And, well, Junior does trust him.
One of the first experiments they try is books. How books can be an experiment is beyond Junior to start with, but Jason Todd explains.
"One of the things I usually want to do is to read," Jason Todd says as they walk through the doors to Wayne Manor's library. "I like books, I like the stories they tell, I like the way the words all go together. Maybe you'll like reading too, and it can be something you want to do."
Dutifully, Junior follows Jason Todd to the bookshelves.
"Pick out some books," Jason Todd says, sweeping a hand toward the nearest shelf.
"Yes, Jason Todd," Junior says absently, trying to calculate the most right-wrong book to pick. Except, no, they probably don't want him to pick the most right-wrong book, they probably want him to pick a really-right book, but what makes a book really-right? Junior peeks over at Jason Todd, hoping to get some answers without needing to ask.
But Jason Todd has one hand over his face. He pulls his hand down his face before he says, "Just Jason is okay."
"Yes, Jason," Junior says obediently.
"And you don't have to say it like that, like it's a command or nothing," Jason Todd says.
"Yes, Jason," Junior repeats, even though he isn't sure how else to say it.
Jason Todd sighs. "We'll work on it. Let's get you to pick out some books."
In the end, Jason Todd is the one who really picks out the books. Junior browses the shelves while Jason Todd bustles back and forth, showing titles to Junior that are "so good, really, you've gotta give them a try!" Junior accepts each title Jason Todd gives him for the first five or so books, but then Jason Todd starts to try to explain more about each book and Junior starts to feel lost. He keeps accepting the books, but when Junior can't hold back his concerned frown anymore, Jason Todd stops in his tracks and in his speech, mid-sentence about how awesome the next book is.
"You know, I think that's a good start, okay?" Jason Todd says after a moment, eyeing the stack of books in Junior's hands.
"Okay," Junior parrots back.
"Let's settle in and read," Jason Todd says.
Junior nods, but Jason Todd isn't looking to make sure Junior is good and agrees. Jason Todd is already plopping down in a wide armchair and pulling a bookmark out of a book on a side table.
Junior stands there for a few moments. Is he supposed to go find an armchair too? Is that what settling in means? Or is he supposed to wait and watch Jason read? Or is he supposed to sit on the floor? Or can he-
"Kid," Jason Todd interrupts his thoughts.
Junior shifts the books in his arms uneasily, waiting for the reprimand.
It doesn't come.
"Come here," Jason Todd says, and he points to a couch on the other side of the side table. "That's a good spot too."
Gingerly, Junior makes his way over to the couch and sits.
"Let's get reading," Jason Todd suggests, burying his nose in his book.
Junior waits a moment longer, certain a command or a complaint is about to be sent his way. And yet that doesn't happen.
Jason Todd just licks his thumb, flips the next page in his book, and settles further into his armchair.
Slowly, Junior puts the stack of books in his arms onto the couch cushion next to the one he's seated on. He sifts through the stack gently, careful not to bend any pages. Eventually, he chooses the book that looks the most like it's based in reality. That's got to be the most useful one. That must be the way to do it right.
Junior opens the book and begins to read.
It's the best experiment Junior's ever been a part of. True to Jason Todd's word, it doesn't hurt. It doesn't send shocks of staticky pain through his head or his heart. It doesn't make his vision go fuzzy or his stomach go woozy. It doesn't poke his arm with needles or shove pills under his tongue or even pour sour liquids down his throat. It just… He sits and he reads and he sits and he reads, and when Alfred Pennyworth comes to get them for a meal, Jason Todd just says that they were having a good time reading and that's it. So apparently Junior did it right.
And then they go eat, and Junior gets to eat a full plate of food, and when his plate is empty at last, Alfred Pennyworth asks if he could put more on it. So Junior gets seconds! And then, when he finishes the seconds, he gets thirds, too! And he can say when he's done, he's allowed to, they say, so he gets to decide if he wants even more. It's another experiment, according to Jason Todd, and Junior apparently does that one right too, because nobody yells at him or pushes him or in some other way tells him otherwise.
Junior doesn't think he'll mind more of these experiments, especially if they're so easy to do right.