May. 3rd, 2011

prodigaljaybird: (PB - Pissy.)
It's been nearly a week, and all Jason can say for the passage of time is that his hand isn't quite as swollen anymore.

It's still swollen enough, though, to prevent him doing just about everything he enjoys. He can't grapple gun his way through the trees, can't do most of what they practice in gymnastics (though he will, by god, and sooner than anyone thinks he should), he can't swim in Bucky's class, can't...enjoy the attentions of his girlfriend with quite the same enthusiasm. At least he can drive his fucking go-kart now that his knee's no longer the size of a bowling ball.

His life, while much improved from the endless minutes he'd spent underground, kind of sucks, a pale comparison to what he wants it to be, and when he reaches for the Compound door for the billionth time with the wrong hand, he very nearly breaks the other one punching it. With a huff, Jason settles down on the bottom step, face set in grim determination not to show how much that punch had fucking hurt.


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Jason Todd

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