Jason's not afraid of dying again. It's not bravado, it's just the truth, and maybe he courts death with his actions at times, but he doesn't want it. Even at his wildest, there's a small, quiet part of him still concerned with self-preservation, and it ought to be sounding off now, given the look on Bucky's face. It should, but it isn't.

"Why?" Jason barks. "I did good in class." He fucking did, he was perfect, better than, even. Better than Batgirl, that's for damn sure.