What we've become![Jason Todd]

[Deleted]

The creature of the night. Dubbed the Black Serpent. Wounded. Battered. Victorious. Sped along down the road. From the outskirts of Gotham City. Having just taken down Man-Bat. Left the officers to go do their thing. Swirling blue and red behind. Sounds of bellowing helicopters had swarmed over head. It was even possible they were tracking her… The very thing that had just saved their city, but like the night. Like darkness. She slipped into it. Snake camouflaged in the grass. Bike wheels bumped, causing an ache up the creatures spine. Darkened gloved hands tightened at the handles. Kicking it up a gear, despite the very thing inside her, trying to draw her to the ground. After all this, she couldn't simply lay down and die. Gritted teeth. Sense were maybe dulled, but they were still sharp… Oh, so very keen. It was hot summer night, but clouds had formed. Blanketing the city in even greater perils of black. Droplets fell. Random places. Fell upon Serpents skin. Felt soothing in places and shear agony in others. The road began to seep with the moisture. Causing some friction, but balance was not thrown. Not quite. Make it to cover. Eventually the darkened path led into a small, slightly run down storage place. Drove the humming black bird into the garage. Once the creature came off the motorbike, pulled off the helmet and pulled down her hair. The Black Serpent was just at the brink now and more just a beaten woman. Zahira, though strangers wouldn't just cough that up easily. Her hand ran through the back of her hair, seeped a little in blood, before bringing her hand to rough her hair. Make it home. Aid kit… Hand pulled for a shirt. Just a plain white shirt. Slipping her arms through. Hand randomly buttoned it down, trailing the faint piercing hole in her gut and in motioning to walk. There was a weakness in her stride, but she worked through it… Rolling the door shut behind her. Locking it for good measure. Her legs still the sight of the black torn tights of her Serpent attire, but all added to an image of a torn down woman.

The storage building wasn't a great distance, but hell, it would feel like it. With these heels on… Who was to complain, she had the feral streak deep and dark. Zahira also had the warmth, you just hardly would know it right now. Taking a stumbling walk in the dark hours or possibly early hours of the morning. Time was hard to process. Walked across a bridge. Traffic was low… Almost dead. The city almost felt dead. Rotten if it could. Rain beating down now. Hair began to cling to her skin. Her shirt. Her face. A hand reached up. Etching to remove the eye make-up or in this case, more smeared it. Black streaks ran down her cheeks. How come this was seemingly familiar? Taking it in her stride. Zahira, exited the bridge… Crossed the almost too quiet street. Heading to her home… A home… Just low very cost apartment, nothing much… Echoes would seep at her ears. Sharp eyes looked as if she could almost see the possum in the trees. Feel the vibrations of the little claws scrapping against the wood of the trees. Hmmm, right… Possums! Heels met a darkened pavement. Now some blocks one could say the lair of the Snake, but in all honesty, just a place to rest Zahira's head. Escape…

Oh… Of course… Prince Charming and his group of Dick wits…. Zahira needn't look up to see the… Boys cross make way to cross the street… To what save the day? Because they certainly couldn't make this night any more deadly… Well, she could… Maybe, she was just an inch from the Serpent, but they really didn't know it… That could almost be more dangerous… Shadows fell in and around her… She heeded little attention to it… Let the remarks. Voices, echo. Felt almost touching. Her arms had remained a little hugging at her torso, bidding the pain in her lower Abdomen and covering any trace of blood. Though it was probably too dark to see it drip from some of the smaller cuts and the deep dash in her leg, the black tights kind of… Hid that… Least in this light. At one finally attempt. Zahira had motioned somewhat an attack, more self defence, any simple woman could know that had the courage to walk down dark streets. Least on one of the boys. The almost cried in pain, but nothing was badly broken. Mostly maybe his pride. WIth her lips simply laid low. "Leave me alone." With just a little curl in her tongue, but already moving passed. It took more energy out of her though. Wet. Torn. Wounded. Zahira finally turned a corner. The alley beside her apartment building. The walk. Everything was slowly catching up to her. Most of course the bang she had endured at the back of her head. A concussion that was maybe coming into play. Dark eyes loomed up the Platform, ladder. That was usually a way to to her apartment room, looking at the possible climb now it made her head a little dizzy, even if flexibility was generally her strength… Rest… Maybe just rest. Too much… As her back had come at the wall in the alley. Slid down. It wasn't hard. Sat at the darkened floor. Heavy head looked up, rocked a little as her eyes blinked and a little blurry. Looking up her window… What was so hard? She had just tangled up a beast… Just a minute and she knew she could swing up… A swift sensation vibrated beneath. Footsteps. Zahira head rested against the wall. Almost shutting her eyes for a moment in agony… What part of alone… Didn't they understand. As the footsteps approached. "I said... Leave me… alone! You'll regret… it" The words formed out of her mouth, not loudly and spaced from using the strength to speak. Though there was maybe a hint of a hiss, but not enough to reveal a snake. Heavy in her lungs. As her hands slipped from her waist. Bloodied hands. Coming beside her. Fingers at the cool ground of the alley. Weakened arms as if almost trying find balance… Too attempt to her feet, if she was given little choice. Though her body wanted to sink. Her mind wanted to be left alone. As her eyes looked as if in shadows it was glare and blur. Her hands slipped and she sat back. Hand coming to her head and ran down to her cheek. Falling down her now blood stained lips and dripped from her chin. The blood that seeped into her white shirt was visible. Trickling down her side like a warm liquid. The marks. Cuts. Gash on her leg. Torn black tights. Wet soaked clothes. Hair. Blackened cheeks. The mere possible signs of a beaten woman. A torn feral creature of the night!

*Gif source!

[Deleted]

Jason adequately established himself as the person that refused to show much sympathy. He wasn't alone in that front, especially not in Gotham. It was basically the homeland of the unsympathetic; from the unforgiving streets on all sides of the city. It didn't matter where you were from or who you were, Gotham would get to you one day. He knew that, was aware of it, and was determined to get to Gotham before it got to him. So far he was relatively effective. The East Quarter was really quite the easy target. It had fallen to his wishes quicker than he would have hoped, and the Black Mask had yet to come to terms with his loss of business. He was planning quite the extravaganza for him, actually. Call it common courtesy; steal his livelihood and throw him a party. It was only logical sense, really.

He had only just began his plan for Gotham. Batman didn't seem to realize his presence had affected the city yet. Hell, he didn't know if Batman had even realized he was here. But that was as it should be. Reunions came with time. His pulse spiked just thinking about it.

Absentmindedly, he shot a line across the South Quarter's rooftops and felt his muscles tense as he flew through the air and landed with practiced grace on the rooftop adjacent. His line retracted and he continued as if unaffected by the 100-foot swing. His ways of traversing the cityscape were second-nature to him. Born and raised here, not to mention being the guardian of the shadowed-city for most of his life, certainly had its effect. Hmph. He liked that: "Gotham's Guardian." Duly noted.

Everything seemed normal. Well, as normal as Gotham got. Maybe there was a drug deal here, prostitution there, but for the most part he let that slide. The drug deals were his main source of income anyway. However, mugging is something he wouldn't stand for; they were the pettiest crooks and deserved the most pain. So, when the words, "Leave me alone," reached his ears, he immediately redirected.

The city seemed dead. There were no car alarms or traffic and even the street lights seemed dimmer. This wasn't the most dangerous place, but it was the most popular for muggings and break-ins simply because people were better off but not so well off that they were well-protected. Basically, they were easy and worth taking from. Admittedly, the mind of a thief had their advantages.

As he approached the alleyway, he saw a small group of men approach the faint form of a woman crouched near the ground. He squinted against the conflicting lighting as he crouched at the building's edge. The stance was sickeningly familiar. "I said... leave me... alone! You'll regret... it..." Her voice was desperately weak, and she clutched at her abdomen as if there was a sharp pain there when she spoke. He sighed. He hated this part more than most would think. But, people like to assume the worst of others.

Three quick shots and they were all dead, save of course for the weak and cowering woman. But she looked close to it. In any other circumstance, he would have turned-tail and searched for somewhere else to be. But... this was different. He couldn't leave her here. After he just saved her life, as well as a lot of other mental anguish, he couldn't turn around and leave her here to die. That directly contrasted his morals. Of course, he was also not so keen to offer sympathy.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both,
And be one traveler, long I stood,
And looked down one as far as I could,
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

He swung down to her side, ignoring her pleas to leave her be. He took her up in his arms and, the movement still habitual as taking breaths, shot a line in the air and sailed above the rooves with her nestled against his chest. Her own breathing was shallow as he felt the cold presence of blood on her waist, as he feared. He murmured, as he landed on the roof of what he realized as his apartment building, "You'll be alright. Just stay still. The hospital isn't far off."

Poem: The Road Not Taken -- Robert Frost

[Deleted]

The world fell darkened. More dank with the blurred vision. Sway in and out of Zahira's heavy head. Resting against the firm and chilled wall. Felt the pinch at the wound tangled in with her hair, but it was either rest against the wall or most likely sink towards her chest. There was just little strength and with the shadows that crept from around the corner. For what ever delusion had prompted and three men sprung. The woman bled in a darkened state, but as weak as she was. The creature would have instinct of survival… It surely would kick in. As sharply as she could make it. Trying to find grasp… It just wasn't… No. As her nails half clawed a little at the cold floor, as the other clung at her torso. Just some ounce of balance. Swiftness, but all that wanted to cease was a shallow bubbled breath from Zahira's bloodied lips. Though even in their shadow steps, a whistling came through the air. So faint, in her swirling head coming in and out. As soon her darkened eyes peaked. The blur ceased long enough to see the shadows. Loomed no more, but lumps of darkened planks on the ground… Mere steps. Maybe if it hadn't already been for her own blood, theirs would have winced more vividly at her nostrils. A groaned seeped from her lips. As her head moaned heavily. To even feel, but shadows played over her head. Before feeling the wind brush past her cheek. Lightness was felt. As if she was being carted… Was this…?

Well, no this possibly wasn't the end. She could feel her pulse, even if it was strained. Her limbs almost limp. Eyes glimpsed the darkened mass of who ever. what ever was carrying her… Which as the sensation of almost flight stopped… Least halted. Her mind rushed more in thought. Surroundings and more precisely to the fact she come so easily in another hands. She had never… Played this role… Yet, been very close… Already felt the hairs on her arms. Darkened and bloodied hands, motioned to the hold. Pushed in his chest, if in attempts to break free… Help or not, this could spell more disasters that she couldn't afford. Her attempts were no doubt probably felt, but she lack the precision. Because her body… Needed help. She knew it… It was more the pressing matter she didn't wanted it… The voice came in. Almost smooth in his murmured words. Her hands halted in her efforts. Felt the shear meanings at what he suggested… Tongued tied for a moment. As her eyes finally looked from the black mass of his chest. Up… Just a shear zone of blurred redness… Nothing… Well, least not in sight. Her own was more pale than usual. Showed the stricken signs. "No… Don't… Not there… I can't… " Her words spaced in response to the hospital, with a faint hiss in her tone. It wasn't just panic nor fear. It was more rational… As well as she could contemplate, but no… The risks, were too high… One look at the marks, at luck they'd say a bear. A large bear. Darkened costume, well and a masked avenger. It was possibly one clue too many. Not that Zahira could really devour that to this…. A stranger. Whom she rather say goodbye too. Drop her here… Her window wasn't so far out of reach, to at least… Even in her thoughts as her hands beat again on his chest, but hardly the fight in her as before… Her eyes skimmed across the roof, in suggestion of taking up his help… Hard to swallow, but she was smart enough to know when she probably in need… But this was a risk… One of which she couldn't know how great it was, but it seemed to weigh less than first option… As her eyes showed concern in her thought and coughed in her shallow breaths.

Biting her tongue as she swore under he breath in arabic… "I cannot be sure… Don't speak of this… I won't! " As the shear honesty alluded her voice, in not being sure to trust him. She rarely trusted anybody. Scarcely at that, keep people at an arms length, as her eyes shaded over him, but trickling of blood from her gut. The concussion that she was sure jaded with many of her senses… In this, she might just need that little push. Even if he dropped her on her bed and left… How often had she patched these up, but something pulled at her hairs… That he was bound to see her off in a matter of seconds. Who was she to know anything. Let alone promise really anything, but keeping lips a little hush hush, somehow she could assume was a given… Not that he could really know… All she was, now. Was a broken woman. Almost… "But, if you must take me… Somewhere… Take me home…" She had never been so close to practically offering someone a key, but something told her… Perhaps the vibrations or simply in the way he held her. Not in probably ways he cared greatly, but it was unlikely he would just dump her on the rooftops, even if she was persistent. Quite frankly she knew probably less chances she'd be able to drag herself… So she spoke up, what she felt she had to. As her eyes showed in the direction of the building below. As the gentle spurts of rain, trickled down her cheeks and washed some of the blood of her lips. Before with little restraint, her head leant more in him. Voiced low in his ear, as if directions to her apartment… Most likely by window, unless he was gonna go more stealth and use the door. Of course, there was the chance he'd forsake her wishes and dump her at the hospital. If her teeth didn't find way to his neck, there was probably little ways of stopping her… It was probably why she hadn't tried, whether or not she thought of it or had it in the back of her mind was another thing.

[Deleted]

Jason didn't expect much of a reply. He could only guess at how weak she was; from the looks of her clothing, it seemed that whatever feral beast had attacked her had done so awhile ago and that she had been bleeding since then. If she bled out much more, he feared for her life. Yet, words still sprang from her mouth; Arabic, of all things. Well.... Maybe she doesn't understand what I'm saying, then, he thought as she mumbled almost inscrutable words like "No" and "I can't." Gradually, as her refusals began to make themselves known to him, by scratching and pushing on his chest most notably, he realized she genuinely did not want to go to the hospital. Which was good, because he was unsure he could get her there in time to stop the bleeding. If she was strong enough to speak, and cuss from what he knew of Arabic (which wasn't extensive,) then she was strong enough for him to pause their journey.

He glanced around the immediate area, searching for somewhere he could slip into without being noticed, when she mentioned 'home.' He was unsure where she lived, and even as she told him, her home was unlikely to be a satisfiable sanctuary. But, they sat on the apartment building where one of his residences was. It wasn't much, but he recalled that he stockpiled basic medical supplies in the case of his own injuries. Truth or not, he also did not favor the hospital for purely coddling reasons. They kept him there too long when he should be out in the city doing his duty. Besides, hospital visits put his presence on record. And shadows and urban legends couldn't have their records pasted all over medical files. It was beyond disagreeable.

Sighing in resignation, he shot another line and swung the two of them over the ledge and down along the building's side, onto the fire escape. Clambering across the rickety structure, he threw his window open and slipped inside he set her on the lengthy couch as he went to turn on a few lights and gather equipment from throughout the complex. Curtains surrounding the open window billowed as wind traveled through the small opening. He only engaged enough lights so he could find his way around and not worry overmuch about more visitors lurking in the shadows. His meeting with Ra's was difficult to forget, what with his ribs still paining him when irritated. He returned to the living room, almost praying she was still living, and spread his equipment out ungracefully onto the nearby coffee table. He tested a syringe filled with morphine. There was a reason he carried a vial of this stuff everywhere he went; this was exactly it. Without pretense, he emptied the syringe into her veins and began work on her temporary bandages. But, before he could compile them, he had to see what he was dealing with.

He scowled down at the injured woman and removed his leather gloves. His voice betrayed the anxiousness he felt, as strong as his scowl. "I'll need to see the injuries directly. The morphine should help, but I'll need to prepare the correct bandages to keep you from bleeding out." He didn't mention that the bandages would be only temporary or that he would be taking her to the hospital soon afterward purposefully. The last thing he wanted her to do was panic. That would only lead somewhere he wasn't comfortable going.

[Deleted]

The legend. The destiny couldn't end tonight… No, not on this roof. Not like this. Though the power given to her, could only help so much… Could only protect so much.. As hands weak, but not without notion at the mystery man's chest… The heavy smokey air bellowed around, adding to the moisture that fell upon her skin. Black smudges ran down her cheeks. Zahira's eyes past in and out momentarily, but the fact someone was not only touching her… Kept her awareness coming back. Her fingers loosened at what hold she took of his tight fabric of his chest, when she could feel the change in his pulse. His heart rate. Even though his face was jaded in smears of red and blurs. His feet didn't shift in way now, that suggested he would do as she wished… Her own pulse relaxed as she almost, almost retreated in his arms. An almost curious look, as felt the vibrations that radiated from him through her body… Everyones was different, this… This was something else. Zahira wasn't so sure if she trusted it, but it certainly intrigued her.

Eyes rested… Just rested. Sleeping was probably a bad thing, but her head felt heavy. Her breath was certainly shallow. There was pain, but having carried it this long. It numb at times until a shift or too deep of breath. In which her hand feebly clutched her side. As there was a waited moment, but there came a sigh after some apparently contemplation no doubt. A sharp pinging sound shot through the air again. Wind rushed by, tousled her black mess of hair… He was no ways without his stealth skills, but Zahira wasn't exactly a heavy weight. The shadows of the alley came back around and a sound of a window. The alley disappeared, as they did… Though whether or not Zahira glanced enough to realise yet. This was not her apartment, but even if she had. Zahira wasn't really in frame of mind to protest that. There was relief as she left his arms and felt the cushioning of the couch beneath. Least it wasn't the hospital, there was just too many risks… Too many cons. Though with the bodies potentially left outside, it was questionable if that would go unnoticed, but with the cops most likely more focused in putting the enlarged Bat in a cage. It may take them a little while. It really wasn't her problem now… As her hands came to the couch, shifting her weight a little. She wasn't completely immobile. Propped herself up a little, before her head rested on a cushion. Maybe an armrest. Her hand motioned to her head. To gain more sense. There was little take. Some light and a lot of shadows. Heard and felt the footsteps coming back. Closer. Silence… Enough her eyes went to the table, as the items scattered a little upon it… He really meant business. Zahira wasn't entirely afraid more than she was just curious. Alert. Rational. As her dark eyes caught some of the red shining from the lighting. Shifting eyes with a little frown as he popped out a syringe, from the smell from the vial, it didn't smell of bad toxins and Zahira possibly bit her tongue before feeling it at her arm… Leaving a little burning sensation as the syringe was pulled away. At first nothing really changed, but something slowly did feel to creep on her or in this case inside. The more numbing sensation. Not quite LALA land.

No still very much in the dark apartment of a man, who had shot men in cold blood and scraped a badly beaten woman of the ground… This was in always the general night. Though like he had any clue… Any real clue, but he was going to. In a more calming feeling, Zahira shifted a foot up the couch. Feeling the tip of her boot at the top of her other. It didn't take great effort to push her foot down to slip the boot off. Before slipping the other, which mild pain from the marks on her legs. Which were partially more visible with the light, but her black clothes, still played like a mask on them all… Wiggled her toes, they were more of her natural colour than maybe hidden on her face from black smears, blood and dirt… Her fingers brushed back some of the mess of hair at her eyes, before motioning as if already reading his mind. Propping herself up a little more. In which her glance is taken by the man's words and a subtle smirk played on her lips. Slipping off her own black gloves, as her eyes had danced mildly on his own bare hands. She wasn't that much of a detective and she didn't need to be. Privacy was often a two way street. This wasn't breaking that… As her fingers came to the few buttons she had managed to have done up on her white shirt, which the blood had soaked a little more through. Undoing the buttons. At a pace as her head still felt heavy. Slowly motioned, maybe a little hesitant, because this was really almost like revealing the snake skin… If he even knew. Was it really a great cost? Zahira could only find out. As the shirt opened up, the black tight outfit underneath was more revealed. Not entirely in one piece from the shreds taken out. It was still possible that it screamed the woman of the night, more than the creature of the night… A deeper darker mass lingered lower at the waist of her suit, where most of the bleeding was coming from. The bigger wound. Hand motioned to take the shirt from her own shoulders. In which a sharpness came and took more care. Time, whether or not help had come… When the shirt was gone. Cuts and marks were widely spread. Most were just surface wounds, but evident that there had been an attack with a beast. Either large or many at once. The little of what the shirt hid of Zahira's legs. Revealed the daggers strapped to her thighs… Hesitantly her hand motioned to the back of her neck… Her eyes most certainly betrayed to the fears that probably still lingered. Zahira wasn't exactly close with a lot of people and the first chance she had. He screwed her over… Business. Medical. This was what this was. She knew that which was why she didn't stop, but naturally the vulnerability was there… Rolling her lip unknowingly as her fingers lingered on the clasp and with a hefty lump in her throat. A little heat at her cheeks. She unclasped the suit from the back of her neck. "I… Trust you be gentle!" A hand gathered the fallen fabric from her neck and held it at her chest. Her other hand, aided as sat up enough to turn her slowly back with little difficulty to the man. With the fastening zip along her back. Her outfit was badly torn, but it was repairable. Though trust. That was a hard word to swallow. To mean. With her head a little over her shoulder. An eye. Not that she was paranoid, just cautious. Naturally. The way the back of her body suit was formed, it was open near the top. Already revealing more of her skin… The scratches and scrapes. Maybe a little scar tissue from previous fights and more skin would be revealed.

[Deleted]

Her hesitance to remove her clothing was warranted. He had only just saved her life. But, he had not oogled her. This was not the time for that, although it was often the place. Regardless, he went about his business as it was supposed to be: business. Nothing more. Carefully, if hesitantly as well, he peeled off the blood-matted clothing to lay her skin open to the cool breeze. Her body was covered in cuts, thatched across her skin as if a feral beast had taken claws to her. He had thought he saw similar marks on the snow-covered ground when Crux had attacked Kori, but he dusted that thought from his mind. This couldn't have been Crux; he was mounted tightly in an Arkham cell. Digressing, he hypothesized that she was attacked by some sort of other muscled, short-clawed creature. But, he deemed to ply the question to her once the drugs kicked in a bit more and he had treated some of her wounds. Somehow, he guessed, she wouldn't be too open about her encounter based on how she had acted in his presence so far. Still, his curiosity was piqued.

He nodded as she gave him permission. Retreating from his seat on his floor by the couch, he retrieved some bandages and applied them with the proper sentiments. At the larger or deeper cuts, he took a vial from a locked box beneath the sofa and used a syringe to insert the liquid next to the torn and bloodied skin. The skin seared and pursed as the regenerative liquid took effect, knitting the skin back together with sharp sizzles. He recalled using the elixir on a large slash that had cut through his bicep. It smarted and twinged, but was otherwise painless. And it knitted the muscle, tendons, and flesh back together in a matter of minutes. Don't ask him where he got it; some things best stay unknown to the wrong people.

Hopefully before the woman got too good of a glance at the vial, he stuffed it back in the box and replaced it beneath the couch. Standing, he strode toward his bedroom and removed a loose shirt and pants from his drawers and set them beside her. Then, he sat patiently on the coffee table as he waited for the morphine to take effect and for her to regain her full consciousness.

[Deleted]

The hesitation had been warranted, for good measure, but of course Zahira knew. Was well enough to know how it could differ. The need of this exposure was medical… Yet, it did not squander the fact, it had been a long time since a man had touched her, especially in such privacy. It was far less about eyes on her skin, far more about the fingers… But it was not right and Zahira was past enough of her past… The time when hands upon her, had been far more than gentle, rough was hardly the right word. Move on, sure she had moved on, but there was always a linger scar or a reminder… With her hand brushing her tangle black hair from the exposure of her back to the man. There was little hesitation on his part, but there was notable care. As his fingers met the zip on the back of her suit. Unzipping, finally allowing some separation of the fabric against her dark and battered skin. There was little sounds of pain that escaped her lips… She had learnt to endure great pains, but she wasn't completely numb to it all. A tingling shiver ricochet against her spine. Feeling his fingers slip between the fabric and her skin, in motions to help peel the suit off. Nothing stated. What really could be said, but she did hear… No, not just hear. She could feel, even in her less than fragile state… Allowing him whilst her back was facing him, to treat any wound he see in need that was more than just a simple scratch. Her mass of black hair, would have hid mildly, the blood at the back of her head. From the impact Man-bat had caused her head to bounced off stone walls. No doubt there was questions. Even in her slight glance to the man on the side, with a slight motion of a smile on her lips. He remained intent on fixing her, well least on the surface… Eyes lingered off into the shadowy surroundings of the window left open. The sounds of the city were mostly still, save from echoes of police sirens, possibly a fire truck, but how often were they not out there… There was always something, but she knew… She knew why at least half of them were out there. It probably be on the news by now, the downfall of the Man-Bat….

With her back soon taken care off. Zahira laid back down. Slowly and her hand a little at the sway of her head. Before her hands, with the of his as well. Slipped the rest of her suit off, from her legs. As sharp escaping breath, at the motioning with the exposed skin at her torso. The wound, where the blood had mildly bubbled. Head back against the couch arm rest. Left very much exposed in her black under garments and variety of cuts. Eyes drew still heavy and vision was still mildly blurry, but if there was any concern. They were mostly gone. Felt more comfort. As the treating of wounds up and down her body continued. Felt just the chill of his touch… Until at points, she felt a sharp pinch to her skin. Biting her lip, before mildly running her tongue. With her eyes trying to see, but gravity kept her more into the couch. "What..?" Zahira murmured subtly in the foreign needle pressed into her skin. So close to a deep wound and then felt a sensation at her skin. That made her bite down a little, as the sensation was unexpected and was uncomfortable. Least at first. Feeling as if she was forcibly sewn back together. Felt invisible needles, but as her fingers trailed to the spot. There was trace of any thread. No stitching and oddly hardly a wound. Not even a faint line… With the mix of serpent DNA, her body could generate faster than humans, but defiantly not that fast. Not always so… Cleanly… Momentarily. Maybe instinctual, her hand reached for his. If she did grasp it, whether it was to stop him, question him. In her current state, her hand didn't grasp for long…

Drifting a little, but not nearly as far as before. As the morphine and her newly. Mostly healed wounds, was keeping her much present, but there was heaviness. It was early hours in the morning and her body had pretty much been put through a physical. Sleep probably wouldn't be that far away, but potentially harmful. Though Zahira doubted it. Death couldn't come until, there was someone to pass on the legacy. Of blood… With a mild groan and her eyes fluttering to stay open. The man was not there beside her. Even forgetting a little where she was. The strange walls. Even the couch… Soon the footsteps came back. Her eyes slowly coming too more clearly. As the morphine was beginning to really pick up. Watched his hand place the select clothing on the table. Her tongue caught a little. Serpent was sharp on point, but Zahira felt less than sharp… "Thank-you!" It wasn't easy to admit to need help, but she had to know when gratitudes were due. Whether or not trust came, that was another thing entirely, as her brown eyes with a little more warmth back in them, rested upon him. Her shallow breath, was more gentle now and she shifted more freely to sit up again. With less difficulty. "I… Should get out of your hair" Zahira eyes frowned a little unsurely, but her initial timid reaction was to re-coil. As hands went quickly to the clothes not he table. Not there was great need. As she knew she was in the building where she also lived… Possibly across the hall? Although looking around, she couldn't say she took notice of what floor she was on… Surely it shouldn't be a hard find. Sirens came, bellowing a little outside the window. There was a faint red and blue glow. Maybe it was wise to wait. If the cops came questioning if anyone knew or saw what happened to the dead men in the alley.

[Deleted]

"I... should get out of your hair."

He grimaced at her at she reached for the clothing he had set beside her on the table. He wasn't sure whether he had the authority to tell her no or not. From the injuries she sustained, she was lucky to alive, which concerned him to no end. Not only was he unsure about what it was that did this to her, and if it was still roaming the streets, but also that he didn't know whether he just saved a life that was worth saving or if he had just saved someone who could one day kill Kori, or Br-... someone else he cared about. As much as he knew that saving someone's life just to take it was rather illogical, he didn't have the full story. That much, he felt, he had earned.

"No," he said, abruptly. "You're still weak. You're staying here until I know you can take care of yourself." No, he wasn't exactly looking forward to babysitting this woman, but he had to get answers. If that was what it took to protect Gotham and his loved ones, then fine. Still, he grimaced a little after he said it. He felt secure in his own safety, but he wasn't sure what kind of reaction the woman would have to being ordered around. Deciding to take a more personal approach, he grimaced a little and said, "I'm Jason." An information exchange? A valid way of communicating, right?