"Is there anything else I can get you?" My usual waitress at Pauli's Diner, Lakshmi, asks.

"You want anything else?" Jason checks. I shake my head no. Even if he's paying- I don't like owing people. That can lead to all sorts of things. Lakshmi nods and takes the menus.

I settle back in the tattered plush seat, staring at Jason plainly as he reaches into his jacket.

"Luckily for you, you weren't in the part of town that was destroyed by Prometheus," he begins as he takes out a square piece of paper the size of his palm.

"A few relatives were killed in Star City, no one important," I respond. I think it was a great aunt and a few second cousins. After the attack which levelled parts of many cities, the death toll was an enormous record high for kills by a super villain. Gotham, New York, Jump, Star, Opal, Midway, LA, Keystone, Central, Metropolis and many other majors. "What does that have to do with this deal you want to make?"

He slides the white square across the table to me. I can't pick it up with nails like claws- I slide it off the table and into the other hand.

A little girl, maybe five or six, with big dark eyes and wispy black hair is smiling bright in the arms of a man whose head is cut from the photo. It's a picture of a picture, like Jason took it with his phone.

"Who is this?"

"Her name is-...was Lian. She was five. She died when her home caved in on her in Star City during the attacks," he explains, losing a bit of composure in the words. 

Whilst most of us in this city are desensitised to tragedy, dead children will always be impactful. Lian looks like a sweet, happy child. I relate it to my own sister. 

"She was this Roy guy's daughter?" I ask, turning the photo back over. The thought of that little girl screaming as her roof fell in is too much. I slide it back to him and decide to regard the deal with a bit more care.

"Yep. The light of his life. He's not with Jade, Lian's mother. He was raising her on his own," he explains as he puts the photo back in his pocket.

Lakshmi brings out our drinks- a milkshake for me and a coffee for Jason.

"So you want me to sleep with him? I haven't been an actual hooker for a long time, you know."

He nods, "I know. I'm not asking you to sleep with him." He takes a sip of his coffee and seems to be considering that concept, "Although it wouldn't hurt. Roy barely eats, barely speaks. He doesn't go out socially. He's using again and if he can't get his hands on it he'll drink whatever he can. From bismuth to Sterno."

Bismuth, what a disaster.

"So if I'm not having sex with him what am I doing? Cheering him up? There's only one way to do that that I know of and that is sex. Is this some kind of fucked up crime-alley version of Pretty Woman?"

That actually gets a laugh out of him. Jason has a nice laugh- A nice everything, really, but I wouldn't try it. I'm pretty sure looking and acting the way he does he'd have a girl or guy already.

"He tried to mourn with his ex-wife, but she blames him. He needs comfort, a comfort that is safe. A female touch. It sounds fucking stupid, I know, but I asked a...professional who has dealt with dead kids before and he said this is the best course for him. I'm not asking you to sleep with him, I'm asking for you to sit with him, talk to him, hold him, ween him off hard shit, watch TV with him, bring some life back into the apartment. In exchange I'll pay your hourly rate for whatever hours you spend with him day and night, and you can stay in the apartment for free. Use Roy's card for food. You might need to do the shopping- I've been doing it for him but with the aftermath of the attack making people crazy, I'm a bit busy."

The thought hadn't crossed my mind until now. The mention of Jason's other life has me thinking- Why wasn't Roy with his daughter during the attack?

Lukshmi brings out our meals. A chilli dog and fries for Jason and a chicken parmigiana for me.

"Where was Roy during the attack?" I ask simply, knowing the question is probably one Jason was trying to avoid. I start cutting my parmigiana as he remains silent. "Is he like you then? Running around at night saving damsels?"

"'Like me'? Like us you mean?" He responds. 

"I'm not like you," I mumble.

"Maybe not, but I've heard stories. Everyone's heard stories. A girl who poses as a prostitute to kill the scumbags of the Earth while their guard is down. She invites clients into bed and uses her metagenic vision to kill them. They call her Night Eyes because her iris shine in the dark like a moon when she uses them."

I have heard them call me that before. Night Eyes. Some guy got away from an orgy I was part of where I killed all the men- after knocking out the other women. He was out for a day before I killed him, but the rumour spread that I had white eyes.

Whilst I do when they are activated, they don't harm. They let me see miles away and when focused, through things as well. Sometimes men are fat and I need to see where the heart is.

"Don't try to change the subject. Is Roy an anti-hero as well?"

I finally meet his eyes. Jason looks reluctant to answer.

"I don't want it to scare you."

I scoff, "Scare me? I grew up in Gotham and I kill scary people. It doesn't scare me. I just know how pig-headed masks can be."

Neither of us speak after that, so I go back to eating my dinner. Pauli makes some of the best food for late night post-murder meals.

Superheros and vigilantes are supposed to be beacons of hope. They save the world all the time, but that does not necessarily mean they can save your world. When my mother and siblings were killed, it crushed me, but I was determined to bring their killer to justice.

Green Arrow, however, was not. He believes he has the killers behind bars already. A trio of home invaders who had been killing all over the glades in Star City. 

That night when I found their bodies I was walking home from skating practice. I had my eyes on the apartment as usual. If my step-father, the biological father of my siblings was there, I'd sneak through the window and act like I was in my room. He doesn't know I still take ice skating because it costs money. If he isn't home I can walk through the front door.

When I focused my vision on the house and saw the shapes of my mother, two sisters and brother, they were not alone. There was a small, rounded male with them. My siblings were all seated on the couch and my mother was standing in the kitchen.

The man jumped on my mother and brought her to the floor.  I dropped my skates and started sprinting down the street.

What I found there has haunted me my entire life. I know it wasn't a gang of three skinny little teenagers, as Arrow thinks it was. I moved out of Star City, plagued by the memories there and came to this shittier hole.

"I'll sweeten the deal," Jason suddenly speaks, and as if reading my mind, "If you do this, I'll hand your family's case to the greatest detective in the world."

After the attack most heroes, including the ones who focus more on petty crime than villainous masterminds, had to apply themselves to getting the world back in order. Cases were pushed back and people like me who want answers were too.

"The case is closed," I say feebly.

"Not in my mind. Not in yours. If you want real justice the vigilantes here will be willing to work on it. Especially if I ask."

I can't speak to Jason's connection with the Bat of Gotham, I've just seen them together with my eyes. Sometimes he's with the others- little Robin, big Robin, the blonde, Bludhaven's own hero. I'm not going to question it.

"You're still holding back. Maybe if you tell me what you're worried about I can fix it?"

He is trying very hard to hide how desperate he is for me to accept. 

"You really want this for him, huh?" I ask. I remember what it was like to have friends like that.

Jason sighs, "Roy likes girls, a lot. But the ones he's loved are gone now- with others, or far away, or strangers now. This is the only thing I can think of. And I know you do a lot for nothing but the change in your target's pockets. I know that you don't tell the prostitutes your name even though they care about you. So I guess...you're alone too. I think you and Roy will hit it off."

The whole 'you're a loner and I want to help' thing is cringe, but I can see his good intentions.

"I can still do my job?" I question.

Jason darts his eyes away and makes some sort of nod, "Within reason. You're lucky all these deaths are seen as accidental by the GCPD or else there'd be a serial killer investigation. Have you ever thought of handing the perps over once you have their confessions?"

"You can't lecture me on killing people," I say immediately. "I put in a lot of work to make the deaths seem anything but murder. Heart attacks, suicides, choking, car accident. I despise guns. They were all bound to die that way anyway. The bitch I just killed had a body like Fat Albert."

Jason snorts into his chilli dog.

"I don't shoot up places like you. I'm discreet. So no, I haven't considered letting them live."

There are about five other customers here and one of them, a prostitute named Camella who usually works the CA subway station, throws a suspicious look our way. Perhaps I should have whispered that last part.

"I'm not asking you to give up your night job, no. You can keep getting justice your way. I'm just asking you to come home to him, to wake him up in the morning and make sure he eats, to watch TV with him, try to get him to go out. I know it sounds like babysitting, but maybe he'll even let you in to his own...justice work."

Maybe this guy is Nightwing? Or Signal?

I can't really see a reason not to accept, other than the fact that I'm not the most sociable person in the world. It could literally just turn into sitting in silence if neither of us are talkers. I can, at least, have sex with him. That might work.

"When you lost everything, how badly did you want someone to just be there?" 

More than life. 

If Jason didn't kill bad guys for a living he'd make one hell of a salesman.

"Can't argue with that," I mumble.

My plate is empty, so I take my milkshake in hand and settle back, watching him curiously as he tries to figure out if I just said yes or no.

"I want time-and-a-half for hours spent having sex with him. Am I sharing a bed with him?"

The relief that washes over his face is gratifying. Jason seems to be the kind of friend you only find once. He eagerly reaches into his pocket and pulls out a scrunched up note, handing it to me.

"He lives in a two bedroom at the moment. There's a queen bed in the one that he sleeps in and a double in the second room; that can be yours. Sometimes I sleep there, so don't worry about what it's been used for. There are a few rules written there that I'd like you to follow, if that's okay. Is tomorrow night alright for a start?"

I don't open the note. I imagine it's basic things- Don't mention his daughter, don't let him get too high, make sure you use protection -stuff like that.

"Tomorrow night is fine."