Jason colors to the tips of his ears, his eyes darting out and immediately meeting Aramis', whose own dark eyes look so knowing that Jason only blushes more. "Uh," he says, trying for the cool vigilante tones that had attracted Allison to the Hood in the first place and failing, "Fuck, I can't feel my feet." This is not supposed to happen to assassins.

He pulls back and presses a quickly swiped can of Coke to the back of his neck before it catches fire. An odd sort of camaraderie rises to him then, unbidden, for this is without a doubt as undone as Bruce had felt around Catwoman all those times. "You gotta turn the heat down," he says, and whether he means the central air or Allison herself, Jason doesn't specify.