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Jason Blood was uneasy.
That was nothing new. Moments of peace were rare for him, too preoccupied with the happenings of the magical and infernal to find a moment to relax—and if Jason the demonologist wasn't busy, then it was Etrigan the demon who was.
Today, though? Today was a little different.
Jason found himself seated at a local cafe, nervously drumming his fingers upon the table and letting his coffee get cold. He glanced at his watch. 3:17. Almost 45 minutes past their scheduled meeting time. There was so much he could have gotten done...
Maybe this hadn't been the best idea.
Well, he supposed he could spare 15 more minutes. Then he could leave and say he gave an honest effort. Jason raised his cup to his lips—
Bamf.
—and nearly spilled his entire coffee as a small blue figure materialized from a cloud of smoke into the seat across from him. There sat Klarion the Witchboy, lounging with his arms crossed as though he had been there the whole time.
"Oh, my. You must be careful, Uncle Jason," Klarion sneered as he cocked his head in faux innocence. "You wouldn't want to ruin your coat."
It hadn’t been easy to get in touch with Klarion after the, well… multiple banishings. Inevitably, though, Klarion always found his way back. He was talented that way. He seemed to like to stick around Gotham City, which, for better or for worse, meant that a certain vigilante kept far more tabs on him than Jason did—and Bruce had been kind enough to provide a means of contact for an old friend.
“Klarion.” Jason wondered if Klarion had been waiting for the exact moment to startle him. He took a successful sip of his coffee before he continued, stifling the urge to scold. "Thank you for agreeing to meet me here."
"Hmm… yes, it was rather irritating to try to fit you into my busy schedule…"
Klarion sniffed and turned his nose, taking great lengths to show his displeasure at being inconvenienced. Jason had figured this wouldn't be an easy undertaking, given their tense history—but Klarion surprised him by actually showing, so it was time to implement step two of his plan.
"I won't keep you long," Jason said, passing a small pastry box across the table, "but I hope this will help prove my gratitude."
Klarion instantly sat up and reached for it, his sunken eyes gleaming with interest, but he hesitated just before touching the box. "Tch. I will not be bribed…"
Jason shook his head. "Not a bribe. Just figured you would be hungry."
Klarion squinted at him before slowly opening the box to reveal a slice of strawberry cake, purchased from one of Gotham's finest bakeries. Even his cold wariness could not suppress the glee that sparkled in his eyes and made the corners of his mouth twitch upward.
"Well," Klarion said, "I suppose I can spare a few more minutes."
Jason smirked behind his coffee cup. Maybe this would be easier than he thought.
“No cat today?” he asked.
“Teekl is busy,” Klarion said shortly, rummaging around in a pocket dimension for a fork.
“Oh… I see.” Jason took another sip of his coffee as they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.
Okay. Maybe it was placating him that was easy. Carrying a conversation, on the other hand...
Upon retrieving a fork, Klarion stabbed into his cake almost joylessly, frowning. “Small talk doesn’t suit you, Jason.” The venom dripping from his name was palpable. “What is it you want? You must be awful desperate to call upon me. Or did you just want to lecture me for something I haven’t done? Put me in a time-out dimension again?”
This reaction was, of course, to be expected, but Jason still had to try not to wince. “Actually, I just wanted to talk.”
Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Klarion chewed his bite of cake slowly, offering no words in return.
“Er…” Jason cleared his throat. “And apologize, as well.”
Klarion choked. His fork clattered upon the table.
“Y-you— koff— want to w-what—?” he wheezed, reaching for a napkin. Jason passed him one.
“Apologize,” Jason repeated. “We got off on the wrong foot, I think. Do you need a water?”
Klarion shook his head violently, waving his arms in equal fervor. He took a moment to collect himself and then hunched over in his seat with a pouting scowl. He had a remarkable way of completely changing moods in a heartbeat; instead of caution and disdain, Klarion was now exuding unadulterated frustration.
When he finally spoke, it was merely to snap: “I don’t understand.”
“... What an apology is?” Jason asked hesitantly.
“UGH!! No, Jason! Heaven’s sake!” Klarion slammed the table in exasperation. “I don’t understand why you’re apologizing to me!”
Now it was Jason’s turn to tilt his head, puzzled. He could think of several reasons. “I mean… I can’t speak for Etrigan… but I could have been more sympathetic to your plight in the first place. It was wrong of him… of us… to have cast you out.”
After all, for all of his power, Klarion was still just a child—and, when they first met, a child seeking sanctuary, at that. Sure, he was precocious. Arrogant. Annoying. Dangerous. But what a world of difference it might have made had Jason simply listened. Of course, he had little control over Etrigan, especially back then, but… Jason tried to push out of his mind the fact that, according to Bruce’s intel, Klarion was currently living alone in some kind of hovel in the Gotham sewers.
“So, for that, I am sorry.”
Klarion sat quietly in thought, his scowl fading into a frown that resembled confusion more than frustration.
“I tried to make you my toy,” he said slowly, after a few moments of silence.
“Yes.”
“I tried to kill you. I tried to kill your friends.”
“Yes...”
“I tried to completely erase you from existence.”
Jason held up a hand, wriggling his fingers. “Well, I’m still here, aren’t I?”
“I don’t get it.” Klarion sank into his chair, now plaintive. “This is why I hate you adults, you know. You don’t make any sense at all...”
“Most people don’t make sense, Klarion. Least of all ones like you and me.”
Klarion didn’t respond. He crossed his arms and looked anywhere but at Jason, his cake left virtually untouched. Jason took this as a sign it was probably time for him to go, lest he accidentally push any more of his buttons. He took a final sip of his coffee and shuffled his coat back on before standing up.
“I’ll leave you to it. Don’t want to eat up any more of your time. I just wanted you to know that you are not my enemy.”
“Wait.” Klarion shot out an arm to tug at Jason’s sleeve. He still refused to meet his gaze, blue features now flushed with chagrin. “Um… no... I still—have some... time… in my schedule...”
Jason paused. He looked at his watch and then back down to Klarion, a half-smile creeping up his face.
“Hm... I suppose another coffee wouldn’t hurt.”