It’s hard for Jason to let her go when she starts to pull away - his instinct is to keep holding her close, like he could shield her from harm, or transfer her own grief to himself by osmosis. But he recognizes she likely needs space to collect herself, pull the pieces back and stick them together with whatever resolve she has. So he loosens his hold around her and sits back on the stair. After a long moment of silence, he finally speaks up.

“You didn’t have to hide that from me, y’know.” It’s said gently - not scolding her, because Jason assumes the reason she didn’t say anything to him before now is because he must’ve given her the impression he wouldn’t understand, because surely he did something to make her think he was unapproachable. He offers her a faint, rueful smile. “If anyone would understand what all that’s like, it’s me.”

He’s lived with Bruce, worked by his side night after night, loved and admired and hated him, been hurt by him like no one else in his life has managed to hurt him. Maybe Jason hadn’t been fired like Steph was, but they were both abandoned.

“I’m serious about punching his teeth in, by the way.” Jason makes a fist and mimes a slow right hook at the air in front of him, whispering pow! for comedic effect when he brings his fist to a halt.