The lock on the skylight was fine, thank you very much. His need for a dramatic entrance had long ago stopped including actual damage to his own buildings. He was a dramatic bitch, but he wasn't nearly as destructive as he used to be.

The reason for that mellowing got an eyeroll that could no doubt be felt even through his helmet as he shifted the kid on his shoulder. "He's fine, his vitals are stable. He's just knocked the fuck out. Which is what I was going for, I might add. We don't know who this kid is yet, stop fussing over him." The reprimand was lackluster at best, more fond amusement than anything else. After all, who would Dick Grayson be if he wasn't rescuing strays off the street?

Easing the kid down into the chair, Jason kept a hand on the back of his neck to avoid throwing him around too much. Was he getting softer in his years with Dick? Maybe, but good luck saying that to his face.

While Dick secured the kid to the chair, Jason made his way over to the desk his husband had left, peeling off his helmet so he could steal a few drinks from the boba that had been left behind. It was cold and thus Incorrect, but it was still drinkable enough as long as no one made him admit to it.

"We should throw him in a faraday cage unless we want to give up this location to B. I'm sure that thing is bugged to hell and back."