[Jason is not entirely unsympathetic to what Loki must be feeling at this moment; he’s always had more empathy than he likes to let on, something he keeps carefully hidden behind the walls he constructs and the masks and body armor he wears and the sharp words that roll off his tongue as easily as breathing. Something about the way Loki offers that We were best friends slips past the walls and burrows deep in his heart, and Jason can’t help thinking about how he’d given up his memories once, and Roy had been so steadfast in remaining at his side. This feels awfully similar.]

Just - [he exhales a shaky breath, rubbing a hand over his mouth] - explain it to me. Help me understand - why were we best friends? How? I’m not - I’m not the kinda guy who has friends. I’m not the kinda guy anyone gets to be close to in love with. Hanging around with me is a fast-track ticket to getting hurt or killed or worse.

[He has to stop for a moment, take in a deep, steadying breath, eyes shut to the memory of Roy almost dying on a live broadcast, of Artemis and Bizarro exploding over the Gotham City skyline. The pain of those memories crawls over his expression, just for a moment; then he takes another breath and pushes everything back down again, opens his eyes and pins blue on Loki once again.]

I’m not anything special. Hell, I’m about as far on the opposite end of that spectrum as you can get. So why does a god care so much about where I am and what I’m doing and what I’m feeling? Why do you want to be my friend? Why is that so important to you?