[His brows hike up toward his hairline at her vehemence. He's not scandalized. Jason gave up on god for good (in this particular universe) a long time before he played Lazarus in his own right. But that's not a casual level of offense, either.

He doesn't ask. Other fish to fry. It's not the most convincing justification—not his best heroing, lets be real—but it's actually easier to accept, this way, than having her try to convince him she's doing this out of pure altruism, or (false) affection. Or pity. They're still strangers. And he never liked being a charity case.

And from a strictly practical standpoint—he certainly can't afford the broken ankle, right now. So. Terms.]

Don't spring the voodoo on me again unless I know it's comin'. I'm not a big fan of surprises.

[Clearly. He's not all that against magic or superpowers or whatever they are as a rule, and he wouldn't always react so explosively. But it's invasive in its own way, and he knows what kinds of varied impossible things superpowered people can do. The only defense people like Jason have against that is being prepared. No matter how normal or small it is to her, he has every right to be wary.

After a beat—]

This makes us square. Got it?

[No more debts.]