Oops
It started out just fine. Jason, disguised in run down civvies and a bare face ("Relax, it's not like I'm anyone to recognize. Bruce scrubbed my existence from the planet. There's not a single digital picture of little Jason Todd anywhere."), managed to worm his way into a...job interview with whatever scumbag was the highest ranking here for the night. Evidently their criteria for goons must not have been high, because they didn't even put him through a second interview with the big boss or give him benefit and liability papers to fill out.
He'd bet these people didn't even pay taxes.
It had been going relatively well until one of the goons stopped to study Jason for just a little too long.
"Don't I know you from somewhere?" Tim heard through Jason's open comms.
"I dunno, I been around awhile. What's it to you?"
"Nah, I know you from somewhere. What'd you say your name was again?"
"Jackson," he said smoothly. "People call me Jax."
("Look, if you're not gonna let me have any fun and call myself Tim, at least let me have Jackson. Honestly, I don't know why you don't go by that, anyway. It's way better than Tim.")
Tim couldn't see closely enough from here, but the too-long silence made him nervous. The guy was getting suspicious, probably giving Jason a once over.
“No, I do know you! You’re one of Black Masks guys! You was at that big deal we was tryin’ to make with Mask before it all went to shit!”
“I think you got me mistaken for someone else, bub.”
“Hey, Larry! This asshole’s a Facer!”
Well. Shit.
Oops.