Civilized People

[The Joker]

[Jan 4. Doctor patient confidentiality of course, no other crazies allowed. Joker and Leland, go!]

Things had been rather dull, after the guards had discovered his little homage to Batsy. They kept circulating around his door, watching. Waiting for the next side show.

It was as quiet as things got around his neck of the woods. He could hear sobbing somewhere, echoing around the chambers of the asylum, and someone screaming with the pinging noise of head being rammed against bars.

Why did he always get thrown in with the crazies?

He'd been searched thoroughly, after an inflated group of guards came to try and find the pen. But they hadn't found anything. Now he was sitting with his back to the door of his cell, cleaning his torn and cracked nails with the pen and listening to the record of Arkham. They was a kind of music, to the ringing of forehead bludgeoned against bars.

The lack of guard - it was one of the newer boys standing outside his door today, keeping well away and not looking at him - could only mean one thing. He was getting a visit.

[Dr. Joan Leland]

(Why do I imagine Joker's voice in my head even when I read the OOC portion of that post XD)

The click of a pair of rather cheap heels could be heard among the screams of the patients. Leland was a doctor but her superiors, the men who payed her salary, insisted she dress like a woman just in case someone important showed up. So there she was in a house full of nuts dressed in heels, a royal purple pencil skirt and a cream white blouse. Her ears were adorned with fake pearl studs, a necklace of the same caliber around her neck, laying gently on her collarbone.

She dipped her head in a nod to the young guard; one of the newbies who looked just nervous as ever. She'd have to speak with Aaron later. Only the best for the patient she'd come to see.

Arguably Gotham's most psychotic killer.

She removed her shoes and jewelry and gave them to the surprised guard. "He might use them a weapons," she remarked, "Just place them on the chair next to you."

She slowly opened the door to the glass cell. She came in with neutral look, no smile. "I hear we're having some troubles as of recent Mr. Joker."

[The Joker]

{Oh, you knoooow, reasons. I blame the avatar.}

Upon hearing the decisive click of heels, Joker let the pen fall back inside his uniform. Some people could be such tattle tales, and after Harley there was a select few people permitted to speak with him. None of them were hardly any fun at all.

He threw his hands up behind his head, so when the doctor entered he looked and languid as a cat in midday sun. He smiled at Leland, and never had a warm look been so chilling. "Doc! You don't call, you don't write, and noooow you want to chat."

Tilting his head, he make a clicking sound with his tongue, as if to shame her. "You fair weather friends, you only come to visit when something interesting happens!"

A flicker as his tongue flashed out at the corner of his mouth. "How's the family?"

There was no question which family he referred to, not with the massive portrait presiding over their meeting.

[Dr. Joan Leland]

There was an unamused look on her on her face as she took a seat on a plush chair in his cell. She refused and ordered that nothing sharp be around the criminal. It was clearly the right thing to do. She crossed her legs and lay her clipboard on her lap. She clearly placed a bottle of pepper spray from her lab coat pocket within view of him. Just in case. "And I have no problem using it," she remarked. She wasn't worried about him using the pepper spray, there was no art or craft in it. Random as he was he still had a poise.

And to be frank: He fucking pissed the doctor off.

Running her fingers through her thick dark hair she breathed before speaking again. "We aren't here to talk about me, Joker," she said, the name tasting bitter on her tongue, "We're here to talk about you. Mind telling me what your little stunt was about? Are you angry? Frustrated with the Batman because he's not here to bother you anymore?"

[The Joker]

"Aw, but talking about you is so much more fun!" He whined, his flickering over the spray which only widened his puckered grin. "You and Doctor Crane talking about your little... issues yet? I hear that's the key to any healthy relationship - communication. Harley blabs on about it - does that make it a half bad relationship or a half decent one, what'ya think, Doc?" He cackled, fully aware of the woman's aggravation.

Still, his pupils were two tiny black specks. It seemed a horribly wrong contrast to the massive crooked smile - rage mutated by homicidal glee. "Batsy, Batsy, Batsy... poor old fellow. I kept telling him to take a break, blow of some steam. I meant to get out to see him, but it's just so comfortable here! Nice cushy bed, square meals, the people of Gotham paying to keep me going - it's flattering, really, how much they care."

Joker shifted his shoulders, moving his hands forward to crack them loudly as his eyes narrowed. "But then they had to go and mess things up. No one knew how to treat my poor Bat right, and now look! He went and got blown up, he was so bored of all the... predictability."

[Dr. Joan Leland]

"It amuses me greatly that you and Harleen enjoy talking about my prior relationship with Dr. Crane." A very loud audible scoff was heard from another cell. Joan rolled her eyes. She'd have to speak to Aaron or someone else about the soundproofing in the cells. "Perhaps it's the dysfunction in your own 'relationship' that draw you both to this subject of discussion." The air quotes she used were slow, highlighting the sarcasm.

She shuffled the paperwork again. "They? Who's this they? The people of Gotham? Bane and his goons?" She leaned forward, interested while keeping her chest open. Her behavioral classes had dictated this was what kept the criminal mind going. The stroking of the ego, the openness of the body language.

"Well Batman was keeping you going in a sense wasn't he?" she remarked, "What do you plan to do now that he's deceased? I'm assuming it isn't going into something like insurance sales is it? Something calm and collected? That'd be far too easy wouldn't it?"

[The Joker]

"Oh, so you wanna talk about Harley-girl do yeah? Well - let's not spend it all at once. Gotta same something for pillow talk." He winked in over exaggeration.

At the mention of Bane Joker's demeanor darkened. He still hadn't forgiven the masked meat-head for leaving him locked up while everyone else got all the fun. What he could have done with months of police free Gotham!

“You know everybody talks about how death is so… inevitable.” Joker’s tongue flickered out from the corner of his mouth. He frowned, lifting his hands as if to show Leland what he meant. “But you know… they’re always so… shocked, when it’s time. They cry and they beg, they talk about their loved ones, they use their manners – always so many pleases!”

He sighed, sitting up and slapping his hands on his thighs. “But then, then when you get the knife good and buried, well then…” he let out a little growl, snapping his teeth. Then he chuckled, eyes locked on her own. “When your hands are hot and gooey – you can see the moment they realize they were right. They never seemed to be grateful though, for knowing.”

“People today, huh?” Joker shrugged.

[Dr. Joan Leland]

A weird jolt shivered through her body but she tried her hardest not to show it. She cleared her throat, placing her fist to her mouth to cover the fake cough. She shifted, crossing her legs over each other again. She nodded. Part of her was happy he was opening up-sort of. Part of her was disgusted and terrified and wanted to go running in the opposite direction. But she was here now and she had to see it through. She adjusted her glasses.

"I see," she mumbled, "What a random tangent. However I suppose you're right. People do know it's inevitable. But they fear it as well. I believe they beg and plead, Mr. Joker, because they knew they were going to die. Just not like that."

She raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you prefer I call you by your birth name, Joker? I feel so terribly rude calling you that. Joker. Isn't it derogatory?"

[The Joker]

"Well they're not supposed to know how their gunna die." He said, as if she were being silly and childish. "That'd take all the fun out of it!"

His smile spread wider still as she once again went hinting after his name. He tilted his head. "So you want to fish around there, do you? Want to crack the case, pick the unbreakable lock, pull the hail mary? We've known each other a while now. Hey, what's a secret between friends - we are friend's aren't we Doc?"

Eyes grazed over the room carefully, eyeing the door. "But just you and me get to know. Those animals out there - they haven't earned it... They don't deserve it," he growled.

Slowly, he lifted a hand, beckoning her with a single finger. "Come a little closer Doc, and I'll tell you."

[Dr. Joan Leland]

Leland unconsciously pushed back in her seat. "We may be friends Mr. Joker, but I know which friends to keep at arms length." She adjusted her glasses and ran a few fingers through her dark hair. She shuffled her paperwork again. Her stomach stayed tight. She knew not to get her hopes up but a birth name for the Joker would mean so much. A birth certificate, parents, history. Everything they needed to study this deranged unhinged mind. She decided to push a little farther, give him a tug on his line. She didn't mind divulging how stupid she'd found her colleagues.

"You're right," she said, tossing her thick hair over her shoulder, "They don't deserve it. I worked hard while they lounge about out there. For example how would I know the sob story you gave to Harleen about your abusive father who you just wanted to make laugh just once." Her eyes sharpened.

"So," she breathed, "Would you like to tell me? I can't force you, that wouldn't be very kind of me."

[The Joker]

Joker let out a giggle. "Aw Doc, did it make you cry? I didn't have you pegged as a softy. But if you want the prize," he sighed, "you gotta play the game."

Planting his hands onto the floor, Joker pushed himself up to his feet. Provided Leland didn't spray him in the face, he'd lope over to his bunk, arms swinging over exaggeratedly before flopping down on the thin mattress, head hanging over the end to look at Leland upside-down.

"I paauuuse for dramatic effect!" He held up his hands, fingers poised as if a maestro telling the symphony to hold it's breath. "Want my face paint back. I could, stab poor old, uh, what's his name? Billy?"

He waved a hand dismissively at the door. "The new kid. Anyway, I figured I could use that for my lips and a little of the oil from the hinges here," he tapped the hinges that made the bunk fold into the wall. "For the eyes, but I'm stumped on the white part. Yeah gotta help me out, Doc."

[Dr. Joan Leland]

A breath caught in her pretty little throat as she blinked a few times up at the Joker, her head swimming with the poison of fear and intrigue. It nipped at her, the curiosity of his name, his origins. She could scour through record books, pour over several computer files on the Joker with his real name between her fingertips. She cleared her throat. "I'd prefer it," she said quietly, "If you'd sit down, Joker."

"If I let you get your face painted again," she huffed, "You will not be using the blood of anyone. I'll get someone in who's a professional. I'll get you the best of the best. IF you tell me your full birth name."

She tapped her pencil on the clipboard. "The full name on your birth certificate if you please."

[The Joker]

Sighing loudly, Joker let out a loud tutting noise, looking back at the roof. "Your parents didn't take you to the fair much, did they sweetheart? Okay, here, let me help you. You pay, you play, you get the big stuffed animal. You don't play, money doesn't mean squat. See I'm trying to do a favour for you here. I want my face paint, I'll get it. But you, you're slipping into anonymity. Being a shrink here, it's not exactly getting you headlines. Heck, I'd bet most people in your profession haven't even heard of you."

Joker rolled onto his stomach, examining Leland. "Help me help you, Doc. I like you, I really do. Can you imagine?" He shifted up so he leaned on his elbows. He waved his hands over his head like showing a title. "Doctor Joan Leland, breakthrough with Gotham city sideshow. You could write papers, give speeches, get out from under dear old Crane's shadow. I mean, everyone knows him, and he poised half of Gotham with nutty gas. Doesn't bother you, that the only way people know you is the girlfriend of Scarecrow? I mean," he cackled, shaking his head. "They don't even know your name. Your less noteworthy than Jacob Wesly, and I don't even know who that is!"

[Dr. Joan Leland]

Joan rolled her eyes and tapped her foot on the floor. Would he get to her? No. Joan knew how to keep her emotions under wraps long enough to get her home or back to her office. Then she'd bleed. But for now the neutral cat-like look on her face stayed where it was. "I'm also known as the doctor who cleaned up Crane's mess," she purred, letting a little hint on that the title of 'the scarecrow's girlfriend' irked her slightly still. The whispers in the hallway were bad enough.

She smoothed her clothing absentmindedly. "I don't quite understand," she admitted, "You want your face paint. I want your name. That's our deal. If I do go to the fair and I play the game and win, the guy behind the counter has to give me the plush toy. He doesn't add on that in order to receive my prize I have to announce I won over the loud speaker."

Even she thought the analogy was stupid the way she said it. "Listen here, Joker," she said, "I'm allowing you something. At least give me your first name, please."

[The Joker]

She played a good defense - there was no visible sign of agrivation, but getting to people's squishy bits was Joker's specialty. He nodded, pursing his lips as if impressed by her comment. "Yeah, the mighty Arkham janitor! I am sorry about that nasty bit of blood i left in the hallway the other week, it was just so darn tempting the way that guy was leaving himself open for a - oh," he grimaced. "Have you guys found the body yet? Hope so - i bet it's gettin pretty juicy. He was a big boy."

Still, he gave an exagerated pout, glowering at her like a child denied a suculant treat. "Yeah, but you haven't played Doc. And maybe I'm gettin bored of waiting. So, how about this. My name starts with an M, like massacre, murder, maiming, morgue. Now I want my face paint."