Snow fell from the dark sky, looking like fallen angels drifting down to clean the filth that polluted Arkham City. The broken window that Joker pushed Batman from gave the snow access into the Steel Mill, dusting the Joker white from where he stood. Harley had gone from the room for a minute to get some ply wood to seal the broken window, and he finally had privacy for a minute to do what he wanted without being scolded for using too much energy.
Don't stand by the window, Pud! He imitated with a high-pitched voice. You'll catch your death. Joker burst into a hysterical laughter that soon ended with a vicious coughing fit that left him breathless and weak. This condition simply would not do. It was seriously cramping his style. He fought the urge to laugh again and decided to chuckle lightly, staring out at the dark waters and the swirling snow.
He should be resting for the big night ahead of him. There was no way that Batsy would give him the cure without a fight but what option did Batman have? Joker made sure that his favorite Bat had no option but to save him, and in turn for Batman to save himself and the stupid city that he loved. Gotham. Blegh. With all those people who wouldn't know a good joke if it stabbed them in the face and pointed it out to them. He would cure them all of their inability to see the humor in life once he became all better.
A dizzy spell passed over Joker and he nearly toppled over if it hadn't been for his left leg giving out and knocking him into the wall instead of allowing him to do a swan dive out the window. Harley would kill him if he died. He coughed up a lung since he could barely laugh now.
"I'm too funny for myself."
He shuffled a little, dragging himself back over the opening and searched for a sign that promised his salvation. He saw nothing but the blinding snow. His jokes would be the death of him.