Bane was not an impulsive man. He liked to be able to take the time to think things over before he acted, to know exactly what the consequences of his actions were going to be, to know why he was doing the things he was doing. He rarely, if ever, acted on impulse, and if he did, he was none-too-pleased about it. Everything was premeditated. Everything had its own reason.

But the Joker… He wondered if the payaso ever thought about anything before he did it. It seemed as though he simply acted, then worried about the consequences later. There was no rhyme or reason, nothing to indicate that he was even aware of the gravity of most of the things he did.

Then again, Bane supposed it fit his character. He was a clown, after all. He laughed and grinned and had his fun, no matter how sick and demented that fun may be… And Bane had to admit, he enjoyed trying to figure out what made the other man tick. He was like a puzzle that didn't have all its pieces—you put together whatever you could find, and had to try to work around the gaps, all the while wondering whether or not you were going to find the single piece that would make everything so much easier to comprehend.

But the payaso's impulses were becoming harder and harder to understand, rather than easier. Every time Bane thought he had the man figured out, he seemed to throw another curveball, complicate things further… It was becoming frustrating.

"You know what I've noticed about you, Bulky? You think too much. I tell you, it isn't healthy. Don't you ever just, ah… You know… Act on impulse? Just… Y'know… Do something. Without thinking."

"No," Bane said matter-of-factly. "No, I can't say that I do. Every action has consequences, and I like to know what they are before I act."

"Oh come on, Bulky, that isn't any fun…. Haven't you ever wondered what it'd be like, to just act?"

Bane sighed heavily. He was getting nowhere in this discussion, he could tell that already. "I suppose you want me to make one of your damned impulse decisions."

The smirk that was permanently plastered on the Joker's lips thanks to the scarred remains of a Chelsea grin widened. "That's exactly what I want, Bulky." His hands disappeared into the pockets of his coat. "So, uh…. Let's say you've got yourself in…. A predicament here. You've got the entire Gotham police force chasing you down. You're at a dead end. Brick walls. What do you do?"

"Break through the walls," Bane said boredly. "I should think that would be simple enough."

"Ah. Well, yeah, of course, but, uh… You break though the wall on your left, and you find yourself in the middle of a television studio. Then what?"

"I fail to see how this scenario is relevant or even plausible…."

"But, uh… Suppose it is, Bulky. Then what? What do you do?"

Bane sighed. "I suppose I would keep moving," he said, forcing himself to play along with this ridiculous game. "After all, the police are still chasing me. I do not have time to stop and make a publicity statement."

Joker shook his head slowly. "No creativity, Bulky…. Wouldn't it be more fun to, ah… Throw a couple cameramen around? Beat the coppers down with television cameras? Hang them by their ties from the boom mics?"

"I suspect they wear clip-on ties," Bane responded, and the other man waved the remark away.

"Technicality, you can work around that! Come on, Bulky, show a little enthusiasm!"

"I would, if this weren't such a pointless exercise…."

"Ah. But it isn't. Look, Bulky, you're, ah…. You're frustrated, see? Did you think about getting frustrated with me?" The clown played at the scars on the insides of his cheeks.

"No… It was an emotional response…"

"An impulse, Bulky. Call it what it is."

Bane blinked at him. "You knew this entire time that I would think this was pointless," he accused, but the Joker simply grinned at him.

"Maybe, ah… Maybe I did. Maybe not. That's the point of the exercise."