The man wearing the purple suit, his green hair hanging around his head in greasy strings, sauntered towards the bar. A large gun hung in his grasp, empty of bullets but still intimidating. The door slammed open, but nobody noticed. No one was in the bar except the bartender. She didn't notice him because she was accustomed to his presence. He always came in like this, knocking the door down at three in the morning, looking for a way to forget what he'd done that night.

"I assume it'll be the usual." He nodded, taking the seat directly in front of her. Technically, the bar wasn't open, but she always made an exception for him. He ran his fingers through his hair as she made his drink. The purple of his gloves contrasted nicely with his green hair, she mused as she watched him. She never had asked his name; she didn't have to. Anyone with eyes could see his characteristic makeup, his scarred smile.

The Joker was her favorite customer.