"Five bucks if you go talk to 'em."
"Make it twenty-five, and give me the money now."
Carly kicked her chair back and rested her shoes on the table with a grin. The inmate across from her watched her feet for a moment, then shrugged and dug some money out of his pocket. "Your funeral," he told her as she tucked the bills into her sock, the only place the guards wouldn't ever look, and glanced over at the other end of the rec room. "You could use it for surgery, y'know." She looked back at him, and he smiled and yanked his index finger from the corner of his mouth to his ear as if to warn her of what was to come. She scowled.
The room had, since last week, been divided in two. One half was made up of terrified inmates who all sat as close to the wall as they could. The guards stood at the card-access door, always watching, always waiting for something awful to happen.
On the other side sat two men, chatting every now and then, shooting glances across the room that sent the men and women there into spasms of panic.
That was because everyone in Akham Asylum knew who these two were. Carly watched them with an appraising eye. Dr. Jonathan Crane, better known as Scarecrow, picked meticulously at his nails as the Joker chatted disjointedly at him, pausing every few words to moisten the scars at the edges of his mouth.
She sighed and looked back at the man she'd bet with. "See you in a few," she told him with a half-grin. He jerked nervously when she stood up, and smiled nastily again.
"Yeah, right."
Carly couldn't understand for the life of her why Scary and Clownface were so goddamn terrifying. The asylum was watched twenty-four seven by dozens of guards, who she'd learned from experience were like pit bulls on steroids. Besides, if either of these guys actually managed to do something, it wouldn't really matter. A gruesome death at the hands of a murdering psycho was probably better than hanging around this dump forever.
She grabbed her chair and dragged it across the room with a loud, drawn-out squeal; all other noise ceased besides the Joker's chattering. Then she dropped it haphazardly in front of the two and thumped into it. All was silent for a moment; even the guards grasped their batons more tightly.
"Hey."
Crane turned his eyes on her with a detached, disinterested look. The Joker ignored her completely. He broke off what he'd been telling Crane mid-sentence and leered at the guards, snickering as they shifted uncomfortably. Carly watched the guards for a moment too, until a bored voice interrupted the silence. "You're twitching."
She turned back to Crane, who looked pointedly at the hand that dangled at her side. She followed his gaze. Her fingers were twitching, tapping into each other and tracing shapes on her dull orange uniform jumpsuit. She watched them in fascination for a moment. Then she turned her face back up to Crane with a smile. "We're in an asylum," she informed him mildly.
"Not everyone here twitches," he replied slowly and deliberately, interlocking his hands and placing them professionally on his lap. "I don't…twitch. The fact that you do indicates either an excitatory mental abnormality or excess energy. If the former case is true…"
"Doc?"
He met her eyes sharply at the interruption. "Yes?"
"Are you bored or something?"
He grinned bitterly and his eyes trailed away again. "Insanely."
A chuckle made Carly look over to the Joker. She drew back quickly; he was leaning forward in his chair, inches away from her. Every nerve in her body screamed for flight, but even Carly wasn't brave (or stupid) enough to react to the Joker. A glance to the side revealed that the guards by the door were watching him closely. "Didn't know you had it in you, Doc," he said, smacking his lips. His eyes locked on hers. "A sense of hu-more. Never knew…So what are you here for, darlin'?"
She stared for a moment, thrown by his sudden change of topic. Crane's quiet voice saved her. "He's trying to intimidate you…'darling'. Trademark narcissistic behavior." He crossed his legs eloquently and looked to the Joker, whose grin had flipped into a dramatic sad-clown frown.
"Aww, Doc, you keep ruining the fun," he lamented, not a trace of true disappointment on his scarred face. He sighed and tiled his head back. "Besides, 'm just chatting with the little lady. No narcissism here, no-sirree." Carly and Crane looked at each other, and the Joker brought his head back up, saw them, and laughed languidly. "Well, now that we're all chummy…"
"Miss Fisher?"
Carly looked up. A blond woman, wearing the signature orange-rimmed nametag of an Arkham psychologist, was walking across the room. She paused with a frown when she recognized Carly's new acquaintances. "Miss Fisher, it's time for our session," the doctor said, finally looking back at Carly with worried eyes.
"Too bad," the Joker said, grinning his too-wide smile as Carly stood obediently. "We were getting to be such – good – friends."
Carly blinked. It was an odd feeling, not knowing what to say. Then she felt the crumpled bills rubbing against her ankle and remembered that this was all just a stupid bet, that she didn't have to say another word to either of these lunatics if she didn't want to. So she just nodded to the doctor. The calculating gazes of both men followed them all the way out of the room.