"See, to them, you're just a FREAK... like me."

"Okay, so... Aaaaand... wow, that's pretty good. So you're equipped for this, you say," Mr. Fascier mused, looking over her file with interest.

She moved her feet anxiously. She wanted the warden to say, "Alright! Take 'im, I think you can stitch the cracks in his brain, doc." She wanted this. Just hearing about the freak enticed her.

"Yes, I am."

The man looked through the peephole in the door. "You ARE ten years experienced with lunatics, but this one screws the pooch, kid." He twitched. And he whispered, "God, it's like he knows…"

She wanted to look over his shoulder. "Is that why you hold interviews outside his room?"

"Yes," the doctor said, looking back at her. He was now looking at her to make a decision about her. "I believe that candidates deserve an on-site observation. He almost destroyed this city."

"Yeah, well, as far as you should be concerned, sir, if he destroyed Jupiter I would still give him couch with pillows and Kleenex. The man is probably crying for help. Ya ever wonder if he got hugged? I dun think criminal masterminds got hugged while they still had their Huggies."

"Heh, I like ya. I can only wish you could keep that empathy," he said, motioning to the guard. "For a longer period."

She blinked; the guard was unlocking the door and readying his night stick. "Well, I endure." The excitement, building up in her legs and climbing to her cerebellum, became ecstatic yet perplexing now. She wanted a challenge in her life, some sort of riddle to unravel, because she wanted proof she was worth her life and job.

But was this worth it?

The doctor grinned. "G'luck."

"So… We bein' here is considered..."

"Consider this the actual job interview. Gimme something from this joker clearly and I'll keep you."

She motioned to move, being inspired by her mysterious excitement, but managed to stop herself; she was confused a little more. "Clear? Keep? Am I so precious that I'm gonna be hired for counting oranges in a bag?"

"Sure. Unless you are like the other therapists, I'll gladly keep you as another patient… like the other therapists."

Well, I got this far, she thought; I might as well get her done. So she motioned to accept his motion.

"By the way, Miss Quinn," the warden halted her. "You're not from around here, 'aintcha'?"

"Nah, I'm a little south from 'ere."

"Hmm. Welcome to Gotham, hope you enjoy it here. And here as well."

She gave him a dark look as the door was being opened for her.

"Oh, and you dun need to say hello. Just go ahead and talk to him."

"But why—"

Then the guard opened the door. Even she, who had talked to a lot of crazy people, and gained lots of khutzpa from them, felt thwarted by 'John.'

He just sat there in his chair at the table, facing the door and glaring. He was dirty and unkempt as if he had not cleaned himself for a long while. He sat motionless and in wait. He was relaxed, however, so he was waiting patiently. She half-expected the paint to be all over his head. He was still scary. So scary. So sad, too.

The warden let her enter first. Great, thanks Hotshot Warden of Crazyland, why dontcha check my panties to see if they're still dry? Nah, they're still dry.

As she entered, though, she still had to trust her good side and find the goodness within this crazed man. It was so hard, though!

She entered, at once sensing an aura of madness come upon her. It all came from this man.

He said not to say hello, but Harley didn't want to resist. She had to listen, but she could lose this job.

"Heya, there," she said as cheerfully as her job description allowed her. The warden gave her a slight kick in the heel.

But she noticed a difference in the patient, now. He became interested. In her.

"John—"

The patient smacked his lips. He hated the name.

"…how you feeling," continued the Warden.

He licked his scars again. "Who's the Slim Jane?"

Say what? She thought to herself. She didn't know where he was insulting her or complimenting her. She had been working out lately, but, she still had that layer of baby fat she could never get rid of.

'John' kept his eyes on her.

"This is Doctor Harley Quinn."

'John' said nothing.

The warden shrugged. He tapped Harley on the shoulder, reassuringly for good luck, and then left and closed the door behind him.

Silence. Silence.

So she took a seat, and she put a smile on her face despite how scared she felt. She put her hands together, since she had nothing to write on or with, and placed them on the table. "So… John."

"That's not my real name, y'know," he said suddenly. His voice was as gangly as his body type, like a slippery slide; sly and slick. "It's kinda like a pass-by name. It gets boring to them for a while when it's always 'The Joker, The Joker, HI The Joker;' Shortens conversation, y'know. But it's not good enough to remember. John is just too… boring."

"Mmm. Joker is kinda sexy, too."

He paused. "You remind me of my mother. I liked my mother. But she was really into tough love, kinda like a wolf in winter. Every time I fell of the horse, she hit me, and told me to get myself up again. Tough love. It wasn't enough to just put the bar into my mouth when I swore. Tough, but love nevertheless. In fact, would you like to know how I got these scars?"

"Nah."

The Joker paused. "My sister's boyfriend was a bad boy. My sister and ma were very pretty; like you, and very fun people. Now my sister's boyfriend—"

"Why Joker?"

"He, well, comes at them with a knife—"

"Somewhat already took Ace?"

"He-well-um, with the knife-he—"

"Mmm, a real freak with words aintcha."

"LISTEN TO ME!" he growled. His voice grew dark and deep.

Harley remained nonchalant, unimpressed. "Were the women in your life Queens? Or did they leave you with jack shit?"

The Joker blinked, then licked his lips and leaned in. "Yer kinda hard to catch."

"Indeed."

"Ooooo, a-haaaa. I wonder, if I caught you, what would you be?... a little catfish."

"PLEASE. I'm cooler than cats, faster than fish. I eat cats for breakfast."

"No fish?"

"Of course. Good for health."

"Actually it wasn't a knife that my sister's boyfriend had. It was a fishhook."

"He wanted to catch the women in your family, eh?"

"Not a good fisher. He caught me instead. Accident, of course, although, now I think about it, he always was a tad bit funny with other guys…"

"Considering giving him a call?"

The Joker pursed his lips, trying to figure her out.

Harley grinned. "Or do you wanna make him smile?"

A longer pause. Then, a corner of his lips lifted, and he smiled. Gross, but, a smile.

A buzz in the air, as if a fly. No, it was the warden telling Harley to stop. So, she complied.

"It was nice to meetcha, Mister Joker," she said, getting up and heading for the door.

"Don't wanna stay and play together for a while, hmm?"

The door opened. Harley stopped, and looked over her shoulder. Teasingly. "Nah. I ain't that 'batty'." And she left the room.

The door closed, and Harley could feel sanity come upon her again. She took a breath, and then exhaled. The Warden did not seem too pleased.

"Okay, so I said hello. It doesn't kill to give even bad people courtesy, Mr. Faiscer."

The warden didn't say anything just then. He developed a smile. "You can flirt with The Joker next week, same time."

"Flirt?" she was being led the way out of the asylum by the warden.

"Eh, don't push it. You're doing so much better than the other shrinks. Believe me, you're passing one of their cells right now."

She still felt uncomfortable even when she left the gates. Uncomfortable because this place was so dirty. Uncomfortable, however, due to the yearning she felt. The Joker found her interesting, and she found him interesting. He was so mysterious and had no personal history. If only she could find him out, maybe she could turn him into a sane man. Maybe he was sane and only choosing insanity to bide his time. Well, that's kinda crazy too.