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Follows "The Word."
The most appropriate question in such a situation was perhaps, "Where are you taking me?" Or possibly, "Why is the hallway on fire?" But the Joker would never answer questions like that, so Jonathan Crane looked up at Harley and did the best he could, under the circumstances.
"What's up, doc?"
She giggled and patted him on the head.
"Don't worry about it, Professor. Just let us take care of everything.
And because this was Arkham, where things rarely made sense anyway, and they always skimped on the painkillers and overdid it with everything else, he was content to relax into the movement of the wheelchair and let go of any thought of struggling against his fate.
How bad could it be?
He tried not to think about the answer to that.
--
"Are you sure he's going to be up for this?" Harley asked dubiously as she wrestled the barely conscious Scarecrow into the back seat of the purple convertible.
"Who cares?" the Joker answered.
"Well…he might. It's supposed to be his party, after all."
The Joker's smile faded into a rare expression of total seriousness.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Harley flinched, knowing she'd made a mistake. Of course this wasn't about the Scarecrow, no matter what Puddin' said; it was always about him. She cast a nervous glance at the building behind her. Arkham always looked more cheerful with a hole in it, but someone was going to come along and try to spoil their fun any minute.
"Puddin'? Maybe we could talk about this on the way home?"
"No, Harley. I want to talk about it now." Before she could blink, he had her on her back across the hood of the car. As was frequently the case, she couldn't tell if he wanted to hit her or kiss her. Either way, she delighted in his closeness. She could smell the cologne she had given him for Christmas. Obsession.
"I'm sorry, Mr. J. I forgot. It ain't about him. It's about you. It's all about you."
He leaned in close and kissed her on the end of her nose.
"Good girl." She squealed with joy. "Now get in the car and drive."
--
Other than the occasional mumble of, "Ease off the gas, Techie," there were no signs of life from the back of the car. Once or twice, Harley was sure she'd lost him somewhere back there, whipping around a curve on two wheels. Mr. J loved finding new shortcuts, but he never told her to take a turn until after they'd passed it. She would never dream of finding fault with that, but…she just hoped he never told her to steal an SUV.
Miraculously, the Scarecrow was still there when she crumpled the hood of the car against the fire hydrant in front of the hideout. She didn't even stop to play in the water.
"Well, Puddin'? Now what are we gonna do with him?"
The Joker shrugged.
"I dunno." He ruffled her tassels and went inside.
Harley allowed herself an exasperated sigh. Always the same. She called for Rocko to take care of the new guest. She had shopping to do.