"Hello, Mister Joker. I'm Dr. Harleen Quinzel, and I'll be your psychiatrist for a while. Is there anywhere you'd like to start?"
His ever analytical eyes measured every feature of her face. She waited patiently, awaiting any sign that he was paying attention to her words. Slowly a smile crept onto his face, until his silver teeth glinted in the light, "harlequin." The burst of laughter that followed startled Harleen, but the Joker's head was thrown back in laughter, to her relief.
Don't show weakness. She thought to herself. "Do you mind?"
"Oh no, harlequin darling, go right ahead." He leaded back in his chair, as comfortable as one can look while in a strait jacket. His laughter still echoing through the small room.
"Dr. Quinzel will do just fine, Mister Joker."
"Ah phewy, drop the formalities, darling. How am I supposed to open up to ya when you're bein so formal" leaning across the table now, looking up threw in lashes.
Heart hammering in her chest, the request was so simple, why not comply. "Fine, Harleen, but no more of this darling business, you understand?"
"Darlin', how do you expect to work with the crazies if you're not willin' to be fraternized a bit?" He made a gesture with his head on the word 'crazies' pointing back at the cell block, as if he weren't including himself.
"Mister Joker—"she started.
"Hey now," he interrupted, "Harley dear, the formalities gotta be dropped both ways."
Harleen began taking notes, 'Every time he speaks, his whole self reacts, he's so animated and lively, as if without the motions of his whole body, nothing is really being said'
"Whacha got there, doc?" His eyes flash with false curiosity, "Workin' on a scrap book about lil' old me?"
She refused to look up, staying focused on her writing, 'insistent on referring to me by any other name than my own, has to be in charge?' She jotted down a few more peculiarities about his behavior and looked it over, knowing she wouldn't get far trying to continue their conversation anyways.
She looked up once everything was read over twice, "Mister—" She could feel the protest coming, "J," she watched, waiting for protest to come, but he stayed silent mulling over the new nickname, "Where do you want to be in ten years?"
This question took him by surprise, no 'how are you feeling', 'what motivates you to do less than civil things', 'what was your childhood like', those he had quick witted answers for, preplanned, calculated, multiple different answers all filled with laughs. Where would he be in ten years, surly not rotting away in here. Perhaps the king of Gotham, with a crown and all his subjects bowing down, as if that hadn't already come true.
On the edge of his chair, leading into the table, gaze wandering the ceiling. He ran his tongue along all of his teeth before whispering softly "In ten years, Harley baby, you won't be around" His eyes, lazy yet full of passion landed on hers, "Marvel in the glory that is me while you still can." He exclaimed in his usual way.
Harleen wrote, 'I won't be around in ten years, is that a threat or does he mean out of his life?'
"What do you mean, I won't be around?" She prodded.
"The end is nigh, my darling. Where is it you see yourself in ten years?" He threw back at her.
"What about your tattoos, 'damaged', do you think you are?" She carried on with her questioning, ignoring his own.
Displeased by the question, and lack of an answer to his previous inquiry, he simply asked another, "Do you have any tattoos, my dear doctor?"
"Mister… J, this session is not about me."
"How about this, you answer my questions, I'll think answering yours."
"That's not going to work for me, I'll think about answering your questions if you promise to answer mine."
He thought this over for a moment, "okay okay, one for one. I ask you, you ask me. Deal?"
She stood, "Okay great, remember that for next time, because today's session is over." She buzzed the guards in.
"Well that's just absurd, we just started getting somewhere. And to think I was going to tell you all about my angsts and troubles, well you can just forget about that."
She gathered her things while the guards handled him, "I'll see you tomorrow, mister… Joker" She glanced towards the orderlies wondering if they had overheard the conversation.
Ever so perceptive, the Joker picked up on this and shot back, "I'll see you in my dream, my dearest." Looking over his shoulder, blowing a kiss as they pulled him from the room.
Harleen looked down, checking if she had everything in an attempt to hide her blush. The daunting laughter of the Joker was audible as they dragged him down the hall. A half hour surly wasn't enough time for them to really get anywhere, ever if they met every day. She was sure this wouldn't be the last time he wasted time on nonsense.
That night she prepared more Joker specific questions, trying to steer clear of the typical psychologist jargon he's probably heard over and over.