Jonathan Crane didn't drink.
And even when he did, it was generally a fine wine, or aged champagne. Beer was most definitely the most downright disgusting liquid substance he could ever imagine forcing down his throat. So it was to his own surprise when he clasped his wiry fingers around the chilled bottle his current comrade had handed him. Jonathan stared at the bottle with a questioning eyebrow tilted towards the heavens. It was very "old school" as some might call it. It certainly wasn't a brand name of beer, there was no indication of it. Just a brown glass bottle with a red cap, also void of any markings.
"You goanna drink it or stare at it?" grumbled Harvey.
Two-face had been previously reassured by Jervis to not give him anything do drink, because, first of all, he didn't like it, and second, for it's "negative influences" on Jonathan, which in turn, only tempted him more towards finding out what a drunken Scarecrow was like. Besides, after a night like his, he needed a drink. Harvey found the poor sap damn near lifeless on the street, no doubt running from the bat. And he honestly thought about leaving him, but something pulled him back. He never would team with Scarecrow, the guy was just to down-beat. He had these manically depressive phases that Harvey didn't enjoy. Besides, he wasn't that well-liked. He wasn't the kindest chap in the world, and had it been Two-face lying their, he'd bet his coin that Jonathan would walk on by without so much as a back-wards glance. But anyone running from the bat was on his side, so Harvey flipped for it, and sure enough, his clean conscious shone through, and he dragged Scarecrow to the safety of his own hideout.
So here they sat, Jonathan staring at the drink and Harvey staring at him. Jonathan placed a hand on the red cap and twisted it off, and he had to admit it was somewhat delightful to see the swirl of mist erupt from the bottle like a patch of dry ice. He slid the bottle between his lips and let the cool liquid slide down his throat.
It wasn't half bad as he expected.
"You saved my life out there," Scarecrow mumbled in Harvey's direction, "um… thanks."
Two-Face found himself caught off guard. That was something he never expected from Jonathan… 'thanks?' It was bizarre! It was like Harley-leaving-the-Joker kind of odd. It was like he'd-woken-up-next-to-Ivy-with-the-other-half-of-his-face-in-tact kind of bizarre. It just didn't happen.
"Just drink the beer." was his grumbling reply as he stood up and skulked to the bedroom, loudly slamming the door behind him.
Jonathan smirked as he stretched out on the couch. He had honestly thought he'd be dead by now, either on the street or by Harvey's hand. He and Harvey never got along, but then again he didn't really get along with any one except Jervis and occasionally the Riddler, on a good day. He set the beer down beside the couch and lay his head back on the arm. He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of him being in the same hideout as Two-Face.
It wasn't half bad as he expected.