AN: I should tell you that this is, essentially, my counter-collection to the upcoming Toxin Reaction of the Year Awards, coming in October. Only shorter. I doubt it will help when it comes to that tongue incident, but… SPOILERS! I am the author, I will spoil if I want! Do you really want to take that chance? No. Then be quiet.
SwordStitcher: I know, it's sickening. XD Check the titles-that last one was 'Tiptoe' and this one is 'It's Time'. (They'll go up in the order they appear on the record.)
Jasmine Scarthing-Don't let Doctor Crane hear you say that. I already had to placate him with two fangirls and a warden, I don't want to give him anyone else.
"Good evening, Doctor Cristow."
Doctor John Cristow, who had been in the middle of pouring himself a nice drink, dropped the glass on the carpet at the noise.
"How did you get out?"
"Trade secret."
"How did you get in here?"
"Trade secret."
"What do you want?"
The intruders-two of his patients at Arkham-exchanged a look that said, 'What a stupid question.'
"The money's in the safe…"
"We're not here for that. Sit down." He stayed on his feet, unable to move. "I said, sit down."
He sat down in a chair. His guests took the couch, Richardson making herself comfortable against Crane's side.
"So. John-may I call you John?-we've been exchanging notes. Habit after we leave, you understand. We found something rather interesting this time. Would you like to know what it was?"
Not really. He didn't know exactly what he did to irritate them, and he didn't care. He just wanted to get out of here with his mind intact.
Crane continued anyway, his long fingers tugging at a loose thread on Richardson's sweater.
"You seem to be under the impression that we have a toxic relationship."
Oh.
It was true. No normal couple spent their time tormenting people. They'd have a better chance at being cured if they…separated.
"Um…"
"I don't know where you got the idea that you were a couples' counsellor, John. But you are terrible at it."
He was going to die, wasn't he.
"Really, you are just…"
"Jonathan." He looked over at her. "I don't think he's really processing anything. Look at the poor dear. He's scared out of his wits."
Help. Somebody. Anybody.
BATMAN.
"I don't know, Kitty…maybe we are in a toxic relationship."
"Perhaps."
"Maybe we should…break up." The last two words were practically dripping with disdain. "It's not you, it's me."
"No, no, it's me. We're just…we're not good for each other."
"No, I suppose not."
He felt forgotten. Not that that was a bad thing! The longer they talked, the longer he had until Batman showed up.
"Does it really matter?"
"No."
Oh, shit.
"So." Crane turned back to him. "Sorry. We've discussed it, and we've decided to ignore your advice."
Please, Jesus, someone help him.
"In all honesty, we were rather insulted at your presumptions." Help. "Weren't we?"
"Quite."
"Whatever shall we do with him?"
"We could chop off his head and send it to his ex-wife."
"Too messy. Slit his throat and blame Zsasz?"
"Oh, yes, that's so tidy. Batman will know who did it anyway."
"Good point. I suppose, then-since we'll be adding one more body to the count anyway-that we'll have to do this the old-fashioned way."
"I suppose so."
They stood up and he shrank back in his chair. They'd never seemed so…tall…in therapy. Must have been the straitjackets.
"Maybe this will teach you to mind your own business, Doctor."
He hadn't got a prayer.
THE END
