"Bruce Wayne?" Joker asked, staring at the tall, well-groomed man in front of him. Bruce gave a little nod. "Wow. I guess the only question now is why?" Bruce walked over to the table and motioned for Gordon to leave the two of them. Gordon did so reluctantly; the last time he left the Joker alone in a room with someone it hadn't ended well for anyone.
"I guess…" Bruce began as he took his seat. "I suppose the criminal mind interests me." Joker looked at Bruce, his eyes taking in the dark chocolate brown of his eyes and the curve of his chin. It seemed familiar, like the Joker had known him in another life, or a dream perhaps. But then again, the Joker's past was so scattered and shattered that the story was different every time, and the pieces of memory he could count on rearranged themselves in a seemingly random order whenever he woke up. So the Joker could very well have been a friend of Bruce Wayne's at Princeton, and just not remember it. Of course, Bruce might not recognize him either. Before… whatever had happened, Joker had looked different. Same eyes, only less wild, and his hard had been dark brown… The curls, those were the same. They were less greasy in school, though. He remembered how he looked before, but that was it. And he always wore purple. So maybe he could ask about that? But would it be odd to ask "Oh, and Brucey, did you ever know a boy with curly brown hair who wore combat boots and a purple suit?". No. No, he couldn't ask that. At least, not yet. He had to find out more about Bruce Wayne first.
"Is that the only reason?" The Joker asked. Bruce sighed deeply and folded his hands on the table.
"When I was 10 my parents were murdered in front of me." Bruce stated. Joker's eyes widened and then narrowed. What was his angle? "I was… broken after that. I went to school and pretended to move on, for everyone else, and then I got kicked out. I was going to kill the man who killed my parents, but someone else beat me to it." Bruce paused. The Joker looked at him, still studying him curiously.
"And?" Joker asked.
"I was pissed off." Bruce said. "I left. I stayed gone for 7 years. No one knows this, but when I was gone I became involved in a good deal of criminal activity. I was arrested, and then I escaped and found training and peace of mind in the mountains of Tibet."
"Is there a point to this story?" The Joker asked. He didn't mean to come across as insensitive, simply curious. But then again, being the antisocial personality that he was, he often came across as brass and unfeeling. His intonations and inflections were a backwards as the racial views of a redneck in the 30's.
"I did ramble a bit, didn't I?" Bruce chuckled. "Sorry. The point was that I went through a deal of trouble, and I almost lost myself in it. So I want to help people—"
"People like me, who just… give in to the trouble?" The Joker asked. "I'm happy the way I am, and I wouldn't really know how to be any other me than the me that you see before you, but if you wanna take pretty ol' me for a spin, then by all means, Brucey! I'm yours, your personal lab rat slash indebted servant." Bruce looked at the Joker with a mixture of fear and confusion. The Joker licked his lips and sat back in his chair.
"That's… That's not—Thanks, I guess…" Bruce said, his face red and his throat dry. He hadn't meant for this to happen. Not at all.