Across town, far from the Sunshine Sanitarium in a run down part of Gotham, inside a warehouse that had been converted into a hideout for four of Gotham's most wanted, it was laundry day for the Scarecrow.
Only he wasn't aware of it yet.
Actually, he wasn't aware of much, what with being asleep and all. Slumber tends to cut down on a fellow's awareness just a smidge. Besides, it had been a long night of listening to the screams of his test subjects as their minds were rent in half by his latest, nastiest, fastest acting fear toxin yet…he deserved to rest.
Tearing apart a person's sanity was tiring work, after all.
But when the door to his bedroom slammed open and Al bounced in with a basket in hand, chirping "Laundry day!" he was jerked awake and sprang out of bed so quickly he forgot his current state of undress.
Well, just a pair of pajama pants, in front of her and in his opinion, was a 'state of undress'. The less she saw of him, the better.
Crane crossed her arms over his bare chest, glad for the excuse to cover himself more from her view. "What are you doing at this ungodly hour?!"
She tipped her head at him curiously. "It's noon, Squishykins."
His eyes narrowed distrustfully. "No, it isn't."
Her eyes widened in innocence. "Yes it is."
Crane glowered at her. "Don't you dare try to Gaslight me, you unscrupulous woman, I will not fall for that again."
"It is noon," Al said firmly. "Check your watch before you bite a person's head off. What's more, it's laundry day and I am not leaving this room without dirty Squish clothes. So either give me the contents of your hamper or I'll make you strip, mister."
That got his hackles up. "If you even think of doing such a thing--"
"I know, I know, my life will be forfeit," Al replied as though she'd heard the threat a million times before. "Now, do you want a clean costume or do you want to be known as Gotham's smelliest villain?"
He grumbled low in his throat, but stalked over to the little basket at the foot of his cot to collect what few dirty clothes there were. He tossed them at Al, clearly in bad temper, but despite his best efforts, the force of throwing the ball of cloth at her didn't knock her off balance.
"I'll have you know that Killer Croc is Gotham's smelliest villain, not me."
"The jury's still out on that one, Squishy. Sack cloth doesn't breathe very well, you know--"
"You have your laundry." He turned the fiercest glare he could muster on the offensive intruder. "Now. Get. Out."
Amazingly, she did as she was told, closing his door behind herself with a quiet 'click'.
Either Jonathan had finally figured out the glare that would scare her off, or her compliance was a sign that today was not to be a normal day.
Much as he hated it, Crane was leaning toward the latter option of the two.