It was right about the time that she looked over to the corner, where she'd heard his voice, that the lights suddenly came on. And there he was.
He was looking right at her, head lowered and tilted slightly to the side, sitting on the floor against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. He blinked in a slow-motion sort of way, his lips smacking slowly, as his eyes met hers.
He was wearing a straight jacket. She'd been told this was because he'd grabbed at a nurse earlier today. She wasn't given the details. Apparently, it had been bad enough to require the jacket.
Harleen took her eyes off of him long enough to glare back down the hallway...the sudden light had been most unnecessary. Looking back at her client, she paused for a moment to study him, clipboard held against her chest.
'Look at him,' she thought to herself, 'Sitting there in that jacket, helpless. But...he doesn't care. Look in his eyes. What is that..' She couldn't make out the look in his eyes. Was it the paint, masking his feelings, or where there no feelings there to really find...?
Brushing off this odd thought, she moved to sit in the chair provided for her, and began to write on her clipboard.
He was very still, very quiet, as she wrote. Simply watching her.
"First meeting," she murmured softly to herself, scribbling on the paper, "With..the 'Joker'."
When she looked back up at him at last, he was still just staring at her. Setting up her inner defenses on high alert, as her supervisor had warned her to do with him, she finally broke the silence, "Well, you know my name. Can I have yours? Or should I just call you Mr. Joker...or, Joker? Mistah Jay...?"
She resisted cracking a smile, as she pushed a little further, "How about I just call you Jester..or, even Ace?"
Finally, he moved. But, all he did was raise his eyebrows, blink, and take his eyes off of her. He looked across the room at the wall, a slight smile on his scarred face as his head bobbed lightly, side to side.
His low voice took on a slightly sing-song tone as he said, "Sticks and stones... May.. brrreeak my bones..." He sort of growled the letter 'r'. Licking his lips, he didn't finish the rhyme. He just stared straight ahead at nothing in particular.
Harleen scoffed slightly, more to herself than to his broken rhyme. She should have known he wouldn't be that easy to get a rise out of. Not this soon, at any rate. Not when she tried it on purpose.
She went back to writing something on her clipboard, eyes lowered to the paper.
His eyes found her again. After a few moments of silence, they rolled around, casually glancing around the room. Head tilted to the side, his tongue slipped quickly over his bottom lip before he spoke, "Mind if I ask a question...?"
She barely had time to look back up at him, before he continued, not giving her a chance to answer.
"Just... what did you do.. to get this job?... Hm?" His shoulders shifted a little under the restraints of the jacket, and his eyes moved around the room, "They don't send just anyone in here.. these days..."
She watched him, pen frozen over the paper.
His head lowered, his eyes shifted back to her, looking up at her at an angle through his lashes, "Orrr.. are you just... smar-t?" The tip of his tongue toyed, just briefly, with the corner of his mouth, which seemed to twitch slightly as if to smile.
Harleen didn't know why...but his comment almost stung.
He was playing with her, she realized, like she had played with his ambiguous title.
She kept her eyes on him as she summed up a response, "Well...I worked hard, Mister Joker," she said, putting just a little more emphasis on his 'name' than she should have.
Here, he started to giggle, a closed-mouthed sound, deep in his chest, "I bet you did!"
She ignored him and continued, "Most people don't realize what a woman has to put up with to get this far. You might say, there's a lot of incompetent people out there, doing everything in their power to make life miserable for the people that want to take things seriously."
By this time, he had stopped giggling, and he was no longer staring at her. Instead, he was looking straight ahead again, but not at the wall. It was like he disappeared for a moment as his head turned this way then that.
His eyes rolled from left to right, up then to the side, and quietly he said, "Serious..." His red lips twisted as he played with the word, "Seerriioussss... Sooo.. Serrrioussss!"
Nodding his head, tonguing the corner of his lips absent mindly before he looked back at her, he gave her an intense stare, "Whhyyy would you ever want to be... so... Seriouussss-uh?" He almost growled at her, shaking his head a bit like a dog to manipulate the last word, putting extra pronunciation on the final 's'.
All Harleen could do for a moment was stare at him. The way he looked at her right now sent shivers through her that she could barely hide. That well-worn, patchy paint of his really creeped her out.
Taking her eyes off of his, but not lowering her head, she went back to writing something on the paper.
A moment later she met his gaze again, which he hadn't shifted away, and her face was stone and emotionless, though her eyes betrayed her resolve, "Most of my patients have a similar outlook on life. 'Life is no good without a laugh', and all of that. I'd like to know what makes you think you're any different from those men,"
By now he had stopped looking at her, apparently becoming interested with something on the ceiling. Licking his lips unconsciously as he tilted his head this way and that, like trying to get a better look.
"Are you really that more brilliant than those dime-a-dozen criminals up the hall who think that, because they kill, they should be feared? That they're untouchable? That by some divine joke, they're making this world a better place by removing those in their way?"
Harleen leaned forward a little, making the chair creak just slightly. Which catches his attention again, and he looks back over at her, brows slightly raised as if he only just realized she was talking.
She looked into his dark eyes, hidden so well by the over-dried black paint around them, "What makes you..this 'Joker'?"
He sort of lolled his head to the side when she finished, looking up at her from an angle. His eyes blinked rapidly a few times, and then they rolled around a little, left eye squinting halfway.
Biting the inside of his bottom lip as he worked his mouth a little, he finally seemed to come up with something, "Ah.." He said, smacking his lips loudly as he leaned his head over in the other direction now, "You wanna know what the difference is between us? Me and...Them?" He tossed his head a bit on the that word, eyes rolling.
Nodding softly before she had a chance to do so herself, he continued, "They.. uuh, they think.. they should be feared." His tongue darted between his lips, moistening the bottom one, "But me? Ya see.. me.. I know. I do." he nodded slowly at her, tilting his head to the side and giving her an innocent look that reminded her of a child.
"Ya see.." Running his tongue quickly between his lips, he took his eyes off of her for a moment to glance around the room, like he was making sure not to be heard. He leaned a bit closer to her, "To them, it's all about money." The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, and he made a face like he'd tasted something bad, "The more money.. the more... everything." Slowly, he brought his eyes back to hers, and he blinked once, "But me... Ya see..with me, it's not about..money. It's about the message...the..effec-t."
He widened his eyes a little on the word 'effect', then he mouthed it slowly a couple of times, eyes flickering around, twisting his jaw around a bit as if trying to get accustomed to it.
Harleen watched him do this, surprised to realize she was strangely fascinated by it. She waited quietly to hear more.
Finally, smacking his lips, he hung his head lazily to the side, "So. What makes you think you are so special..Hmm?" He asked suddenly.
She blinked, and it took her a moment to come up with an answer for him, "Me? Don't you know that no one here is special?" she quipped briefly.
Going back to writing, she took her eyes off him, before she finally continued, not bothering to look back up, "You, me..we're all insignificant. You could get yourself out of that jacket and kill me, and what? A couple more years in Arkham?"
She didn't even notice that he wasn't looking at her anymore. He was busy staring at the light above their heads, head cocked to the side like a curious dog.
"Maybe I have a gun in my bag. Maybe I could shoot you, here and now, and no one would miss you," she said.
He glanced over at her at this, giving her a bored expression, but said nothing.
"I don't think I have anyone that would miss me," she said slowly, quieter than before. Raising her eyes at last, she met his gaze, "What's in a single death?" She hadn't really been thinking as she'd said this last part. Her first comment should have been her last…but, for some reason, her inner thoughts had just slipped out of her, as if in confession.
So, Harleen was a little surprised at the sudden glint in his dark eyes. A smile crept slowly over his scarred face, and he looked at her like he was appraising a rare jewel, "But that's exactly what I've been saying!" he said excitedly.
"What is in a death?" He blinked, his tongue darting out to lick the corner of his mouth, "People die every day… Does it really matter how?"
Pausing, he shifted a little on the floor, rocking side to side, "Soldiers arrre blown up in deserts," he drug his tongue over his bottom lip slowly, "Gangbangers are shot on the streets. Babies are drowned by their parents…,"
He raised his eyebrows as he nodded at her, and smacked his lips, "And people don't care. But, uuhh," his eyes rolled up and down briefly, "You say that one lil' ol' Mayor will die? And everyone just looses their minds!"
The Joker shifted his weight on the floor, rolling his shoulders against the tight jacket. Harleen had stopped writing, and was staring at him intently.
He fixed her with a look, a look that reminded her of a four-year-old, asking the inevitable question 'Why?'
"Just..who is it that decides the difference? Hmm?" He asked, lids half closed and watching her from the corner of his eye.
All Harleen could do was shake her head, almost as if in a daze. It was a question she'd asked herself many times…and the answer always eluded her, as well.
She didn't know what to think as she discovered that he was actually making sense to her.
"So," he said suddenly, making her jump a little, "Could you do i-t?"
Focusing back on him, she realized she'd just been staring at him. Not that it looked like he minded much, "What?" she asked, blinking.
His eyes rolled around and he turned his head from side to side before he gave her a patient look one might give an A.D.D. child, "Could. You. Kill. Me?" he said slowly, as if she was hard of hearing.
Harleen blinked again, confused. Where had that question come from?
"What?" She asked again.
"What?" He mimicked her, raising his voice to a higher pitch. His head tossed a little as he giggled, briefly, then his eyes rolled a bit and he looked at her again. Smiling.
"You said..," he began, licking his lips quickly, "That maybe you had a gun. That, maybe, you would shoot me. I wanna know..if you would." Leaning forward, he lowered his voice, like sharing a secret with her, "Could you pull…the trig-gerrr?"
Now Harleen was at a loss. What did she say? Could she shoot this man, this murderer, if she had the chance? Would she?
She was quiet for a few moments, studying him. As she watched him watching her, she came to the conclusion that he must be baiting her. He was good at this game, of course. He knew how to play with people's minds…just like he knew how to play with their fear.
Well, she wouldn't take this bait. No matter how much she wanted to answer that, yes, she thought she could do it.
Her eyes, however, seemed to tell him exactly what he wanted to know. Because he smiled, a slow movement that pulled the corners of the scars further up his cheeks.
His eyes were dark as he watched her..and they held…something she couldn't identify. It made her uneasy, the way he was looking at her.
Harleen cleared her throat at last, scribbled something on her paper, and tried not to look at him as she said, "I think that's really all the time we have today, Mr. Joker."
"Oh, of coursse-uh," He responded in a suddenly cheerful tone, his face taking on the expression of what appeared to be delight.
As she stood and started to get her things together, he spoke again, and she looked up at him, "One..more..question?"
She said nothing, but waited as he licked his lips slowly, working his mouth a little, he sucked in his bottom lip, "I wonder.. uh," his voice trailed for a second, his eyes wandering away momentarily, "I wanna know..why you wanted this job. Why you wanna be-e..ah, a psycho therap-ist?" he said slowly, eyeing her.
Looking up at up at her, head angled a bit, he said, "Does it thrill you, Doctor? Talking to murderers and.. lu-una-tics-ah?" He had shaken his head on the last word, his voice raising a couple of octaves, his wiggling mouth adding a strange under-watery sound to it.
With a purposefully final shake of his head, he was looking up at her again. Waiting.
It took Harleen a moment to bring herself back to reality to respond to him. His actions, so strange and random, but somehow…alluring…had left her stunned for a second.
Her mouth was so dry, she hardly noticed she was talking, "I started this job hoping to unlock and explore the mysteries of the criminal mind," she said slowly, quietly, "I must admit, I do have something of a…fascination…with your type."
He blinked slowly, and she faltered a little, "Well..I - I guess there isn't really a 'your'..type. You're really..quite…unique." Harleen stopped, realizing what she was saying. She was giving him too much, and she knew better than that. Why had she said that?
He, on the other hand, looked rather pleased. Even as he mouthed the word to himself, then tossed his head, grinned, and repeated in a cheerful voice, "Unique, " but he said it so it sounded like 'Unikah!', and he nodded happily, "I like that."
Looking up at her again, still smiling, he gave her a look something like a lovable but mischievous puppy, and she became all sorts of flustered.
Lowering her eyes, she pretended to be busy balancing everything in her hands.
Finally, she met his gaze again, trying to give him a stern and defiant look, holding her head up high, "That's really all for today, Mr. Joker. Have a pleasant week." She said as flatly as she could manage, very ready to leave.
"Ah..by all means," he said, his face still cheerful and his voice openly friendly, like a host in a new house, "Feel free to stop by any time!"
With that, she nodded at him and turned to the door. It opened seemingly on it's own, and she swept through it and into fresher air. She shut the door behind her with a dull bang.
The lights went back out the second the door was sealed.
In the dark, the Joker was smiling to himself.
