SwordStitcher-It wasn't worth the effort. He's a wuss. I was likely to throw up, Scarecrow. Remember? Wuss.

Jasmine Scarthing-Lulz. What is that, some sort of butchered Latin? Text speak. Butchered English. I was close. God, you're out of touch...

"Feeling better, Doctor Crane?"

And that was why he hated taking a sick day. He always came back and was fussed over by everybody. Couldn't they just mind their own business? Was that so difficult?

"Yes, thank you."

Five people down, who knew how many to go? He leaned back in his chair, hoping nobody else came in. And then his phone rang.

"Jonathan Crane."

"How are ya, Doc?"

Oh, his favorite person. What fun.

"Fine, thank you. What can I do for you?"

"It's about my boy Zsasz." Dammit. He'd forgotten all about Zsasz. "Think you could come in and chat with him?"

"I've been unwell recently." he said coldly. "I have a lot of work to catch up on."

"Just make sure you've seen him before your next shipment, Doc."

Click. Jonathan took a deep breath and rubbed his temples. Sometimes he regretted getting into this mess. But only sometimes. It was all worth it when he watched someone screaming their heart out because of him.

Jonny, you bad boy.

I haven't killed anyone yet.

True. Except for that overdose…

That was an accident. You kill on purpose.

Only twice! To save your ass, I might add.

I don't need the reminder.

He turned to the stack of paperwork and sighed. Most of this could have been dealt with in his absence, why was he stuck with it?

"Hello, Doctor Crane."

Oh, he hated her. He didn't want her for a secretary, but her credentials were decent. Unfortunately, she liked him a bit more than she ought.

"Hello, Minnie."

"How are you feeling? We missed you."

Oh, he was sure she did.

"Better, thank you." If he mentioned that he was still queasy, she might fuss over him even more. "Did you need something?"

"Just wanted to see how you were feeling."

"Fine, thank you."

She left and he leaned back in his chair, sending quiet disdain towards everyone in the building.

May they all get struck with the flu.

Except Kitty, because then we have to take care of her. Remember what happened last time?

Maybe we shouldn't have tried to make toast in the oven.

Now. Onto the paperwork.

By the end of the day, Jonathan was feeling rather queasy again. Dinner was optional, in his opinion, but Kitty disagreed.

"Falcone called today."

"What now."

"Zsasz."

"Oh, great."

"I have to see him tomorrow. You're in charge until I get back."

"Make sure he doesn't have anything sharp near him."

Wasn't that the truth?

He lay back on the bed, watching her unbutton her shirt and take her jewelry off. He really wasn't looking forward to tomorrow. He'd heard nasty stories about Zsasz. He'd heard that every time he killed, he carved another tally mark into his skin.

Huh. Maybe he was crazy after all.

Kitty tossed her skirt off into the corner and wandered over to the dresser for her pajamas. Jonathan sighed and folded his hands behind his head. He must have drifted off, because he was startled awake by Kitty taking his glasses off.

"Come on, love, get under the covers."

Covers? What for?

"Jonathan."

Fine, fine.

There was a flicking noise and the room plunged into darkness. A minute later, she wound her arms around his neck and snuggled against his side.

"Night, love."

"Night."