Kitty felt the warm fingers of sunlight on her face before she realized what they were. Her dull blue eyes fluttered open, and she stayed where she was for a moment, staring thoughtfully at the peeling wallpaper of the wall that she faced, lying on her side in the rather uncomfortable bed. She sighed, thinking about the events of the past few days, and how she had been unintentionally dragged into a plot that she was wholly oblivious to, but that somehow involved her and a mysterious, though increasingly less appealing, figure called 'Jack Napier'.

She frowned slightly, thinking about it. If what everyone said was true, then she had once been married to this shady character, and her own, sweet little daughter was, in fact, his daughter, too. She wished that she could have been left with the description Maria had given her… tall, well-built, with the same hair and eye colour as Jeannie Rose. That made him sound so much more appealing than everything else that had been added onto the description afterwards. How did she always seem to attract the worst kinds of men? She was not an outgoing person, and not flashy in the least, with her dull blue eyes, straight, mousy-brown hair, and petite stature. If anything, she thought that she would be the least appealing of any of the women in the group. And yet, Crane had not singled out Flicker, or Jeanette…

Perhaps that was just it, she reasoned. Perhaps it was because she was so plain, because she was so meek, and so timid, that men like Crane, and possibly Napier, felt they could bully her into doing whatever they wanted - and it was true. Kitty was not brave; she was not outspoken; and, worst of all, she was easy prey for anyone who knew what they wanted and were determined to get it. She was so timorous that she never argued, and so often ended up having people walk all over her… or worse.

She stared at the wall for another long moment, then turned onto her back. Her eyes shot open in surprise, and she opened her mouth to exclaim, but Crane put his hand over her mouth, quieting her. He stared at her for a long moment. Then he leaned down to her, covered her mouth with his, and started kissing her deeply. Kitty frowned in horror and turned her face away, pulling the covers up over her mouth and nose. Crane stared at her, seemingly unfazed by her reaction. "What's the matter, Kitty?" he asked.

"Please, just go away," she whispered. She stared hard at the wall, making a point of not looking at him. She did not want him to see the fear in her eyes, or else he might take control again, like all the other times he had beaten her into submission with just a knowing look.

Crane stared at her, then opened his mouth, ready to speak, when he heard a knock at the door. He looked up, frowning slightly, and got up from the bed, making his way across the room to the door and opening it. The bartender stood outside the door. Crane raised his eyebrows, a cold, tight, polite grin quirking at the corners of his mouth, and cocked his head slightly at the man. "Can I… help you?" he asked.

"I'm glad I got the right room on the first try," the bartender said with a friendly smile. "You rented out so many, I wasn't sure which one was yours."

Crane's cold, sarcastic grin widened slightly. "Imagine that," he said slowly.

"I was just wondering if you were ready to pay yet," the bartender reminded him. "For the five rooms you rented out."

Crane turned his head in agreement. "Of course," he said, pulling out his wallet and opening it.

"Oh, also," the bartender said, "uh, there was a guy last night, a plastic surgeon, said he knew you."

Crane paused, looking up from his wallet, still trying to look politely amused. "Is that so?" he asked. Then his attention returned to his wallet.

"Yeah," said the bartender, "he told me you would pay his bar tab."

Crane froze. He pursed his lips, his jaw locking, and looked back up at the bartender, his polite grin slowly disappearing. "Did he, now?" he asked, sounding much less amused.

"Yeah, right before he left," said the bartender, nodding.

"I see," said Crane coldly. "And… how much will that run me?"

"Ah, about…" The bartender thought for a moment. "Sixty bucks."

Crane swallowed, then cocked his head slightly at the bartender with a cold, unamused leer that he hoped came off as a kind of smile. He opened his mouth slightly as if about to speak, his eyes straying, and took a breath, holding it. Then he looked down at his wallet again, letting out the breath and closing his wallet, stuffing it back into his back pocket. Then he looked up at the bartender with a tight, bitter, cold grin.

"Would you like to see my mask?" he asked.

Carly didn't wake up the next morning. Her eyes opened, and she scowled deeply at the sound of shouting and whimpering in the hallway. She even got out of bed and did a few invigorating stretches. But then she took the corner of her sheet and singed it with her lighter, only to see the tiny flames dancing for a moment before she put them out with a grin.

Flicker was back.

The doctor's jacket lay on the floor by her bed, and she glared at it. She considered burning it for a minute, but decided instead to lump it into a ball and take it with her. She finally groaned "oh, for chrissakes..." as the shouting quieted, and opened the door to find Crane and the bartender in the hallway. The second man was curled up on the floor, eyes wide, sweating like a pig, and muttering something about a scarecrow. She eyed him with curiously for a moment, then turned to Crane and her eyes narrowed again. She shoved the jacket into his chest.

"You see, this is what happens when we stay at shady places in the fuckin' Narrows," she said disgustedly, leaning forward into his face. "You know what I've been through while we were here?"

Jeanette's eyes opened at the commotion in the hallway, and she stood up with some effort from the bed. She'd had to sleep sitting up because of the handcuffs; as a result, she'd only gotten a few hours of shuteye. She sighed and opened the door.

Flicker paused when Jeanette appeared in the hallway, and rejoiced at a bigger audience to share her woes with. "I almost got fucking raped by that sunovabitch doctor from downstairs." Jeanette tried to look like she cared, and failed miserably. Flick mistook her look of apathy to be one of confusion. "Y'know, that big guy, in the doctor's coat?" Jeanette still stared at her with the same look, and Flicker stamped her foot. "Oh, c'mon! That big guy, y'know, all tan, and dark eyes, and...and the real weird hair, sort of blondish-greenish? Or maybe it was blue..."

Jeanette was just beginning to block the girl out when she added the bit about the doctor's hair. She frowned. Why did that sound so weird? Besides the obvious reason, of cou...

Then it hit her.

Her eyes went wide and she asked hurriedly, "Greenish hair?!" Flicker nodded mutely, looking a bit disappointed that Jeanette cared so little. She'd almost been raped, for chrissakes. But Jeanette didn't care. Because the guy that Flicker had described was Jack Napier.

She completely forgot that Crane was standing there and ran to the door she'd seen the doctor enter last night. She looked momentarily at the barkeeper on the floor, decided that he wouldn't care (and she wouldn't if he did), and kicked the door open. She almost lost her balance, hands still tied behind her back, but regained it in time to stumble into the room.

She let out a cry of frustration. He was already gone.

She stalked back into the hallway, leaned against the wall, shut her eyes, and began cursing in a fast mixture of Italian and English.

Crane stared at Jeanette, listening in interest to her bilingual muttering. He picked up Italian mixed in with the English, and listened hard to it; he had never learned Italian, but it was on his list. Perhaps he could get started early. At least it seemed easier than Mandarin Chinese or Afrikaans. He stared at the ground for a long moment, listening to Jeanette, then glanced back at the bartender and scoffed. "Staying anywhere else," he said, looking back at Flicker, "would have been too… conspicuous." He did not even attempt to smile at her.

Kitty opened the door of her room a bit more and peered outside at the gathered crowd. Then she looked down at the bartender and a slightly horrified expression crossed her face. "What…?" she asked, shocked, indicating him.

"He had an unfortunate meltdown," Crane said coldly, cutting off her question. "And apparently Flicker here… had an altercation with the doctor from the bar."

Kitty looked up at her with scared, concerned eyes. "The big, tall one?" she asked worriedly, "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No," Crane said before Flicker could answer. "They simply had an unfortunate run-in."

Kitty stared at Flicker, her expression not wavering from one of anxiety. "I hope you were able to defend yourself okay," she said. "People like that… they have to be told straight, or else they'll do whatever they -"

Crane raised a hand, and instantly Kitty stopped talking, taking a step backwards, and looked down at her feet in silence. Crane poised with his hand hovering for a moment, watching Kitty, then lowered it again, satisfied. He looked down at the doctor's coat, then brought it to his nose. Instantly he wished he had not; he pushed it away in disgust, grimacing. "Well, it's apparent why your doctor saw it fit to try to interfere with you," he said, clearing his throat and holding the coat like something vile. "And it wasn't because of your shining personality."

He frowned at the coat, then looked up at Jeanette again. "And what are you so frustrated about?" he demanded. He hated being out of the loop on things, and Jeanette's reaction had definitely thrown him. He started slowly towards her, stepping over the muttering, incoherent bartender, holding out the doctor's coat in front of him towards her. As soon as he reached her, he stood right in front of her, holding the doctor's coat out towards her, as if letting her see it plainly would remind her of something, and she would tell him what it was.

"Did you know this doctor?" he asked, indicating the coat. "Was he… an acquaintance of yours?"

Then it hit him. Green hair. A tall, muscular man with green hair. He turned and looked back at Flicker, then at the coat, and then up at Jeanette with slitted eyes. "No," he whispered with a widening grin. He looked at Jeanette pointedly, then looked back at Kitty, and then his gaze returned to Jeanette. "No," he repeated, more amused than ever. He indicated with the doctor's coat. "It was him, wasn't it?" he asked. His horrid grin grew even wider. "And you knew him," he said, quieter, almost to himself.

He began to chuckle, then his chuckle grew louder, and finally he broke into a full laugh. "We have a slight change in plans," he said, turning to the rest of the group. "It seems we don't need Maria to be our hound dog after all. It seems… we already have one." He lifted the doctor's coat, as if in a sign of victory. "And she's going to lead us straight to Jack Napier."

At this, he turned and looked pointedly at Jeanette, grinning wickedly. "Aren't you?" he asked.

Jeanette ignored Flicker's pouty outburst ("yeah, well, fuck you"), Kitty's nervous stare, and even the other guests of the hotel. It probably wasn't even consciously done; her mind automatically blocked out all distractions. She simply stared at Crane.

That was most definitely the stupidest thing she could have done. Besides announcing to the world that she had more than a slight connection to Jack Napier, of course. Considering the situation, though, that was pretty much what she had done. Her mind cranked into high gear. She couldn't let Crane get what he wanted, whatever that was. At this point, that was all she was sure of: keep Crane away from Napier, and get Kitty out as soon as possible.

She took a deep breath, praying that he was more gullible than he seemed.

"Screw you," she began, head lowered and narrow eyes locked on his. Tone down the language, it could be suspicious. "I'm no hound dog." She paused. "And I certainly don't know how I even could be." She sniffed, then added in an undertone, mostly for her own satisfaction, "Even if I did, I sure as hell wouldn't help."

Crane arched an eyebrow at her. "Screw… you?" he repeated, unimpressed. He paused for a moment, considering her. "I believe…" he said, turning his head slightly, "that, uh… fuck you, would have been a more effective response." He grinned sarcastically at her, then turned away from her, trading the doctor's coat between his hands. "All right," he said, "you don't know where he is. You refuse to cooperate. But you do know him." He turned back to her, his eyes slitted. "If I were to let you free, you would probably run straight to him," he said.

His smile had disappeared and was now replaced with a thoughtful frown. He had the possibility of letting her go and then chasing her once she had a head start… it was always possible that she would run straight to Napier. Then again, she was the headstrong kind of woman who never did what anyone expected her to do. He looked her up and down, considering her. "I sense…" he said slowly, "that there's something here… that makes you not want to cooperate with me." He paused, watching her closely. "And yet," he added, "it holds you here, because you have not run away… even though I'm sure you're the kind of girl who would… handcuffs or no."

He turned away from her, folding his hands behind his back, holding the doctor's coat in one hand as he thoughtfully moved his wrist up and down. "Something that keeps you here…" he mused, looking over each person in turn, until his eyes came to rest on Kitty. He stopped, staring at her, and a cruel grin began to creep across his face. "Kitty," he said, perhaps a bit too sarcastically upbeat. She looked over at him, her expression worried and scared. Crane faked a breathy laugh. "Oh, don't look at me like that," he said, tilting his head, "you look so… unhappy." He moved towards her. "You aren't unhappy here… are you, Kitty?"

She stared at him for a long moment. His lucid eyes bore into her dull blue ones, almost tranquilizing. She hesitated, then shook her head silently. "No," Crane said, "of course not. You're perfectly happy here… aren't you?" Kitty's eyes flicked to Jeanette, and she bit her lip. Crane frowned slightly. "Kitty, I'm talking to you," Crane said, a bit sharply. Kitty's eyes quickly darted back to Crane's, and he smiled coldly at her. "You're perfectly happy here," he repeated, "aren't you, Kitty?"

Kitty swallowed, then nodded, holding onto her skirt. Crane took her face in his hand, gently stroking her jaw. She closed her eyes, trying to suppress a shudder. "You're very happy here," he said, emphasizing his words, "aren't you, Kitty?" She opened her eyes and looked up at him, saying nothing. Crane stared at her, then leaned his face close to hers, and leaned past her lips, whispering into her ear so only she could hear. "Don't fight me," he whispered. "If you mess this up for me, I swear to you, I will make you sorely, sorely wish you hadn't." He traced his lips along her cheek, then kissed her on the lips. She did not kiss back, but she did not resist. He held all the power, and if she fought him, he would see to it that she would never forget it. Then again, she did not have to play along. She just had to do the minimum to keep her daughter out of harm's way.

Then he turned back to Jeanette. "You see?" he said. "She doesn't want to leave." He grinned coldly at her. "You're getting yourself worked up over absolutely nothing. No one is being kept here against their will." He took his hand away from Kitty's face, and she cringed slightly, her blood running cold. Then he looked back at her, and then leaned past her, looking into her room. "Where is that darling child of yours?" he asked, too upbeat. "You should probably wake her. We must be getting along soon. - What was her name again?"

Kitty hesitated, glaring at him. Then she whispered, "Jeannie Rose."

"Jeannie Rose," the name came off his tongue like venom. He chuckled. "Such a…" He tried to find a compliment, then gave up and turned away from Kitty, towards the rest of the group, and his gaze fell on Goodhart. He pursed his lips, arching an eyebrow at him. "It's about time you were up, you great lug," he said bitterly, checking his watch. "If you'd slept any later we would've left without you. Which probably would not have been half bad for you…" He looked around. "This place is probably higher-class than anywhere you've ever lived anyways," he muttered.

Then he looked back at the group. "Well, since Jeanette has so graciously agreed to lead our group," he said, looking pointedly at Jeanette with a knowing smirk, "we're going to head out. First, we're going to check the bar to see if he left anything behind… his playing-card, perhaps a piece of clothing…" He shrugged. "Drunkards are careless," he remarked. "He could have left anything."

Kitty frowned deeply at this, but said nothing, going back into her room to get Jeannie Rose.

Oh, shit.

Jeanette looked down the hallway at the crowd of people that were slowly edging back into their rooms. So he'd figured it out. "What makes you think I know this guy?" she added in a halfhearted attempt. There was no way he'd buy it; she had effectively backed herself into a corner. She'd have to fight tooth and nail to get out of this one.

Her blood boiled at Crane's obvious intimidation of Kitty. It was pointless. Why the heck would he go after her, besides a little fun? Then again, Jeanette thought, that's exactly the sort of thing Jonathan Crane might do. Oh, that little cockroach was going to pay...

She waited until the woman had gone into her room before rounding on Crane. "You can't just leave her alone, can you?" she asked lightly, leaning against the wall with nonchalance. "It's so sad, when someone who claims to be a brilliant doctor has to get his kicks from intimidating some poor, helpless woman." She shrugged, as if it couldn't be helped. "Then again, this is the same 'brilliant doctor' who didn't recognize the man he's been looking for, when you were standing face-to-face with him. Don't get me wrong," she said, shrugging again. "I'm sure the guy's pretty evasive when he's stoned."

She smirked. This brought back memories of her life at home, when she used to bother her parents so much. After finally realizing that nothing she could do would make them proud, she'd taken to finding the best ways to get under their skin. It had been sort of a game. A sick, mean game, but her favorite game nonetheless.

It was fun to get back into the habit again.

Goodhart had stumbled out of his room, fully clothed in his Arkham gear, several minutes earlier, just in time to get some unneeded abuse from Crane. He'd learned to just take it at this point, and responded with a grunt before heading down the stairs. He'd just do the bar-sweep himself.

He checked every table, on top and underneath, before heading to the actual bar itself. There wasn't anything of interest. Then he noticed a flash of silver out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head and found a small handgun.

"Hm." He checked the gun to see if it was loaded (it was; that barkeep wasn't quite as stupid as he looked) and tucked it into his pocket. No need for Crane to know about this. Besides, Goodhart had to have some way to get rid of Maria once they found her.

And Flicker, and Crane, of course.

But all in good time.

Crane froze in his tracks when he heard Jeanette start talking. He felt his shoulders tense when she mentioned him terrorizing Kitty. It was a good thing Kitty was not there to hear her, or else she might have been given a false sense of empowerment. But the verbal abuse did not stop there. Crane felt his hands start to shake with rage when she began ridiculing him, mocking his title as a doctor. But the last straw was when she insulted him for not recognizing Napier. His breathing quickened, his expression darkening into one of hatred. "Céard?" he demanded, spinning on her. "A dhath ar bith!" He breathed heavily, glaring at her. "Ní lú orm an diabhal or an donas ná é," he continued, moving towards her with a finger raised, almost threatening. As soon as he reached her, he threw the doctor's coat to the floor in anger, then looked back up at her. "Ná ceanndána bean!" he shouted.

Then he spun to face Flicker, the same rabid, hateful expression on his face. "Do shealsa atá ann," he said, moving towards her now. "Tú míchúramach, bómánta leanbh!" He raised a hand and struck her across the face with it, knocking her slightly off-balance and leaving a throbbing pink mark on her cheek. "Tú neamhoilte!" he shouted at her. "Tú gan mhaith!" Then he spun back to Jeanette. "Aithním thú or sibh comhcheilg chun dúnmharú a dhéanamh." he hissed, taking another step towards her. "Aithním or sibh!" He pulled out the handgun from inside his jacket and pointed it at her. "An lámh in uachtar a bheith agat," he said dangerously. He cocked the gun, pointing it at her.

Crane stared at her for a long moment, his breathing slowing. Then he arched an eyebrow at her, letting the gun's hammer back into the safety position and tucking it back inside his jacket. "Is nach fiú é," he reasoned to himself, clearing his throat and slicking back his dark hair, which had fallen out into his face. He took a deep, settling breath, then looked over at Jeanette as if nothing had happened. Then he looked back over towards Kitty's door, which was cracking open. Kitty emerged, holding Jeannie Rose and looking very confused.

"I heard somebody shouting out here," she said, looking at Crane in puzzled worry. "It didn't sound like English."

Crane grinned coldly at her. "It was just someone from downstairs," he assured her. "He'd… lost his way. Not a native speaker. Very inconvenient." He smoothed out his jacket, then looked towards the stairs. Then he looked back at the rest of the group with a tight, sarcastic smile. "Well, I think it's about time we got on our way now," he said, cocking his head slightly. He winked bitterly at Jeanette, then indicated the stairs. "Ladies first," he said callously.

Crane's tantrum almost had Jeanette on the floor, dying of laughter, until he did something a bit unnecessary. Needless to say, the smug grin slipped off of her face when she found herself staring down a handgun.

Instinct forced her to look over the gun. It was dirty, completely smudged with fingerprints, and definitely cheap. It was the sort of thing that she'd used in her earlier years, back before she learned about higher quality weapons and silencers.

By the look of the gun, though, and the insanity in Crane's eyes, it would be able to do exactly what Crane wanted.

She stared at its muzzle, then looked up at the doctor's face. He could actually do it, she realized, and took a step back. Her hands hit the wall behind her. He could shoot her right now, and just walk away. Her eyes widened and stayed locked on his. Her breathing slowed to a crawl, along with the seconds. There was a long, horrible silence. Then he dropped his arm, and she let out the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.

Shocked to admit that she was relieved when Crane turned his attention from her to Kitty, Jeanette took a deep breath. That was...scary. She watched the doctor warily, weighing her options. She'd have to be more careful. This wasn't the same as egging on her parents; this man was dangerous, and he had a weapon.

Thus, when he motioned her down the stairs, she went without a fight and hoped to whatever god was listening that Napier would be able to fend for himself.

Flicker pressed a hand to her burning cheek. Her head hurt. She wanted to go lie down, but something in Crane's look made her think that wasn't a good idea. Or maybe it wasn't his look; maybe it was the fact that he'd just hit her.

She kept her head down and shoulders dropped, looking up through her bangs at him with a mixture of anger and fear. She turned her head away from Kitty when the woman came out with her daughter and swiped angrily at the tears of pain in her eyes. Then she followed Jeanette down the stairs, a bit shocked at the other woman's newfound obedience.

That bastard was going to fucking pay.

Crane watched with keen eyes as Jeanette started down the stairs, followed by Flicker. Then he looked up at Kitty, indicating for her to go down as well. Kitty stared at him, frowning slightly, but decided to say nothing, lowering her eyes and going down the stairs as he indicated. It seemed strange that Jeanette and Flicker were suddenly so subdued; they seemed to be almost as obedient in Crane's presence as she was. It was more than strange; it was unnerving.

She held Jeannie Rose close as she reached the bottom of the stairs and emerged once again into the bar. Unintentionally, her eyes were drawn to the bar. The only glimpse she had managed to get of the elusive Jack Napier had been his wide back, clothed in a doctor's coat. So did that mean Jack Napier was a doctor? If so, did that mean Jeanette was a doctor, too?

Kitty looked up at Jeanette's back. Her hands had been cuffed behind her back so that she was unable to do much of anything. Kitty frowned. She was sure that Crane was so callous and untrusting that he would probably keep the keys on his person at all times. If only she could get those keys…

"What are you thinking, Kitty?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the soft voice in her ear. She turned and looked at Crane, then turned back away, closing her eyes. Even looking at him was painful, with his ice-blue eyes cutting into her like knives. She took a breath, then answered, "Nothing."

He took a breath. "Do you know what it means when someone says 'nothing', when someone asks what they're thinking, Kitty?" he asked. He paused, then went on without even waiting for her answer. "It means that person is thinking about something that the asker wouldn't like to hear. Therefore, to save themselves from getting into trouble with the asker of the question, they say the first thing that comes to mind. Do you know what that is?"

Kitty paused, then answered, "…Nothing?"

"Nothing." He swallowed, pursing his lips. "And do you know why 'nothing' is the first thing that comes to mind, Kitty?" he asked.

Kitty hesitated, then shook her head. Humouring him was the only way she was going to get out of this.

"It's because that's exactly what happens. It's a reaction to fear. It's also sometimes described as blanking out. Like stage fright." She turned to look at him, frowning slightly, and he grinned coldly at her, slitting his eyes slightly at her. "Are you afraid of me, Kitty?" he asked. She said nothing, staring at him. His grin widened. "Answer carefully, Kitty," he told her. "You will be tested on it later."

She stared at him for a long moment. Then she answered quietly, "How did you get to be such a lonely person?"

He stared at her, and his grin slowly faded into a dark grimace. He locked his jaw, glaring at her. "I," he said slowly, "am not… lonely."

She frowned slightly at him, putting a hand to Jeannie Rose's head. "Then why do you take such pleasure in the pain of others?" she asked softly.

He cocked his head slightly at her. "Because others… are so easy to take pleasure in the pain of," he answered simply. He looked her up and down. "Especially others… like you," he added. Before she could answer, he turned away, looking over towards the bar. He frowned when he saw Goodhart fooling around behind the bar. "Now's not the time to fix yourself a drink, you great gorilla," he said. "We have to get out of here. We have places to go." He turned back to Kitty, giving her one last, dark, demeaning look, then walked past her, towards the door.