Cobblepot sat at the bar, staring hard at the Joker card he held in his hand. Maggie came up and sat beside him, holding out a cigarette for him. Cobblepot looked over, took the cigarette, and smiled faintly at her. "Thank you, luv," he said. He put the cigarette in his mouth and looked back at the card.
"Where'd you get that, Os?" Maggie asked, looking over at the Joker card as well.
Cobblepot exhaled smoke. "In the card game, last night," he said. "The Joker came in, played a hand of cards, and left it."
"He left it for you?" Maggie asked. She put a hand on his back.
Cobblepot sighed. "He just left it," he said. "White turned it over, and there it was. It didn't register at the time, but…" He looked up at her, his pale blue eyes almost like a child's. "Well, I'm bloody frightened, Magpie," he said quietly.
Maggie frowned, looking away. Then she looked back at him. "Warren turned it over?" she asked.
Cobblepot's brow furrowed, and he looked over at her. "Yes," he said, not quite understanding her question.
Maggie raised her eyebrows. "Then I would think he's the one who should be on the lookout," she said.
"But…" Cobblepot looked back at the Joker card. "How will he know which one of us turned the card over?" There was a long pause. Then both of them looked up at Tally. Tally stared at them for a long moment, then went back to cleaning the glasses. Cobblepot paused, then looked back at Maggie. Maggie took a deep breath.
"He's not stupid, Os," she said. "The Joker has eyes everywhere."
"Hm," said Cobblepot, looking back at the card in his hand. He stared at it for a long moment, then put it back in his pocket. "Well," he said with a sigh, "we can't sit around worrying forever. Besides, we're part of the underground, Magpie." He turned to her, smiled, then held out a hand and gently stroked the side of her face. "It's a dangerous world."
Maggie smiled at him. "But at least we've got each other, right, Os?" she said.
He smiled back at her reassuringly. "For however long," he said. Then he reached into his pocket. "Speaking of which, my dear," he said, "I have a little gift for you." He pulled something from his pocket, holding it in his fist. "Hold out your hands," he said. Maggie eagerly did as she was told, and Cobblepot held his hand over hers and dropped something into her outstretched palms.
Maggie retrieved her hands and looked down into them to see a glittering diamond bracelet. She looked back up at him, her face aglow. "Oh, Os," she said with a breathy sigh.
"I saw it, and instantly thought of you," Cobblepot said, smiling at her and taking a drag of his cigarette. He blew out the smoke, watching her admire it. "Go try it on!" he said, shooing her off. "See if you like it." Maggie nodded eagerly and turned, scurrying off to try on the jewellery. Cobblepot exhaled deeply, turning away, and pulled the Joker card from his pocket again, staring at it. "Oh, dear," he said quietly.
Cobblepot looked up at Tally, who was busying himself cleaning the bar. "Tally," he said, and the big black man looked up at him. Cobblepot paused a moment, looking at the card, then looked back at Tally. "You would never turn against me, would you?" he asked. Tally stared at him, silent. "I mean..." Cobblepot looked back down at the card in his hand. "You would never... rat me out to anyone, would you?" Tally continued to stare at him, silent. Cobblepot stared back for a moment, then turned back to the card in his hand.
"I'll take that as a no," he said.
. . .
Jeanette sighed and stayed still, eyes closed, for a moment after waking up. She was back in Italy, in her own bed. Behind her must be Mark; who else? And...well, maybe one of her smaller cousins had gotten lonely. She smiled and put an arm around the little body in front of her. It was known to happen with kids like that, and her older relatives were always too busy.
With business.
She sighed resentfully at that thought, then finally opened her eyes to a head of curly, honey-colored hair that she only half-recognized. She pulled away, bumping into who she'd thought was Mark, and turned to find Napier's permanent grin.
HOLY SHIT.
She froze, carefully turning back to look at the little girl (she didn't bother to question why the hell Napier had been sleeping so close to her in the first place). It was Jeannie Rose. Jeanette couldn't believe it. She'd thought the little girl had been taken, along with her mother, by Crane. But...here she was. Jeanette put a hand on the girl's shoulder and shook her gently, propping an elbow up on the pillow. "Hey...sweetie?" she said quietly, checking nervously behind her to make sure Napier was still asleep. She had no idea how to deal with this.
Napier felt the person under his arm moving away from him, and he tried to gently pull her back to his side. "No, don't go, Kitty," he murmured, "it's too early… Just stay here, with me…" He paused, frowning, and opened his eyes. He stared at Jeanette for a moment, then sighed, retracting his arm. He had gotten over being surprised when he did not wake up to Kitty next to him, and seeing Jeanette made him suddenly remember what all had happened the night before.
Of course, his splitting hangover helped remind him a bit, too.
Napier groaned, turning away from Jeanette on the bed. He stared at the opposite wall for a long moment, trying to collect his thoughts. He frowned a bit when he heard Jeanette speak. "Sweetie…?" he repeated to himself in a low voice. Had she really just called him sweetie? She must still be asleep, dreaming about someone she actually wanted to be next to, rather than him.
He hesitated for a moment, then sat up in bed, closing his eyes and putting a pained hand to his head. "I'm…" he started to say, but stopped, his head throbbing. "I'm gonna go get some coffee," he mumbled. He got up from the bed, steadying himself, then staggered to the door, and finally out the door and into the kitchen.
Jeannie Rose yawned, and her eyes fluttered open. She paused a moment, then looked over at Jeanette. "Is my mommie back?" she asked. Before Jeanette had a chance to answer, Jeannie Rose had jumped out of bed and was out the door of the bedroom. "Mommie!" she called, running into the kitchen. "Momm-" She stopped short when she saw Napier standing there, getting himself a cup of coffee. She stared at him for a long moment, wordlessly and slightly morbidly rapt by how tall he was, now that he was standing and not lying down. He was bigger than she had originally thought, and it was a little scary.
Napier coughed slightly, pushing a lock of hair from his eyes, and took a sip of black coffee, making a face at the taste. He turned to go back to the bedroom to continue his conversation with Jeanette, but when he turned, he found himself facing a small child he had never seen before. His first instinct was that the child belonged to Jeanette, but then he remembered that Jeanette was strictly single, and most definitely childless. He looked down at the child, a frown creasing his face, then glanced over his shoulder to see where she might have come from. Then he looked back at her. "The hell…?" he wondered aloud, staring at her. "Where'd you come from?"
Jeannie Rose looked up at him, paused, and then frowned darkly, not saying a word.
Napier regarded the child with disdain, frowning down at her, slowly removing his hand from his head. The two just stared at each other for a long moment, neither one seeming very pleased to be in the presence of the other. Finally Napier spoke. "What do you want?" he asked coldly.
Jeannie Rose glared at him, scrunching up her face to show her disapproval of him. Then, gritting her teeth, she balled up her fist and punched him, hard, in the crotch.
Napier grabbed hold of the counter, biting his lip as he bent double, his other arm retracting in pain to the blow he had received. He let out a high-pitched moan of agony, then looked up at the little girl with a look of surprised, confused anguish. "What was that for?!" he exclaimed.
"My mommie told me never to talk to strangers!" Jeannie Rose exclaimed, hunching her shoulders and stiffly standing her ground.
Napier squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth, and shook his head, taking a long, sharp inhale. "Yeah, but did your mommie ever tell you to hit strangers in the…" he started to say, but left off, straightening up. He cleared his throat, sniffed, and looked back down at Jeannie Rose. "That… wasn't… nice," he told her haltingly, apparently still in pain. "Don't… do that anymore, okay?"
"You smell funny," Jeannie Rose retorted, glaring at him. "And you're funny-looking."
"Yeah, well, you don't exactly exude the scent of a flower garden either, honey," Napier retorted, bending down slightly to be on a more even level with Jeannie Rose. "And you know what? I happen to like the way I look. So there."
"I don't," Jeannie Rose said curtly. "I don't like you at all."
"Well, it doesn't really matter what you think, now does it?" Napier replied sharply.
Jeannie Rose hesitated a moment, trying to think of something to say, but, not thinking of anything, stuck her tongue out at Napier.
Napier paused, slightly taken aback. Then stuck his tongue out at her as well. Jeannie Rose looked surprised, and retracted her tongue. Napier smirked, retracting his as well. "That'll show you to mess with me," he said, looking away again. Jeannie Rose hesitated, then balled up her fist again. Napier yelped and jumped away. Jeannie Rose smiled knowingly, lowering her fist.
"Sissy," she said.
"Brat," Napier mumbled, frowning and looking away.
"Jeannie Rose, leave him alone. Jack...be mature," Jeanette said with a frown, leaning in the doorway comfortably now that she was sure the two wouldn't tear each other apart. It was sort of silly, really, to think that Jeannie Rose was capable of that sort of thing...
Then again, she was (quite clearly) her daddy's girl. Jeanette looked away and held back laughter.
The urge to giggle faded quickly when she turned her mind back to the problem at hand. There wasn't a chance she could predict what Napier would do if she explained who Jeannie Rose was. And the girl...well, she'd never been good with little kids, anyways. Finally, she sighed. "I'm...going to go change." She turned to the endless bags of clothing she'd bought the day before, wondering briefly what she'd do with them when she went to their new place...wherever that was.
Then she looked back up at Napier and Jeannie Rose. "Don't hurt each other too badly while I'm gone, okay?" She gave Jeannie Rose a firm, parental look, and Napier a "I'll explain later" look, and then went off to the bathroom.
Napier caught the look Jeanette gave him as she disappeared into the bathroom. He frowned, leaning against the counter, and took a sip of black coffee. "Yes, mother," he mumbled. Then his eyes returned to the little girl, who was still glaring daggers at him. "What?" he asked, monotone. "You want a cookie or something? Stop staring at me."
"Don't mess with me, I'll beat you up," Jeannie Rose told him, dead serious.
"Jesus, you're an aggressive little thing, aren't you?" Napier asked as he took another sip of black coffee. "What are you, like, four?"
"I'm five!" Jeannie Rose retorted. "An' the doctor says I'm gonna be real tall when I grow up, just like my daddy!"
"Your daddy, huh?" Napier asked. "What is he, like, some kind of crime lord, sending out his munchkins to go beat up on innocent citizens?"
"I'm not a munchkin!" Jeannie Rose shot back. "And you smell funny!"
"I thought we already established this," Napier said with an impatient sigh, taking another drink of his coffee. "And could you not shout? My head hurts, and you aren't helping in the least."
Jeannie Rose crossed her arms, glaring at him. "My mommie gets sick in the morning sometimes, too," she said. "Miss Jeanette says it's worrisome."
"Yeah, well, maybe your mommie has a little drinking problem," Napier replied bitterly.
Jeannie Rose shook her head. "My mommie doesn't drink," she retorted. "My mommie says drinking is bad for you, and it makes you stupid."
"Mm," Napier took another sip of black coffee. "Smart woman."
Jeannie Rose looked him up and down once, then looked back up at him, frowning. "Stupid," she said.
Napier spit out the coffee he had been drinking. He paused a moment, then turned to her. "What'd you call me?" he asked, a bit shocked.
"You heard me," she replied flatly. "Stupid."
Napier set down his coffee, staring at the little girl. "Jesus Christ," he said, exasperated, "you hostile little bitch!" He took a step towards her, and she took a step back, her expression instantly changing to one of shock and slight fear. Then she opened her mouth and began to scream at the top of her lungs. Napier grabbed his head, cringing back against the counter, squeezing his eyes shut and wrapping his arms around his head, trying to block out the noise.
"MISS JEANETTE!" Jeannie Rose screamed. "MISS JEANETTE, HE'S GONNA HURT ME!"
"What?!" Napier looked up. "No I'm-" But he did not have time to finish his statement before Jeannie Rose started screaming again. With an exclamation of agony and frustration, he covered his head and hunched into an anguished heap on the countertop. "I'm not going to hurt you!" he groaned. "Make it STOP!"
Jeannie Rose stopped screaming and just stared at him. There was a moment of hesitation, then Napier looked up, completely dishevelled, and let out a long, relieved sigh. Then he looked over at Jeannie Rose, who was staring at him, looking quite smug.
"Don't mess with me," she told him again.
Napier glared at the little girl, picking up his coffee mug and indicating her with it. "This means war," he said bitterly, and took a drink of coffee.
Jeanette only had time to pull on jeans before she heard Jeannie Rose screaming from the kitchen. She rushed out of the bathroom, ready to give Napier a piece of her mind, before she noticed that the two were simply staring daggers at each other. "Oh, for chrissakes..." She scowled and pulled the shirt in her hand over her head.
"What happened?" she asked the little girl in a demanding tone, before looking back up at Napier. His eyes were narrowed in pain. "And what did she do to you?" she added with a half-smile that quickly disappeared. The similarities between the two were striking. Their hair, their eyes...even the way they carried themselves was identical. Anything in Jeannie Rose that didn't come straight from Jack clearly came from Kitty. Jeanette shook her head, finally making a decision.
"Jack, do me a favor?" she asked, thinking about how to word her request. She yanked one sock on, balancing herself against the counter. "Look at her for a minute..." she indicated Jeannie Rose, "...then go look in a mirror." Then she turned to Jeannie Rose. "Sweetie, your mom's out right now. We're going to go find her really soon, though, okay?"
She looked away, uncomfortable. Dealing with the little girl was unsettling; it brought back more memories of her life in Italy. Memories that, if she had a choice, she would rather have forgotten. Now that she was thinking about it though, it begged the question of why she'd woken up that morning thinking that she was back home. She didn't miss it. God, no. Home meant dealing with her father and mother, and all of her male cousins. Something told her she just wouldn't be comfortable in that environment any more.
Plus, Italy meant Mark. She frowned, eyes roving the room.
She was definitely not comfortable with that thought.
"This child," Napier indicated Jeannie Rose with a look of disgust, "is trying to kill me." He took a sip of coffee, still glaring at the girl. "I think you should return it to whatever shelter you found it at so it can find a different home."
"Miss Jeanette, he's being a big meanie," Jeannie Rose said, pointing at Napier. "I never did anything to him, and now he's being mean to me."
Napier scoffed. "Liar," he spat. Then he looked up at Jeanette in surprise. "Since when did you call me Jack?" he asked, too thrown off to even remember his cup of coffee. He paused, then looked over, picked it up again, and took a drink. "And I've been looking at the brat for the past five minutes. I haven't seen anything spectacular. Why, am I supposed to see something?"
"You just don't wanna look in the mirror 'cause you're funny-looking," Jeannie Rose said.
Napier looked over at her with a wide, sarcastic, bitter, almost scary grin. "You know," he said, "you're just so cute that I kinda wanna hug you until your little head pops off."
Jeannie Rose scrunched up her nose and scowled at Napier. "Sicko!" she exclaimed.
"And proud," Napier said with a sadistic grin. He sighed, staring at her, trying to see what Jeanette was talking about, and took another sip of black coffee. Then he frowned slightly. "You have really interesting eyes," he told her. "Very familiar." He sniffed, nodding to himself, and continued examining the little girl.
"Stop looking at me," Jeannie Rose finally said, starting to squirm. "It's creepy."
"Fine," Napier said, shrugging. He turned back to Jeanette. "The gremlin doesn't want to be looked at," he told her, taking a sip of coffee. "When are we going to start looking for Crane?"
"Mister Crane is a bad, bad man," Jeannie Rose suddenly put in, solemn. "He did mean things to my mommie."
"Your poor mommie," Napier said, monotone, making it apparent he could not care less. Then a sarcastic grin lit up his face, and his voice switched to an overly happy, mocking tone as he told her, "Mister Crane is about to have his ribs removed with a rusty dinner utensil."
Jeannie Rose stared at him, somewhere between confused and shocked. "That's gross," she finally said.
"You and I are going to get along so well," Napier said, still grinning at her. Then he turned back to Jeanette. "I say we ditch the gremlin at the first possible police station. Or hospital." He paused a moment, thinking, and took a sip of coffee. "Or bus stop," he said.
"Oh, my God..." Jeanette shook her head at the two of them. They were being such children. That was okay in Jeannie Rose's case, she supposed, but Napier was an adult. "Whatever. Jeannie Rose, don't be scared of him or anything." She grinned and looked away. "He won't do anything, I promise." Then she turned back to Napier, frowning. Had she said Jack...? "Well, since when have you called me Jeanette?" she asked him somewhat immaturely, propping her hands on her hips.
So he didn't recognize Jeannie Rose. That was just fine and dandy with her. She wasn't going to tell him - might be a bit too much shock without someone to explain the whole thing, and Jeanette didn't know all the details. Besides, she needed him focused on finding Crane. Once that guy's guts were strewn around the streets, they could deal with Napier's past.
"Hey, hey," Napier said, holding up a finger, "I only called you that once. And I was…" He stopped, paused a moment, and then his hand returned to his coffee cup. "I only called you that once," he mumbled, looking away.
Jeanette paused in pulling on her shoes and looked up. "Right, you called me that when you tried to..." She paused, looked at Jeannie Rose, and went back to tying her shoes with a glare. That was close. "You know."
Napier looked away at her statement. "Okay," he mumbled, "I called you that twice, then." He had almost entirely forgotten about their little interlude, and had forgotten completely that he had called her by her name at the time. He folded his arms, taking a long sip of coffee. "Well, what am I supposed to call you, then?" he muttered, not looking at her, quirking an eyebrow, "Rossini?" He took another sip of coffee, then set it down on the table, swallowing. "Sounds very mafia," he said under his breath. "Very Marlon Brando."
"Well, that makes sense, doesn't it?" she said slowly and deliberately, sneaking another cautious glance at Jeannie Rose. The mafia? What the hell did he think her family was? She rolled her eyes and put a hand on Jeannie Rose's head. "Don't call me anything." Names were too...intimate, anyways. They indicated that you knew someone. Were aquaintances with them. The only aquaintance Jeanette could afford was Ozzie, and that was solely because she needed someone to supply her with weapons. Anyone beyond him was just asking for trouble.
Maybe it was cliche, but knowing people created weak spots. Loved ones were a liability. Say you were facing off against some psychotic killer - what was the number one thing that could be used against you? Jeanette grinned. By that way of thinking, it was good that she and her parents hated each other.
"I'm not scared of him!" Jeannie Rose exclaimed. "He's a big sissy."
"I'm going to twist your little fingers off, one at a time," Napier said through his teeth, taking a sip of coffee, making absolutely sure not to look at her. "And I'm going to enjoy it." Then he looked up at Jeanette. "Now? Can we at least wait…" He paused, trying to figure out how long it would take for his hangover to subside. "A little bit?" he asked.
"Stupid," Jeannie Rose said again, quieter.
Napier looked down at her and opened his mouth to say something, paused, then closed his mouth, took a deep breath, and took a sip of coffee. "And people wonder why I drink," he mumbled. Then he looked back at Jeannie Rose. "Arguing with you is below me," he said, apparently trying very hard to keep himself in check.
"You're just out of comebacks," Jeannie Rose said triumphantly.
"Of course I am," Napier said, nodding slightly. "But if you find a dead kitten in your bed tomorrow morning, don't come crying to me about it."
Jeannie Rose looked horrified. "You're awful!" she exclaimed.
Napier took another sip of coffee and grinned.
Jeanette scowled and sighed in a harassed way. "Fine, fine." she said, clenching the bridge of her nose. Advil sounded really, really good right now, but she had more important things to deal with. "We're going to start looking for him now," she replied, looking out the window.
How the hell were they going to find Crane? She hadn't thought about how big of a problem that was until just now; she'd been distracted by...other things. They had no leads, no informants, no real technology...she wasn't used to working like this. But she'd have to make do with what they had. Their brains.
She covered her face with one hand. They were screwed.
"I'm going to go see Ozzie," she finally said, suddenly recalling the man's comment from the night before. Anything of interest to her might be helpful. The thought of Os, though, brought up another thought. She smiled murderously and looked up at Napier. "And speaking of which, did you really blow up all of my tools?"
Napier turned to Jeanette again. He paused, moving his head from side to side, his dark eyes searching the ceiling. Then he shrugged. "Not all of them," he said, looking at his coffee cup. He frowned. "Damn," he mumbled. "I'm out." He looked up at the coffee pot, crossed to it, and refilled his cup. He sighed, taking a sip of hot black coffee, and put the pot back. "I might get used to the taste of this," he told her, trying to be amiable.
"Let me try," Jeannie Rose said, standing on her toes and putting her arms up on the counter, staring over at him.
He paused, looking at her, then looked at the cup of coffee. Then he looked back at her. "No," he said, and took a sip of his coffee. He looked away, swishing the coffee in his mouth, then looked back at Jeanette and swallowed. "Ozzie?" he asked. "Is he that guy from the Iceberg Lounge? Short guy? Blond? Kinda stocky?" He grinned. "'Bout as straight as a circle?"
He looked back at his coffee, then took another sip. "Yeah, uh... I think he might have something you'd be interested in," he told her. "Just..." He twisted his mouth to one side, frowning slightly. "Don't ask him where he got it." He looked back up at her, somewhat hopeful. "'Kay?"
Jeanette propped her hands on her hips and looked at Jeannie Rose. "You are coming with me," she told the girl, looking her over and deciding that her current outfit would do. Ozzie would just have to liveOh, great... she thought, looking at the floor and rubbing her head. From what Napier said, he'd met Ozzie already. with it, and she'd just have to hope that he didn't question why she had a kid and some random stranger with her.
Napier grinned, picking his coffee back up, when Jeanette told Jeannie Rose she would be going with her. "Looks like you're shit out of luck, gremlin," he smirked, taking a sip of coffee.
Jeanette up at Napier with a patient smile. "And so are you. And you're going to pay me back every cent Ozzie says I owe him."
Napier choked, coughing violently as he inhaled the hot liquid. "What?!" he exclaimed, looking up at her with watering eyes.
Jeanette grabbed her purse, and added, "And no, we will not wait until your hangover is gone."
"Looks like you're plum out of luck, stupid," Jeannie Rose said with a smirk.
Napier put a hand to his chest, setting the coffee cup down on the counter and hacking, trying to catch his breath. He cleared his throat, wiping at his eyes, and stared up at Jeanette. "You've got to be kidding," he told her. "There's no way I'm going back there, especially with this." He indicated his temple. "That little prick in the tux will get way too much entertainment out of seeing me like this. I mean..."
He looked away, frowning. Then he looked back at Jeanette. "I know I dropped a couple cards last night," he told her, in a slightly lower voice. "But I don't even remember who I dropped them to. I mean, what if I gave one to him... Ozzie... and he sees me today, all hung over, trailing along like some dog on a leash?" He shook his head, clearing his throat again as he took another sip of coffee. "I'm not going," he told her firmly. "You can take the gremlin if you want, but... I'm not going."
Jeannie Rose just stared at him. Then she turned to Jeanette, pulling on the leg of her jeans. "What's hung over?" she asked.
"It's punishment for stupid people," Napier replied bitterly.
"I wasn't asking you," Jeannie Rose replied, turning back to him. "And if that's true, then you deserve to be hung over."
"Can't argue with you there," Napier mumbled, taking another sip of coffee.
Jeanette put her hands on her hips, stubborn as a mule. "For Christ's sake, you're coming. You think those guns were just worth some spare change? They're not toys. They're tools. And now I'm going to have to buy back whatever you sold to Ozzie, just because you couldn't be bothered to think before you acted." She pointed at the door. "Stop acting like a child. You're behaving worse than she is." She indicated Jeannie Rose, then awkwardly picked up the little girl. She wasn't made for holding children anymore - she was made for holding a gun.
Napier paused, taking a meticulous sip of coffee, then swallowed, set his coffee cup down, and looked back up at Jeanette. "Don't," he said slowly, "talk down to me." He stood up to his full height, turning to her. "I might not be smart," he told her, "but I'm not stupid. So don't treat me like I am." He glanced at Jeannie Rose, then back at Jeanette. "Her," he said, indicating Jeannie Rose, "and you... both act like you can talk to me like I'm some kind of equal or even," he scoffed, "less than equal, and I'm not going to put up with that."
He indicated himself, jabbing himself in the chest. "I am the most feared criminal in Gotham," he said. "And I didn't get that title by being pushed around by uppity Italian heiresses and frilly little brats." He turned back to his coffee, picked up the cup, considered it, then dropped it on the floor, watching with a disinterested look of mediocrity as the cup hit the floor and shattered, spraying coffee everywhere. "Whoops," he said, monotone.
Napier let out a bored sigh, then looked back up at Jeanette. "I could rip your head off with my bare hands," he told her. "I have ripped someone's head off with my bare hands. Do you know how many people I've killed, with just these?" He raised his hands for her to see. "I don't need guns. Guns are too quick. You may have a practiced, meticulous killing style, but mine is more... sporadic."
He shrugged, dropping his hands. "I might be just too rough around the edges for you," he went on. "But I refuse to be told what to do by someone who I could easily rape and kill, if I wanted." He pushed a swatch of green hair from his eyes and leaned back against the counter.
"You can take the girl," he said, "but I'm not going."
Jeanette stared evenly at Napier for a moment, looked at the shattered mug on the floor, then back up at him. Then she let out a sigh, equally as bored, equally as calm. "Keep up your precious big man on campus act. Really. It's funny as hell," she told him, turning towards the door with Jeannie Rose in tow. She stopped in the doorway, and looked back with an icy stare.
"Big man on campus...?" he frowned, looking up as she started out.
"Watch your back. I have no plans for after we get rid of Crane. And you're next on my list." She turned to leave, but added over her shoulder, "You can start thinking up ways to kill the little bastard while I'm gone, if you think your poor hungover brain can handle it." With that, she slammed the door.
He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly as he tried to come up with some kind of verifiable comeback. "Fine, I'll keep up mine as long as you keep up yours!" he countered to her back as she started out the door. "I'll keep acting like this as long as you keep acting like... like..." He searched for the words to describe it. "A stuck-up ingénue!" he finally exclaimed, but his only response was the close of the door.
He unfolded his arms, staring at the door for a long moment. Then he smacked himself in the forehead. "Stupid," he scolded himself. "Stuck-up ingénue? What kind of..." He growled in frustration, looking down at the shattered coffee mug. "Should've showed her," he said, frowning. "Shouldn't have just... countered with words, should've..." He nodded to himself, taking a deep breath. "Next time," he told himself. "Next time, she won't get away so easy."
Napier let out a huff of breath, looking up at the door where Jeanette had disappeared. "Watch my back," he mumbled under his breath, kicking at the shattered mug. "She's the one who should be watching her back. Her and Crane." He sniffed, looking up. "If my hung over brain can handle it," he muttered bitterly, glancing back towards the bedroom. "Fuckin'... what kind of thing is that to say?" He looked back at the shattered mug. "Bitch," he mumbled.
He looked up towards the bedroom again, and, completely forgetting the mug on the floor, he started back towards it. He would have to go back to the apartment he had been using while Jeanette was away and collect his things, but that could wait a bit. He leaned in the doorway of the bedroom, staring in at the bed, frowning. She drove him crazy, with her strange, cold ways and her biting, fuck-all attitude. But there was something in her that he found not only physically attractive, but also mentally stimulating. It was not that he had never been in such a close relationship with a woman smarter than himself before...
Well, actually, maybe that was it.
Napier frowned, looking around the bedroom, and stepped inside. He ran a hand over the bedspread, almost absentmindedly, then turned to the closet. He paused a moment, then opened it. The closet was full of black dresses – that was no surprise – but they were packed so tightly he could almost not determine where one dress ended and another began. He pulled one out of the closet and held it up, examining it. It seemed to be a rather modest dress, not what he had grown accustomed to seeing Jeanette wear. He looked at it, frowning slightly. Perhaps she dressed differently on occasion, he assumed.
He turned, looking at his reflection in the full-length mirror that stood in the bedroom. There seemed to be one in almost every room of this house. He held the dress up to himself, and his frown deepened a bit. He remembered that Jeanette's head had reached his shoulder, and yet the dress he held seemed to be made for someone shorter than that, and also, he noticed, pulling it out against his torso, slightly less slender.
He pulled the dress away from himself, looking down at it, then shrugged, setting it down on the bed carelessly. Perhaps that was one of Jeanette's old dresses, from when she was younger, and did not have quite the body she had at the moment. That, or the dress could belong to someone else...
He shook his head, clearing the thought from it. Then he looked up. "I should get my stuff," he told himself. He took one last look at the dress, paused, then pushed himself up from the bed and started out.
Who did he think he was, pushing her around? She was not some timid little bird who'd crumple at the first sign of trouble. She grinned and readjusted the little girl in her arms. In other words, she was not Kitty. Maybe Napier just needed to get that idea through his thick skull.
If she were to be honest with herself, Jeanette would admit she was happy with the way things were. No more of that friendly business from the night before. This was how she liked her life: chancy. Risky. She'd considered the possibility that she was a thrill-seeker, but decided that it was just a way to get rid of boredom.
She arrived at the Iceberg Lounge in a much better mood than the night before, and headed straight to the bar where she found Ozzie. He looked worried. She ignored it. "Did he sell you my guns?" were the first words out of her mouth; she skipped a faux-polite greeting. Now wasn't the time. She wanted her tools back, and she wanted to start tracking down Crane.
Cobblepot started when he heard the sudden sound of Jeanette's voice, and he instantly turned to face her. He stared at her for a long moment. "By he, do you mean…" he began to say, but stopped short when he saw Jeannie Rose. He stared at the little girl for a long moment, then looked back at Jeanette. "Oh, my," he said. "I didn't realize you and that Joker fellow were such good friends."
Cobblepot looked back at Jeannie Rose, staring at her, and then back at Jeanette. "She doesn't look like you at all, my dear," he commented, stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray. "It seems she's gotten all her father's looks. Which is all right, I suppose…" He looked back at Jeannie Rose and took a breath. "I don't suppose he used to be… unattractive," he said haltingly. He looked back at Tally, who was ignoring him, cleaning a glass. "No," he said thoughtfully, "I don't suppose he used to be… very unattractive at all."
He shook his head, then, realizing he was seeming too pensive, he turned to Jeanette. "Though he should really quit that drinking," he said, returning to his usual careless nature. "If he doesn't, he's going to blow up just like Marlon Brando." He sighed, considering the stubbed-out cigarette in the ashtray. "Such a waste," he said in an airy tone. "He was so handsome in Streetcar Named Desire."
He paused a moment, thinking, then turned back to Jeanette. "But anyways," he said, trying to regain his usual calm composure, "back to the issue at hand." He smiled at her, but the smile was false and cold. "Come with me to my back room," he said, getting up from the barstool and waving with his hand for her to come along. "Come on. We can continue this discussion there." He walked towards the back room, trusting her to follow behind, and held the door open for her, locking it after she had entered and turning to her.
Cobblepot took a deep breath, staring at her, then stepped away from the door. "Jeanette," he said in a low voice. He produced the Joker card he had been looking at earlier and showed it to her. "I'm very worried," he told her. "I didn't think much of this card when it was dropped last night, but… now I'm starting to think it might be a warning sign." He swallowed, trying to keep his cool, and tucked the card back in his breast pocket.
"But I shouldn't let that be a damper on you, my dear," he said, taking a deep breath and crossing to her. He cleared his throat, producing the gun in the slim silver case that Napier had sold to him the night before. He opened the case to show Jeanette that the weapon was still in admirable condition, then closed it. He paused a moment, considering the case, then handed it to her. "I couldn't charge you for this, luv," he said quietly.
Jeanette took the case awkwardly with one hand while clinging to Jeannie Rose precariously with the other. In the end, she put the kid down. She could walk, right? A five-year-old could do that much, right? She looked pointedly at the girl to make sure she wouldn't run off, then checked on the gun again. It was safe. Thank God. The rest of her stuff didn't matter, but this one...this one was special. "Thanks," she said to Ozzie with a genuine smile.
A slight chuckle came to his lips. "Between what I paid for it originally, what you bought it for, and how much I paid for it back just last night…" He shrugged. "I'd say everything is about even, really. So… consider it a gift. From me to you." He put a hand to his chest, indicating his heartfelt intentions. "But," he said, raising a finger, "I do have one request, if it's at all possible…" He glanced over his shoulder, making sure he was not being listened in on, then turned back to Jeanette.
"If he asks," he said in a low voice, "White turned over the card."
He smiled faintly at her, then looked at Jeannie Rose. "All right?" he asked, smiling at her.
Jeannie Rose frowned slightly. "You talk funny," she said.
Cobblepot laughed at that, all his built-up tension seeming to melt away. He looked back at the child, the smile now real and relieved. "Well, yes," he said, nodding, "I suppose I do." He looked back at Jeanette, still laughing, then moved to the door, unlocked it, and opened it, indicating for the two of them to go outside. "I like her," he said, indicating Jeannie Rose with a grin. He chuckled again, shaking his head. "If nothing else, she got your sharp tongue."
Jeanette looked at Jeannie Rose again with raised eyebrows, then up at Os. "You think...?" She snorted once in laughter. "God, Os, she's not mine. It's nothing like that." She shook her head slowly, watching the little girl again. "She's just...a friend's. Who needs me to watch her for a little while," she explained with a short nod. "And he and I aren't good friends, at all. Not even friends." She tugged at her ponytail with a frustrated scowl. Then she cleared her stony expression with a carefree grin and a shrug that clearly told him to drop it.
"You're probably right," she added in a more serious tone as they headed back to the main room. "A warning..." She looked back at Os. She watched him closely for a moment. His usual carefree, flighty attitude had a definite cloud cast over it; he had let it slip, apparently because he was worried about the situation. That fact alone told Jeanette how deeply he was troubled. She put a hand on his shoulder, and said, "I'll put in a good word, okay?" She smiled reassuringly, then nodded and took Jeannie Rose's hand and began to leave.
She turned back at the door. There was no one at the Lounge this early, so she called back, "Oh, nearly forgot. Think you could find something of the more...handheld variety for me?"
Cobblepot turned back to look at her at her inquiry, and an attentive expression crossed his face. "Hand-held…?" he asked. He turned away from the door, closing it again, and moved back to the stacks of boxes. He put a hand to his chin, considering them, looking over each one thoughtfully. "I know I have something…" he mused, tapping a finger against his cheek. Then he moved to one of the boxes, opened the lid, and peered inside. "Here we are," he said, opening the box.
Cobblepot pulled out a small box and turned back to Jeanette with it. "The SIG-Sauer P-225 pistol," he said, opening the box and letting her look inside. "These are the best around, well-respected for their reliability and accuracy and said to never malfunction." He handed the box to her, letting her have a look for herself. "Because it is a small weapon," he said, "and because I love you so much... I'll give it to you for a mere five hundred." He smiled at her. "Cash, as always, my dear," he told her.
Jeanette picked up the gun with a suitably impressed expression on her face. "I keep telling myself, Ozzie, that one of these days you're going to let me down," she said, turning it over to inspect the barrel. It was smooth and cool, perfectly made with no nicks or dents. "And, I'll be damned, I keep being disappointed." She smiled and placed the gun back into the box, reaching for her purse. "As always," she repeated, pulling out the aforementioned amount and handing it over with a look at Jeannie Rose.
She wondered briefly what the girl thought of all this. She was a sharp one, as Cobblepot had said, and was probably just sucking it all up. Jeanette frowned. Poor kid, getting involved in all this at such a young age. If she was lucky, she'd remember this when she grew up and got thrust into the real world, where she'd have to fend for herself. Maybe she'd learn from it. Maybe not. Either way, this wasn't Jeanette's fault; Jeannie's mommy was the one who'd gotten herself kidnapped.
He looked at Jeannie Rose then, staring at her for a long moment. "A friend's, is she?" he asked slowly. He stared at her for a long moment, then looked back at Jeanette. "Did this friend of yours happen to have sex with this not-friend of yours?" he asked, grinning wryly at her. "Because there's no denying… that child looks like that not-friend of yours." He paused a moment, then frowned slightly. "Does he know?" he asked suddenly. Then he raised a hand. "Don't answer that," he said, "it's none of my business."
Her eyes snapped back up to Os then, and she sighed in relief. She didn't have to explain to him. It was probably better that way; the less he knew, the less he would have to get involved in this mess. She simply offered a noncommittal shrug as he dismissed the issue.
Cobblepot started for the door again, then paused, turning back to Jeanette again. "Jeanette," he said with a slight frown. "You know… there are dangerous people out there. People like us... those only looking out for our own interests in this crazy world... we have to be wary of those people." He looked away for a moment. "Warren White," he told her slowly. "He's a very unpredictable man. Now, I know I joke about people like him a lot, but... he's very powerful in the underground. You might not hear a lot about it in the social circles you inhabit, but... he could very easily twist anyone any way he wants."
He took a deep breath, then let it out meticulously. "White has accomplices everywhere," he told her in a low voice. "You never know if you're talking to someone who's working for White." He indicated himself. "I'm not working for White," he said, "and I'm pretty sure you aren't, either. But I'm just telling you..." He shrugged. "I just don't want you to get hurt," he told her. "Because, believe it or not... I care about you." He smiled at her.
"Now, I'm not saying I trust you, or I want you to trust me, because that would destroy our relationship," he said with a slight chuckle. "But just know that, if you ever need a friend... I'll be here, right here." He looked at Jeannie Rose again and sighed. Then he looked back at Jeanette. "Would you like to take a walk?" he asked. He put his hands in his pockets. "You should probably put the tot back where you got her," he said. "Where we'd be going isn't exactly... Disneyland."
Finally, she smirked. "Os..." she said, raising an eyebrow. "He's ridiculous." She sighed and checked to make Jeannie Rose hadn't run off or...something. She couldn't wait to get rid of the little menace. "And besides, I deal with those kinds of people. He's just another, ah, fish in the sea." She grinned.
Here was a surprise. Cobblepot was, for once in his crooked (in more ways than one - she smiled) life, he was being genuine. That was rather worrisome; something serious must be bothering him. Jeanette snorted. Something besides, of course, the fact that he might now be a target of one of the most unpredictable, coldblooded killers in the city. "Sure, Ozzie," she finally said, after a moment of thought. "I'll go drop her off. Be back in just a moment." With that, she headed out of the Lounge.
The apartment seemed empty when she got back. She didn't bother looking for Napier, but left the girl in the bedroom, with a very stern, "Stay here until I get back, okay?" She eyed her for a moment to make sure she'd listen, gave up, and went back to the kitchen. There, she scribbled a quick note for Napier:
"Gone on business. Be back later today; if not, assume dead. Touch the girl and I'll remove your head." She set the paper on the table and turned to leave, then turned back, picked up the pen, and added with a grin, "Both of them."
. . .
Napier was glad that he had gone back to his apartment when he did. As he was leaving, he heard a car pulling up in the front, and when he peeked around the building to see who it was, he saw Officer Gordon getting out of his cruiser and starting into the apartment building. Napier grinned, turning away. Gordon would certainly be more than a little tipped off as to who had been behind the murder of the young nurse when he got up there and saw the blood-red HA HA HA's scrawled all over the walls, floor and ceiling.
He took all back alleys on his way to Jeanette's apartment, looking through his clothes to make sure he had everything. He pulled out his signature Joker outfit and looked it over, grinning slightly. He would have to change back into it as soon as he got to Jeanette's apartment. Showering between outfits was a hassle anyways, and he was sure no one would be there to mind him gallivanting around in his boxers until he had his outfit changed.
The doors were unlocked on the apartment building, and, with some kind of luck, he met no one on his way up. He went inside the apartment, slinging the clothes thoughtlessly onto the couch as he entered, folding his Joker outfit over his arm. He moved into the kitchen, intent on fixing himself up an easy meal of some kind – the only thing he had ingested all day was that morning's coffee, and he was starting to feel hungry. But as soon as he got into the kitchen, he noticed something sitting on the counter, and he picked it up.
"Gone on business," he read the note aloud. "Be back later today; if not, assume dead. Touch the girl and I'll remove your head." He snickered. "Both of them," he finished. He grinned, setting the note down. "I think she likes me," he said, chuckling. Then he paused.
"Wait," he said, monotone. "Girl?"
He turned towards the bedroom, where the door was closed, and frowned slightly, suspicious. He moved slowly towards it, and, reaching out a hand, opened the door and looked inside. All of the dresses from the closet had been taken out and were strewn across the bed. Standing in front of the mirror, wearing one of the dresses, which was much too big for her, was the girl. He frowned slightly. "That doesn't look right on you," he said.
Jeannie Rose turned to face him, surprised. Then she frowned. "Your face doesn't look right," she retorted.
Napier opened his mouth to reply, hesitated, then closed his mouth. "Tell you what," he finally said. "You can't stand me, I can't stand you… let's just agree to disagree." He indicated the bedroom. "This is your little space," he said, "I won't come in here and bother you…" Then he indicated the rest of the apartment. "This is my little space," he told her. "You don't come out here and bother me. Deal?"
Jeannie Rose twisted up her face, then nodded. "Deal," she said.
"Okay," Napier said, and closed the door. He sighed, leaning against it, and closed his eyes. "Finally, some peace," he said. He crossed his arms, a smile coming to his mouth. His moment was interrupted by a banging on the bedroom door.
"Hey stupid. I gotta pee."
Napier opened his eyes and a dark frown came to his face. "That's too damn bad," he told her. "This is my part of the house." He paused. "Besides," he added, "aren't you wearing a diaper or something?"
"I'm five, not two!" she retorted through the door. "And I'm gonna pee on the floor if you don't let me out of here!"
"So pee on the floor!" Napier shot back. "See if I care." There was a long pause, and Napier grinned, smug. "That's what I thought," he said.
"I'm gonna pee on the bed."
"What?!" Napier exclaimed. "You brat! I have to sleep on that!" He threw open the door to see Jeannie Rose standing in the doorway, looking up at him. There was a long moment of silence. Then he pointed towards the bathroom. "Well?" he asked.
She stared at him for a moment. Then she shrugged. "I don't have to pee anymore," she said airily.
Napier glared at her. "You," he said, pointing to her, "are going to kill me."