"Where are you driving?" I asked, as Victor took another unknown turn. It was the second time today he'd just driven instead of telling me where, and I wouldn't miss it anytime soon.

He smiled, but kept his eyes on the road. "To the top of Otisburg Hill to watch the fireworks, if that's alright by you." he answered.

I smiled small. "Yeah... that would be great." I replied.

Not since I was young had I watched the fireworks; mom loved to watch them, though in our neighbourhood in Baltimore no one set them off, as the cops in the area several years had shot a young man for setting them up in his backyard. There hadn't been a law against it, but they never did give a reason. Anyway, it meant there was never any fireworks set off around where we lived, so there was never even an option to watch them.

Victor pressed the button for the radio to turn on, and it immediately started playing a tape labelled '80s hits'. This one in particular was Call Me by Blondie.

I gave a laugh. "You're full of surprises I swear, I never would have thought you were into 80s music." I commented.

He wafted a hand. "It brings back old memories, don't judge me." he replied.

"I'm not judging you! Though I didn't think you were over forty?" I giggled.

He let out a quick taken aback chortle. "That's because I'm not bloody forty, I'm only twenty-four! You can have memories of something without it being there then it originally came out."

"Oh, hehe." So he was twenty-four.

I was still trying to pluck up the courage to tell him I was only seventeen, just so he didn't do anything rash. Honestly I'd meant to tell him early on, when he'd come over to the Isley house, but I thought it wouldn't come to anything, and I never really got the chance. Now I was worrying that I might actually like him, no I didn't like him, but I'd felt a buzzing in my stomach all of today. Nevertheless it made me more worried about telling him I was still a minor, as though I was above the age of consent in Gotham, it might make him feel like a predator, or a creep. I just wanted to appear mature and like I knew my shit when I was with him, and him thinking I was still a child would break that. Maybe I would just wait until I turned eighteen in a few months. Maybe then would also be a good time to tell him my father was the Joker.

"When I was younger, my dad used to play music from the 70s and 80s, raving about how good it was when he was a kid. My mom and dad were polar opposites, her being the serious, cautious parent, and him being the carefree, fun one, that would play games with me. So this kind of music reminds me of my pa." he explained.

I smiled. "That's lovely, were you from Gotham?" I asked.

"My ma and I were, Gotham born and bred, but my my dear old dad was the son of Russian immigrants, and he himself was from England. He'd met my ma when she'd gone over to London on holiday, and he came right the way back with her. Too bad they couldn't stand each other after that." he answered, chuckling. "I'm hoping I have better luck than that with marriage."

He parked the car in a clear area, and turned off the engine.

"So you believe in marriage?" I asked, as he got out of the car and I followed suit.

He shrugged. "Is that odd?"

"One in three marriages end in divorce, I've heard."

"That's because people usually marry the wrong people. That or they don't understand how many petty squabbles you have as a married couple."

We began to walk up Otisburg Hill, which as the name said, a large, grassy hill. There was a thicket of trees on the flat ground, but the hill itself only had one single oak tree sat upon it.

"My grandparents, before they died, always used to squabble and argue, mostly because my grandad was stuck in the mud about everything. They still loved each other though... I think." I reached the top of the hill, and sat down on the dry, cold grass. "My parents never got married, however, and I never lived in the same house as both of them. So I'm no expert."

Actually that statement was sort of false - my dad had proposed to my mom with a grenade ring at some point and she accepted, though it was never made official, so I assumed it wouldn't stand up in court.

"What were your parents like? You haven't really said much about them." he asked.

I scratched my neck - what could I really say? "Well my mom was a very kind person, I'd lived with her since I was ten. She sounded a bit like your dad, not afraid to make a fool of herself by playing games that I wanted. Not a very good cook, but an excellent baker, she used to make cookies every other week. Neither of us were originally from Maryland, but she made it so that we fit right into the neighbourhood we lived in." I discussed, staring out into nothing. "She was originally from Brooklyn, but she lived in Gotham for a long while."

"I am sorry for your loss, she seems like a great woman." he responded.

I waved a hand. "Don't be, I'm kinda numb to it now." I replied, sitting back. "And my dad? Well he's a bit of an extravagant guy, doesn't take much seriously, so I don't think he's the person I can go to with my real problems. Totally unlike my mom, who was very in touch with emotions." I paused, processing ways I could describe him without straight up saying 'he's a crazed clown that's killed more than you've had hot dinners, also he's not dead, he just went missing for seven years'

I continued. "He's a Gotham native, so that's why I came here after my mom died; I actually only found out he existed at the start of November. My mom always told me he'd died. I guess she probably didn't want me to have anything to do with him. But it doesn't matter because now I have to live with him."

He looked down at me with a smile. "Do you like him? I'm getting mixed signals."

I shrugged. "He's my dad that I thought was dead, so I wanna get to know him. He makes me laugh sometimes, but the more I learn about him, the more I get confused. I wished I could have never met him, and simultaneously wished I could have known him since I was young, and for him and my mom to get on. He's the last family I've really got, so I feel like I have to hold on to him."

He stared up at the sky. "Family in terms of relatives mean nothing if they weren't there for you. Blood of the pact is thicker than water of the womb, as the saying actually goes."

"Most of my friends were back in Baltimore, but I've also made some great friends here. I sort of know what you mean by that."

He shook his head. "Actually, don't listen to me, I don't have any friends. Not because I can't make them, but because I usually gravitate to being on my own."

"But you're here with me? If that were true then you'd have captured and killed Kristoff by yourself, and we wouldn't be talking like this."

He fell silent, and didn't reply, staring out at the night sky.

I stared up at him, unsure of what I was feeling. When I had first met him, I was so content with being cold and kind of bitchy as I was with everyone I just met, but now a week later, I now felt bad when I started to act that way. Fancy seeing him drop a guy off a tall building cause me to think differently.

He sat close beside me; I felt that pang in my stomach again. Stupid me getting weird feelings about stupid dumb boys, I hadn't felt this kind of way since Freddie, a boy at my martial arts class who had asked me to be his girlfriend. He'd soon broken up with me after I was playing around and accidentally broke his nose. No one had asked me out since.

He pulled over his bag. "Now, I couldn't get any booze, because I have to drive back, and I don't want you in any undesirable state when you get back home, so I brought..." he started, diving into his bag and pulling out a bottle of root beer, and two plastic champagne glasses.

"You're so fancy." I murmured, rolling my eyes jokingly as he passed me a glass, but I held it out as he poured in some root beer.

He poured some for himself as I sipped mine. "You're so unusual, on the other hand. Why don't you tell me a bit more about yourself?"

"Like what?"

"Favourite colour?"

"Periwinkle, it's like a purple-blue colour. What about you?"

"Green, though you'd never catch me dead wearing it." He paused. "Favourite animal?"

"It may seem unusual but I like frogs. I used to have one when I was around five named Humpty, but I think he escaped and one of the neighbourhood dogs got him."

"That's... actually really interesting. I'll make sure to get you a frog in future."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm sure some place in Gotham sells them. That is if you're not going to rush off as soon as you get revenge on this Happy guy."

I chewed my lip. Never had I really been one for planning the future, and this was the one of the times it showed. I had no idea what I'd do once I found this guy. Maybe I could rush off somewhere else and cleanse my hands of this city, but at the same time I felt so drawn to it. Also I was unsure whether my dad would just have more people drag me back here as long as he was alive, which was a hassle I didn't need. Not that I was contemplating killing him, I didn't have the balls.

"I'd have to stay, for my dad. And to finish school of course." I replied truthfully, not really thinking about the last part.

"You're at school?" he asked, and I realised what I had said.

"Err... Yeah, I'm at Gotham Uni. I have to finish my degree, you know." I stammered, blushing.

He pushed the hair away from my face so he could see it clearer. "You're lying to me," he spoke softly, and I stared at his lips to avoid his gaze. They were slightly chapped. "and you're not a very good liar, Marcie."

I sighed. "Right, I'm not at university, I'm only seventeen. I just wanted to seem like a cool older student or something. So you'd take me seriously." I muttered.

He burst out laughing. "You were just trying to hide that you were seventeen? You're stupid, man, that's nothing!"

I gave him a look. "So you're not bothered? I thought you'd run back in your car and leave me here."

He shook his head, grinning. "I might have done that if you said you were thirteen or fourteen, but you're not, silly."

I started to laugh, but stopped soon after as there was a crackling pop sound. The sky erupted into beams of light and coloured fire, and I gazed up at it in awe. Fireworks. There were all different colours, green; yellow; pink; purple; red; blue...

"Happy New Years, I suppose." I murmured, grinning like a fool.

Victor didn't say anything, but put his hand over mine.

I didn't move it.