Akechi
They're halfway down a corridor when Crow stirs, shifting from where he's draped over Joker's back. Joker adjusts the now-moving weight.
Crow makes a noise like an angry cat rebooting and, still only half-conscious, realizes where he is. He tenses for a split second before he squirms, trying to escape.
Joker tightens his hold on Crow's elbows and tugs him back down with more force than is strictly necessary.
"Don't," he orders flatly.
There is a moment where the gears in Crow's head churn almost audibly as he contemplates Joker's tone and, ultimately, decides it's not the hill he wants to die on. He goes lax again, and he's quiet for a moment longer.
"Why's my lens cracked?" he finally asks, mostly awake again. Now that he isn't slumped like a sack of rice, he can hold some of his own weight but he also has to crane his neck to keep from stabbing Joker in the neck with his helmet.
"You got brainwashed," Joker tells him. "Had to pistol whip you when you got a bit too handsy."
"Ah."
Crow tugs one arm free. He doesn't seem like he's trying to escape again, so Joker lets him. Instead, there's a quiet snap, and when he drapes his arm over Joker's shoulder again, he's holding his helmet.
Joker holds a hand up to take it. Offering, rather than demanding. Crow gives it a think before handing it over, freeing his hand up to tug his gorget free.
The next few minutes are quiet until Crow reports, "Safe room," and points the tip of his gorget at the next door.
Joker shoves the door open with one forearm. It thumps closed behind them, and Joker gracelessly dumps Crow and his helmet on the table in the middle of the room before he starts rummaging through his pockets for Takemi's meds.
Crow huffs and drags himself upright to sit on the edge of the table. He reaches out with one hand, and Joker pauses in his rummaging as Crow's claws ghost past his cheek.
He does that a lot since coming back. Touches Akira's face.
"Still in one piece," Joker assures him.