By the time she got back into the driver's seat (the mud had thankfully dried by this point) Joker had made himself at home. He'd reclined his chair as far back as it would go and slung one long leg across his thigh. After fiddling around with the lever on the side of his chair, his form was propped back at a semi-relaxed angle.
"Where are my bananas?" she asked upon closing the door.
"Tossed 'em in the back," was his nonchalant answer.
Sure as shit she glanced at the backseat and they were strewn all over the place. He'd intentionally ripped them from each other and chucked them whatever direction he desired. Her binder of CD's faired not much better. It sat unzipped, upside down; a few of the disks scattered along the floor.
Groaning quietly, she leaned her forehead onto the steering wheel and worked on even breathing.
"I can't believe I have a whole week of this," she mumbled.
He abruptly slapped her shoulder and squeezed.
"Chin up, sweets. Penchant for chaos aside, I can be quite the… adventurous companion."
She shrugged his hand off, pretending not to hear his low chuckle.
"Please put your seatbelt on."
"Ah…no."
She thought to argue, then wondered what the point was. Death wasn't something he feared. If he went flying through the windshield, it was his medical expenses, not hers.
Biting her tongue, she peeked out her window for incoming traffic before smoothly merging back onto the expressway.
Joker immediately rolled down his window and leaned out, his green locks whipping around the harder she accelerated.
"Cupid de Locke" by Smashing Pumpkins had just begun to play, but she was no longer in the mood to rock out. Her brain was sifting through the events that led her to this current predicament. Reluctantly, a giggle escaped her. The universe really was bent on forcing them together, wasn't it? And Stephanie…she would unleash the biggest 'I told you so' in history were she to find out. She could never find out.
At some point Joker had grown bored of hanging his head out the window. He shifted in his seat a few times, seemingly unable to find a cozy position. In his defense, her car was quite small.
His actions were making her somewhat antsy, so she ended up grabbing the end of the aux cord attached to the cassette in her cassette player and offering it to him.
He stared at it, visibly confused.
"Play some music," she suggested.
His grin was indulgent.
"With pleasure."
Scooping his phone out of his pocket, he plugged the cord in and began shuffling through his list of songs. Indecisiveness appeared to be a trait of his when it came to music selection. His shoulders would rise up as if to hit play, before he'd shake his head and mumble "no, no, no…" and scroll down to something else, tongue peeking through his teeth.
Three-fourths of her attention was on the road, a quarter of it was on him.
He finally made up his mind and hit play, fingers flying to the volume dial and cranking it up.
The opening beats of the song had her foot tapping up and down. She didn't know the name, but as soon as the rapping began, she had a good suspicion as to who the group was.
"It go; gansta-gangsta, thug, killa
I'm the black panther that shot the drug dealer
I live on the block, where dudes bust they knocks
Ride on top of the car, they crush their rocks-"
"Wu Tang?" she guessed loudly.
"Mhm," he confirmed, bringing his hands to rest behind his head. "This song always ah…revs up the engine so to speak. Gets me nice and limber to spar with Batsy. He should be flattered; I got a whole playlist in his honor."
She filed this information away for later. If her and Bruce's relationship ever mended, he would no doubt be interested to know his nemesis hyped himself up to the tune of Wu Tang.
For the next half hour, she let him have full control of the song selections. Old school hip hop and rap appeared to be a personal weakness of his. They went through songs by De La Soul, Roxanne Shantae, Digital Underground, Beastie Boys, and to her utter amazement "Push It" by Salt N Pepa.
"You like this song?" she nearly had to shout over the funky beats.
His answer was to hum along with the song. She couldn't tell if he just felt that comfortable around her or he just gave that little of a shit. Either or, it was a welcome change from his normal capriciousness. And it relaxed her in his presence considerably. His enjoyment of the music was truly infectious.
Alas, even he seemed to grow tired of his preferred genre. After "Push It" finished up he was back to striking the 'next' button on the following few songs. She would hear just a smidge of the intro before he moved on.
The most recent song he skipped had her eyes growing wide. Without thought, she grabbed his bicep, prompting a sharp look from him.
"Was that-." She shook her head, gazing at the cassette tape. "Go back one. I swear to God that sounds like-."
He indulged her, returning to the song in question.
"Who can say where the road goes
Where the day flows, only time
And who can say if your love grows
As your heart chose, only time"
"You like Enya?!" she blurted; a guffaw trapped in her throat. "Enya?!"
He was doing his damndest to appear as oblivious as possible. One look at the mischief glimmering in his eyes however, discredited his innocence entirely.
"Uhh…yeah? Bit sexist of you to assume I don't."
"Sexist?" she repeated, then re-thought his statement. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean for it to come across that way…I just…she's not someone I thought you'd have in your itinerary."
Then again, one of her first official introductions to him had him belting Celine Dion at her. She really shouldn't have been as shocked as she was.
He ended up settling on a death metal song whose lyrics were being expelled so quickly and aggressively she could barely keep up with what was being said. Mercifully, he dialed down the volume, so it served, at best, as background noise.
Not soon after she could feel her skin prickle. He was examining her openly, twiddling his thumbs, saying nothing. She longed to itch her cheek but didn't want to give him the satisfaction of discomforting her.
"Soooo…." He drawled.
When he didn't follow this up with anything, she glanced at him.
"So?"
He eyed her up and down. One hand rubbed the inside of his thigh in contemplation.
"I ah…I take it your cherry's still un-popped?"
Her brows shot together.
"Real subtle," she murmured. "What on earth prompted that question?"
His shrug was nonchalant.
"What can I say, I prefer accuracy in my fantasies of you."
Again, he squeezed his thigh, throwing her a lascivious half smile.
"You're delusional."
"And you let me get ya off despite being my former hostage. I'd not be going around pointing fingers if I were you."
Tragically, he had a very fair point.
She stayed silent, weighing the pros and cons of answering him truthfully.
Joker took her silence as an invitation to break it.
"The frankly impressive amount of vibrators you've accumulated…got enough to put a sex shop outta business," he began to list, holding up a finger for each point, "the obvious lack of a man in your life…not that I'm complaining…your responsiveness each time I get a good hold of your ass-."
"None of that proves I'm a virgin," she refuted.
"Strongly, strongly implies it," he countered. "'S okay if you are, sweets, I'm more than happy to break ya in."
The wink he shot her reignited the heat in her cheeks.
"Honestly?" She risked him a glance before forcing her full attention to the road. "I'm not."
He opened his mouth to argue.
"I'm not," she reaffirmed before he could. "I've had sex quite a few times. It's just that…I…don't quite…um…heh…remember it."
Realization dawned on him.
"Duh." He faced palmed himself. "Shoulda anticipated that. Three sheets to the wind were ya?"
"There's a blur of faces," she agreed, even now feeling the slightest bit guilty for how long she had tuned out to her own existence. "Lost it my senior year of high school…end of the year party, I think. In college when my drinking got worse, they were no longer blurs…just…pockets of empty space. There'd be the foreplay at the beginning…then nothing…then waking up naked in their or my bed. I couldn't tell you if I enjoyed it…if they…got me off…I couldn't tell you any of their names if you held a gun to my head."
Before he could say anything, she met his eyes.
"Don't even think about it."
He smirked, stroking the tip of one of his scars.
"Such a good girl," he remarked, once again giving her a lazy scan from head to toe. "Tend to ah-forget how bad you've been."
"And you?" she tried. "Tough for me to believe anyone would want to tango with your brand of crazy."
Lies. I let him finger my-.
"Crazy attracts crazy," was his response, not seeming to feel any which way about his prior rendezvous. "And I've bedded some real crazies. Girls that let me whip them, cut them, smack them, choke them, damn near torture them cos its how they got off. Always nice finding someone with a comparable pain tolerance…and believe you me I can take quite the beating."
"I have no doubt you can," she said quietly.
Her stomach felt queasy upon learning what his ideal type was. Pain was not something she sought out to feel in non-necessary amounts. So much of it had been a companion in her own life that now she was in a better frame of mind, she almost held an aversion to it. As if it would trigger a relapse of all the times she'd felt her lowest. All the times she sat huddled in a bathroom with a razor blade, slicing into her thighs until-.
Clearing her throat, she scanned her surroundings through the windshield. About ten more miles and they'd be in New Hampshire.
"Hmmm…" Joker mentioned, never having taken his eyes off her, "Find it interesting a little pain doesn't get your motor going seeing as your…museum of scars even has me beat."
Of course he would go there. Must have saw them when he vandalized my thigh.
"I never liked cutting myself," she admitted, feeling compelled to explain herself. "I mean I did don't get me wrong…but the bulk of those scars came at a time where I was numb to everything. And when you're numb, you can hurt your body in as many ways possible without truly feeling it. It's only when…I became committed to healing…to working on combatting my usual outlets for self-loathing that cutting began to…hurt. When this started happening, I thought I needed to cut deeper. Turns out…it meant I wasn't associating self-harm with relief anymore. It meant…I was heading in a good direction."
"Shame. We could've had some real fun with a few of my favorite blades."
"I'd consider this further proof you need to leave me alone and find someone more aligned with your…tastes."
He was quiet for a moment.
"I used to like lemons when I was young."
She turned to him.
"Relevancy, your honor."
It slipped out before she could contain it. But Joker's lips twitching made it worth it.
He leaned toward her, resting his elbow on the console.
"Loved anything bitter…nothing like a healthy sho-ck of citric acid to the system…but lemons, above all else, were my favorite. I was uh…a very heh sour child." He smiled at the memory currently passing through his brain. "Then…I grew older. And I didn't have easy access to lemons anymore. And when I finally got access to them again…wouldn't you know it, it was like drinking battery acid! Tongue didn't like them anymore, tummy didn't like them anymore, brain didn't like them anymore."
She was struggling to understand.
"Tastes…evolve over time," he divulged. "And sometimes…sometimes too much bitter makes you long for something…sweet."
Is he saying he's not into inflicting pain anymore? Because his crimes in the past year alone very much dispute that.
"You like causing harm in the real world," she said. "It's only natural you would like to cause it when you're intimate. We all have our preferences, yours just aren't mine. And I'm okay with that."
He muttered something that sounded faintly like "we'll see" but she couldn't be sure and wasn't all that willing to ask.
"So…you uh…ever get around to having sex sober?"
"You seem weirdly keen on my sex life."
"Someone's gotta be."
It was such a cheeky response she had to suppress a laugh.
"I've not had sex since I've gotten sober."
Joker counted his fingers. He released a drawn-out whistle.
"That's nearly eight whole years, sweets. Congrats, you've managed to do something even I couldn't."
He offered her a mocking round of applause.
"Neat!" she exclaimed, unable to help but go along with him. "What do I win?"
"One night to remind you what you're missing out on. Two, if you ask nicely."
She knew he was referring to himself but opted to play dumb.
"Hmm…I suppose the timing is right…and Jonathan…he's been so understanding as of late-."
Before she could finish that statement, Joker drove a knife into the dashboard just above her radio. She jumped a little, but ultimately relied on the tight grip around the steering wheel to maintain composure.
"Not. Funny."
In an instant, she was reminded of the danger he posed.
Perhaps it's best not to bait him. Confined to a car and I have a smaller rate of survival if I really do piss him off.
He made no move to extract the blade.
The silence that followed was painfully awkward. She was dead set on staring ahead while his eyes were boring cinders into her skin.
"It's not that I planned to remain abstinent," she tried, using her most diplomatic voice. "You said it yourself, I've got an ungodly amount of vibrators. I'm just as much a sexual person as anyone else…it's just that…when you're on the road to recovery…recovery of mind, spirit, and body…it's difficult to focus on anything else. At least it was for me. Sex and relationships…they took a backdrop so I could nourish the most important relationship there was…the one I had neglected for years…the one with myself. A lot of who I'd normally go for – partying types, addicts, those self-medicating to deal with their depression- no longer held my interest. Getting with them was taking a step backwards, not forward. And truthfully…I didn't trust myself not to relapse. So…as a necessity… I sorta…stepped out of the dating pool."
He offered no remark, so she continued.
"When I was finally at…a good place in my life…a healthy place where I felt ready to give someone all the love I had in me…I…"
She massaged the back of her neck. They weren't bad memories, just…disappointing ones. The only upside is they were lessons.
"I tended to attract…good men. Intelligent men. Well-articulative. Which are exactly my type. But for some reason most of them shared the same commonality…I'd get to know them, we'd find the same things funny, share the same morals, have the same questions about the world and our place in it…and then the other shoe would drop. They had a girlfriend. Or a wife. Or were in the midst of a complicated relationship."
She breathed in, mind flicking through a few select guys she thought at the time might have been the one.
"And they would all do this thing which-." She shook her head, roughly palming the steering wheel. "-put me in such a compromising position. We'd be in their apartment or their house…and they would compliment me…make me feel good and confident…fully aware I knew they were committed to someone…and they'd give me this look, each and every one of them. They would never initiate something physical…never physically cheat on who they were with…but they would look at me with a mix of adoration and encouragement …as if to say… "it's okay…let this happen…if you take the first step, I'll follow"…and that…that just never sat right with me. I don't like cheaters to begin with…I find it such a disrespectful thing to do. Just break things off if you're not happy, you know? More than that, however…I was the one that was supposed to be responsible, I was supposed to initiate. So if in the chance they got caught by their partners later on, they could all say "well, she kissed me first"."
Rotating her neck, Celine leaned back in her seat. She had never told anyone about these strings of romantic mishaps. These observations sat collecting dust in the attic that was her subconscious.
"I deserved better," she stated, meaning it then and meaning it now. "I deserved someone who…who…"
"-wasn't a coward?" Joker finished.
"Y-yeah," she breathed out, too nervous to look at him.
He nodded.
"That you do."
It was one of those rare times she knew he was voicing a thought with the utmost sincerity. And that he agreed with her-.
Don't think too deeply about it. Even though…he recognizes what none of them did at the time.
"So…not even casual sex?" he pestered. "Quickies? One-night stands? Two night-stands? The occasional orgy? C'mon, at least an extra in a porno."
She chuckled a little.
"After a while of this happening, I sorta assumed I was cursed. I was…am cool not dating. And I'm not a casual person. In fact, I distinctly remember telling you in my apartment what would happen if you chose to pursue something with me."
"Don't uh…don't recall that so much as I do your little…ra-p."
Biting her lip, she tried not to smile like an idiot.
"The rap about you liking big butts?"
"Mhm…remarkably factual by the way."
He was suddenly very much in her personal space, hovering over the center console between them; head tilted down, eyes grazing over her cheek before descending down to her neck and then her chest and thighs.
It is WILD how good he is at injecting sexual tension into any given moment. Fucking Aries indeed. Maybe there is something to star signs…
"Then again…" He tilted his head, right hand lowering until it was clamped around her bare knee. "It'd be a disservice not to sample the rest of you. So many…delicious points of interest. Tell me sweets, how many lives have these thighs saved?"
Initially, his question threw her for a complete loop. Until she recalled the baby blue t-shirt she was wearing. Most of the words were obscured by caked on mud. Before her tumble, it had proudly read in black cursive-
Thick Thighs Save Lives
She'd always considered it a novelty shirt, certainly nothing sexual. Her own thighs weren't exactly able to fit into a size two. It was a statement of empowerment.
But from the leisure manner in which Joker's hand continued to glide up her leg, resting on the inside of her thigh before offering it a playful, yet possessive squeeze, she was sure she'd have trouble ever viewing her t-shirt so innocently again.
I should slap him. He's long overdue for it.
"About as many as they've ended," she said, attempting to appear unfazed by his grip on her (and internally grateful the traffic wasn't heavy).
"Mm…that so? Well, I look forward to finding out what-ah fate they have in store for me."
He leaned in and gave her neck a long sniff, the tip of his nose brushing across her pulse; forcing her to bite down on a tickle-induced chuckle. His fingers had discretely woven into the apex of her thigh, so very near her pussy it was nearly humming at the close contact.
Just as quickly, he removed his hand and retreated to his spot.
Her pulse thumped fiercely; still feeling the aftershocks of his warm grip on her.
"What part of commitment do you not understand?"
"Sweets…I commit to everything I do. Why would you think you're any different?"
She had not the slightest rebuttal for this. It left her gaping like a very unattractive guppy.
To her relief, the tension was interrupted by a demanding grumble courtesy of Joker's stomach.
"You're hungry!" She hoped she didn't come off too hysterical in her need for a distraction. "I'll stop somewhere. Sit down or fast food?"
He, thankfully, welcomed this distraction.
"I take it you're discluded from the menu?"
"Gotta keep your options in the realm of affordability."
He mumbled something she couldn't make out.
"There's some absolutely bomb lobster rolls at this drive-thru place a few miles from here," she offered. "Do you like seafood?"
"Do you?"
She was a little thrown off by his consideration. Why did it matter if she did or not?
Joker picked up on her bewilderment quicker than she was ready for.
"Gotta say…I've never met such a needlessly suspicious person. It ah can really hurt a guy's feelings."
He clutched his chest dramatically.
She responded with the first thing that came to mind.
"I know what you are. Some back and forth conversation won't change that."
His eyes narrowed. A tic rippled through his jaw.
"So, so, so dedicated to this perception of me you're not even willing to challenge the accuracy of it."
"No," she agreed. "No, I'm not. That's how you end up stabbed. Or shot. Or set fire to. Knowing you deeper is not a risk worth taking."
My. God. Stop. Talking. Keep that shit locked up.
He abruptly wiggled his knife out of the dashboard. She instantly grew tense.
Exhaling loudly, he began twirling the handle.
"Let's clear the air then." He gestured the weapon at her. "You've got a whole week of me, no way around it. And I'm not one for silence…puts me on edge, breeds doubt that's not very productive. Now…I thought we were having a good thing going. I learn a little bit about you, you learn a little bit about me, tit for tat and all those marvelous pleasantries. I don't see why we can't continue on as we've been. I mean…would you really prefer I held a knife to your throat the entire drive, describing all the ways I could remove your major organs? Sift through all the discrepancies between skinning an animal versus a human?"
In an instant, his blade was pressed into the side of her throat. Not hard enough to cut, but firm enough to pinch.
"Hm?" he pushed. "'Cos if so, I'm more than willing to oblige."
She swallowed, feeling her tendons push back against the blade.
"I don't understand why you would even care to-."
"Shh shh shhhh," he interrupted, staring at her from beneath his lashes. "Don't think. Sharp as that brain is, it has a knack for getting you in trouble. I've simplified things for us both. Do you want this to be a pleasant drive or an unpleasant one? Your choice…which is not an offer I make often. So few are deserving of that privilege."
"I-." She inhaled deeply. "-would like this to be a pleasant drive."
He removed the knife and relaxed in his seat.
"Good choice," he commended, flicking the blade close. "Now…where were we? Ah! Seafood. We like? Dislike? Indifferent? Pescatarian? No, no, no…there was chicken in your freezer."
How does he…why does he- nevermind. Let's focus on the fact that he actually…has a point. The reason I survived so long as his hostage is because I didn't overthink things. I rolled with the punches, whatever direction they knocked me. It's probably one of the things he appreciates most about me. It's probably what prevented my premature death. I don't know his motives…why he's adamant in knowing this information about me…and…it doesn't matter. So long as I don't forget who he is…I can't be led astray. Stick to my guns and he can't use them against me.
"Helloooooo," Joker called out, balling his hand into a fist and offering a few light knocks against the side of her temple. "Anyone home? Earth to Celineeeeee."
"Yes," she answered, rolling back her shoulders, "I love seafood. It's a crime not to growing up where I did."
He leaned back in his seat and nodded.
"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Again, he was aiming to antagonize her. It figured he couldn't celebrate his victory gracefully.
She chose the route of mercy. The last thing she wanted was a knife at her throat for the duration of the trip.
"So, you down for some lobster rolls or what?" she redirected.
"Down? Yes, yes let's see these ah bomb-filled lobsters."
They reached Mel's Clam Shack not two minutes later.
Upon pulling up to the speaker box, she rolled down the window on her end. Joker wasted no time lunging over her to peruse the menu, forcing her to squish back into her seat or risk ending up with a mouthful of his hair.
"Thanks for choosing Mel's, Home of The Clam Shack So Whack You Can't Help But Come Back, I'm Liz, How may I help you?"
Before she could answer, Joker spoke up.
"Gimme a minute, princess. Gotta see what-ah we've got to play with."
"No problem, begin when you're ready."
Celine's frown was discrete.
Princess? Sheesh, marry the girl why don't you.
Her frown deepened in response to this thought. Was she jealous? No, that- no.
As Joker continued to scan the items, he wrapped an arm around her neck, giving his torso some leeway off the center console. She shivered as all it did was bring her body closer to his. Her face was eye-level with the side of his scarred cheek. She buried down the unexpected urge to kiss his mangled flesh.
Joker seemed to take FOREVER deciding. Partly she thought it was his trademark indecisiveness, and partly she suspected he was trying to wind her up as much as possible. He was practically draped on her lap at this point, humming to himself as his eyes leisurely hopped from item to item.
After ten minutes of silent perusal, a line began to accumulate behind them. And five minutes later, the first honk rang out, nearly causing Celine to bury her face into Joker's neck out of embarrassment.
She gripped his chin and tilted his head toward her.
"Jack…please. I'm usually a patient person, but you've even got me struggling not to toss you out the window and drive away."
His grin was one of satisfaction. Expectancy, even.
"How about this?" he suggested. "You plant a smooch on me – with tongue - and I'll see about making up my mind."
She wanted desperately to deny him, but another honk joined the vehicle behind hers.
"Oh for the love of-."
Before he could respond, she slipped a hand into his hair and yanked him toward her, pressing her mouth against his. Almost shyly, her tongue brushed against his chapped lips. He wasted no time parting his lips and leaning into her kiss, his tongue seeking hers out as the arm behind her neck drew her closer into him.
Surprisingly, the scent of soap and clean linens all but exterminated the faint whiff of kerosene. And each time he stroked her tongue against his, he left behind a tinge of cool mint. For whatever reason, he chose cleanliness over the soot and chemicals that usually permeated off of him. And despite herself, it made her sneak and arm behind his back and tug him closer, pushing him to elicit an extremely satisfied purr into her mouth.
The next series of honks snapped her back to reality. Her eyes fluttered open and the hand in his hair attempted to find its way out. He managed to christen her bottom lip with a farewell nip before retreating back a few inches, studying her red-smeared mouth with hooded eyes.
"Good…that's a good look on you there. Should be wearing it more often."
She tried to control her breathing as he peered at her like he'd rather devour the dessert in front of him and not the seafood outside the window.
Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad th-.
"Sir?" The speaker box crackled slightly in response to the impatient tone pouring through it.
Joker steered his attention back to the woman attempting to take his order.
"Yeah…I'll ah…I'll take one of everything."
"One of…everything?"
"Yup. Please and thank you, Lizzy."
Celine was pretty sure she and the poor drive-thru cashier released a groan at the same time, which only bolstered Joker's delight.
"I am never taking you to a drive-thru place ever again." She shoved him hard enough against the chest it actually propelled him back into his seat.
Joker's grin was lop-sided.
"Not very nice of you, sweetness. I just paid their electric bill for the month."
She ignored him as she coasted up to the window to pay, internally dreading the interaction.
The cashier – Liz – was trying desperately not to glare at them, a forced smile frozen on her face.
"That'll be $70.55."
Celine fished her debit card out of her shorts pockets as quickly as she could and handed it over to the woman. The transaction went through in record time.
"If you could please pull up ahead, we'll run your order out when it's ready."
"Thank you so much, Liz," she felt the need to say, adopting her most grateful tone. "I apologize for my companion; courtesy is not his strong suit. Thank you for putting up with us both, you're an absolute angel. I know customers like us make you lose your faith in humanity…just know I appreciate your patience so much. Sorry again."
Liz, thankfully, didn't appear to be the type to hold grudges. A more natural smile reformed on her face.
"No issue at all, it'll be about a twenty-minute wait."
They exchanged a nod that served as a peace treaty before Celine pulled up ahead, put the car in park, and shut off the engine. Her sigh sprang from deep within her lungs. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the headrest. One thumb was busy massaging the interior of her opposite palm.
I need to regain my cool. He's intentionally trying to get under my skin…though...his lips…his tongue...his grip…nope, not going there. Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts.
In her mind's eye a vision of the Atlantic Ocean revealed itself from behind a black curtain. The water was a beautiful dark blue with foams of white sweeping over the shore. The waves were just high enough to enjoy being crashed into. That'd always been one of her favorite things to do. Dig her toes into the sand, extend her arms, and try to withstand wave after wave until eventually the water knocked her back, saltwater claiming her body from the impact.
She could feel her body relax back into a state of near calm. It saddened her that the condition of her hand would prevent her from experiencing these treasured moments, but she could at least dip her toes in…wander out to her ankles…maybe her knees…a little bit further even.
When nearly five minutes passed, Celine realized Joker had yet to say a word. In fact, he was being eerily quiet. It prompted her to slowly open her eyes and glance at him.
"What's up?" she asked.
He was staring through the windshield, completely emotionless. When he failed to answer her, she tried repeating his earlier gesture. Gathering her fingers into a fist, she reached out and knocked a few times on the side of his head.
"Earth to Jack-."
He snatched her wrist and turned to her. His expression was impossible to read, so, she relied on tuning in with her natural gift.
He's surprised. No, confused. I did something to baffle him.
She tried tugging her wrist out of his hand. He released her slowly.
"What's wrong?"
"Why…" He shook his head. "Why pay for my food?"
The question blindsided her.
"Why not? I paid for the Indian takeout when you stayed with me."
As my hostage. Man, this is such a weird, weird relationship.
"You were hungry. I benefited from what you ordered." He sounded like he was trying to unravel a mystery. "Now's different. Why spend anything at all on me?"
Wasn't it obvious to him?
"Well, I figured your payment method includes holding a gun to their face. I'd prefer not to have the police called on me. Also…you don't strike me as the type to carry cash on you. I read the stories from former mob members…you burned millions and millions of your own dollars like it was firewood. Money is a meaningless concept to you, which falls in line with a lot of anarchist' views. Honestly…it was a no-brainer."
He seemed half in disbelief of her answer, half suspicious. She tried to reason why.
Did he expect me to ask him for money? Does he have some sort of primitive view of couples where the man pays for everything? Not that we're a couple, but I digress.
She thought this was a small part of it. He could be a complete caveman at times.
When's the last time anyone has ever bought him something? For no reason other than to keep his belly full?
Her intuition brimmed at this acknowledgement. That was more on par with what she believed was responsible for his sudden shift in attitude.
"I'm not thanking you," he said, almost spitefully.
She stifled a laugh.
"I wouldn't dare ask you to," she promised. "You're my guest, right? Enjoy being spoiled for once."
Something seemed to shift ever so slightly in his expression. It was miniscule - blink and you'll miss it- but present nevertheless. And for a solid minute she could do nothing but stare back at him as vehemently as he did her.
Unfortunately, their spell was broken by the deafening revving of a truck's engine. It was the vehicle that'd been held up behind them for nearly twenty minutes. The driver sped by them, but not before showering them with a series of aggressive honks and a few choice words from the driver's open window.
"Kill yourselves you fucking retards!"
They accelerated their engine harder before leaving them in a cloud of black engine smoke.
Celine threw her head out the window and screamed loud enough that they would no doubt hear her trying to pull out of Mel's.
"Rev your engine louder you fucking morons! Let the whole world know how small your dicks are!"
The parking lot was awash with the squeal of screeching tires as the truck tore out of the drive-thru.
Welp, that calm didn't last long.
She retreated back inside the car and grabbed the water bottle sitting in a holder between them. Yelling at assholes always made her throat parched.
When she caught Joker's gaze, her brows furrowed.
"What?"
He was looking at her as if she'd dazzled him somehow; eyes burning with pride, lips quirking up.
"What?" she asked again.
He took his time responding.
"Never-uh- never heard my bunny roar so loud before. I…like it. I like it a lot."
She blushed beneath the praise.
"We were an inconvenience," came her defense. "But there was no need to be so rude about it."
"Wanna hunt them down and show 'em just how little we appreciated it?"
Mania was bleeding into his expression.
"I can be vindictive, but usually with my words, not my actions," she said. "They're not worth the gas mileage or the effort. Karma will find them, be it in this life or the next."
"Hmpfh." He sounded disgruntled, crossing his arms and leaning back into his seat. "No fun."
"Nope!" she agreed cheerily, thoroughly enjoying his sulkiness.
They still had a ten-minute wait, so she racked her brain for safe topics of discussion.
"Since you like pain so much," she started. "Ever hear of the Schmidt Pain Index?"
"Nope." He thankfully seemed receptive to her attempt at conversation. "But I like the sounds of it."
She straightened up in her seat.
"Basically, it's a measurement for how painful the bite is of some of the world's deadliest, non-fatal insects. The entomologist it's named after…I always liked the moniker, they call him the "King of Sting"…was so dedicated to developing some sort of scale of reference that he allowed himself to be stung on three different occasions by each insect he was studying. Three times! Just for accuracy purposes. I don't think even you're that sadomasochistic."
"A man after my own heart," he remarked, smirking at the thought. "What ah…what was the worst sting? Fire ant? Yellow jacket? Dracula?"
Her lips quirked up.
"Bullet ant, native to Central and South America. Though the sting is more localized than other insects Schmidt had been bitten by, it maintains its intensity for a few hours without dulling. Those who've been bitten by it mention its similarity to being hit by a bullet from a firearm. It gets skin deep."
"Pain only has as much power as you give it," he commented, not appearing all too impressed. "And this guy… this "King of Sting"… how can his doc-umentation be accurate when he's already anticipating it'll hurt? Anticipation of pain only heightens it when it finally strikes. You really wanna shake things up, try a blindfold. Remove the sense responsible for knowing what's coming. You put a completely random insect on his skin…then…then the result might be a little bit different."
She nodded. He had a solid point. And she agreed…anticipation of pain only worsened the wound when inflicted.
"Would you ever be receptive to that kind of experiment?" she prompted.
His brows drew together.
"Why?" he asked, peering at her with a squint. "You-ah…planning on doing something nefarious to me, sweets? Should I check the lobster-rolls for anything…sus-picious?"
She made a sound that was the lovechild between a snort and a laugh. A snaugh, if you will.
"You caught me." She put both hands up as if under arrest. "I'm not actually heading to Maine, I knew you'd sneak into my car, and this was all an elaborate ruse to inflict as much suffering on you as possible. And I would've gotten away with it too if not for your uncanny, world renown detective skills."
Joker's glare was the definition of playful. He tried hard to look upset, but there was too much amusement glimmering in his eyes.
"You're so smart, you're so brilliant," she went on. "Babies want to be kissed by you, women want to have babies with you, men want you to have sex with their wives so they can give birth to a baby for you to kiss. You-"
"AHEM."
Celine jumped at the voice. Heat immediately rushed to her cheeks.
Joker was biting down on the knuckle to his index finger, right leg bouncing up and down; looking to be on the verge of losing it.
"Um…your order is ready, ma'am."
Slowly, Celine turned to Liz, attempting her best nonchalant smile.
"T-thank you."
She accepted the four white takeout bags, wondering how much had been overheard.
She probably thinks I've got a screw loose. Maybe…maybe he and I really are perfect for each other.
This thought was annihilated seconds later. Before she could even shift gears to move forward, Joker started cackling. Loudly. Very, very loudly. And he didn't stop until they were miles down the road; his food nearly all the way cooled.