The drive to Leo's Diner didn't take longer than ten minutes, and as Celine anticipated, the parking lot was sparse on clientele. So much so that even Joker took note.
"Surprised it's not busier with it being peak and all."
"It's the only eatery in town that hasn't updated or made any renovations since it was built," she answered, turning off the ignition. "Tourists love flocking to anything that just opened or was recently renovated. Which, on one hand, kinda sucks to see this place a ghost of its former self. It was jam packed on the weekends when I worked here. On the other hand, it gives the locals an escape from the tourists."
"You uh not like tourists very much?"
He was smirking but his tone was serious.
"When I worked summers here, I hated them. Rude, entitled, awful tippers. They also left the town a mess. Moving away helped curb that hate a little, I think. And made me realize it's not the people I hate, but their attitudes. Which can be found in anyone."
"Humility is... a dying trait."
She cocked a brow and turned to him.
"That's odd to hear coming from you."
"All you gotta do is look." His fingers formed a V and gestured out the windows. "Look around and see how easily people bow to their selfish impulses. No discipline, no regard for one another. Granted, I'm not exactly the ah ideal model of decency, but what I am is self-aware. I lean in to those impulses. Everyone else denies having them, then gorge themselves berserk when they can no longer hold back."
"Surely there's a middle-ground between denial and surrender?"
He met her gaze. There was a wildfire behind his eyes anytime he discussed his contempt for the human race. Seeing it up close stirred loose a comment she had overheard once between two orderlies while at Arkham. It was shortly after Joker's third stint there.
"Get this, they're gonna try treating the clown for antisocial personality disorder. Can't wait to see what they move on to when that doesn't work."
She'd not thought much of the remark at the time. But knowing Joker more personally now, she thought the doctors had it just a little bit wrong. Antisocial might've been what he started out as, but by the time he adopted this persona, it had actively become misanthropy.
How did one treat a philosophy?
"If there's a middle-ground," he answered, "very few can stay there for long."
"I... could try to teach you how. If you want."
The fire dimmed a little. He pulled back from her.
"Lemme guess, you're gonna give me some courses in being nice and forgiving."
"I'd recommend meditation more than anything. Sitting alone with your thoughts, letting them come and go. Observe, don't absorb."
He grumbled something unintelligible.
"No thanks."
With that he got out of the car and slammed the door.
Sighing, she followed suit. It didn't matter so much, she supposed, that he said no, but rather that he knew now that option existed. Someone would be willing to help if he ever changed his mind. Maybe that was a way through. Giving him a choice to be something other than what he created out of a perceived necessity, out of internal and external influences.
He waited for her to get out all the while scanning his environment. A twitch had developed in the fingers of his left hand. She wondered if he wasn't missing the weight of one of his knives.
A crazy idea came to mind. She debated letting it come to fruition.
This is a soulmanship, there are no rules.
Biting her lip, she approached him. When she was in arm's distance, his eyes snapped down to her. She ignored the erratic impulse to take his face in her hands and lick his scars. There'd be time for that later.
She glanced at his twitching hand before wrapping both arms around his elbow.
If eyebrow movements could emit a sound, his would be the thud! of an anchor dropping to the ocean floor.
"C'mon," she encouraged, pretending she hadn't done anything out of the ordinary. "Let's eat."
She tried taking a step toward the diner, but Joker didn't budge. He also made no move to pull out of her hold.
"Jack?" she asked, looking at him. "You alright?"
He was terribly confused, that much was evident. But it wasn't a comical confusion. In fact, it ached her a little just looking at him.
He seemed lost. He knew what the action meant, but it was clear he'd never been on the receiving end of it.
This made her want to tighten her arms around him even more, but she refrained. It was an expression of affection that he had the choice to accept or decline.
After nearly a minute of silence, he finally took a step forward. That was enough to embolden her. She tossed him a half smile and led the way.
Through her hold alone she could feel how stiff he was. The goal initially had been to see how he'd react, maybe tease him when he inevitably became embarrassed in that grouchy way only he knew how.
But now her priority had shifted. It was to give him something he'd never had before, to reaffirm on a more subtle scale that she hadn't been lying last night. Her heart did beat for him.
They were just a couple steps away from the door when it abruptly opened; setting off the tinkling of bells hanging above it. An older couple were coming out, and in a flash, Joker retracted his arm and let it fall limp beside him.
Thankfully, they were too engaged in conversation with one another to offer either of them too scrutinous of a study; though, the man did hold the door open behind him for them.
"Thanks," she said as she passed, Joker trailing her closely.
Once they were inside, Celine took note of the clientele.
Oh, this is worse than three years ago. Just... depressing. And that's coming from someone with diagnosed depression.
There were four others seated inside. Two elderly men at a table by the no longer working jukebox, having a quiet discussion over half-eaten plates and coffee. Another elderly gentleman – she knew from her time as a server, his name was Marvin – sat alone in a corner booth near the kitchens, gazing out the window.
Some years ago, on one of her summer trips back home, she'd gotten breakfast here and ran into Marvin. He'd been a regular back in the day, always generous with his tips, and kept an eye out on her if her mom wasn't working.
When she'd re-introduced herself to him, he only blinked, looking through her as if she wasn't there.
Lu clued her in later on that Alzheimer's had struck him hard, and Leo's was one of the few places he seemed to "not act up" as his children so lovingly put it. They would drop him off at the diner in the morning, and pick him up just before closing time.
What a life. Watching the world pass by and you no longer speak the same language as it.
Grimacing, her eyes fell to the last individual. They were a few booths away from Marvin, hidden behind the local newspaper – The Calgary Cliff Chronicle. She almost wanted a copy of the paper just to see if Trina was still writing for it. Last they'd talked, it had been reduced to a side gig because the anthology of poems she'd spent years working on had been picked up by a major publishing house.
"Just the two of you?"
They both turned toward the host. She was young, most-likely a teenager, and unfamiliar to Celine.
To the girl's credit, she did her best not to flinch upon noticing Joker's scars or to let her smile waver any.
"Yes, just us two," she answered.
"Cool." She nodded, handing her two menus. "I'm Sophie. You can have a seat where you'd like, Dawn will be with you shortly to get your drinks."
Oh god damn it.
Sophie's expression faltered a little.
"I'm sorry, is something wrong?"
She must have not been as discrete in her facial expressions as she'd have liked. Both Sophie and Joker were staring at her.
"No." She shook her head and gave her a smile. "No, sorry. We'll uh – we're going to go sit down now."
Real graceful. Not cringy at all.
Tucking her shoulders inward, Celine made for the booths. She settled on the one diagonal to the newspaper reader, figuring once they were finished reading, she might ask for it.
A frown briefly made way when she saw the state of the seat. What once had been a hot red color had long ago lost its gloss. But that's not what got her. It was the gashes in the seat that were now duck taped over to keep what stuffing remained, in.
I get not renovating to keep the retro feel, but this is just negligent. Mom would've never let this go without convincing Carl – rest his soul – to replace it.
A few crumbs still littered the white table and a quick peek at the floor saw at least one balled up napkin that'd evaded detection.
She was struck by the urge to ask Joker if he might want to eat elsewhere. This was not the same diner she remembered. This wasn't the one that despite some grueling shifts, she'd taken pride in.
But they were running late enough as it was, and needed something in their bellies to hold them over.
Sighing, Celine set down the menus and sat so she had her trademark view of the door. She was surprised when Joker motioned with his hands for her to scoot over.
"You don't want to sit across and have your own space?" she asked.
"Man like me wouldn't have lasted long if I didn't have one eye on the door at all times," was his low response.
She nodded and scooted over. It was a funny coincidence they should both have that preference, for entirely different reasons. Her, curiosity, and him, vigilance.
He sat so that their thighs were barely touching. She reddened a little when he rested a hand just above her knee. It stayed there, alerting her it was more for comfort purposes than sexual.
A banging in the kitchen drew their attention upward. Sophie pushed one of the swinging doors open just a few inches and peeked in. Whatever she saw made her immediately turn around and powerwalk to the front of the diner.
"Sorry," she blurted, looking at him. "Leo's wasn't always like this."
He shrugged.
"I've eaten at worse joints." He leaned into her ear. "Don't uh tell anyone this, but where the Nicoteras – they used to share the southeastern territory in Gotham with the Carmicheals, before they both got ate up by Falcone - liked to conduct their mmm... well, money laundering is money laundering, but they got pompous and called them 'financial advisement meetings'... geez, you think I got a fat ego. These guys put me to shame. Anywhooo, their restaurant of choice was Il Giardino Del Piaceri. You uh know it?"
It took some effort to focus on the question. Listening to Joker fluently speak Italian was more arousing than she thought it would be.
"Yes," she answered, "they won Gotham's best Italian eatery award three years in a row. Only reason I know is because the owner of my favorite pizzeria used to claim the competition was rigged."
Joker giggled a little.
"Well uh, they're not wrong."
She met Joker's amused gaze.
Oh, the vindication Paolo would feel if he heard this.
"So, what? The mob paid the food critics off?"
"Doesn't take much. Thing about having a job as a 'critic'-" He put quotation marks around the word. "-is it's a job where you need to convince others of its importance. Critics never uh made it in the field they're critiquing, so they settle for the next best thing – profiting off their own envy."
She cocked her head. This was something she'd never considered before. How critics self-appointed their importance. It didn't take much guesswork to see Joker didn't care for the profession. She very understandably got why.
"Oh, the stories I could tell you," he grinned, placing a finger to his lips. "But ah, those are tales for another day. Where were we? Ah, yes! Il Giardino Del Piaceri. This ah specific faction I was meeting with liked to host potential clients in the kitchen. That part- that I kinda liked. You're sitting at a table while all these chefs in tall, poofy hats are running around like coked up hamsters."
"Wait -they conducted business in front of their staff?"
"Every staff member was related to the bosses in some way," he explained. "Not even safe to have a discussion at your table, never know what server is listening."
Her brows rose. This was turning out to be a very enlightening conversation about how some of Gotham's mafia families operated.
"Now, I'm trying to pay attention. Really, really trying. But when the guy wasn't talking business with me, he was shouting at his staff, giving out orders. Multitasking is an important skill, I'll grant you that, but uh when I took the initiative to wear my nicest suit and put on my nicest cologne and be on my bestest of best behavior, I ah expect ya to be a teeny bit more present. Bad business etiquette, but can't blame him entirely. I'd not made a name for myself yet, so, I got the underling treatment. That, I don't miss. Hated, hated that."
Not only was he physically getting worked up, but she could feel his fingers tightening around her knee.
"Where ah- where was I going with this?"
She smiled crookedly.
"You said you'd eaten at worse joints."
"Right. For starters, every chef was sucking the life outta a cigarette. Looked like a smoke machine went off back there. Then there was the uh Stuart Little that brushed past my foot. One of the chefs saw it, stopped slicing the veggies, threw his knife, stuck it right through the back, pulled out the knife, wiped it clean against his apron, then continued prepping the food."
Celine gagged, bringing the back of her hand over her mouth.
"No."
His eyes were glowing with delight.
"Whole meeting felt like it took place in a sweaty, smelly sauna. Now that was a meal I had to force down. If I had the gall then that I have now, I'da sliced open the fat bastard the second he decided yelling common-sense directions took precedence over our meeting. Thinking back on it, probably a power move. Make himself seem more important than he actually was."
"Sounds like he might've been moonlighting as a food critic."
Joker snorted loudly at that. He squeezed her thigh a couple times.
"Shame I never got the chance to ask."
Her smile wavered.
"You killed him?"
"Mm, never got the chance. Syphilis got to him first."
She tried and failed to keep her mouth from hanging open.
"World of mobsters is riddled with venereal diseases," he informed. "In Gotham, anyway. It must be like- like an initiation... sticking your dick into the filthiest, most rotted pussy you can find."
"Okay, point is made." She willed herself not to dry heave. "There are worse joints than this."
Joker could only smirk, satisfied at having made her squirm.
A shadow fell over their table. They both looked up.
Celine made sure to wear as pleasant of an expression as possible.
"I'm Dawn, I'll be taking your orders. What to drink?"
"Hey Dawn," Celine greeted.
The woman glanced at her, then at Joker. Not much phased her, that hadn't changed since they'd worked together. Joker's scars included.
"Harlow," she acknowledged with a sniff.
Her eyes fell back down to the notepad in her hand. She tapped the cap of her pen against it a few times.
"To drink?"
Good to see you too, you- you- you- blahrrgh.
Exhaling, she ordered a water. Beside her Joker was staring at Dawn, not saying anything.
"To drink?" she repeated, a little firmer, still not looking up.
"Coffee, black."
"I'll be back with that shortly."
As Dawn walked away, Celine relaxed her shoulders.
"Mm, and I thought I was a grump. What ah gives between ya two?" Joker asked, looking at her. "Ya looked queasy when you learned she'd be our waitress."
"Dawn is-." She shook her head and expelled a dry laugh. "-not one of my favorite people. Honestly surprised she's still waitressing, she's gotta be pushing her 60s."
"Smoker?" he guessed.
"Yes. Could you smell it on her?"
"Mm, that and the lines on the face. Nicotine teeth too. Woulda clocked her to be older. You uh worked with her?"
She nodded.
"I didn't set out to dislike her, I'd just get... pissed the way she'd treat my mom. The original owner of this diner – Carl – was a good boss. He cared about this place, and his employees. Made my mom the assistant manager not even a year after she started, then the manager a few years later. Dawn was always gunning for positions of influence. She was... sneaky. Acted disinterested to your face, but found ways to get you in trouble as soon as you looked away. She'd then run to Carl and try to get you fired. He, thankfully, rarely fell for it. He liked my mom and trusted her judgment. Which only made Dawn work harder to try and get her in trouble. I caught on, but mom always told me to ignore it. That would bother her more than engaging."
"Mm, I've had men in my employment like that," he recalled. "At first, it's flattering. You got all these birds chirp chirp chirping in your ear, desperate for your approval, wanting confirmation that they did good. But after a while... well, gets inconvenient when your people can't work as a cohesive unit. Good to stub that shit out before it ah escalates."
"Might be fun for the boss, not so much the other workers," she responded. "I honestly... I never told my mom this, but I always suspected Dawn was jealous of her. Regulars loved her, she got tipped well, Carl hired me on her word alone, no interview. And I was like a... miniature version of that. My friends would often come by and spend money here, and I gained my own returning customers. We both drew people in."
"Not surprising. Your mom was ah well liked."
She tilted her head.
"How would you know that?"
His shrug was casual.
"That paper you two made the front page of... they did a little blurb about her. Locals had nothing but complimentary things to say."
She shook her head.
"Is there anything you don't know about me?"
His lip curled upward. He neared her until their noses were almost touching.
"Mm, the last thing on the checklist," he said, voice lowering into a raspy hush, "was figuring out what my dick felt like inside you. And you enlightened me on that earlier today, so ah, nope."
Her entire face heated up.
"You're disturbed."
He giggled like a schoolboy.
"What gave me away?"
Dawn was back with their drinks just as he pulled away from her. Though, his hand did creep just a couple inches up her thigh. Which did little in quelling the fire in her cheeks.
"All set to order?"
Clearing her throat, she straightened up. It just occurred to her that they'd not so much as glanced at their menus.
"I'll take the special," Joker said. "And ya better bring over a full pot of coffee, sweetcheeks."
"The pot will be extra," she retorted, scribbling down the order. "That all?"
Celine's gaze narrowed. It most certainly was not extra, since when was that a rule? Also, it was one thing to be unpleasant to her, she was used to it. But being unpleasant to Joker, who miraculously did nothing wrong, irked her in a way she'd not been irked in quite some time.
I'll tip you the amount you're owed, I'm a trooper like that. But keep this shit up and it'll all be in change. Nickels. PENNIES!
"I'll do the BLT and curly fries," she said, scooping the menus together. "Um, no Ranch."
Whereas Dawn had written Joker's order down, she neglected to do the same for Celine. Which the man to her left immediately took note of.
"Your ah not gonna write my wife's order down?"
She balked. What was his obsession with telling others she was his wife? And why did it make her heart race so much?
Dawn finally looked up at them. Her eyes zig-zagged between the two. The 'wife' detail made her see them in a new light. Her lips briefly shot up, as if laughing at something she was thinking.
"I'll remember it," was her answer, taking the menus. "It'll be out in a little bit."
This time around, Joker wasn't as amused by the behavior as he'd been previously. His nails were digging into her thigh and he was glaring openly after her retreating form.
She longed to join in on his frustrations, but knew this was an instance where she needed to tread carefully. The last thing she wanted was a repeat of Martha Graves.
Thankfully, a group of young adults entered through the front door. A much-needed distraction.
There were at least five of them. The hostess, Sophie, appeared to know them. Two stayed back to chat with her, one went to the counter to grab a takeout tray sitting there, and the other two were heading in their direction, chatting with one another.
Their presence had the unintended effect on Joker. He was suddenly tense as a bow, rapidly analyzing all of the newcomers. As the two people approached, his hand not only tightened around her thigh, it pushed down too. She wouldn't be standing up without a good fight.
They passed by without incident, and a few seconds later she heard the bathroom door open and close. This seemed to ease Joker a little, enough to loosen his grip a tad. But he remained ever perceptive, studying everyone's movements as if their intentions were nefarious. And his leg had started bouncing. Not as badly as she'd seen it before, but steady enough that it drew her attention.
She was at a loss of what to say. He had no reason to be bothered, they were just kids. Then again, so had a few of his employees been over the years. Hell, he'd been a kid and did what he'd done. Everyone was capable of atrocities in his eyes.
If this is him reacting to a near-empty diner, how is he going to fare at the cookout?
This thought understandably worried her. She'd told her uncle he suffered from PTSD, and that was a convenient excuse. But there's only so much that could be accepted before people started to ask questions, inwardly or outwardly. Her family wasn't a dumb bunch. They would let her know what they thought, in front of or behind Joker's back.
Taking a deep breath, Celine carefully lowered a hand onto Joker's knee. His focus returned to her for the time being.
"They're kids being kids," she tried to reassure, taking her glass of water and lifting it to her mouth. "Fifteen years ago, this was me and my friends."
He didn't say anything. His face was blank, but there was an intensity in his eyes that made her blood run cold.
"You have one of your knives on you?"
He was slow to nod.
"Not that you'd need it to take them all on, but there's reinforcement if you do. If I'm wrong."
The bathroom door opened behind them. His fingers dug painfully into her thigh.
Again, the duo passed without incident, still engaged in conversation, not so much as sparing either of them a glance. They met up with the rest of the group up front, Sophie chatting adamantly about what plans would be after she got out.
Dawn exited the kitchen with Joker's pot of coffee, but not before issuing a word Sophie's way.
"You're on the clock, I'm not paying you to stand around and gossip. Get back to work."
This time it was Celine's fingers that tightened on Joker's knee. Anyone with eyes could see Sophie physically deflate. She felt for the girl, she didn't have the luxury of a mom to look out for her. And it confirmed something she suspected. Dawn was the manager now, and she knew exactly what to say to instill low morale among employees.
The group said their goodbyes and left the diner. Not shortly after, the two elderly men who'd been talking over coffee, went up front to pay their bill.
Dawn kept an eagle eye on Sophie as she set the pot of coffee on their table.
"Thanks," Celine still felt the need to say.
Her only response was a dismissive grunt.
"Man the floor," she told Sophie as she headed to the kitchen. "I'll be back in five."
With Dawn gone (presumably on a smoke break), and the two men having exited the diner, it was silent once more. The only other occupants were Marvin (she glanced back at him, he was still staring out the window), and the person reading the paper.
Joker's hand finally relaxed to what it had been when they sat down. She removed hers and took a few sips from her water. Joker followed suit with his cup of coffee.
His face instantly scrunched up. He set the drink down and glared at it.
"This is the worst cup of coffee I've ever had."
She couldn't help but snort. Which then developed into a giggle as he redirected his glare onto her.
"Sorry," she murmured, taking his cup by the handle. "Is it really that bad?"
He raised his eyebrows, inviting her to try it.
She did so, and nearly gagged.
"You weren't kidding." She wiped her mouth and pushed the cup away. "God, it's like she recycled stale coffee grounds and brewed it in washcloth water."
His lips twitched.
"You ah know when you've got the runs?" he said. "And sometimes ya try to shit it all out in one go, but all that sprays out is water?"
"Oh-." She gagged again and shook her head. "-no, don't...that is not something I need pictured before we eat."
"Antibacterial is giving Il Giardino Del Piaceri a run for its money."
"Antibacterial?"
He shrugged.
"My ah nickname for our... esteemed waitress. Like the uh soa-p."
She giggled even harder.
"From the state of this diner, bacterial is more like it. Bacteria."
She slapped the table.
"Ooo, I wish we woulda come up with that back in the day."
He rubbed her thigh.
"You uh have a back office somewhere in here?"
"Just off of the kitchen. Why?"
He glanced at the kitchen doors, then back at her.
"Wanna go fuck on her desk?"
She nearly choked on her spit.
"You're serious?"
His smirk made her clamp her thighs together.
"Why not? This place is already mess, why not add to it?
What was troublesome was she didn't entirely hate the idea. In fact, it was kind of... exciting.
Dawn deserves her karma, but the diner doesn't. It might not be what it was, but I'm not going to add to its disrepair.
"We're screwed if we get caught," she reasoned. "Bacteria will go out of her way to call the cops and try to press charges for indecent exposure."
He shrugged.
"A chance for you to make your local paper again."
She rolled her eyes as his hand inched up her thigh.
"C'mon, Cece," he pressed, lips brushing against her ear, "it'll be fun. I've just been dying to acquaint my tongue with that pretty pussy of yours, can't think of a better surface to do it on. Little dessert before the entrée. You wouldn't deny me something so sweet, would you?"
Her eyes flashed, betraying just how turned on the thought made her.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be. Dawn came out of the kitchen holding their tray of food, and she nearly slumped into the booth in relief. It could not be underestimated how charismatic Joker could be when he chose to. And how devilishly influential his voice could become.
She downed a large swig of water as Dawn set their plates down in front of them.
"Oh."
She stared at the dish. The dish – a Caesar salad drenched in Ranch – stared back.
"Something the matter?"
Celine smiled in a decidedly unfriendly manner. She took a small inhale before looking up.
"I got the BLT?"
"Did you?" Her face was perfectly stoic, but the glee in her eyes betrayed her. "I must have forgotten to tell you. We're out of bacon. I figured you wouldn't mind a salad, and truthfully, maybe could... use one."
Oh, you want to fucking play, we'll play.
She snapped out of it a second later. It was exactly the response Dawn was banking on, and there'd only be one victor in the end.
Ignore it, it'll infuriate her. Take the high road. Even when you really, really don't want to.
"Dawn," Joker abruptly stated, finally taking his hand off her thigh, just to lace his fingers together and set them on the table. "Which ah one of your parents didn't give you enough attention that you felt the need to grow up to be such a bitter little cunt?"
Dawn's mouth nearly dropped to the floor.
"My wager is on Mommy," he continued, louder, pointing an index finger in her direction. "When kiddies don't get their mommy's love, it ah does something wacky to them. They go to drastic lengths just to be noticed. And when mommy dies, and you realize you still never got what you wanted from her, well, what's there left than to embrace the miserable, insecure dummy you've become? And you're quite the dummy, Dawn. How's that make you feel? Wasting your life chasing after something you never received? Ruining every opportunity to be happy because you didn't think to grow a pair and move on?"
Celine was frozen in the seat, but that was nothing compared to the storm of emotions flooding Dawn's face. He had hit the nail on the head, and he had hit hard.
"Dawn," Joker said, offering her his widest smile, "I think the world would've been done a great service if Mommy had swallowed you when she had the chance. But, she didn't, and here you are. Not even able to do something as simple as bring an order out correctly. Be honest with me, what're ya nearing? 75? 80? Is it maybe time to consider one of those elder care facilities? Hm? Is it getting to be that time, Dawn? Dawn of the dead. Heh heh heh." He poked Celine in the side with an elbow. "See what I did there?"
The jab at her age was the last straw. Her tray slipped from her hands and clattered to the floor. Without a word, she bolted to the kitchen. A shattered plate reverberated through the diner, and then silence.
No one said a word for close to two minutes. Joker, unperturbed, dug in to his plate of food as if nothing had happened.
"Holy. Shit."
They both looked up. Sophie was slowly approaching, hands vibrating, eyes wide.
"Dude, that was... awesome!"
Joker smirked.
"Yeah?"
She nodded emphatically.
"I have literally wanted to call her every name in the book for over a year. But that... that was some Shakespearean, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hannibal Lecter shit right there."
Oh god, don't encourage him.
It was too late. Joker perked right up in his seat and shot her a coy glance.
"Hear that, Cece? I made this kiddo's day."
"God, between you and Stephen King, I think this might be the best day of my life." She then jolted a little, as if forgetting something, before turning to the man with the newspaper. "I'm so sorry, did you want another refill of Diet, Mr. King?"
A corner of the newspaper slowly lowered.
"That's alright, Sophie," Stephen said with a half-smile. "I think I've had my fill for the day, thank you."
She nodded once before fishing out her cell phone, typing out a number, and nearly skipping away, no doubt ready to gush about someone putting her boss in her place.
Stephen King's eyes landed on them.
They gazed back, seemingly marinating in the same star-struck awe.
"Good afternoon."
I have been wanting to write Stephen King into one of my stories for many, many years. Be it a brief cameo or a one or two sentence passage. This desire stems from... I want to say it's the Adam Sandler film Mr. Deeds. Sandler's character mentions in a conversation that SK once visited his town, and a buddy of his accidentally made eye contact with King. The next day the buddy ended up losing 200 lbs. That has stuck with me for ages, it's so absurd and just a fun nod to King.
I have a storyboard reference sheet that I look at whenever I need re-inspiration, and it's got a few photos of Heath bare-faced, scars and all, as the Joker. With the exception of one, the rest are all rather somber-looking photos. Has anyone else seen them? Some are haunting, in the most inspiring way. In a way that helps me humanize Joker, particularly without his makeup.
If you haven't seen them, I have a few photos reblogged on my secondary Tumblr blog. I just realized I've never really given anyone the option to connect with me beyond AO3. You can find me under the URL uglycourage on Tumblr. I guess I've hesitated making this known information, especially if I have a mental relapse again and disappear. I've seen readers go after authors for inactivity to the point that they delete their blogs/stories.
But you've all been nothing but encouraging and respectful and wildly understanding. So, if you'd like to chat or share with me a cool fact or see the neat calendar I made of Mr. Ledger, feel free to hit me up.
The rumors are true! That man at the gas station might have to eat his own hat! Let's see what Mr. King has to say!