They never turn off his lights. Joker wasn't sure if it was an actual requirement from his Doctor, or someone wanted to be a bit vindictive—he secretly hoped it was the latter. Just the very thought of the possible malicious intent against him had his mind reeling.

A sudden rapping sound interrupted his train of thought. "' Tis some visitor...at my chamber door"

"Dinner."

'Dinner? What happened to lunch?' Sitting up from his bed caused his vision to blur unexpectedly. 'O..' maybe he did have Lunch, he just might not have been present for it. Good 'Ol Mark-us had to administer another emergency sedative after their meeting. His behavior had once again shown signs of mania. The corner of his lips pulled up in a snare, if Charles continued to pump him full of drugs for every fit of laughter then there was going to be a problem.

With surprisingly steady steps, he makes his way to the opposite wall of the door and leans against the wall of his glass box. His hands placed on the bright yellow circles, and his feet shoulder-width apart. Just like camp counselor Cash had taught him during his first day.

"Dessert is vanilla and chocolate swirl pudding."

The fuzzy edges of his vision rapidly began clearing. 'Well, well, well…'

Ever so slowly, he turned his head to glance over his shoulder, his wild hair obscuring most of his face—but his dark eyes could be seen peeking through. "Vanilla AND chocolate…it must be my uh lucky day."

Despite his size, and obvious physical prowess; of being built like a freight train. The orderly still flinched when eye contact was made, but that didn't stop him from placing the tray down on the table. "Patient #4479—"

"Come on Frankie….I thought we were friends."

Frank started to blend into the white of his scrubs, his skin had paled considerably. "We—"

"Friends call each other by their names. We are friends? Aren't we Frankie?" he asked as his fingertip lightly tap against the glass.

"O-Of course."

Stepping away from the wall, Joker turned and offered Frankie a smile. A smile so wide that he could feel his chapped lips straining not to split open.

Frank instinctively took a few steps backward toward the door. "Umm I-I'll be back in an hour for th-"

"You'll be back in two."

Frank looked as if he was going to protest and briefly Joker wondered if he was going to be able to finally test out something that been bugging him for a while. Ever since he had first laid eyes on the man, Joker always wonder if it was possible to fit both of his hands around Frankie's meaty neck.

Fingertip to fingertip.

'What color would he turn first?' he tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing in thought. 'Pink? Yellow? Purple…yes definitely purple.' His fingers flex subconsciously, before clenching close. 'When was the last time he choked the life out of someone?'

So lost in his thought he almost didn't see Frank make a hasty exit. "Thanks for the dessert, Frankie!" The heavy door shut hard after him, the automatic locks falling into place.

Joker made his way towards the table, reaching forward he peeled back the layer of clear wrap covering his food and placed it to the side. One look at the meal had Joker, pushing the tray away as well. 'Why's it always beans.'

"I hate beans…"

With the tray pushed to the side, Joker was able to take notice of the red folder that was hidden discreetly under the ugly brown plastic. "Now don't you just look delicious…."

Grabbing the folder he studied the name that was on the file. This time his smile did cause his lip to split.

With a quick swipe of his tongue, the small drop of blood that formed was gone. "Hmm, Dr. Harleen Quinzel…What. " Ignoring the chair, he took purchase on the table—his long legs dangling off the side. Placing the folder in his lap, he carefully opened it. Immediately his eye zeroed in on her personal information. Her phone number, address and date of birth already having been committed to memory.

"Graduated high school at 16...and look at all these accomplishments." He flipped over her resume, rubbing the material between his fingers. It was thick, textured and had a nice marble colored finish. It screamed expensive. 'A little desperate Harls.' Her resume also included some of her published medical articles, but only one of them piqued his interest. She had been discussing the concept of societal standards and their impact on mental health. "Riveting."

He continued to flip through the folders, only stopping when he got to her signed contract. Joker lightly ran his thumb over her signature. Her pen strokes were too quick to leave an indent on the paper, but he could easily tell that she had practiced her signature a lot beforehand. Her loops and dips of each letter was almost like a piece of art.

The next thing he came to was what looked like an offer letter;

Dear Dr. Harleen F. Quinzel,

My name is Dr. Joan Leland, I am Head Doctor of the Psychiatric Ward at Arkham Asylum in Gotham City. I have recently been given the task to assist my employer, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, in a research project. During this project, we will be researching one of our high profile patients by the name of Jonathan Cra-

With a growl he stood suddenly from the table, the folder falling to the floor and spilling out its contents. The letter clenched tightly between his hands. "No, no, no, no—What?" She wasn't a new resident doctor. Harleen wasn't only a consultant. She was a consultant for Crane of all people. With a grunt, he began ripping the document into pieces. It wasn't until the ground around him resembled fresh snowfall did he realized that destroying the letter might not have been the best idea.

'Oops.'

Crouching down, he lightly started brushing the man-made confetti but he froze when blue eyes were suddenly staring back into his. Heart-shaped face, and that familiar head of blonde. Reaching down, Joker picked up what appeared to be a copy of her driver's license. It was probably not her best photo, but he was still able to see the very thing that pulled his attention to her in the first place. Her scar.

Bringing the paper up to his face, Joker eased down completely to the floor. It did go all the way up to her eye. There was a story here, one that he desperately needed to know. He lightly tapped her scarred up cheek with his pointer finger. Mentally going through all the possible scenarios of how she got the scar. He could tell that the object used was sharp, it had sliced her skin cleanly. Joker tongued at his own carved smile, feeling the raised bumpy skin on his inner cheek.

"Oh, I really can't wait to meet you Harleen. We'll have so much to talk about."

Joker had long since moved back to his bed by the time Frank had come back for the tray. Though he didn't have to say it, Joker could tell Frank was a bit peeved by the mess.

"Frankie…when you're done with that. I want you to call my lawyer."