Voodoo-Mutant-Child-Oh, Jonathan's thrilled. Really. He's...yeah. It made sense at the time. Besides, the Joker has Batman underwear. (I did not want to know that, but Harley has a big mouth. Part of my innocence died, though.)
Mar (Guest)-Cheers. I suspect Batman will never know this, unless you give him reason to dangle you off a roof and yell at you. Cretin. This isn't a cartoon. Shirts are susceptible to gravity! Maybe he does it because of that...
SwordStitcher-He hasn't commented on it yet, actually. I'm wondering if I should point it out. Maybe he's oblivious. MAYBE HE'S BLIND. Oh, the puns...I'd have to get in on that, I really would. There has to be a way to find out...
Lavender Harpy-It's really comfortable, actually. Gaudy, I'll admit, and I can't wear it with light colours, but that can't be helped. Now, if only I could rig it to shoot toxin at the right time...hm. There has to be a way to do that. Somehow.
Jasmine Scarthing-I was drunk. It made sense at the time. I seem to recall there being something about making him so uncomfortable he'd fall off the roof, but I really don't remember how that was supposed to work.
APieceOfThePuzzle-I hate it. The clasp sticks. Oh, poor baby. You'd have better luck if you'd look. NO. Then let Jonathan do it. I taught him how to do it in the first place! Then let me do it, save yourself the effort.
Kitty has a cold.
Yes, it really is just a cold. Sure, she's probably caught it from Batman. No, she does not need to go to the hospital.
"Are you sure you don't need anything?"
"Yes, love." She sneezes and settles back against her pillows, clutching a glass of orange juice. "Honest."
"You're positive?"
Oh, dear god. YES. She's FINE. It's just a cold, it will go away in a few days.
"Yes."
"You'll tell me if you do need anything?"
"Yes."
"Promise?"
"Yes, love. Run along, I'm going back to sleep."
He lingers in the doorway for another few seconds before leaving. At last. She can just stay here, with her juice and her teddy bear, and feel sorry for herself.
She should encourage it to become pneumonia, go out, and sneeze on the Batman. But then she'd have to go back to Arkham, and Jonathan would…no. It's not worth the effort. But the mental image is nice all the same.
She drains the last of her juice and settles down with her teddy bear to go back to sleep. This poor bear…she had to stitch it back together when the head fell off. Jonathan makes fun of it, but's hardly the bear's fault that its head fell off. He should be nicer to it.
Ohh, her throat is killing her…maybe she should get a water bottle. Yes.
She's just reaching for it when there's a disapproving sound from behind her. Aw, crap.
"Kitty." You know, it's times like this that she sees what scares people so badly. "What are you doing?"
"Getting a water bottle?"
"Go back to bed."
"But…"
"Bed."
She frowns and takes her water bottle out of the fridge. The only problem with being sick-apart from, well, being sick-is that Jonathan tends to fuss over her like she's due to drop off the twig any second.
"I…"
He picks her up, carries her back to the bedroom, and drops her on the bed. Humph. She's fine, it's just a cold.
"Jonathan…"
"Stay in bed!"
She sighs and gets back under the covers with her water and her teddy bear.
"Happy?"
"Yes." He turns to leave again. "Stay there this time."
"Of course, love."
She stays in bed for most of the day, but by eight PM she's bored. And hungry.
Mostly bored. She probably isn't even legitimately hungry.
She borrows Jonathan's robe before going downstairs. Jonathan is just coming up from his lab.
"Just what do you think you're doing?"
"I'm bored and peckish."
"Kitty…"
"Come on, love. I can't stay in bed forever."
"What'd you have in mind?"
"No idea."
"Go watch TV or something, I'll see what there is."
"I'm…"
"Go."
She shrugs and goes to see what's on, if anything. She's just found Scooby-Doo when Jonathan comes in with soup.
"How's this?"
"You're a saint."
"Mm." He hands her the bowl and settles down next to her. "How are you feeling?"
"Better. Anything interesting happen?"
"It died." he grumbles. "I didn't even do anything. I just came down and, well…"
"Heart attack?"
"Stop talking, you sound awful. But yes."
She doesn't sound that bad, did she? After all, it's only a clogged nose and a sore throat…maybe she does sound that bad.
The soup's fine-could use some more pepper, but that might be her stuffy nose talking. It's certainly better than the cold muffin she'd considering.
"Thanks, love."
"What did I say about talking?" Whatever. "You need to go back to bed."
No. She's been in bed all day and she wants to watch cartoons. It's just a cold.
She burrows further into the robe and shakes her head. If he wants her to go up there, he's going to have to carry her.
After a few minutes, she hears an exasperated sigh and feels herself being dragged along the sofa.
"You'll get sick."
"I'm fine. Now stop talking or I'll put you up there myself."
She shrugs and pulls her arms inside the sleeves.
"Is that my robe?"
THE END