Eva ended up going to an Urgent care unit close to her apartment. She did not have much of a choice in the matter, an infection was the last thing she needed right now. After throwing on a sweatshirt and shedding her bloodstained sweats, Eva grabbed the cash required to cover the fee at the unit.

The drive only took about 10 minutes. Pulling up, she threw the hood up over her face. She hobbled inside and checked in with nanny looking receptionist. After getting an eyeful of her, the old woman clucked and handed over a clipboard with the required paperwork, as she grabbed it, the woman held firm and spoke softly "Hun, you should leave him, for your own good."

Eva blinked a couple times, and finally pulled the clipboard away. She couldn't bring herself to come up with an excuse, saying something as cliché as 'I fell' came off at pathetic and sad. Taking a seat, she started filling out everything. Hearing some whispers, Eva looked up and noticed that a few people were staring, most of them were the homeless looking type, so their judgement didn't count for much. Attempting to return her attention to the clipboard, she paused. There was a scrawny looking woman sitting cross legged a couple seats down. Her hair was stringy and chemical blonde, her red pleather skirt was hiked up to thighs, her face was smeared with too much make-up. She looked severally beat, perhaps more so than Eva. The pair eyed one another. Huffing, the chemical blonde walked over and took a seat next to her. She smelled like stale cigarettes and cheap vodka, the stench was enough to singe the hairs in Eva's nostrils.

Silence permeated the space between them. Finally, the blonde spoke "Ya get use to the looks."

Eva stopped writing down 'Liza Hopkins' in for her name. "Excuse me?"

The hooker looked at her "Ya heard me."

Her eyes were twined with bits of red "I got into a fight."

That wasn't exactly a lie, she and Joker had fought. Though it probably wasn't fighting to Joker, more playing with a toy. The thought made her shudder "Bullshit…"

At least she was keeping her voice down "Ya boo likes it rough…"

Eva kept her eyes on the clipboard "Shut up…"

The hooker looked forward "We're a lot alike ya know?"

Getting up, Eva turned her clipboard over to the receptionist. She didn't bother waiting for another look of pity. The hooker watched her as she took up a spot as far away from her as possible. It was then that her self-appointed therapist noticed the blood seeping through Eva's jeans. They didn't speak to each other again "Colette?"

Eva watched her go, a single thought running through her mind 'we're nothing alike.' Pressing her hand against the warm blood stain on her jeans, Eva shut her eyes and leaned back in the chair. She just needed to breath, to think. "Liza?"

Opening her eyes, Eva forced herself up. Fighting back the desire to hobble to avoid damaging her thigh even further. At this point, her need to prove everyone here that she was still capable of standing on her own two feet, outweighed everything else.

"Ms. Hopkins, I wish you would tell me the truth."

Eva glared at the volunteer doctor "The truth is that I went out drinking and I got into fight."

He had insisted on checking her over for any internal damage. Eva figured that it couldn't hurt to double check so that she wouldn't pass out in the street, prompting a more thorough exam at Gotham General. Apparently, the checkup did hurt because through the powerful wisdom of doctordom, the young med student had deduced that there was more to Eva's injuries than she was letting on "If you're worried you'll be hurt again, I can call the police, they'll protect you."

Getting down off the exam table, Eva started putting on her pants "I'm fine doctor, it was just a bar fight"

Thankfully, the snot nosed punk hadn't noticed the unusual shape of the scar. Perhaps that would have been better. Maybe the prospect of examining one of Joker's latest employees would have rewarded Eva with the blessing of no questions asked. Still, this guy seemed like the kind of naïve to call the cops on her if he had an inkling that she had ties to the so called Clown Prince of Crime.

Pulling on her pants, Eva thanked the doctor and assured him one last time that her injuries were merely battle wounds. At long last, after paying for her visit in cash, Eva was back in the safety of her car. The scar gave off a twinge of pain here and there, but it was dull thanks to the anesthetic injections. Letting her brain slip into autopilot, Eva drove back to her apartment. After making her way up the stairs and shedding her newly bloodstained garment, she collapsed on her bed and gave into another fitful night of sleep.