"So," drawls the clown, his face inches from mine. "Here I am, with a knife pressed to your throat…and you're not even here, are you? You're off somewhere, missing it!"
He's right. My mind is miles away. Where, exactly, I don't know, but where isn't important.
"I know that look, Ross," says the Joker, smirking. "Longing. That wistful, distant look. Thinking of your boyfriend?"
He laughs. I don't bother to ask how he knows my name, or even why he decided to take me to…wherever we were.
I look around for the first time since regaining consciousness. The room is surprisingly well-lit and furnished. There's a book case on the wall and a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
The Joker must notice my shift in attention. "Oh, this place, right?" he grins and licks his lips. "I'm a classy guy, Ross…you were expecting something more grimy, right?"
I don't respond.
"You know, you're just no fun at all," he sighs, sitting down on an overstuffed yellow couch which blocks the only door. "Completely resigned. He sure broke your heart, didn't he, Snookums?"
And once again, I'm miles away, looking into those dazzlingly bright green eyes, hating every inch of that perfect straw hair. I don't know where we are, exactly, but where doesn't matter.
"What if I told you…," begins the clown, in a deep, raspy voice. "That I could arrange for the two of you to meet again?"
I look at the Joker, straight into eyes as black as his soul. He has my attention now, and he knows it. He laughs.
"Merry Christmas, Ross Grey!" he cackles, circling around me, knife in hand.
"But let's not forget," he adds, pressing the cold blade to my skin once again. " 'Tis better to give than to receive…"
I remember, at this point, that my hands and legs are tied to the chair that I'm sitting in.
I hold my breath. I'm not sure what else to do in this sort of situation.