Jeff's POV

"Is there a method to your madness?"

Method? Madness? What was this girl on?

"Courtney, I assure you that I have no idea what you're talking about."

The girl sat in the corner with her knees to her chest, humming a tune that was probably supposed to comfort her in this distressed time.

Distressed? Am I really that horrible?

"No idea what I'm talking about?" she snapped, her legs extending and resting on the ground. "You've killed how many people since you've been here? And you got away with it?"

"I wouldn't exactly say that I necessarily 'got a way with it,' Courts. Our surroundings are still a little on the drab side. This is still a prison, you know," I said, snapping my fingers.

"But how did you get away with it?" she whispered, pulling her knees back up to her comfort zone.

Sheesh.

"Okay, Courtney, this is how it went down," I started, sitting down on the chair in my cell. "No one cares about this place. This isn't some high-tech place they've got going on. That's why this joint is on an island. First, I started off with people that no one ever saw. Cooks. Janitors. You know, the easy stuff. I have to work my way up somehow. And then, I hit the honchos like Trent. Trust me, a slit throat here or a broken neck there isn't that much for me."

"But the security guards…"

"Security guards!" I shrieked as I laughed, holding a stitch in my side. "Those lazy bums? God, even if I didn't kill them, they were as good as dead. They don't do anything. They play World of Warcraft in the surveillance room, for crying out loud. Half of them sleep on duty. And since ol' Trent kicked the bucket, for lack of a better term, they've gotten even lazier. I really didn't think that was possible, of course, but every dog has his day."

I think I scared poor little Courtney Jester.

"But don't people come to visit? Don't supplies have to come in?"

"Do you ever shut up?" I asked, throwing her notebook that laid on the table in front of me against the wall.

She cowered in fear. Excellent.

"Ahem." I cleared my throat after my little outburst. "I must apologize. I don't mean to be…rude. After all, you're just asking simple questions. I suppose my future queen should…"

"Queen? I don't think so, you lunatic."

"You're the one sitting in the corner of a cell at an insane asylum, shirking against the wall. I'd suggest you take a better look at who you're calling crazy. Now, before I was interrupted, what was I saying? Ah, yes, visitation rights. You see, this place is worse than prison. We're stranded on a desert island with people that really don't give a damn about us. Our supposed families don't care about us, or they would be kind enough to place us into a normal institution. And as for the supplies, a ship comes in once a month. All they need is someone to sign for the packages. That's it. Then they just unload them into the kitchen and leave. No one exactly wants to spend more time here than they have to, of course." My throat was starting to hurt from talking so much. Courtney probably wants to be a little know it all.

She closed her eyes and her head rested against the stone cold walls. Her humming got louder.

"Hush up, girly pants!" I demanded. "Your humming is atrocious!"

"Does it bother you?" she asked, giving me a glare.

"Yes!"

"Then I'm not going to stop."

I looked at the ground. What did she just say? I stood up and walked towards her, getting on my knees in front of her. My face inched closer and closer to hers. Her eyes snapped open and looked into mine. She looked scared, but I wasn't going to hurt her…yet. I tried to look as mean and menacing as I could.

"What did you say?"

"I said I wasn't going to stop."

My eyes reduced to slits before breaking out into hysterical laughter. "Courtney, you're the best. Hey, want to play a game?" I asked, pulling her up by her arm and making her sit down on the other chair at the table.

"Like what?"

"Spin the bottle!"

"But there's no bottle," she said. Was that her only comeback? Hm…I guess Courtney does want a piece of the ol' Jeffster.

"We don't need a bottle." I stood up and reached into my pocket. "We have…A knife!" I quickly extracted the knife out of my pocket and flicked my wrist as I tossed it on the table, causing it to spin around and around.

"Are you insane?"

"Heh." I danced and sang as the knife spun. "You spin me right 'round baby right 'round. Like a record baby. Right 'round 'round 'round."

"You are a sick clown," Courtney said, but she didn't sound as scared as she once did.

"I'm a clown? Sorry, but I don't think someone with the name Courtney Jester should be calling me a clown."