He'd been stabbing the table in front for at least ten minutes, the knife in his left hand coming down in rhythmic arcs on the wood that was beginning to heavily splinter as each minute yielded more force. But he couldn't stop. The steady thudding was the only thing keeping him focused at the moment.

In his right hand he held the cell phone. The source of all his frustration as he stare at the same number repeating in neat little rows showing all the times he'd attempted calling over the last few days. All ignored. Initially, when the person on the other end stopped answering, the calls had just rang for a few moments before going to voicemail. Not long after, the rings were much shorter before being abruptly cut off. And finally. The calls started going to voicemail without ringing at all. The last one was the most frustrating. And every now and again he found himself hitting redial, not for any hope of an answer, but because the repetitive motion was quickly becoming a habit that he could do blindly as his mind raced.

The reports had stopped and he'd had no updates in weeks. Even the last few times that his informant had answered the phone, he could tell that something was off. He'd let it be at the time because there was still so much work to be done here before he and his men returned. But as the work began to draw to a close, the idea had begun to eat at him. Something had changed and he needed to know what. And when he figured out what it was, his informant, if unlucky enough to still be alive, was going to pay for his poor job performance. He was never one to suffer bad work.

Pressing the button again, only to hear the same voicemail message, he let out a low, impatient growl. His body shaking with rage contained behind a stillness that radiated just enough of his anger that his men had avoided him all day. He'd had enough.

Finally he stood, clinching his hand tightly around the knife in his hand in an effort to control his anger. But it didn't matter. Growling, his hand shot up to throw the knife across the room with such force that it nearly dislodged the door frame that it landed in. Picking up the phone, he dialed another number that was answered after the first ring with a silence. But it didn't matter.

"Get the men ready." He said, giving a dark grin. "We're going back."

(5 months earlier)

It was a heavy rap on her door that roused her from her slumber a little over a week later. She barely even flinched as her eyes slid open groggily to stare at the outline of the door in the dark room with a blank expression as if daring it to disturb her again. Not that it would matter much. She'd spent the last week favoring quantity over quality when it came to sleep and though she hadn't been able to force herself to do much more than shower over the past few days before passing out again, the sleep was the antithesis of restful. The cold numbness that had been creeping in steadily since that night at the garage had yet to abate. In fact with each passing day, she could feel its icy grip tighten around her like chains. Debilitating thought. Discouraging movement.

So here she stayed. In bed where she was safe. Where they were all safe. Here where she wouldn't have to kill anyone. There had been at least 6 people so far. And without him to assuage her guilt, she felt the heaviness of each and every one. Even when the adrenaline had initially given her a rush of endorphin, she felt it. No, she'd stay here. Much like she had in the ancient apartment she'd grown up in. Here where nothing could touch her.

Here forever.

At this rate, that's how long it very well could be. With the hunger tearing at her stomach, she wasn't sure how many more days she would last before having to go out for more food.

The sound at the door came again, heavier this time. An impatient rapping followed by the silence of someone listening into the room.

"Ana, you in there? It's Ronnie." Came the call followed by another heavy knock.

She pulled in a sharp, annoyed breath before letting it come out slowly. Of course it was. He'd come by at least twice in the last week knocking just the same. But she'd ignored him each time. As far as they were concerned, their business was done.

"I know you're in there." He continued impatiently. "If you don't answer the door I'm coming in. Front desk Pauly gave me the key."

She frowned at that. The front desk attendant was an idiot, but surely he wasn't that dumb. Pulling the nearly threadbare blanket to her chin, she shut her eyes with another sigh beginning to drift back into restless sleep.

"Fine." The sound of keys jangling in the lock caused her eyes to pull open again.

Front desk Pauly was that dumb.

Reaching forward to grab the gun from her nearby bedside table, she suddenly stopped, glancing at the door again.

'What did it matter.' She thought to herself. If someone else didn't kill her, the hunger would. Maybe faster was better.

Pulling her hand back into the blanket, she gave a resigned purse of the lips before rolling away from the door to face the wall, drawing her legs close to her chest.

Finally, the door swung open, letting in a swath of yellow light into the near pitch black room for a brief moment before being shut out again.

"Hey, you alive?" Came the voice behind her as she heard his heavy footsteps circle the bed before appearing in front of her, ignoring the near arsenal on the rickety round dinner table before leaning down to try and make sense of her face in the dark.

She only glared at him, studying him as his nervous face finally calmed.

"Yea. I figured you weren't going out that easy." He finally stood up straight to take a glance around the empty room before crossing his arms. "So you ready to do this or what?"

That wasn't what she was expecting at all.

She lifted her head slightly, surprised by his casual tone and his near refusal to understand the emotional state she was in; or the fact that he'd basically broken into her room. "What?" Her voice cracked, after days of nothingness.

"Training. You wanted me to train you, right?"

He had to be kidding.

She pushed herself up onto her elbow, staring at him with narrowed eyes as she tried to wrap her mind around what was happening.

"You…broke into my room…stalked me…for training?"

"I didn't break in. I had the key." He reminded her with a careless shrug. "And I was just checking to see if you were dead. People were starting to wonder."

"What People?"

"Well…me and Pauly." He said with a careless shrug, taking another glance around the room, assessing the state of it. "So we doing this or not? And don't forget your offered to pay me whatever I wanted."

"Not." She said flatly, letting an annoyed breath out of her nose before laying back down and curling into a ball again, wanting nothing more than to drift back off into fitful sleep.
If training was all he'd come for she wouldn't waste her energy arguing with him. She should probably be more cautious, especially considering that she'd only met the man all of twice. But she didn't care. There was nothing that he could do to her now that was worse than the hell she'd put herself in. The one that he'd left her in.

"You said you would pay me." He said with a frown, crossing his arms as he leaned against the gun covered table without a second thought.

"Then sue me." She muttered.

"If I could I would." He responded before moving across to the makeshift kitchen, opening the nearest cabinet as if looking for something before moving on with an uninterested purse of the lips. "Look, I don't know what kind of mess it is that got you landed here. But whatever it was, this is a pretty shitty way to spend your freedom….and your money" He paused for a moment, wondering if she would respond. But when she didn't, he just continued, grabbing the only bit of food in the cabinet, a small bag of chips and opening it. "Why are you here anyway?"

"You asked me that already." She muttered, wishing he would just leave the room. He didn't belong here. But he also hadn't done anything to anger her quite yet.

"And?"

"And it's still none of your business."

"You'll tell me one day." He gave a careless shrug.

"You won't be around for one day." She muttered. Not a threat. Just wishful thinking.

"Well if you keep this up, neither will you. You've already pissed a lot of people off. Mind as well work on some defensive training, you know…just in case."

She perked up at that, looking over the blanket again. Wondering what it was that he knew. "Pissed off whom?"

"I just hear things." He gave a careless shrug before breezing over the question. "So. 200 bucks an hour seems reasonable, right?"

The last part she'd barely paid attention to as thoughts started working over in her mind who it was that he was referring to. The list of people she cold have pissed off was short. Nobody knew about those six bloody nights. At least she was pretty sure that no one did.

"What do you know?" She returned back to the initial question. "Who did I piss off and how?"

"Look, I don't know." He held up his hands in defense. "I mean I don't know names. I just hear chatter at the clubs. And you're not being as discreet as you think you are."

She was silent for a moment, wanting to probe for more information, but she didn't want to give off the impression that she cared too much, or knew what he was getting at, so she changed the subject. "But I haven't pissed you off? Shouldn't you not be here?"

He shrugged. "All I care about it money. I go where the jobs lead me and anything else I can handle. As long as you pay me, I stay loyal. And it looks like that's exactly what you need right now."

She eyed him suspiciously, but the more she thought about it, Maybe he was right. The Joker wouldn't stand for her to be wallowing in bed like this for any reason. And would stand even less for her compromised will to live. If…when he did come back. She had to be ready. She had to be alive. And if the man standing in front of her was right, she was going to have to fight for both. It wouldn't hurt in the least to have all 6 foot 3 of that backing her up.

Letting out a sigh, she finally pushed herself slowly to a sitting position, flexing the muscles in her back that had gotten so little use in the past few days. Her nerves firing in relief after being forced to lay dormant like a bear rising out of hibernation. Her arms flopped back onto the bed as she allowed her eyes to flick over the man in front of her who was looking at her with a mild curiosity that just barely won out over the chips in his hand. He had pulled his long hair into a loose pony tail and had pulled on a heavy wool sweater that seemed like it was straining to stay intact over his muscles. It looked ridiculous, but she didn't turn away.

He was a strange one, for sure. It was a welcome change that caused a faint feeling to fire up inside. Nowhere near what she remembered at the hospital. But it'd do.

"200?" She repeated finally.

"Only cause I like you." He crumpled the bag of chips in his hand, glancing around for a trash can before giving up. "We can start tonight. After we get some food. I'm starving."

She stare at him for a moment with a blank expression, thinking over everything that had just occurred. He had barged into her room like it was nothing and had somehow used her depressed, vulnerable state to talk her into paying him an exorbitant amount for training. All in the span of five minutes. Ignoring the guns, ignoring here reputation, and making himself far too at home in her space. It was…refreshing. Thethought brought made her chuckle, but she hid it behind pursed lips.

"Fine." She said, standing and taking a moment to arch her back in a much needed stretch. She was still in a bad mood, and she still felt the depression just waiting to bubble up the minute she took a moment to let her mind drift from all the things that she had to do. But she didn't plan on letting that happen any time soon. She would pay his price. Because the training would keep her mind and her body busy. And when she was tired of paying the exorbitant amount. She would think of other things for them to do that would accomplish the same. Was already thinking of them actually. It didn't matter, that as she sashayed to the bathroom, she was imagining all those things with someone else. She was sure he wouldn't be able to tell. And he didn't. After spending hours on the abandoned powder covered roof of the hotel working on defensive maneuvers, he hadn't noticed a thing when she made her move. Not then. Not when she'd kept her eyes closed during nearly the whole encounter, not even when she'd almost gotten his name wrong and had quickly passed it off as a simple "oh". Her mind never strayed from who she wished was there. But far from being simple lust, she pictured his face if he ever stumbled upon this, if he ever found out. The day that would quite possibly be her last. Instead of scaring her, it gave her a sort of sick satisfaction. He had left her, sure. But if he thought that she'd wait for him like a dutiful servant, he was wrong. Wait…sure. But she was going to do what she wanted in the meantime. It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't what she wanted, but for now it'd do.

(S)

"Any word?" The mob boss' gloved hand stroked the lacquer table in front of him absentmindedly as one of his men spoke to him over his shoulder.

"Nothing useful. I think you might have the wrong girl, sir."

"No. It's her. And she knows more than she's letting on."

"If she does, then she's being careful. No phone calls, no letters. Nothing. No one's even seen her lately."

"Give it time. She'll come in handy real soon." He said with a sinister smile.

"Do you still need the police file?" Another man questioned, looking up from a slim laptop atop an almost laughably small desk in the corner.

"No. Delete it. Don't want the boys in blue catching up to her before we have a chance to." He said, finally standing and moving over to slide a thin golf club out of bag, taking a moment to inspect it before going over to the makeshift green.

"Mark my words, the Joker doesn't ever stay gone long. He'll pop back up again soon and when he does…it'll be like taking candy from a baby. Put the word out, she stays alive until I give the order."

"What do you want us to do now, sir?" The man over his shoulder questioned.

"Just watch." He said simply before putting the ball into the hole.

"Anything?" Ronnie asked lazily as he lay out on the rooftop, one arm underneath his head as he focused on the night sky. A cigarette between his fingers.

She was silent for a long moment, her elbows digging into the edge of the building as she pressed the binoculars to her face, following the man in the alleyway below as he swayed through the narrow walkway on uneasy footing. It was clear, even from seven stories up that the he'd been drinking. Probably in one of the many strip clubs nearby judging as usual. It wasn't the first person to catch her eye tonight. But judging by the staggering confused gait, the man was just asking for trouble.

"No." She didn't bother to turn around, taking a moment to shake the soreness out of her left arm before bringing the binoculars back to her face. They'd been up here for nearly an hour scanning the streets below for signs of trouble. But the narrows was relatively quiet tonight. That seemed to be the case more and more these days.

"Surprise." Ronnie muttered, sitting up and grabbing a nondescript glass bottle next to him and tossing back a swig. His face scrunched slightly as he swallowed it back before letting out a satisfied growl. "Why don't we pack it in? I'm almost out. " He shook the bottle so that she could hear the bit of liquid slosh back and forth.

"Tragic." She muttered sarcastically, focusing more on the streets below.

"Oh come on. Let's go to the stacked deck. They have drink specials on Tuesdays and you haven't gotten out in a while. I mean don't get me wrong. Doing this every night is great and you're learning real fast. But you've been a downer worse than usual and-"

"Shut up." She muttered, standing to get a better look at the street below. Deep in the shadows, probably fifty feet away from the man, she could see a figure moving hidden partially by a large dumpster. Idly she wondered if this was how He'd been watching her the first night he'd let her loose in the narrows but she quickly brushed the thought away. Tonight she had work to do and thoughts of him always put her in an even worse mood.

"What? You got something?" He perked up, standing and rushing to the side to peer over, his hulking frame dwarfing her as he squinted. "Let me see." He grabbed the binoculars from her, bringing them to his own face.

She shot him an annoyed glare but gave a quick stretch before moving over to the large rifle she'd set up for this exact purpose. Kneeling, she place her cheek against the scope instead, eyeing the events unfolding and placing her hands on the handle. She could see the shadow a little more clearly now as he slinked around the corner stopping in front of the man. It was a scene she saw with decreasing frequency in the six months she'd been parked on various rooftops, but she wouldn't give up. Her ultimate goal was to find him. To see any sign of the clown masks in the city so that she could have some sort of lead, but she'd never admit that. As far as Ronnie knew, she was simply practicing with the sniper rifle and attempting to clean up the streets. But as each night passed with no new signs, she spiraled into a new round of depression as she slowly began to realize that not only was this not another one of his tests, but that she truly was alone. It felt like a knife twisting in her side every time she thought about it. But as a result, she was learning to enjoy the cold apathy that sustained most nights. It was better than the alternative.

To make matters worse, whenever she looked over the city, The bodies were everywhere. There had been so many that it scared her if she thought too much. It had all been self defense. Except for the few times that she was protecting someone else. But how many times could she put herself in the same situation and call it that. How many more bodies before self defense couldn't be used as a reasoning. Had she already reached that thresh hold? Was she already a killer? Quickly she shook the thought away. She wasn't. She wasn't a killer and she wasn't him. If anything she was saving lives.

But she could see them every time she looked out over the city in the alleyways that she'd frequented over the six months she'd been here. Not the physical bodies, of course. Those had long since been wrapped up in heavy black plastic bags and wheeled away with minimal fanfare by authorities who couldn't wait to get out of the area. But she could still see them when she tried. Where they fell. How they fell. How she'd felt when they'd fallen.

Angry.

It was always angry. Interrupted by the briefest of calms before the cold apathy crept back in.

She couldn't say why she'd decided to spend her freedom this way. And she understood the irony of it all. But she wanted to go back. Back where she was safe. Back where she didn't have to look over her shoulder for every wayward criminal or cop. She wanted to go home.

Nights like tonight were the worst. Nights when no amount of walking could squelch the sadness that bubbled up over the cold unfeeling that got her through most days. The sound of people's voices grated on her on these nights, and it was all she could do to isolate herself and try to do whatever she could to stop from circling the drain that would be the end of her. Nights where she could often be found on a rooftop trying to distract herself from every other thought that plagued her. Hiding out and trying to forget it all. The last six months, the last year. Hell, even the last twenty if she could. Back to before that fateful night in the alley when her childhood was jaded and the Joker was made. It was a nice thought for her to think about how she may have turned out. A fairytale. Nothing more. And it didn't last long before she was snapped back to reality.

So now she sat atop of her most frequented building, her feet propped up on the edge as she peered through the scope with little more than a throw covering her shoulders against the early spring chill. The sounds of the city drifted up in a strange cacophony of car horns, occasional shouting, raucous laughter, and popping noises which could be attributed to a number of things but probably only meant one. The sound of her gun would drown into the others making her nearly invisible.

"Wind's blowing west. Probably 10 miles an hour at most." Ronnie muttered to her. He'd been teaching her around the weapons she'd purchased since the night they came to their agreement. At least the guns. He never bothered with knives so she took to practicing on her own. But he also taught her some hand to hand fighting as well. And though she'd learned a little, she knew that he went easy on her despite his protests to the contrary, so she was in no rush to put her few talents to the test. And luckily, she hadn't had to. Rumors had been flying about whether or not she was the one causing such unrest throughout the narrows. But to her knowledge, it had never been confirmed. People were leary of interacting with her but she preferred it that way. The made up stories cast her as a vicious killer which was much more than she could ever want to be. So she did little to dissuade them.

Peering below, she could see the large group of men surround the drunkard who held his hands up defensively. Five on one. Two of which were carrying baseball bats. She pursed her lips, peering from face to face as she tried to figure out if she knew any of them. She'd only seen a few of the Joker's men in the garage that night and it'd been so long ago that she couldn't remember them if she tried. But she still hoped that seeing them one day may jog her memory. Tonight wasn't one of those nights. So as the first assailant swung the bat at the man's rib cage, she pulled the trigger.

The sound echoed through the narrow alley a split second before she could hear the thick piece of metal ping off of a fire escape not five feet away from the group. The men stopped, looking around nervously as if they weren't sure what happened.

"You missed." Ronnie muttered with a frown, but she ignored him, cocking the rifle and firing another shot, this time near the feet of the men, blasting dusty concrete into the air.

It was only another second of confused searching before the men finally dispatched: the assailants in one direction and the man clutching his side in the other. She didn't know what he'd done to wrong the others, but she'd at least bought him a little more time to fix it. It didn't fix her mood though. These nights rarely did anymore.

"Twice? You missed twice." Ronnie lowered the binoculars with a sigh before looking at her disappointingly.

She scowled, sitting back away from the weapon with a stretch before beginning to disassemble it. "I wasn't trying to hit them."

"Why not?" Ronnie continued, leaning an elbow over the edge as he tossed back the last of the bottle. "I'm sure you're gunning for some sort of record at this point. Go hard or go home, I always say."

She shut the case around the gun before flicking her long braid over her shoulder. "Some people deserve second chances." She said with a sigh. "And I don't know what that guy did or didn't do."

"Do you even care?" He gave a one sided shrug. The same shrug she often saw when he clearly disagreed with her but was unwilling to fight about it. Placing the top loosely back onto the bottle, he finally tossed it over the edge, leaning over to watch it hit the ground happily.

Of course she did.

"You could've hit someone." She said as if to prove a point.

"Nah. I aimed for the garbage." He shrugged her concern away as he crossed his arms atop the warm concrete, looking over the city, missing her annoyed tone. "Maybe we should try a different roof top later. If you keep coming to this one, you're gonna be found easily." Taking a second look over the edge at the neon lit strip club below he continued. "And the view is pretty shitty."

At only five stories up in a city where everything was a skyscraper, he wasn't wrong. But as she remembered walking through those heavy wooden doors, up the dirty red carpet and past the long since abandoned apartments that were now home to all manner of junkies and squatters, she couldn't help the unseen smile that crossed her lips.

"It reminds me of home." She said softly, thinking less about the dingy apartment and more about the dumb boy across the street that never learned to mind his own business.

Ronnie looked at her curiously, considering questioning her further. But it didn't matter. So he stood up straight, changing the subject.

"So. Stacked Deck?" He questioned again.

Arella rolled her eyes, annoyed with his predictability. But she didn't expect anything more from him. She didn't keep him around for his conversational skills or for the excietment. Glancing back over the horizon, she finally sat up straight, deciding that maybe it would be a good idea to get out for a bit. If nothing else it'd serve as a good distraction.

"Fine." The word came out more reluctantly than she meant. But he didn't hear it. He never did. Sliding her gun back in its holster, she stood with a stretch.

"There's my girl." He said happily, excited that he was spared having to stay and deal with her emotions tonight. Ignoring the impatient glance she flashed at him as she walked through the door and he bounded after her like an excited puppy.

It was nearly an hour later that they finally made their way through the heavy wooden doors of the stacked deck. As they crossed the thresh hold, the smell of old cigarettes and cheap alcohol hit her like an offensive wall of odor. Not to mention the smell of sweat as people packed all corners of the place. She hated the mix of odors. Mostly because it reminded her of him. She'd smelled the offending scents on his jacket a few times when he'd saunter back to the hospital late at night and fall into bed.

The lights in the room were dimmed, casting a yellow orange glow over the angled space that in less dive-like settings, might be mistaken for romantic. An impressive number of people stood around the cramped area that boasted no more than 8 tables and even less booths. They shouted to each other in boisterous conversation as if both had lost their hearing due to the overly large Juke box blaring in the corner. A few turned as she entered, Ronnie hurrying in behind her like a kid in the candy store, but those people quickly turned away when she looked up, not wanting to make the mistake of making eye contact. The rumors had been flying since the first week. They all thought she was unhinged and it wasn't worth it to most to try and get through the brick wall she'd been steadily building around herself. Instead, they side-stepped out of her way, trying their bests to make it look as if they'd always been planning to move that way.

Glancing to the left, she managed to catch the last group turn away from her quickly, going back to a fake conversation as they second glanced out of the corner of their eyes. She frowned, crossing her arms before moving to her favorite back table which was empty as usual. The big hitters usually had their own VIP rooms in the back and others rarely sat as they were more interested in taking in the festivities so she had no qualms with taking up the booth meant for a minimum of eight people.

"I'm going to go grab us some drinks." Ronnie said with a grin, bounding off to the wrap around bar.

Giving him a passing glance, she snuggled into the seat. Closing her eyes and letting out a content sigh. Even in this crowded place, it was nice to be alone. Unfortunately it was a peacefulness that wasn't meant to last.

"Ana! Hey! What are you doing here? "

She let out a quiet groan, already hating herself for coming out tonight. Forcing a smile on her face, she perked up as a girl with short curly hair-the kind of curls that old Hollywood movie stars would have killed for- slid into the booth next to her.

"Hey Lucy." She said with as much gusto as possible. "Ronnie wanted to come out. I figured I'd join him."

"Wow. Well good for you. I mean, I'm surprised he managed to convince you to be honest but I haven't seen you in forever!"

How on earth did she always attract the talkers?

"I know. I'm sorry. I've just been out of it lately. How are you?"

She considered Lucy a friend…for the most part. And she remembered the night that they'd met two months ago surprisingly well. Arella had saved her life that night in a dark alley that more experienced prostitutes used for cheap quickies. Lucy was relatively new to the game, and shockingly naive. So when a customer turned bad, Arella, in one of her famous bad moods, didn't hesitate to help her. A kindness that was repaid with a shadow that refused to leave. But she tolerated it. Because not only did Lucy remind her of her old friend Nora on the wrong side of the tracks, but she also had a ridiculous crush on the Joker despite the fact she'd never met the man. Not for her lack of trying. It was like listening to the ramblings of a a 12 year old girl when the topic came up. But it also allowed Arella to talk about the one subject that tore at her these days without anyone getting too suspicious. She wasn't sure about the Joker's reputation around here and she was almost certain that if anyone found out who she really was, it wouldn't bode well.

"Oh, you know." She let out a dramatic sigh, placing her elbow ton the table and rolling her eyes to the ceiling. "I was supposed to meet some guy here, but I don't think he actually showed up. I looked for like twenty minutes. And you know, at first I was kinda mad that I was stood up…again. But it really isn't the first time and now you're here! So it wasn't a waste after all." She grinned before holding up the drink in her hand. "Plus, like three guys have bought me drinks so whatever." She gave a dismissive wave with her carefully manicured fingers.

Glancing up at her, Arella finally gave a slight chuckle, enjoying the break from being treated like a social pariah. Try as she might, she'd never figure out why either Lucy or Ronnie stuck around. She was trouble.

"Did you at least get paid in advance?" Arella gave a careless shrug, unsure of how these things worked.

Lucy turned up her tiny nose, her mouth twisting into a contemplative pout before she gave an acquiescing shrug. "No, but I should at least start charging deposits, huh?"

"Wouldn't be the worst business decision."

"You're right." She said with another dramatic sigh, looking off into the distance wistfully before returning to the conversation. "I always thought that I'd be better at this, you know? But it's so hard. But I know it's just temporary." She said as if trying to convince the both of them. "I'll meet my dream guy one day, and he'll take me away from all of this. I'll be a kept woman. You know…like the movies." She gave a content sigh, before taking another gulp of drink.

"You don't have to wait for someone to come save you." Arella said with a look that verged on condescending but she tried hard to counteract with a soft voice. "You can just go." The words rang hollow in her ear. If only she'd take her own advice.

Lucy gave a soft, sideways smile, taking a moment to check the heavy cat eye makeup in the reflection of her drinking glass. "I can barely protect myself here, Ana. We can't all be as lucky as you."

Arella almost physically balked at the use of the word. Did Lucy seriously think that she just happened upon the ability to use a gun so effectively? Her eyes narrowed as she almost delivered a not so kind retort, but was interrupted by Ronnie who had finally come back to the booth.

"Hello Ladies." Her grinned, sliding a drink in front of Arella before sliding into the booth himself. "Lucy, I didn't know you were here tonight, you want me to get you a drink?" He thumbed back casually to the bar over his shoulder.

"Nope." She held up her nearly full glass with a grin, clearly having completely missed the angry look on Arella's face. "I'm all set. Do you guys mind if I stick with you tonight, though?"

Before Ronnie could answer enthusiastically, Arella flashed the angry glance her way again before quickly hiding it under one of exhaustion. "I'm sorry, Lucy. But I'm really tired tonight and just want to be alone." She said with strained patience. The sounds of the raucous music was enough right now. She didn't need that heavy New York accent that somehow managed daintiness at the same time in her ear.

Lucy hesitated, her grin falling into a pout. "Oh." She said, not quite sure what to do. Lokoing towards Ronnie for another answer that would never come.

"Maybe next time, okay?" Arella said with a fake smile, dismissing the girl from her presence.

"Okay." Lucy repeated with a hesitant chuckle, sliding out from the booth. "Bye Ronnie." She said before disappearing around the corner like a scolded puppy.

Ronnie watched the girl leave for a moment before turning to Arella with a sigh. "She doesn't have a lot of friends." He said calmly.

"What's your point?" She barely looked up at him, not feeling the least bit regretful as she put the drink to her lips and taking a long gulp.

Ronnie thought for a moment before giving a careless shrug. He cared much less about the girl's feelings than he did about having a fun night. And arguing would most certainly put the brakes on any good time he wanted. She was deeply in one of her moods tonight which was taxing enough to deal with. But the payoff was usually great for him even as others in the narrows paid the price.

For thirty minutes, the two of them sat at the partially hidden table, Ronnie chatting away as she maintained her blank expression in an attempt to hide how depressed she was still feeling. To be fair, getting out of the house had helped a little, but it wasn't enough. It never was.

"Hey! Hey Ana." The excited voice from her left brought her out of her musings. She looked up to see Lucy nearly running over to her as if completely forgetting their last interaction. "Oh thank god, you're still here." Lucy slid into the booth seamlessly, ignoring Arella's slightly narrowed eyes and Ronnie's wide ones. "You will never believe who I saw. Who's here." She said excitedly, almost shaking with excitement.

Arella cringed but turned towards her lazily, pushing Ronnie's heavy arm from her shoulder. He liked putting his arm around her in public. Probably because no one else was allowed to and he enjoyed the way it felt. For the most part, she let him because occasionally, she needed the contact. "Who?"

"He is." She said as if it were obvious. "The Joker."

Yay! Chapter two, finally, amiright? Lucky for you guys, the next chapter is practically done. I just couldn't wait to get the Joker back in town. Writing them so far apart is crazy hard! But our Arella is a survivor. Even if she's so focused that she's missing some of what's going on around her. ;) Somewhat of a slow chapter, but it was necessary to introduce some important characters to the rest of the story. It's gonna be fun from here on out so thanks for sticking with me!