`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
--"The Jabberwocky" by Lewis Carroll--
Jonathan could never hide her from him. Even within the confines of his mind and through the window of his eyes he watched her: the fiery nymph.
She walked with a slight limp; he had seen her with a cane, but physical shortcomings did not halt him. In fact, he was even more intrigued.
Jonathan had protested earlier that morning, but it was in vain. Scarecrow was soon enough in control and carrying out Jon's regular routine with one minor adjustment. As he entered into Arkham he grinned to see Rebecca there hard at work. He picked his way calmly and sat the bag he was holding on the counter beside her.
The change in her expression was minor, but he caught it. A flash of uncertainty flitted through her eyes when they met his. Her body minutely tensed in apprehension; in fright. She knew, she may not understand what she knew, but she did. He smiled charmingly at her and then left, hearing her open the bag—he had bought her a wheat bagel with almond cream cheese; her favorite.
Once within his office he turned around to peer into the oval mirror that hung on the wall.
"What an interesting little mouse. Don't worry, Jonny, I won't harm her but I want to play."