Chapter Eleven: Undertake your own Happiness; No matter the Hell you travel through.
Holly's phone had been ringing nonstop since two am, texts were flooding in and even her unused pager was going wild. The Ruthless Roman had been dealt a serious blow, strung up like a sacrifice to Gotham's finest. Of course, the boys were calling everyone wondering what to do next, who was in charge? Did they keep rank or go buck wild? A select few of them went razing the streets giving overtime hours to the police but most had begun a rumor that kept them at home, one about a man-bat creature. A vigilante in a bat suit that beat the living shit out of the men at the docks. Honestly, Holly did not care if it was a demon or a wackjob, she was mad they'd not come around Gotham sooner.
"I hope you all enjoy black coffee as I have nothing else in my apartment to offer." She nearly beamed and patted the coffee maker before setting out some mugs of all shapes and sizes, "You're all welcome to pour your own." Holly grabbed a mug in the likeness of an owl and filled it to the brim before going to join the little pow-wow.
Tony shook his head in a no thanks and sat on her sofa with George, two other goons and one dame she cared to not know the names of were in her living slash dining space too.
"Why the fuck you smilin?" One of the men spoke to Holly, "We need to seriously be looking for the fuckhead that did this." This goon would now be deemed 'fuckhead' in her mind.
"No, no we really don't." Holly sipped her coffee. At the daggered stares two of them gave her she spoke up again, "Carmine is going to jail, it's not like he hasn't been there before. Things will continue to run as they should, as you should. We'll be on the lookout for a giant bat creature, and if it is a man… don't you think he'd try to hit us again? Set a trap. Simple."
"Yeah, so why don't we go and find him, then whack him instead?" George offered.
"Idiot." The other woman rolled her eyes, "And who says 'whack' these days?"
"Don't be a bitch Lucy." George spoke with his hands too. The woman flipped him off then in a display of some kind, kissed the cheek of the man who had been silent thus far, "You know she's got AIDS right?" George looked the silent man dead in the eye.
"Okay, enough of that kiddos, we ain't gathered here for Next Time on Gotham: Mobsters Drama edition," Tony rubbed his forehead, "It's four in the fuckin morning so let's get to the point. Falcone's going to the slammer and Maroni is going to try and have him offed. Who we got on the inside already?" Tony had been a thug for Carmine's father Vincent Falcone before and while he did not work for Carmine it was still a lifestyle for him. He was more knowledgeable about these matters and Holly was grateful for that; even if she would have preferred Carmine never saw daylight again.
"What about the thing?" The man, whom Holly dubbed fuckhead, asked.
"What thing?" Tony opened his hands in a gesture that said 'Explain.'
"You know the thing, where uh he just says he's nutso and gets to hang out at Arkham for a bit. Even fuckin' Victor got off jail time and we all know that one's a real piece of work." Fuckhead had a point. What if Carmine just tried to claim insanity? It was not the first thug they'd gotten off jail time recently thanks to a pocket shrink at the asylum.
"He would," Holly admitted, "he'll probably try something crazy to get a plea. Does anyone know the name of the payroll at the asylum? I've been too busy to play babysitter to everyone." It was only a mild lie, she'd just been too lazy to put everyone on the books, and her head was just not in it these days due to lack of sleep.
"Ain't on the payroll." Mister Silent spoke up finally, "I heard the guy works for someone else."
"Works for someone else?" Holly snorted a laugh, "Who?" There was no one else to work for in this city. Maroni had his guys but they'd never help Falcone.
"Some spooky Chinese gang lord, the dude with the shipments we ain't supposed to talk about."
Her smile immediately fell. Carmine had wanted in with whatever that man Ra's was about to pull on Gotham. Due to his distrust of many in the family, he had not let everyone in on that idea, not even she was aware until more recently. Holly had been left in the dark about a lot of details since she shot James. She understood that Falcone saw her as a greater risk to his operation if she was going to have a real mental breakdown over killing someone. It had felt like a grey skied vacation not working with people as much, now though she was regretting it. Carmine was not going to stay behind bars for long – was now the time to pour as much convicting evidence on the GCPD's desk as she could? She'd incriminate herself and probably many others in the process. Holly just wanted out, not to go to jail and get herself offed like Joe Chill. Well. Fuck.
"Okay, but what's their name? I'll likely need to pay them anyway." She tried again. She'd not written one out for any doctors at the asylum as of yet. Carmine had probably done that himself too, or maybe that was why Steve was on such a high horse. It did not matter now. What did was the possibility that maybe she could buy the shrink off to either keep Falcone in jail or… or better. Never let him out of the loony bin. If they worked for someone else what was their care if the gangster rotted in lock up?
Fuckhead answered, "Uh… Doctor Crab. Cran-bury… somethin." He just shrugged afterward.
"Crane, lil'bro. Like a bird." Lucy patted Fuckhead on the head.
"Yeah, we know em, got to see him sometimes when we delivered to the narrows," George quipped in, "You remember Johnny, 'Olly?"
Holly swallowed, "Oh…" she bought time to collect her thoughts by taking a sip of coffee and crossing one leg over the other. There was only one Johnny Crane both she and George should know, "Last I knew he was teaching at GU."
"Tch," the noise came from Lucy followed by, "I was a student at GU when he got fired. He was a total fuckin' psycho. Shot a gun off in class just to prove a point about fear or whatever. How you guys know him?" Holly vaguely remembered that a teacher at GU was let go for inappropriate teaching methods. She assumed it was just another professor getting his dick sucked in exchange for good grades and paid little attention to the scoop that lasted less than a week.
"'Olly an' Johnny tutored me, Vinny and…" he stopped before he said 'James' looking over at Holly, "they tutored us. It's how we all met."
"You forgot that Jonathan was blackmailing you, James and Mario." Holly took another sip of her coffee. Her voice had been drained of all its previous joyousness. Gotham was such a big city, could there not have been another doctor at Arkham that was in the mob's pocket?
"He was?" George furrowed his brows.
"He was," Holly confirmed before adding, "Maybe Mario never told any of you, I just assumed you all knew. He apparently caught you with stolen steroids." It is what Jonathan had told her all those years ago, though she was fuzzy on any other details of that conversation.
"Huh…" George rubbed his chin, "I don't remember it." She did not blame him, he'd been cracked on the skull from sports and gang wars. It was bound to cause memory problems as he aged.
"So everyone knows the guy, great. Holly, you need a ride then?" Tony wanted to get this over with and go back home to his wife he'd left in a warm bed or at least not be sitting around when there was work to be done. He stood making the point to everyone that he wanted to get a move on.
"Sure. Let me put clothes on and finish this coffee." She was still in a pair of sweatpants and a wife beater; she'd not bothered changing having assumed this conversation about Falcone would end up with her going to the courthouse when it opened to the public at nine, "Okay, meetings over. You three," her hand held out the coffee mug pointing at the goons, "go keep Steve in line, he's bound to do something stupid like suck up to Maroni," she turned to walk towards the kitchen counter to refill the coffee, "George you know how to handle the dock fellows that were not rounded up without me, do that. Everyone else can sort themselves out."
"No." Fuckhead glared, "I ain't doing shit, I'm going back to bed then spending the week fishin or something. Getting out of town before bullets start flying."
"Well you're very welcome to do that," Holly poured her coffee while staring at him. She could see his older sister Lucy and Mister Silent turning to him as if asking 'what the fuck?' "… have fun fishing." Both of her brows rose and she raised the mug to him then took a drink the threat of doing more than catching fish was implied in her tone.
Fuckhead looked between her and his sibling then smacked one of Holly's chairs toppling it over in anger, "Whatever, come on guys let's go see Shoelace Steve."
Holly had found that she was not the only one feeling trapped in this life and maybe it was a truly devilish move to use that against others, "Thank you!" She called with a customer service voice as they left her apartment. George waved at her before closing the door. It was just her and Tony now.
"Should have just decked the kid," Tony gestured to the door with a thumb before he grabbed a mug on the kitchen counter to get coffee with, "would have hurt him less."
"Think so?"
"Know so," he paused to take a long swig of the bitter blend, "Ugh…" his face was expressive in that he disliked the taste but took another drink then asked, "You really know the shrink?"
"Unfortunately, yes. You recall when August gave that lecture at Gotham University?" Holly leaned against the counter sipping the coffee slowly. She'd get ready when this cup was gone, though maybe just one more after it.
"Kind of."
"Long story short before Vincent…" The right word eluded her and she settled on, "recruited me, I went to school with the guy for not even a year, we… got along I guess. Maybe, tolerated each other better than the other people around us is all," Holly rubbed her neck with her free hand, "he was this major stick in the mud. Allstar nerd. Anyway, when August went to give that lecture I took a projector from another room," She watched him as he watched her. Tony was always good at listening but she did not want to drag the story on either, "turns out I stole Professor Crane's. I came back to the car late… because he and I, spoke," she was recalling the knot in the pit of her stomach, "he's a lot more than a stick in the mud nerd," she chuckled, "he reminds me of August, in a way. Cunning and a lot more dangerous than he seems." Holly did not mention that while August felt more like a grandfather to her, the mention of Jonathan Crane and being reminded of that day made her skin crawl.
"Huh." Tony looked down at the coffee and poured it out, "This is shit you know." She wondered if he recalled when she got back to the car pale as a sheet, telling white lies about just feeling ill that day.
"I know." Holly tipped the rest of her mug into her mouth.
"If he's like August then I'm sure you'll be fine." Tony took the rest of the coffee in the pot before the woman could grab yet another cup and poured it down the sink, "Go on, hurry up. Arkham opens at six."
Six AM.
The sun was not even up at this hour, summer was over and the days were getting shorter but could they not have come a little later in the day? Arkham was in the narrows, even Holly got goosebumps from being in this part of town with daylight. Tony was rolling through the winding roads slowly, his personal car while a bit more flashy was lightly armored and tinted, unlike the exposed cab. In some of the streets, the car could not fit down due to building additions that blacked the road. They would have to reverse and try a different route making the drive longer than it should have been. Every pothole taken was a reminder that this place was in desperate need of infrastructure funding. The shadows of people starting their day made her feel uneasy especially as Tony was unconventionally silent. He was focused on the road and trying not to hit anyone that stepped out suddenly.
"Why are we going to Arkham again, could we not have just made a house call?" Holly spoke quietly while she fidgeted with an unopened pack of cigarettes; the poor old pack she'd still yet to open after all these years of having it. As they ran over a bump her nail clipped it too roughly and the sealed plastic popped off one end. Her eyes snapped to the spot.
"Do you know where he lives?" Tony side glanced at her before turning right onto the next street taking them up the road toward the imposing asylum.
He had a point and she admitted, "No." And they probably did not have time to find out. Carefully pocketing the pack into her jacket to cause it no further damage Holly sighed.
"Then we go to the place we know he works," They both leaned looking out of the front window at the building once Tony parked and shut off the engine. Stories of age old bricks and a hospital vibe from hell, "I'll be in the car if you need me."
"Tch, scared old man?" Holly only meant to tease.
Yet he answered in a more serious tone, "I don't like doctors."
"Oh," it was not like he often talked about himself. Holly felt perhaps that she should have known, "I shouldn't be too long anyway."
She opened the car door, sliding from the seat she took a briefcase that had been next to her legs, got out then closed it. All the while still looking up at the asylum. It was just a building, a hospital for the mentally ill that had committed crimes to get better, there was nothing to be frightened of. Deep down it was not the place she knew that was bringing about this feeling. With each step, Holly steeled herself into the grown-up she was supposed to be, a woman that worked for the most ruthless crime lord in Gotham, she could not be afraid of social calls.
Like putting on a mask of resolve her face told no tales of how she felt by the time she reached the door and as she went through it a soft smile came to her lips. Her hand even moved on its own to give a small wave toward the receptionist that looked up. It was at this point she felt like she was just watching herself, feeling disjointed from her own flesh acting and coasting through, "Hello, I'm here to see Doctor Crane."
"Are you a patient's guardian or family member?" The other woman was looking for context to the visit, Holly watched as she looked to the computer to try and search for any appointments.
"No, I'm here as a legal representative for Victor Zsasz, there are some forms Doctor Crane did not file with us while at the courthouse. We've had a hard time reaching him about those matters over the phone… you know how ruthless a boss in the legal system can be, so here I am." Holly held up the slim briefcase.
"We do forward those calls to his office, many of our doctors are very busy with patients. Sorry for the inconvenience. I'll try to page him, otherwise without an appointment you may have to wait a while."
"I completely understand, I can sit here all day if need be." Holly made sure to call any bluff the receptionist may have been trying to pull on her. Maybe it was a bad habit to distrust others that she'd formed, certainly this young lady was not trying to pull anything over on her.
The other woman pressed a few buttons on the landline before holding the receiver to her ear, "… Doctor Crane, someone from the courthouse is here to see you about the Zsasz case," there was a pause and she spoke no more to the doctor. The phone was put back down, "Luckily he was in his office. He said he'd be down soon."
Although she did not want to sit there all day, her goal was finally within reach. She set the briefcase on the countertop and looked to her right. It was rather a beautiful building on the first level. One of Gotham's older ones she assumed by the architecture, the grand wide staircase split into two as it spiraled up and out of sight. It might have been creepy, she thought, if no one was around or if the lights were out.
Soon turned into twenty minutes, ten of which she made ideal chatter with the other woman. It started with a compliment on her nails and they spoke about superficial things, such as nail polish colors, hair salons in town and where to find the best skin care products.
"… I'll never dismiss Everly's hydrating masks, does wonders for my late-night shifts." The receptionist smiled at Holly, chuckling, "Oh there he is." Her eyes darted to her side where the stairwell came into view.
"Jonathan, long time no see." Holly smiled, her nerves were in check after the mundane conversation.
He on the other hand stopped cold. His gaze gave her a once over as if he was checking whether what he saw before him was real. His head tilted as he asked, "Kingsley?"
"Yes, and so sorry to show up without an appointment, you'll have to forgive me. My boss can be rather selfish." It was easier to lie when there was truth laced into it. She grabbed the briefcase and went to stand before him.
He checked his watch, "Very well, I've some time to spare." She had a hard time reading his expression, his tone had been somber.
They were silent in the ascent to where his office resided and when he opened the door, he allowed her to go in first. She went to stand behind one of the chairs at the front of his desk, holding the briefcase handle with both hands taking a posture that spoke to business and less of a personal call.
She watched as he closed the door then rounded the desk to sit and made a gesture for her to do the same, "You're not here for Zsasz case, are you?" He had filed all that paperwork meticulously. At first, he assumed it was the assistant DA, Dawes, who'd come to bother him about doing Falcone those favors and had gone downstairs to shoo her off once and for all. It was not only a shock to see someone else but someone he knew.
Holly shied away from sitting down, her resolve breaking some as he called out her lie. However, she did sit before she spoke, "My apologies, though I doubted I could tell your receptionist I'm here to discuss the recent custody of Mister Falcone by the GCPD."
"Yes, wonderful news for the judicial department. Why is that my business or yours…" As he said it aloud the puzzle sorted itself out, "you work for Carmine?"
Holly's smile was turning sheepish, "I do. As you're aware Carmine will be officially incarcerated very soon."
"No." He deadpanned attempting to cut the conversation cold. His hands laced together on top of his desk.
"Jonathan, please hear me out—"
"I've already put myself at risk keeping his thugs out of jail," he was staring her down… if looks could kill, "It's rather unsavory that you might think I'd be more willing to help simply because we have, and I say it loosely, history." His opinion of her, not that he truly had one before, dropped significantly.
Holly swallowed, "I'd have come even if it was not you." She met his gaze and felt like a doe frantically watching the wolf in the bushes.
"You'll forgive me if I do not believe that."
"I'm not here to get Falcone out of jail time." She insisted.
"No, you're here to put him in Arkham."
"I'm here to make sure he stays in Arkham."
His head tipped to the left as it had downstairs, "Stays in Arkham?"
The words caught in her throat; she'd never said them aloud.
"Kingsley, you have my attention, explain before you lose it."
"I-" Her voice cracked. She took a deep breath breaking from his gaze. Her eyes looked to his desk and the folders on it, "I want out." Her voice was so small.
"Out?" He pressured her. Jonathan noticed her change in temperament, she was frightened but not of him per se.
Holly wet her suddenly dry lips, "I…" her pounding heart was beating out her resolve from her body with every thump in her chest, "I should go," her speech became rushed, "you're right. When Falcone eventually makes his plea I hope you consider doing him such a favor as to keep him out of Blackgate." She pushed out of the chair.
"Holly," he was no fool and it was terribly apparent at this point, "sit back down." That was easier than he thought it would be when she lowered back into the chair albeit slowly, "While I owe you no personal favors I do not care for Carmine's meddling in my affairs." He kept his voice level, calming like he would with any patient. He waited for her to think about his words. However, the woman seemed slow to have it sink in. Her eyes were anywhere but upon him, "Kingsley," he went to grab her attention again, "name four things you see in front of you right this moment."
"… What?" Her responding was a positive start.
"Humor me. Name four objects."
"Uh… Folder. Fountain pen. Your hands. Red tie…" He noticed her path of gaze went from the edge of his desk toward him. She was looking at his chest before her eyes averted, "I don't—"
"Now name three things you hear." He controlled the conversation.
"Your voice, the ticking of your office clock." She had keen ears, he hardly heard that or perhaps had been awfully used to it.
"That was only two."
"I… I can't hear anything else over the pounding of my heart. For fuck sake," it seemed to snap her back before he finished the therapy, "I want out," she met his gaze again, "I want out from under Carmine's thumb and you're in a grand position to help with that," Holly sank into the chair once again looking away, "Fuck. I'm such a coward." She sounded tired.
"Language."
"Bite me." She lashed out but her voice was not angry nor loud, just exhausted. Holly had replied to him like he was just another thug she had to babysit without thought.
And he scowled, "You came to me, asking for aid I'll remind you." Though the expression did not last too long on him.
"Sorry… I'm," Holly took a deep breath, finally letting go of the briefcase she set it on the ground then put a hand to her head, "This is probably the most stressful thing I've done since I started importing your stupid drugs." Her hand fell to her lap.
"I feel as if I am missing some vital context, what is it you do exactly for Mister Falcone?" He had a misconception. When she said she had come from the courthouse, he had believed that part at the very least and had made the assumption she was just another lawyer of Carmine's.
Holly was reluctant to tell him, "Legally I aid in the management of his vast wealth," she paused to collect a better vocabulary, "off the record I write the cheques and allocate funds to his payroll along with keeping track of not-so-legal imports and exports among other things." All the other little side things he had her do could be left to his imagination.
"Essentially you're a funds manager?" She thought that when he asked for clarity it did not sound much like a question. Jonathan now had a better picture of the woman that sat across from him.
"The original title I had been employed under was Steward, but yes, that better reflects what it is I do these days." It was certainly better than being acquitted to a glorified accountant or bookie.
"I see. So you came to bribe or blackmail me?" He used the same tone she recalled that he had when she'd taken his projector, not exactly accusatory yet laced with threat, it made her stomach knot all over again. Though this time there was more cause to sound hostile.
"The former," Regardless of how tight her stomach got her heart rate was slowing back down, and it was becoming less of a challenge to think clearly, "I understand the hassle it may present trying to keep Mister Falcone under lock and key at an asylum when he starts throwing a tantrum to get out."
Jonathan leaned back, his eyes shifted from her for the first time as he thought, "What exactly are you hoping to gain from Carmine being kept here rather than Blackgate?" His tone no longer reflected a hostile nature.
His tones set her off like a rollercoaster trying to find the emergency brake button; hostilities made her tense but his more somber voice put her at ease, "Ideally, isolation. In Blackgate he is still Boss Falcone and can just as easily control his empire from behind bars, albeit a little less glamorously. Should he reside here in Arkham it presents a greater challenge to control that empire. The longer his stay becomes the less likely he is to be respected by those in the streets and the more likely his empire is to break piece by piece. Prison is a glorified ground for proving oneself – most criminals wear those metaphorical stripes like a badge of honor and the longer the years served the more one could potentially be respected. It's different when they go to a mental facility for an extended stay."
He was certain he once asked if she was foolish or manipulative in their youth. The question begged him to ask again though he did not, "A valid point, but what do you gain Holly?"
This was something she'd not given as much thought to. Freedom? A right to live without waiting for her door to be kicked in by the police? "I've thought to simply call the police and turn myself in many times, Jonathan. Rats do not live long and while the prospect of jail time does not scare me, my death," she paused, "my death certainly does. I would gain an out that does not involve a shank in my gut or bullet to the back." Holly added in morbid thought, 'Nor Moonlite walks off the edge of a very tall building.'
Self-preservation has always fascinated Jonathan. As a result of the fear of one's own demise, it comes in so many forms and bartering in particular was as a dance would be between rationality and desperation. Perhaps he simply took guilty pleasure in bartering with his dance partners, especially when he controlled the outcome. His thumbs tapped together lightly twice before he unlaced his fingers, "I am in no need of funding," he enjoyed the fact that she understood what he meant. The expression on her face was a giveaway, "you are correct in that it would be a hassle to keep Mister Falcone here, and I would require some form of compensation for that undertaking."
Holly considered if she'd not sold her soul to the devil called Falcone, would she be selling it now to one called Crane? She did not get the moment to offer anything as his desk phone rang. They both looked at it.
"Do excuse me a moment," he held up his hand in a gesture that was asking her to wait, "it is the nurse's station downstairs," and he picked up the landline, "Doctor Crane. Yes, please transfer them." He clicked the phone down and it rang in the next few seconds, "Arkham Asylum, this Doctor Jonathan Crane speaking." His eyes turned to Holly, watching her.
She fidgeted with her hands in her lap.
His lips parted as if he was going to say something but waited a moment longer, "No, it is no trouble, if he remains in stable condition and watched without further incident, I'll be over first thing in the morning." Another pause, "yes you too, Goodbye." He hung up the phone and she saw that small smile she did not like begin to form on his face though his tone took on notes of pity, "Mister Falcone has attempted to slit his wrists and is currently being treated at an emergency room."
Holly put her hands under her glasses to rub her face, "Of course he did," she nearly groaned, "I should just be in awe he waited this long and not the moment he was cuffed."
"He should be released back into holding this evening, upon which I am now expected to go and judge his current mental state tomorrow morning."
Perhaps it was just her, yet she felt he was not thrilled about this either. Carmine was a burden to them both, "Jonathan," she started with a hesitant pause yet carried on in earnest, "I once told Carmine's father I'd do anything to not get shot that night and I have regretted the words 'Eternal Servitude' ever since. I've already experienced what it is like to sell my soul to the devil. Whatever compensation you want, I'll get it for you." The knot in her stomach had finally begun to fade.
Did she just compare him to the devil or to Carmine's father? "You sound rather defeated," it was a mused thought said aloud, one Holly did not entertain with a reply. He continued, "Call me curious, what made you so desperately want to leave a life in which you have such wealth to use and I assume many benefits to enjoy?" He was going to drag out this conversation a little longer before deciding what it was he could take.
"Money can buy many things Jonathan but it cannot bring someone happiness." Every self-help book and Wiseman spouted that, "If there's nothing you want, I'll take my leave." Solemn calm had come to her. She accepted the fact that he was not going to bend and that this was probably some form of power trip, it was not as if she'd not seen it before. Men saying they want not money but other things, even Carmine often said he enjoyed favors more than money just to put other people under him in the end. She'd rather jump off the city bridge than play games with power-hungry men anymore.
The pursuit of happiness was always a sad one, "I apologize if I've come off crass, Holly," his voice was like honey in milk and it pulled her back into listening, "to be honest this is all very sudden and quite a shock to me as well. I feel that asking you for favors may be something you're uncomfortable with, given what sort of life you are seeking to leave. Though I truly do not have a need for much else." His sincere tone was false but that did not matter, so long as Holly believed it.
Her eyes lowered further to her lap and her brows furrowed in thought, "It does," and she took a steeling breath in then out, "I suppose it will depend on the favor."
"Favors," he pointed out, "three if you're wondering."
That seemed like a very specific number, was she a genie about to grant three wishes? "It will depend on the favors." She corrected.
"The first will be an agreement between you and I," he held up one finger, "you are never to swear in my presence again," Holly looked up at him, confusion painting her features, "simple, no?"
She nodded wearily, "All right." Once upon a time, she promised to never call him Johnny, curving her use of foul language should not be a problem. It was the odd request itself that made her cautious.
"Two," his next finger went up, "you will come to therapy twice a month with me. If you are unsure, it's obvious to me you've been a lying, anxious disaster of distress that I assume has been caused by performing immoral acts while under the employment of Mister Falcone, and I as a professional cannot in good conscious watch you walk out without agreeing to get some form of help." As it stood while he often performed more questionable means to patient recovery and even planned to commit terrorism on Gotham's citizens soon in a grand experiment, he was just trying to cure them of their fears in the end. Kingsley was no exception.
"… Twice a month?"
"I do not believe you would need any more than that." He tried to comfort her into the idea. Not as if it would matter once Gotham was blanketed in toxin, he would be there for them all as a saving grace.
"All right."
"Will the first and third or second and fourth Tuesday of the month work better for you?"
"The first and third."
He picked up that fountain pen and opened his desk, a small calendar was laid out and he marked the dates, "I would, however, like to start our first session a couple of days from now, forms to file and all. Afternoon preferably. Upon which I can tell you the outcome of Falcone's new arrangements, set that rattled mind of yours at ease."
"Can… can it be after four at least?" It was not like she had anything to do exactly. Holly was testing the waters already, was he really trying to help her in good faith? Was he honest when he confided in her that this situation came as a shock? Maybe he was right, something must have been wrong with her as she was trying to feel him out like she would a sweet-talking drug dealer. She never had evidence to distrust him.
His pen stopped and he looked up at her, that soft smile tugged at his lips, staying this time, "After four, hm," his gaze went down to what was already written in his schedule, "six forty then?" She nodded. He marked it down then put the calendar back into the desk drawer, "Thank you, Holly, it means a lot to me that you're comfortable enough to agree."
"Sure," she was retreating from him. Her arms were crossed and she'd turned her eyes to the decorative wallpaper of his office, "what is that final favor you'd like?" Holly truly hated that soft smile of his.
He thought for a moment. Jonathan had planned to ask for a rain check on the third favor, to leave it in the air for later when he could abuse it. Yet a little voice urged him to speak, "Coffee."
Simple, Right?
Holly opened the car door and Tony all but jumped out of his skin, "Jesus woman, gonna give me a heart attack," he watched as she slid into the seat with the briefcase against her chest, "so how'd it go? He take the money?"
She looked a bit pale but spoke lowly, "He didn't want the money."
"What?" He asked mostly because he was not sure he heard her right.
"I said," and she pushed the briefcase at him, "He did not want the money." Her hands were pressed to the case and her breathing was heavy. Her head hung between her outstretched arms.
Tony gently took the case and maneuvered it to toss in the back seat, one of the latches clicked open revealing part of the many bound crisp bills inside, "What do you mean he didn't want the money?" Tony was worried that this doctor didn't take the bribe and they were about to have to blackmail or find where he lived. His hands came to her shoulders as her arms fell to lay limply across the center console.
"… He…" Holly started laughing, it kind of freaked Tony out. He'd never heard her laugh so heartily not beyond the occasional chuckle or snort, "He asked me out for coffee." Tears were in her eyes from laughing, she could hardly breathe.
"Do," the older man was at a loss for words, "Do ya need me to knock his teeth in?"
Holly shook her head, trying to rein in the laughter, "No. No, please don't. He's going to take Carmine from Blackgate," she snorted, "Carmine already slit his wrists. Arkham got the call while we were discussing compensation."
Tony eased Holly back some, "Everything's gonna be okay. Carmine's not foolish enough to cause himself serious harm. He'll live." Tony tried to console her not knowing at all she wished the man had been that foolish.
