peektuttut | [RL, Joker & Tim] [Backdated to late on the 23rd]

Current Location: Arkham Asylum

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[RL, Joker & Tim] [Backdated to late on the 23rd]

He was almost getting used to these world-hops, and that was vaguely disturbing. A part of him wished he'd never happened upon the community, wished he'd never come to know about these parallel worlds. There was enough to worry about in his own Gotham; Arkham destroyed, its prisoners on the loose. Tim should be there, where he was needed; not in this Gotham, in this Arkham what wasn't a hollowed out shell. Yet, here he was, sneaking past security, into the asylum. It was as easy as home, if not easier; this Gotham wasn't as used to the criminal masterminds Tim's was. And considering that he was without most of the tools of his utility belt, this really was a cakewalk: a little system rewiring, rerouting cameras to set on loops, a swiped security card, and he was in.

It wasn't too hard to find the Joker's cell. Max security, as per usual, solitary of course - and there he was and - and -

From what he could see through the window on his door, Joker actually had a human pallor. This...was no doubt the strangest thing Tim had seen in a while. Blinking, wary of the lack of the lack of a straight jacket, Tim ran the cardkey through the security panel on the wall, and stepped inside.

Only way out was closing behind him, and there was a very crazy man in front of him. Tim was trying very hard to remember why this had seem like a good idea.

"Joker."

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Being without his makeup was only one of the few injustices dealt to the Joker, the rest of them relating back to shitty hospital food, straight-jackets, no privacy and other things of that nature. He was rather comfortable at the moment, however - they'd giving him a sedative he was sure they thought would knock him out half an hour ago, and it made him feel lazy and lethargic.

He had been staring at the ceiling from his cot, counting the cracks and imperfections - 28 cracks, 14 chips and 4 odd water-stains so far - when someone called his name and the door clicked shut. How had he missed it even opening? These sedatives really were good.

He craned his neck to look over his chest, hands clasped together on his chest, and frowned.

"...Who are you, again?"

"Tim." He slipped his hands into his pockets, taking a step forward, but otherwise keeping his distance. "We haven't met face to face." Which was true on all levels; he'd never seen a Joker without the scarlet smile, and a Joker had never seen him without his mask.

"I heard you were in Arkham, and thought I'd come talk." About Gotham; both of them.

"Timmmm." He rolled the name around in his mouth for a minute, before shrugging and pushing himself up, grinning lazily and, surprisingly, without malice at the teen. "Well. I'm not supposed to get visitors, but I guess you know how lax Arkham's visiting hours are, don't you, Tim?"

Why did that name sound familiar? He was from the community, he knew that. ...From Gotham.

He frowned. "Oh. You're from, uh, Nygma's Gotham, aren't you. What do you want?" Don't mind the hostility, Tim, he's just grumpy.

"Why does everyone assume it's his Gotham? I think I was here first." Tim watched the older man, watched him carefully, but kept his body slack. Acting was mostly pie at this point. "And when you grease the right palms, I guess visiting hours aren't that solid."

Shifting to lean lightly against the wall, beside the door, the Boy Wonder shrugged lightly. "Just a conversation. That okay with you?"

"He's more obnoxious and meddling than you." He paused. "These sedatives are magical, if I'm complimenting a teenager from a Gotham I hate." Whether he noticed the cautiousness or was simply too stoned or relaxed to care was unknown as he slouched against the wall by his cot, watching Tim mildly.

"Conversation. What kind of idiot breaks into an asylum just to talk to someone they could contact through e-mail?" He chuckled - too normal sounding, and he wasn't really trying for it. That was no good.

"Sure. Sure, kid, what do wanna talk about?"

Ignoring the compliment, he latched onto the admission. Not that it had likely been a secret. "Doubt they let you get e-mail in here."

Tilting his head to the side slightly, Tim put on an inquisitional face. "Why do you hate my Gotham?" It may very well be this one in a few years. A decade or more, perhaps.

"Well, that's beside the point." He cracked his knuckles, stretching his arms over his head. "Oh, I don't... hate your Gotham, not really. It's just that I've been having... trouble with Eddie-dear. Just a little tick, nothing I can't fix, you know. He just paints you all in such a bad light."

Oh. Well there goes that lead, maybe. "Yeah, I've always heard he's such a great guy. He's really the only problem you have with it?" Joker had never been the egomaniac type. It was never about world conquering with him, just the insanity, or the point that one bad day could drive anyone crazy...or it was nothing, everything. It changed so frequently.

"Is Nygma the only interaction you've had with our Gotham?"

"Aren't you the littlest detective?" he asked, holding out his arms in a blameless expression. "Of course he is - other than you and, uh, I don't think I've actually talked to the Hush guy, but since he and Eddie seem to have a past of sorts, maybe I should."

He looked Tim over with a casual eye, picking at him mentally. A kid who could flit past security, huh? Or pay his way in - a mini-Bruce Wayne, maybe. "So what's your deal, kid? Coming all the way out here to talk to me - don't you have your own Joker to interview?"

"Me? Nah. Just too curious for my own good, so I'm told." Careful, he thought, careful. Tim shrugged, playing it off as nothing - though his gaze sharpened when Hush was brought up. "You probably shouldn't do that. I mean, you'll do what you want, of course...but you probably shouldn't."

And Tim shrugged again, pushing off the wall to stand straight. "I do," he said, speaking casually. "But he isn't locked up and doped up. I figured you'd be a better bet. Besides, you're a little different. It's interesting."

"Curious." He pointed at Tim with the air of an impressed older relative. "I like that."

The wall was uncomfortable and so he shifted, lying on his stomach on the cot and propping his head up with a hand, still inspecting Tim idly. Curious, indeed.

"He's a last ditch effort. I think I'd like to keep your Gotham and my Gotham as separate as possible, if it's all the same to you."

And there was the word - interesting. It wasn't hard to tell that the Joker liked being interesting and that meant Tim had just bought himself something similar to a modicum of respect. "Well. I admire you, kid - risking life and limb to come wandering into Arkham just to talk to a, hahah, psychopath because you think he's too doped up to be a threat." He gestured with his free hand, giggling a bit. "Go on. Ask away."

Tilting his head to the side, Tim crossed his arms loosely across his chest. "You're not too doped up?" Looked that way, all things considered, but hell. This was the Joker.

"Just like that, huh? You already answered one of my questions." So he probably couldn't fault the Joker for these weird parallels between their worlds. Leaning his back against the wall, Tim watched the Joker closely, mouth twisted to the side as he thought. "Why did you pick when you did to send that letter?"

"Well, you'll never know." Sure, he'd been given plenty of sedatives - but then again, he had failed to remember to tell anyone he'd been on them enough to have built up a tolerance.

Whoops.

"Yeah, kid, just like that. I'm bored in here. No, uh, no excitement and no visitors." He pouted, "I hate being cooped up, y'know. It's just so... dull. Twenty questions at least will spice it up a little."

Could he use Tim as bait...?

"I just did." He gestured again and shrugged. "I finished it and mailed it out in the same day. Nothing special, though I almost wish I had tried to give it some important date. Makes it more fun when the shrinks ask these kinds of questions." He grinned.

"Guess not." The Joker from his world had proved himself a brilliant chemist; Tim didn't WANT to know what he was tolerant of, most of the time.

For maybe half a second, maybe for a picosecond, Tim felt an inclination to pity the man. Cooped up and bored, no one to play with - he sounded like a dog locked in a room. And that was the most disturbing image ever, so he rushed it out of his head.

"Yeah. So how do I tell when you're lying?" Because, hell. He could believe Joker had just done it. He was having a little more trouble accepting that the link between Gothams was entirely coincidental.

The Joker blinked - then cracked up, rolling on the cot and grabbing his stomach.

"How do you tell-! Timmy, don't you know? You don't tell. Either you believe me," like Harvey, "Or you don't." Like everybody else. No-win situation, but he didn't mind one bit.

The dog metaphor had to be fucking with him, because Tim was inclined to humor the psycho. Damn. "Okay, okay. Shh, if you make too much noise, visiting hours are definitely over." for a moment, he remained silent, watching the Joker.

"So, say I believe you. You just felt the inclination to cause a riot, at that particular time, and went with it? That's it?"

"Oh, oh, right." He took on an exaggerated whispering tone, putting a finger to his lips and only barely containing the laughter threatening to boil over at the absolute seriousness of this poor kid. He needed to lighten up!

"Why else would I do it? You're not, uh, from around here, so I'll - I'll give you this freebie, Tim. I don't plan on things happening. I have an idea and when I go through with it, make it come to life? People just don't disappoint me."

Rolling his eyes at the dramatics, Tim dropped his arms to his sides, looking around the cell. Huh. Not padded, that was vaguely surprising.

"Really?" He asked, crossing to the opposite corner. "They never disappoint you?" Turning back to look at Joker, Tim arched an eyebrow. "Seriously? Now, that I don't believe."

"Well, maybe not every time, but that's what keeps things, uh, fresh." He shrugged and twisted his neck to follow Tim's movements. "Surprised it isn't padded? Me too. Be more comfortable, at least."

"Mm." He grunted a response, trailing a hand across one wall. Glancing up, Tim saw a vent. Small. Maybe he could get through it, but the Joker? No way. Looking back at the man, he shrugged. "Sort of surprised. Surprised the bed isn't a concrete slab, too."

"Oh, no, Arkham is very accomodating. They even give regular inmates plastic knives!" Of course, he didn't get any silverware - just a paper plate. Even he couldn't figure out anything to do with paper. Yet.

His eyes had trailed to see where Tim was staring - "Oh, yeah, that. Tried that the last time I was in here - just doesn't work."

"Get stuck?" Tim smirked just bit, glancing back at Joker. "Bet that sucked." He was assuaged that there was no easy way out of the cell, but that didn't mean escape was impossible. Unfortunately.

The Joker rolled his eyes. "Just because I'm sedated doesn't mean I'm not a threat, Timmy. I wouldn't suggest making fun of me in my delicate state."

He ran a hand through his hair idly, hand drifting down to run along his scars. They felt so different without the paint. "Doesn't matter, anyway. Other ways to, aheh, skin a cat."

Tim held his hands up, as nonthreatening as possible, and leaned back against the wall. "Sorry. I'll watch my mouth a little closer."

But he frowned lightly, resisting the urge to look around the room for something he'd missed. "Oh yeah? How're you skinning this cat?"

"You better." So he was a little bitter over that. Hey, everyone has a button.

He prodded at his scars as he grinned, rolling his eyes. "Now, now, kiddo, don't wanna ruin the surprise."

And apparently Joker's was getting stuck in a vent. Tim's just going to picture that a bit.

"Promise I can keep a secret," he said, hands slipping back into his jacket pockets.

He'd rather forget it.

"Well..." He giggled. "If you really wanna know..." He looked around, then gestured for Tim to come closer.

Hrm. How doped up was the Joker? Tim could humor, but only for so long. So he pushed off the wall, pulled his hands from his pockets and took a few steps across the room, toward the other man. There was still a big expanse of space between them, though. Safety first and all. "Do tell."

"Aw, you need to come closer than that." He gestured again. "Don't be scared, kiddo, I'm not gonna hurt you."

Tim arched an eyebrow. "Hope you'll understand why I'm definitely not coming closer."

He rolled his eyes and then pushed himself off the cot, closing the distance between them with a few easy (if a little off-kilter) steps. "Fine, I'll come to you."

He leaned in close and grinned. "Here's the trick. I'm going to seduce my psychiatrist."

Great, shit. Tim backed up almost automatically, but stopped himself, watching Joker like a hawk instead. He leaned back, and took another step away as Joker got closer. But his eyes, his eyes fucking jumped.

"You're going to what?" Harley. Fuck.

He laughed in Tim's face. "Yeah, sweet old guy." He shrugged, giggling, "And when you're desperate, well, you're desperate."

Augh. Tim took another step away. Private space, please. Not to mention less danger zone. "Guy?" O...kay. Okay, maybe not Harley. That was....strange.

The Joker didn't follow - he took to pacing a semi-circle around Tim instead, boxing him in without getting too close. "Like I said. I'm desperate. Unless you wanna, uh, help me out before I go to great lengths?"

He shifted as the Joker walked, watching him. Fuck fuck fuck. "Don't think so. I'd rather not be a wanted man here. Bet even Gordon would shoot me for letting you loose."

"Oh, he would. But see - now I gotta ask myself... You're here. An innocent teenage boy. What would happen if I, uh, took you hostage?"

He licked his lips and sized Tim up idly as he paced.

the Boy Wonder sighed inwardly. Really, this was what he was hoping Joker was too drugged for. No Boy Hostage for him. "You don't want to do that," he said lightly.

"Oh?"

Truth be told, he didn't feel up for it. His plan would work fine, and if he took Tim hostage... Hm. It'd get messy.

"Maybe you're right."

Very messy. Then Tim would have to explain why he knew Brazilian Jujitsu. So he offered a tight smile. "Right." And started stepping toward the door, still facing the Joker. "Maybe I should go. You seem riled."

He stepped to make sure he wasn't intersecting Tim's path. Inherently he knew that it would be a terrible idea to try to kidnap Tim - besides, it wasn't his style - but...

"Maybe. But I don't think you asked all the questions you wanted."

"Maybe not. But do you still want to answer them?" Tim arched an eyebrow, watching the Joker move out of the way. Interesting. There were no Robins in this Gotham, obviously the Joker wouldn't have is usual...thing, about them.

"Why not? I already told you, kid. I'm bored in here." He leaned into the corner of the cell, crossing his arms loosely. "Besides, I know I wouldn't get very far with a hostage."

Tim grunted a response, crossing his arms again. "No. It'd get messy." Tilting his head to the side, the Boy Wonder bit the inside of his cheek. "So. Why Joker? What made you?"

The Joker rolled his eyes and gave Tim an exasperated look. "Really? I just told you one secret - why would I tell you another?"

"You're bored, remember?" Tim leaned against the door, turning the card key over in his hand, inside his jacket pocket.

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[RL, Joker & Tim] [Backdated to late on the 23rd]

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