#cometcdaddy

*upsets balance*

                  GHOST. the lingering dead. tall tales of wandering spirits, suffering souls mimicking their last breath, drifting to find some peace among their unjust demise. arthur has seen a ghost - many, perhaps, behind closed doors and dark secrets, lurking under the war-ridden valleys of his mind. he knows the haunting screeches of the unsatisfied and suffering. blood dipped fingertips have even touched the transparent enigmas between life and death, and more than once has he been subject to meeting them himself along the foggy slopes of purgatory. he is no stranger to the dead and dying. yet when the other speaks, he catches a feeling of unfamiliarity that makes him NERVOUS - makes a restlessly rise in the electric cackling of his fingertips ; a telltale sign of magic-clad anxiety. it was in the man’s voice that he felt it, a subtle unpredictable whisper rolling off the goosebumps on his skin :

                  ‘ you are the ghost i want to see. ’

                  he was not scared of death, but if this was true, he was certainly unprepared for it. there was no surprise in malicious intent - he lived with it his whole life, and he continued to find it in the darkest part of others. yet he himself refused to mirror such aggressive need ; this blood on him would be his and his alone, for ( and rather foolishly, selfishly ) he cannot live with hurting another and having their GHOST but another torment on the mind. and that led him to an uncertain middle - PURGATORY, all over again.

                  “ have no dead come back to see you yet ? then again, i can’t imagine why you’d want them to come. ” a short pause ensues. “ i hope you don’t expect me to HELP YOU. while i’m not opposed to offering help, i don’t fair well with the DEAD. ”

   ‘ you DISGUST me ’

THE DARK KNIGHT SENTENCE STARTERS. accepting

           there’s no….’ what’s in it fer him ‘… it’s MORE than that, more than    SIMPLE  cold cash. SOMEONE who called himself a CRIME LORRRD…..should understand    THAT!!                        ‘      you ask for. .  .    waaaaay   –     too many     things,   willll – SON.        —-makes EVERYONE.    .   .      waaaaaaay   —     too    UPSET.    ‘

The kingpin knew he must tread carefully around the Joker. So he would mostly pretend to be dumb in his presence. Just act naive and allow the clown to think he was in charge, just stroke his ego and keep him reasonable to deal with.

It’s easy to underestimate the JOKER at face value. The GREASE PAINT GRIN, the GREEN HAIR, the WILD STYLE. He’s more caricature than character, and as such, it is DECEPTIVELY easy to dismiss him as something less than what he is. 

And that is DANGEROUS. 

      “Ah . . . ow . . . crap . . .”

It’s an effort to shove himself upright, rubbing idly at his jaw, still singing from the blow delivered. 

       “That. HURT.”

stopping, the widow leaned lightly on her left leg, her hands on her hips as she looked around. she didn’t see anyone, but she was told someone would be there. a heavy sigh came from her as she looked the area once over.