#doctordread

she stares for a beat or two, trying to read anything in the button eyes, then scrubs the blood from the corner of her mouth with the heel of her palm. "fuck you, actually."

yeah, yeah, poor little alice with her mysterious parasite and her constant anxiety and no idea what she's fucking doing. it looks pathetic, on paper. put into words. she doesn't put it into words very often.

@doctordread; ❛ you’ve been feeling it, haven’t you? something is off. your clothes never wear as well the next day, your hair never falls in quite the same way, even your coffee tastes… wrong. ❜

her   words   ring   *true   ⸺   which   is   exactly   what   pocket   didn't   want   to   admit.   they   pick   at   a   scab   on   the   back   of   divinely-touched   hand   of   green,   frowning   to   themselves   as   adelaide   continues   on.   it's   not   like   they   *hadn't   felt   this   way   since   the   night   of   their   eighteenth   birthday,   but   pocket   had   felt   strikingly   similar   to   how   they'd   felt   in   the   days   *directly   after.   they   shiver,   only   slightly,   before   finally   picking   the   scab   off   and   frowning   as   they   try   to   think   of   something   *clever   to   reply   with.

Tipping the flask first over his own cup and then hers, Jonathan tucked it away into the inner pocket of his coat before reaching for the honey. A bit of toxin to start the morning, better than whiskey, or any hair of the dog he'd ever tried.

"There a reason this couldn't wait?'

The espresso machine hissed, lips twitching with amusement as the wand for the steamed milk screeched. Almost like being back in Arkham, dumping three heaping spoonful of sugar into his cup, hole covered by his thumb as he swirled his drink. Not that he didn't miss her, there were days he actually wished they were back home and everything was quiet again.

Shifting his bag with the side of his foot, he lifted a heel and pressed down on the corner, crushing the container. No one else would hear the chemicals missing, not with the chatter and machinery. But in about three minutes and seventeen seconds even people a block away would hear the screaming.

@doctordread's been invited to tourney...

"I go by several names. I doubt any of them are your concern."

" actually- " a quick of their step, following after her with little restriction to what they should or shouldn't do. they didn't need to pretend for someone that clearly didn't care to pretend that they were human. no, with no danger--well plenty, but they were ignoring it for the sake of learning. the opportunity felt too great to ignore, they wouldn't.

" i'd say all of them are my concern. " all of them, every one. they wanted to know everything, every moniker; from the important to the insignificant.

ehheheheh

@doctordread

@doctordread sent a raven: jon can you get me a cigarette please. and a coke. please. momma needs a cherry vanilla zero sugar

"That  is  the  most  disgustin'  thing  you've  ever  said  to  me...'

       Did  he  mean  the  momma  part,  or  the  cigarette  and  coke  combo,  or  just  the  flavor  of  the  coke  in  question.

       Yes.

"You  can  have  one  of  mine,  pack's  in  the  left  pocket.'

       He'd  guzzle  a  gallon  of  joker  toxin  before  he  got  near  a  cherry  vanilla  zero  su-  ugh!

Home? He wanted that, yes. He wanted to go home, of course he wanted to go home. He wanted nothing more than to be free from the grips Arkham and Gotham itself. Hell he even missed his mother in times like these, the times he felt alone and lost like a small child. A broken child, lost and lonely. He'd never really had a mother, just his aunt.

He leaned against the cool cell wall, listening to the other whisper in the cell beside him. She'd been whispering for days, she's always whispering. Finally, he inched closer to her wall, closer to her, and spoke softly, his natural Midwestern accent slipping through, "Hey, hey, you know how we could get home faster? I thought this hospital was supposed to be the best in Gotham," he laughed, but it was devoid of any actual humor, "The only guy I knew who could help won't talk to me."

Of course he was talking about the Hulks, but not even Joe stirred in his brain since entering Gotham. As is something was waiting. Something big.