#jokethur

one might argue that the way barton huffed through his nostrils in a wry sense of disbelief at what he heard come out of the other's mouth, rather than at the terrible thing that was just said through his own lips without an ounce of shame, told you everything you needed to know about him; that he was a brutal and very unfeeling person. but honestly, even if those things were the least bit true, barton thought... he was only saying what everyone would be thinking in their heads if they knew what was really going on behind the scenes. they just wouldn't want to say it aloud for one reason or another, whether that was due to the fear of being ostracized by their peers, or frowned down upon by society as a whole. kind of like how he was currently by the man standing beside him.

barton took a long drag out of his cigarette and averted his gaze from one of the big, bright displays that decorated the skyline to meet the others eyes. the displays were showcasing what looked like the latest news: and that was what barton seemingly was making a comment on, as the death of a cop that was rather infamous for being a ' pinnacle of kindness and care to their community ' was the main headline for that day. except that man was everything but in reality. it was just so rich to be seeing him regarded as some fantastic guy, when barton knew for a fact that he was a sleazeball who he had seen hanging around his old boss, as he was secretly in their pocket and doing their dirty work. and if there was one person that barton held contempt for more than anything... it was the man who used to treat him like he was something less than human. or, less than dirt, actually.

but of course, barton would never tell the gcpd of his corruption because he knew that rainer (you have to put a face to the name for these people) would realize that it was him who'd sold him out. and besides... since when did he have faith in the gcpd, or even like the police? they were all a bunch of pigs to him. so, barton let him continue on with his little game of playing the role of the well-beloved police officer while he was helping people get killed on the side. he rolled his eyes then, ❝ well, if i had known that you were such a big fan of the police, then i likely wouldn't have said anything. but i rest my case: a lot of people do deserve to die, stranger, and he was one of them. so i don't feel sorry for him or his family at all. ❞

barton stated this all in a very matter-of-fact manner, blowing smoke out through his nose from his cigarette before he continued, ❝ i mean, where was this guy if he was so good whenever the city got flooded? i didn't see him among the people who were helping other's whenever everything went to shit. in fact, i bet he was probably sitting in some place really safe and warm whenever it happened, because i knew the real kind of person that he was. a total prick who certainly wasn't the golden boy that the news is trying to make him out to be, ❞ he flicked his cigarette down on the ground and smushed it underneath his boot, successfully putting out the fire on its other end. barton turned to face arthur completely with an unamused look in his eyes.

Now @jokethur commands the light. It bounces off the sleeve of that cherry red suit jacket he shoulder probably hang over a chair if he wants for it to dry even just a little before he leaves. There's not much to be salvaged in the time it takes to drink a mug of tea, though. Two hot drinks steam in her hands when she turns out of the kitchenette and heads toward the coffee table in front of the couch. It's fit for two, just the same as the small dining table —it's scattered with paper's from her night schooling, she and Gigi had eaten their dinner on the couch just a couple of hours before now.

The girl sleeps down the hall. She'd sleep through a hurricane, and judging by the deep dark peeling in through the window, and the sheet rain which scrapes against the glass in a way that reminds her of long, dragging talons, her daughter just might. 

The noise from 8J was somehow louder than the violent weather outside. The clatter of the long-abandoned apartment's front door had not been Arthur, but neighbour opposite almost thrusting his leg heel-first through the wood. Were it not permanently unlocked, it seems, he might've gone straight through on his hunt for the presumed murder tourist he'd witness slip his way inside. Some residents of the apartement block on Anderson Avenue have taken to tossing Joker fans out onto the street themselves, since gaining further security isn't an option. Sophie, however, just keeps the door to 8B locked. Until tonight.

She'd stepped out into the hall to witness her neighbour with a revolver shaking in his hand, taking broad steps back away 8J's previous occupant. She'd given him an excuse to flee back into his apartement just by playing audience alone.

" He really wasn't going to shoot you. " She says with a reticent, if unnerved laugh snared at the back of her throat. It helps her now to cut the quietude in two, even while Arthur's attention has drifted to the papers plastering the small square dining table by the window. " He wasn't even going to shoot the... dumb kid he thought you were. Doug's all talk. " Arthur's tea meets the coffee tale at the end closest to him across the room. She cups her own between two hands and throws her brows north, as if he can see the expression while facing away. " Usually works, though... You gonna be okay? "

Plants keep secrets if you had nowhere else to go. It’s one of those things Daniel learned young, a boy with nothing and no one, a boy cast out by the people meant to love him. Plants also follow the same life cycle we do, bloom and decay, birth and rot, and they go back to the earth just the same as we do. Not enough people get that, Daniel thinks. It’s easier to relax under cover of green. He wouldn’t be surprised if all this life drew Joker in even unintentionally. That’s how it always goes.

Camellia’s sat on the high stool behind the store counter sorting rocks. How she’s sorting them, who’s to say, but it looks to be maybe by size. The humidity in the air has her hair more frizzy than curly, little brown ringlets coiled at her temples and at the nape of her neck. She says nothing to her latest customer when the door jingles. Bad service already.

“Little early for philosophizing.” Daniel speaks from Joker’s right where he’s rehanging a wind chime by the front window. It’s comprised of chunks of seaglass strung together by twine and would throw fractals of bluegreen against the walls if the light outside wasn't so bleak. Joker ought to watch his step unless he wants to wade through a tipped over bag of fertilizer with those fancy shoes of his. Daniel grins knowingly. “What? Don’t like flowers?”

she observed his response with as much thought as she would count her own willingness to want to share what little she could. thinking it better to lie about what has really happened to get her where she was that night. pulling away from the child sized girl that hid behind her. matching blonde hair. green eyes popping up to look at arthur between tears that streamed down her face. it was hard enough to bring herself to mention why her daughter was there with her only that she bounced the thought between where to bring her. her eyes staring at the front door step that she brought Lucille Quinzel to. keeping up habitual dilemmas of where else she could bring them too. having never properly introduced the two.

" she's - " harley started in. her words cutting off at the sounds of her youngest shaking her hands back and forth with a small sheepish start, " I wouldn't lie about this , but - "

" mommy ! " Lucille started after sometime. pulling up on her parent's sleeve and staring with bulbous eyes that looked a little less sad, but still shaken up. peeling off her hands to stuff then into her pockets and empty a small wrapped chocolate one that she passed over to her daughter.

" we aint got nothin' , but trouble . . . " blue hues went back to looking over at @jokethur . her voice hushed in the night. people that preferred the dark walked along the streets even as it was half past midnight. Gotham had a way of pulling out all kinds of inhabitants out at all hours , " falcone is after us. my place ain't safe tonight. " not sure where else to turn to when all she had was hitman on her back , but with a kid in tow it made living out much more harder. her apartment has already been tracked.

" more chocolate ! " Lucille persisted. wiping her face with her long pink sleeves , scooting a little closer to peer more at arthur , though very shyly.

Up  this  high,    it  almost  doesn’t  smell  like  the  bags  of  shit  and  waste  strewn  across  the  streets.    Almost,    except  for  that  smoky  haze  ringing  the  skylights  raised  above  the  city  in  all  their  masted  glory.    A  facade.    Vengeance,    too,    wears  the  front  of  vigilance  and  blinks  around  the  kohl  that  wets  his  lashes.    He  blinks  again  to  keep  it  out  of  his  sclera;    it  burns  to  fight  that  onslaught  just  as  any  other,    but  does  the  trick  for  now.    Those  high  -  tech  lenses  register  Joker  before  the  Batman  does  by  milliseconds  and  save  the  footage  of  his  chewed  off  humor.    Bruce  doesn’t  share  in  the  joke.

❝    Did  you  fire  a  gun  during  Dent’s  press  conference?    ❞  That’s  a  rhetorical  question.    Batman’s  rasp  bleeds  through  and  overpowers  any  semblance  of  concern  Bruce  might  have  tried  for.    Regardless,    he  isn’t  happy.    The  smog  up  here  provides  coverage  that  Vengeance  does  not  leverage  for  once.    Joker  has  a  clear  view  of  his  upset  even  with  the  mask.    Those  ringed  eyes  are  eerily  milky  with  frustration.    ❝    Why?    ❞

Gotham’s long lost prince makes no attempt at intimidating her though she holds hostage the pack of cigarettes she’d nipped from one of his pockets. Selina inspects the box like it actually interests her but it’s all an act and not even for him. There’s a man laid prone at their feet and she is choosing to ignore him for now. Maybe taking one of Joker’s vices was the wrong move but she sticks to conviction. He isn’t snarling at her yet in spite of her insurance.

“I could have,” she agrees. Selina lowers the cigarettes to her side. Her knuckles have turned white yet the box does not crumble in her hand. When the man between them twitches, she wrinkles her nose at Joker as if to say, Hello? Do something about that! “When I was trying not to get caught, I didn’t exactly plan to bump into you on my way out.”

She has a thick wad of cash stuffed into her waistband and it would have gone unnoticed in the dark. It did not go unnoticed by an early return home from a failed date. Turns out some people around here have taste but the off duty pig knocked out on the ground now was still lucky enough to make it to the restaurant. So maybe no taste at all really. It just made this job more difficult.

Selina wiggles the cigarette carton in Joker’s direction. But she also takes a step back. “Was it him that offended you or that I drew him out here and I interrupted your walk? Your answer’ll get you these back.” She could assess a less dangerous threat but she figures speed is on her side if nothing else. She hazards another step in retreat just in case though.