duty is its own reward
There are no longer enough hours in the day. There weren't previously, but now he can feel every minute racing ahead of him, like twigs on the surface of a great river of madness, dragging them all onward to the inevitable drop.
Duty is its own reward, meaning that it's honored with more of the same.
More than ever, the division between what he doesn't want to do and what he feels he has to do fails him. It started as soon as he accepted the position. Anything to mitigate the damage Jonathan Crane had done; he could hardly do worse, or so he'd thought at the time. And until Harvey Dent, he could have said without irony that he thought they were making real headway.
Until Harvey Dent, who he had voted for and watched and been proud of like many other Gotham citizens, with one half of his face burnt into a twisted landscape of scarring and coy hints of bone, entered Arkham through the window of his office by way of Bat. Harvey is the most coherent patient in Arkham. He probably beats a handful of orderlies, too. Harvey makes hats, simmers silently, refuses to talk, talks in circles, reminds him always of the dizzying amount of illegal actions associated with his continued presence. He stares and talks like someone who belongs outside these walls, but then he flips the coin and Huang remembers: can't let him go.
More than ever, the division between what he'd thought he would never do and what he feels would be best fails him. There is a secret that everybody knows but nobody understands: Arkham cannot and does not work. Not the way they want it to. It only works in scraps, in little bits at a time, when Dr. Hill comes in to talk with John, or he makes a breakthrough with Thomas. All he can do is work for those moments while trying to keep his head above water for the rest. If there are enough of these moments, he may help someone out of here. If he works hard enough, there will be more of these moments. If he works hard enough, fighting time, he can help pull somebody back from their gripping systems of madness. If he works hard enough, it will be worth it.
Will it? Harvey Dent wordlessly accuses.
I believe, Huang never says. There's no use trying to justify yourself to madmen.
Duty is its own reward, meaning that it's honored with more of the same.
More than ever, the division between what he doesn't want to do and what he feels he has to do fails him. It started as soon as he accepted the position. Anything to mitigate the damage Jonathan Crane had done; he could hardly do worse, or so he'd thought at the time. And until Harvey Dent, he could have said without irony that he thought they were making real headway.
Until Harvey Dent, who he had voted for and watched and been proud of like many other Gotham citizens, with one half of his face burnt into a twisted landscape of scarring and coy hints of bone, entered Arkham through the window of his office by way of Bat. Harvey is the most coherent patient in Arkham. He probably beats a handful of orderlies, too. Harvey makes hats, simmers silently, refuses to talk, talks in circles, reminds him always of the dizzying amount of illegal actions associated with his continued presence. He stares and talks like someone who belongs outside these walls, but then he flips the coin and Huang remembers: can't let him go.
More than ever, the division between what he'd thought he would never do and what he feels would be best fails him. There is a secret that everybody knows but nobody understands: Arkham cannot and does not work. Not the way they want it to. It only works in scraps, in little bits at a time, when Dr. Hill comes in to talk with John, or he makes a breakthrough with Thomas. All he can do is work for those moments while trying to keep his head above water for the rest. If there are enough of these moments, he may help someone out of here. If he works hard enough, there will be more of these moments. If he works hard enough, fighting time, he can help pull somebody back from their gripping systems of madness. If he works hard enough, it will be worth it.
Will it? Harvey Dent wordlessly accuses.
I believe, Huang never says. There's no use trying to justify yourself to madmen.