A rare light shining on the Gotham Police Department.
Rupert Thorne has seen better days.
He took a cluster of shots to the chest from Renee Montoya. He's weary, haggard, bandaged heavily and he's lost a startling amount of weight way too quickly.
His surgery and recuperation have been slow but steady, and the insanity at Blackgate has prevented most of the cops on duty from expediting his prosecution.
Not that it's that much in question. He shot a man in the head in front of witnesses. They've got him, red-handed, on a murder charge.
He's leaning on his elbows on the interrogation room table. Glaring at the mirror and waiting for someone in charge to come face him.
But it's not really a glare of hate or spite.
There's something else in his eyes.
He took a cluster of shots to the chest from Renee Montoya. He's weary, haggard, bandaged heavily and he's lost a startling amount of weight way too quickly.
His surgery and recuperation have been slow but steady, and the insanity at Blackgate has prevented most of the cops on duty from expediting his prosecution.
Not that it's that much in question. He shot a man in the head in front of witnesses. They've got him, red-handed, on a murder charge.
He's leaning on his elbows on the interrogation room table. Glaring at the mirror and waiting for someone in charge to come face him.
But it's not really a glare of hate or spite.
There's something else in his eyes.