Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow - post-TDK - you know the drill
He's been trying out a new antipsychotic. The specific details are likely to bore or puzzle anyone who doesn't have a degree in psychiatry and a concentration in psychopharmacology, but the gist of it is that he has been experimenting with chemicals and milliliters and has managed to produce, by dint of much effort and more amisulpride than any sane doctor would prescribe, a string of what that Bambi-eyed Quinzel and her ilk would call 'good days.'
He feels like shit, but he's lucid.
That's a good day.
At this moment, Crane is at a booth, sipping from a glass of water. Cool, not iced. His suit and tie are shabby but fastidiously kept, his shoes polished under the table, and his hair clean but getting a little long. When he glances around the room, his eyes flash with a chilly intellect.
He feels like shit, but he's lucid.
That's a good day.
At this moment, Crane is at a booth, sipping from a glass of water. Cool, not iced. His suit and tie are shabby but fastidiously kept, his shoes polished under the table, and his hair clean but getting a little long. When he glances around the room, his eyes flash with a chilly intellect.