When she wasn't being questioned or taken to "therapy" (both of which had started happening a lot less ever since she had taken the Joker's advice and shown her pictures to the doctors and orderlies), Samara often sat on her bed, staring off into space. Sometimes she got up and watched the clock hands go round and round. Sometimes she stood on the bed. Most of the time, though, she didn't do much.
When she heard the Joker coming, she didn't get up, but she turned her head toward the door.
ps: this icon indicates what his face looks like throughout the log :)tntandgasolineFebruary 19 2010, 23:36:55 UTC
This was the sort of hospital Joker hated. It pretended to be something it wasn't, like a personification of society as a whole in one little building. (Not a personification. He was too busy looking to think of the right word.)
The rooms were so spartan. It was irritating beyond belief and he was as relieved as a man like him could be when he finally found Samara's room. Keys would be nice, but first...
"Hello, sweetie!" he crooned, leaning to look in the room, "Are we still crazy?" A laugh, "A joke. Neither of us are crazy." He started trying some keys, but he was getting bored of that fast.
... so creepyweliveandwecryFebruary 19 2010, 23:44:22 UTC
She tilted her head up further, peering at him through the little window built into the door-- the one that the doctors now used to look at her when they thought she wasn't paying attention.
very much so :)tntandgasolineFebruary 20 2010, 01:42:42 UTC
The door was saved from being blown up (for now) by the tenth key fitting in the lock, nice and snug. With a delighted giggle, he turned the key and pried the door open, leaning into the room and giving it a disgruntled once-over. "This is simply no place for a little girl."
He was going to enjoy detonating the wing. Really.
The Joker, distracted by investigating the corner of the wall, turned at the sound of her voice and then beamed, nodding. "A promise is a promise."
He crouched down and started unloading some good, old-fashioned sticks of dynamite, complete with an analogue timer. "Do you know the, uh, fire exits of this place at all?"
Her frown lines deepened a little as she thought. "... No." She'd been taken to various places around the building for various reasons-- shock therapy, talk therapy, showers and baths, and so on-- but she'd never been given the grand tour.
Standing back, she watched him set up the dynamite. She knew what it was, but she didn't appear nervous at all.
Having finished setting up his fireworks display, the Joker turned to face Samara with an immensely pleased grin. "Which means, we get to have fun!" He headed past her, straight to the door, then blinked and looked back, as though he'd forgotten he'd come here for her at all. Which was plausible. His head was all over the place lately. "Now then. Do you want to see the, uh, the faces on those doctors when they see you walking out of here scott free, or do you like quiet getaways?" A grin, "Just this once, I'll let you choose."
He laughed and held out a hand to her. "You and I are going to be just perfect together. We have, mm," a look back at the timer, "10 minutes, so I would suggest we head out to the party now."
Not one to be coddled, huh? That worked best for him so he didn't bat an eye, heading out of the room and down the hallway at a leisurely pace. "The recc room, near the entrance, not too near, though, since they don't want the crazies leaving the roost." He held up a finger, "First lesson of the world, sweetie, if you need to make a getaway, find the paranoid schizophrenic in the room and tell them the government's outside. Nine times out of, uh, nine, they'll start a riot." Which can be heard in the distance, complete with shrieks and medical jargon.
Half of what he said went completely over her head (mostly because she had no idea what a "paranoid schizophrenic" was), but she got the general gist when she heard the commotion going on down the hall. Samara trotted a little to keep up-- while he may not have been hurrying, his legs were much longer than hers.
She'd never been taken to the rec room, so she didn't know where they were going-- she followed the Joker dutifully, always keeping up.
He didn't even realize that he was talking about stuff she wouldn't understand. When they reached the doors to the recc room, he gave her a look. "You just tell me which one of these fine, struggling men is the one who gave you the most trouble here, and I'll take care of it, all right?"
After all, nobody who could let a little girl - creepy or not - live in such a terrible place was obviously not worth the air.
Samara considered. None of them had really given her trouble. They'd been nice enough until she'd shown them her pictures, and then they'd just been scared.
She pointed at random. She wanted to see what he would do.
Maybe the Joker was putting his own mental instabilities on Samara; mostly he just assumed that every doctor was a threat. He couldn't see anything particularly foreboding about the man she pointed out, but then again, it didn't matter to him. With a few quick moves around a man screaming about fireants or something - who cared? - he grabbed the orderly by the back of the neck and dragged him 'round to face him.
"What did the lobster say to the chef?" He didn't give the man a second to even contemplate the joke, which had a pretty obvious punchline, really, just yanked a knife out of a pocket and flipped it open, stabbing it through the man's cheek.
When he started howling, the Joker giggled. "So, you know the joke, then?"
When she heard the Joker coming, she didn't get up, but she turned her head toward the door.
And she waited.
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The rooms were so spartan. It was irritating beyond belief and he was as relieved as a man like him could be when he finally found Samara's room. Keys would be nice, but first...
"Hello, sweetie!" he crooned, leaning to look in the room, "Are we still crazy?" A laugh, "A joke. Neither of us are crazy." He started trying some keys, but he was getting bored of that fast.
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He was going to enjoy detonating the wing. Really.
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He crouched down and started unloading some good, old-fashioned sticks of dynamite, complete with an analogue timer. "Do you know the, uh, fire exits of this place at all?"
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Standing back, she watched him set up the dynamite. She knew what it was, but she didn't appear nervous at all.
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"... I want to see."
If there was one thing she liked, it was seeing things.
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She'd never been taken to the rec room, so she didn't know where they were going-- she followed the Joker dutifully, always keeping up.
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After all, nobody who could let a little girl - creepy or not - live in such a terrible place was obviously not worth the air.
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She pointed at random. She wanted to see what he would do.
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"What did the lobster say to the chef?" He didn't give the man a second to even contemplate the joke, which had a pretty obvious punchline, really, just yanked a knife out of a pocket and flipped it open, stabbing it through the man's cheek.
When he started howling, the Joker giggled. "So, you know the joke, then?"
Reply
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