[static and then Raven's voice comes on, tight and far too neutral; it's clear that she's wrapped herself with all the wards and mental barriers she can, though in this case, not to keep anyone out but to keep something in.]
Sorry to trouble you, Alfred, but if there's an antidote for Scarecrow's gas available, I may need some about now. The
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Don't try it again.
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It's an antidote you want, then, hm? Some solace for your suffering?
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And if you were curious, you've cracked three ribs and given me something of a minor concussion. Certainly fair trade for my treatment, I grant you.
I'll trade you an antidote for information about that bird of yours.
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Play with fire. [she leaves the rest of the saying hanging.]
That must be your delirium talking; I don't own a bird and I don't trust you.
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Hmmm... perhaps you don't remember, then. It was a fascinating creature--made out of that... what is it, dark matter? A giant black raven.
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You know my name, obviously, but not my reputation. I am a patron of fear and terror--and I hadn't realized, obviously, what I was dealing with.
[shifting sound, slight pained groan] I do now, however, rest assured.
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Do you. I did mention ravens aren't to be confused with crows.
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You have remarkable powers. The question becomes... What are you using them for?
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Fighting crime, bringing justice... you know, typical hero stuff.
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What a colossal waste, Lenore. One would think you'd make a fantastic... how should I put it... well, supervillain, I suppose. You'd certainly give half of Arkham a run for its money. Why don't you join forces with me? I know we've gotten off to a bad start, but I can see marvelous potential in you.
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... "Lenore"?
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Only half of Arkham? I think I'm insulted.
As generous as your offer is...
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