It was time to move. Eddie was out of Arkham and, no doubt, working to hunt down his favorite doctor. The clever little bastard was bound to find the hideout sooner or later. The Joker would rather it be sooner and be able to plan, than have later be a surprise...so he stepped up the timetable himself
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It was interesting to learn that Harley was taken too, and the Joker's stated reasons (or lack thereof) why. And the possible real reasons. Very interesting. Talking to the girl herself, and watching the two of them interact, has the possibility of being the same.
"Dr. Quinzel," he greets her, as he's nudged into the van, and sits. At the Joker's remark, his attention shifts. "Do you even -- have you ever had a license?"
Not that he's nervous, of course. Or has any kind of fear of machinery controlled by people who aren't him. Not at all.
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"No injuries, doctor McCoy. Just..ah..a little rough on the ribs."
The clown shrugs and tosses the phone a few times, catching it with the same hand.
"Now's the hard part. Waiting. It'll be over soon and we can get to a nice. new. place. where we'll get you both set up."
There's a tension to his voice. He's only half there for this conversation. His mind's back at the park and he wishes he was there to see it. He just knows he couldn't get away right now. Not from Batman. Maybe not even from Eddie. He's too slowed up.
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"Is that so?"
He can't think of anything else to say. No wisecracks. He calls back on psychiatric autopilot, instead.
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So she just keeps watching Luke, eyeing him. Trying very hard to evaluate this situation.
"It won't fail? Your plan or trap or whatever you've set up? No room for error?"
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"It won't fail. No matter what happens, anyway, we're fine."
That's why they're away from the park. That's why they're hidden and ready to get moving again at a moment's notice. Long enough with radio silence and he's going to get them moving, anyway.
He taps his fingers on the phone, then there's finally noise over the radio and he takes it up, stepping just outside the door of the van to talk.
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"You're damn lucky," he says sharply to his fellow captive, keeping his voice low. "Are you trying to piss him off?" There's concern on his face, though. He doesn't want anyone getting hurt. (Or, if that's impossible, he wants it at least kept to the bare minimum.)
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Outside, he raises his voice a little at a phone with no one on the other end.
"Piiick up, Eddie!"
Then there's the frustration of texting. Sheesh.
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But he doesn't let that bad news deter him from a good lecture. He shakes his head at Harley. "'less you're trying to get yourself killed, hurting his pride ain't a good plan."
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And then what? And then who?
"
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It's not really good advice to give someone with her disorder, no. But if it keeps her alive, the rest can be dealt with later. Right?
"He said that? About Eddie?" Damn it.
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Because that's the important thing, right? "Use it how?"
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"...should move....cut short....."
There's a pause for Eddie's rambling.
"He'd survive!" is said loudly and with more passion than the rest of the talk so far.
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Then back to Harley. He shakes his head, at her question. He doesn't know enough about her, about why she's here, to make properly educated guesses. "However you can."
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