Kate had not met him before. But Will had. And worse, Billy had. And whoever was responsible affected them. She had her bow and arrows with her, a sword strapped to her side. Her very demeanor suggested that of a superhero. She noticed the second newspaper first.
She then noticed the cell, and slowly approached, but keeping well back from the bars. He looked terrible, but since when have prisoners ever looked good? And by the paper, it did look like he was insane.
"You've been busy. Back for more 'big plans' clown?"
Blue eyes bore back at him, "Nobody's told you about Milliways time? It's been at least a week. And I meant your little conversations with people last time."
It's entirely possible Clark has been waiting for this certain someone to make an appearance. And it's entirely possible this is just a stroke of luck, but Clark wouldn't stake his life on it. He's just not the lucky kind.
He approaches solemnly, stopping just shy of the bars themselves. "You know, we have our own cells we can put you in if you'd prefer."
And don't think he hasn't noticed the flower wreath.
"No, you'd need a lot more cows and a lot more colour to get that. You also are kind of taking up a lot of space." And the Milliways cells he can't get out of.
Iella's in green-and-black uniform when she comes through the door, blaster at her hip and stun cuffs and baton hanging from her belt. She left her jacket at her desk when she got up to fetch a cup of caf; the tank top says WESSIRI over the left breast.
The cell is impossible to miss when she steps through the door. She slows, eyebrows rising more at the sight of it than at the appearance of the individual inside.
That stops her, eyes narrowing for a split second before she realizes where he got the name. She crosses her arms, standing a safe distance back from the bars.
"That's me," Iella says coolly (good eyes, she thinks; the writing on that patch is small). "I didn't realize that Security here was in the habit of giving inmates air like this."
And giving them access to the entire bar. There's disapproval in the set of her mouth.
Well, the strange man is back, and he's still in the cell. In the same way that a car crash attracts attention, the Joker does as well; his interesting fashion taste doesn't hurt that interest, either.
Bonzo heads over when he notice the now well-lit cell in the Bar, complete with the Joker.
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She then noticed the cell, and slowly approached, but keeping well back from the bars. He looked terrible, but since when have prisoners ever looked good? And by the paper, it did look like he was insane.
"You've been busy. Back for more 'big plans' clown?"
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He tilts his head at her, fingers bumping against each other as they move.
No trouble at all.
"Hard-ly," he says, in an idle, half-bored tone.
"It's been --"
He counts on his fingers, and then holds them up for Kate to see.
"-- Three minutes."
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"You seemed to think I'd had a, a grand old time to hatch plans," the Joker says, mildly amused.
"I'm simply pointing out that it isn't the case."
"And surely you aren't seeking to limit my -- free speech."
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On his way to a seat he stops near the cell, he's never seen anything quite like it and his ears go back as he looks around in confusion.
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Oh, poor thing.
"Hey," the Joker says, in what could be taken for a sympathetic tone from anyone but him.
"Hey. Something wrong?"
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He comes forward on cautious hooves that beat a quick tattoo on the floor.
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"I was put in here."
The Joker leans forward, interested, eyes darting from Tumnus' hooves, to his legs, to his face.
He doesn't comment yet.
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He approaches solemnly, stopping just shy of the bars themselves. "You know, we have our own cells we can put you in if you'd prefer."
And don't think he hasn't noticed the flower wreath.
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The Joker takes a good, long look at Clark.
Then at his cell.
Then out at the bar.
Then back at Clark.
He leans forward, elbows to knees.
"Don't go with your sense of interior decoration?"
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"No, you'd need a lot more cows and a lot more colour to get that. You also are kind of taking up a lot of space." And the Milliways cells he can't get out of.
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Regretfully:
"There aren't any cows in Gotham. As for space..."
He scratches his chin.
"I thought it wasn't really a problem around here."
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The cell is impossible to miss when she steps through the door. She slows, eyebrows rising more at the sight of it than at the appearance of the individual inside.
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The blaster, cuffs, and baton are appropriately eyed.
"Wessiri?"
It's more a testing-out of the word than a call for attention.
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"That's me," Iella says coolly (good eyes, she thinks; the writing on that patch is small). "I didn't realize that Security here was in the habit of giving inmates air like this."
And giving them access to the entire bar. There's disapproval in the set of her mouth.
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"Oh, they're not. This isn't from the bar's Security," he says.
"It's from back home."
He jerks a thumb at the wall.
"I brought the bars with me."
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Bonzo heads over when he notice the now well-lit cell in the Bar, complete with the Joker.
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Bonzo gets a nod and a wave.
"Hello again."
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"Thank you."
Good manners are always a plus.
"How have you beeeeen?"
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