[LOG] 09-30 Joker Mad Hatter

[madhatterholle]

Who: The Joker and the Mad Hatter
When: Backdated to September 30th
Where: Hatter's place
Rating: PG-13 - R for possible references to violence
Warnings: Joker and Hatter.
Summary: Joker goes to be a concerned person to Hatter after Hatter decides to make napalm with his own blood.

Comments

[allthisviolence]

It didn't take him long to find the Mad Hatter's house; and any suspicions he may have had about which it was were cleared away when he heard the madman's voice singing the goddamn unbirthday song. In comparison to this guy, Joker was a sane man.

And he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

When he arrived, he had no hesitations in forcing the door open. He wasn't the most physically strong man around by any means; in combat, he relied on being unpredictable, but he was pissed off, and a door wasn't going to stop him. "Hatter?" he called, sounded vexed at best, as he stepped into the dingy house.

He found the Mad Hatter lying against the wall, in a very sorry state indeed. Frustrated, he let out a sigh of exasperation as he crouched down to Hatter's level.

"You idiot," he said, "I told you to use someone else."

Hatter couldn't die. He wouldn't let him. Not yet. He was useless dead.

[madhatterholle]

Blinking at the painted face, even whiter than his in the dim light, it took a moment for the Hatter's unfocused eyes to register who it was that was so close, the last note of the song dying a slow death in the back of his throat. When he saw it was his dear, dear friend - Friend, yes, his friend, so similar, Joker, he had good ideas, yes - a smile threatened to rip apart his face, even as his eyes rolled back just the slightest.

"And... a very... merry unbirthday... to you, my dear..." he said, some words whispered, some said in the normal tone, a strong British accent backing up any and all claims on his heritage and inborn love of tea cakes.

The cut arm hung by his side, not useless, but not in motion. With the other, he lifted the jar of blood into the Joker's face (he didn't apparently have any knowledge of spacial boundaries).

"I ... got ... it," he whispered, the last word ending in a decided tone before he licked his upper lip.

[allthisviolence]

"Yeah, yeah, you got it," the Joker replied, not particularily fazed by the fact that the Mad Hatter was shoving a jar of blood in his face (he'd seen - he'd caused more disgusting sights), "And now what are you gonna do with it, hm? Look at you! Can you even move?"

He grabbed the jar out of Hatter's hand and set it down beside himself. "What the hell do you need napalm for, anyway?"

[madhatterholle]

The Hatter paused, and blinked, one eye and then the other, and then both eyes at the Joker, lifting his head off the wall an inch or so, before dropping it back again with a decided thud. Looking away, he muttered, barely audible, "Bugger me backwards..." before turning back to the Joker with a patronizing look.

"To drink," he said, highly exaggerated in his movements. A tiny jerk of his head made him pause; did his head hurt? He shrugged it off and looked to the ceiling, the terminal, the precious jar, a hole in the wall, eyes darting this way and that in an erratic and ever-changing fashion, before focusing... on the Joker's shoulders.

Nice suit.

[allthisviolence]

He should have known.

He didn't know whether to laugh or hit him. So he laughed, smiled as he always did. And shook his head. And then he asked, "Why would you drink it when there are much more fun things you could do with the stuff, hm?"

And suddenly he wasn't sure why he had even bothered. He wasn't helping the Hatter, he had no intention to, really. What could he do anyway? It's not like he had bandages. Didn't want 'em, didn't need 'em. No, he had just come here to make sure the moron wasn't dead, and sure enough...