[He licks his lips, fingers tensing in Seven's hair, the hat falling off to roll along the ground.]

I was just a child, when it happened. You see, the neighbourhood I grew up in... it wasn't safe. Too close to Arkham. And when the patients escaped. [He leans in close.] And they did escape. They'd come tearing through our streets, wreaking havoc. [He laughs hoarsely, before returning to his story.]

One night, I drew the short straw. [He licks his lips.] They pinned me down in the woods behind my house, beat me until I was bleeding, ripped open my schoolbag, tore up my books, stamped on my pens and then, using my pencils, they did this... laughing, screaming as they did it. [And he laughs as well, rather maniacally.]

You see, they were free, and this? [He turns his cheeks from side to side.] This was the mark of their freedom.

[He attempts to not be intrusive, but the feeling rolls off of him like a scent. Especially as he's this close. Violent, as per usual. It's not good, but it's not evil. It simply is. But... it's calculating.

So he follows on that hunch, and reaches up to grasp at the wrist holding the pencil. The other he bunches into the collar of the Joker's jacket lapel. Both his heartrates have picked up, but he keeps his expression earnest.]

And what would you tell your friend Crane, if he were to ask you?

[He gives Seven a wide eyed stare, a flicker going through his gaze at Seven's grip, the ever-present possibility of violence rising deliciously.]

I'd tell him the truth [His red grin growing even wider. He pushes into the hold and tries to bring the pencil up, towards Seven's eye. Wanting to know how far Seven will let it go, how far he can let it go, before they both lose control.]

Would you. [He somehow managed to halt it before it came too close, surprisingly strong for his size. Not /Batman/ strong, of course, but enough to be notable.] The same truth? Or another truth? The scars are a bit "chicken and the egg", aren't they? Which came first. Or does it even matter... You seem to have your heart set on this.

[Funny, he was straining a bit more than normal, more fatigued, or otherwise he might not consider what he's about to do.] I would be a fool not to defend myself, but I'm less inclined toward violence. So if I can't talk you out of it...

~...I'll very well think you out of it.~

[He funnels the words directly into the Joker's head, especially since the man is so close he can feel the heat of his breath on him, see every detail of that marred, twisted, probably once quite handsome face.]

Edited 2010-09-20 09:35 pm (UTC)

[Joker leaps backwards, pushing Seven away from him roughly. the pencil spinning from his fingers to fall further along the path.]

You- How- [He stares at Seven, the whites in his eyes clear against his black make up. Then he swallows, takes a breath. And pulls his peculiar brand of calm over his frame like a cloak.]

Neat trick.

[His grin is as wide as ever. But a perceptive individual might notice the dead look in his eyes, or the way his fingertips twitch, just the once, hungering for the feel of a blade.]

[This time it's Seven's turn to grin, and oh how he does grin, matching those white-wide eyes with his own delighted stare.] I suppose even if you'd known about Time Lords, you wouldn't have known me. Most can't do what I can do. You see, if you attempt to kill me, I can put myself into someone else until my body heals. Even you. It's not something I enjoy doing, but men do insane things when driven to self-preservation.

You know this all too well, don't you. Presenting choices, giving options, making decisions. Dangerous little threads, those decisions. Never know which one to pluck or it might all fall apart. [He chuckles, a little darkly for someone that's been seen in other, jollier forms.] I'll play fair if you will.

[He almost shudders at that thought. Piggybacking his warden in his mind for days.... weeks... the unwanted guest, watching his every move, every thought... like he could be right now.]

[He takes another step back, one hand raising impotently, as if he could ward Seven's mind off like a physical blow.

[He takes in his warden's appearance - the grin, the stare, the dark edge - He's underestimated him and a mistake like that can be fatal. Joker's only half focusing on what the other man's saying, but it's enough to make his gut clench unpleasantly. He doesn't like it when they play him at his own game. And he hates not having the upper hand.]

How can I trust your word?

[He kicks the hat up smoothly, catching it in his hand with ease and planting it back on his head in the same motion.] Right, how can you? I suppose you can, or you can't. I do enjoy this sort of work, for one. For another, minds are terrible places. Especially human ones, they're cramped and small. Unpleasant. The only thing that I can't help but sense is intention and that's something along the lines of smelling this beautiful flower. [He grazed the petals of the same flower that the Joker had been earlier fondling.] It rolls off of everyone. A group. A person. Mixing, mingling, filling the atmosphere. But intention isn't specific... It won't tell me what you're doing or thinking.

In short, Joker, it's a defence. Someone else might hit you. Honestly, were I that sort of unscrupulous cheater I would wipe your mind down to the bare bones and convince you that you were an honest man. [Something that he'd done when driven to desperation with the Master, or the Master he'd known.]

[Even reading his intention is bad enough, but it certainly could be worse. Joker could choose to believe him, to accept that he's going to take the moral high-road. And why wouldn't he? He's a warden after all. But then, that doesn't necessarily mean anything... everyone has their flaws, Joker knows that better than anyone.]

[He actually does shudder at the mention of mind-wiping. Curls his hands into fists as his fingertips grow cold.]

[If Joker could hit him over the head with something heavy and be done with it, he would. But it seems the warden will need something a little more complicated than straight forward violence. Joker needs time. Time to rethink his approach.]

Say I believe you. What then? [He begins to shuffle sideways, trying to gain a clear path to the garden exit.]

I didn't plan that far ahead, honestly. For someone who enjoys their best laid plans, I supposed improvisation would be required for this particular venture. [He saw him backing out, and leaned his weight on the umbrella.]

You're acting skittish. The appearance of a stricken canine is unbecoming of a man of your notoriety. [He walked to follow him, mostly because his nose was tickling and he didn't know whether it was the flowers or something else. He pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket though to itch at it, before replacing it] I won't tell if you won't, and I'll wait until our next little discussion to find out more about what it is you do. I assume you've had a lot to absorb, in a very short period of time. As have I.

Edited 2010-09-21 10:31 am (UTC)

[He followed the path of the handkerchief with his eyes, a weakness? Illness? The thought gave him a confidence boost, As did Seven's agreement to end the conversation. The possibility of escape always lent strength. He'd used that trick on his victims.]

You flatter me. [He splayed his fingers, but kept his elbows in, not willing to give the other man open access to his body. Again all he had were physical blocks.]

[Joker shrugged,] who would I tell? [He eyed the exit, but hesitated, then waved for Seven to go first.]

[Now, he could easily get stabbed in the back as he went through the door. He could do about anything, really. Kick him down the steps, spit at him, something else equally base.

But when had he ever been the coward? Besides, it appeared as though the Joker knew fully well what the response to violence would be.]

I speak but the truth. Good day, Joker! [He pops off the hat in clownish salute, before he heads through the exit in front of the Joker. And delights in sliding down the first stair railing, using his cane-like umbrella to balance.]