Miriam

I fall back asleep and wake up with my face pressed to Crane's chest. He smells like cloth and his toxins, a cloying scent. It's becoming familiar. I squirm out from his arms and stand, pulling clothes on. He mumbles something, sleepy, and makes a fist.

His face is bruised, a little swollen. I'll have him rest for a few days, if he listens to me. It strikes me that I've never taken care of a client like this, never cared to sit by their bedside to stroke their hair or talk with them. I ignore the faint twinge of panic.

It's about eleven at night. Criminals are generally nocturnal, even in a city with the Batman. He can't be everywhere, so some are willing to risk it. I eat two Poptarts and work out for an hour, until I'm sweaty and satisfied.

Crane's calender will be empty until he heals, so I won't bother with that. I reflect that this job is a lot easier then the one with Baby Doll, who was crazier than Crane. Least he doesn't have some sort of baby fetish or whatever.

I turn on the TV, watch the news for a while. Joker is wreaking havoc, as usual. Calender Man has struck again. Man-Bat's back. The economy is improving. Elections are coming up soon. I don't vote. No real identity. I'll work out again today, feed Crane, take a shower, read. Easy. It's nice to have easy.

Koi calls me at one point, babbles on about being in Thailand and having to guard some famous guy's mistress. She's enjoying the food, and learning how to play clarinet. When she hangs up Crane is awake.

“Miriam?” he croaks.

“Coming!” He grins when he sees me, sated and a little possessive. The look sends pleasant warmth down my spine. “Hungry, sir?”

He nods, brushing hair from his eyes. “I'm thinking you should rest for a few days. To heal.” I'm surprised when he nods agreeably. “I'll make you pancakes, sir.”

“Thank you.”

I'm flipping a pancake when the phone rings. It's Poison Ivy. “Crane, dear,” she purrs before I interrupt her.

“This is Miriam, his assistant.” Her voice gets no less seductive.

“Miriam, hm? I remember. Baby Doll, right? Such lovely red hair. I do love redheads.” Her voice is thick, syrupy, and smooth. I like it. I still keep everything professional.

“Thank you. May I ask why you're calling, Ms. Ivy?” She laughs, deep and amused. Even over the phone she oozes sex appeal.

“Please, call me Ivy. I have some toxins for Scarecrow. When will he be here to pick them up?”

“I'm afraid Mr. Crane is out right now. Would you be willing to have me pick them up?”

There's a long pause before she says, “I suppose...”

“Alright. I'll be there in an hour?”

“Yes, that sounds alright.”

“Thank you. Have a nice day.”

“You too, darling.”

I bring Crane his food after that. He grins and thanks me, taking the plate.

“Poison Ivy called. She has some toxins for you. I'm going to pick them up in an hour.” He nods, settling back into the pillows. “I know where she lives, sir. I'm going to leave now. Be back in a bit.”

“I'll see you later.” I'm suddenly struck by the desire to kiss his forehead. I don't, of course.

“See you.”