Who Says That ***'s Not an Art?

After destroying half of the city’s remaining buildings and having a little chat with the mobsters the Joker skipped into the dilapidated building with his goons, the gang being considerably lighter than when they left.

“I’m back toots! You didn’t try and wreck anything while I was away did ya?” The Joker roared while recklessly laughing and randomly ripping doors open before plunging his knife into the darkness.

He paused as he reached the door that led to the room he had left her in. Her body was curled up as she buried her head into the clothes she was wearing. He sneered gleefully to himself as he pranced down the corridor again into one of the rooms nearby. As the Joker had presumed in one of the corners sat a bucket which had been kicked in several times. The bucket was full to the brim of the rain water that had been falling through the roof’s hole.

“Oh, princess,” Cried the Joker, dragging out each letter as he said princess. His arms fell much lower to the ground, almost imitating one of the goons as he barely managed to carry the bucket.

Once he reached her again, taking almost twice as long due to the weight of the bucket he tipped the contents of her sleeping figure. With a high pitch gasp she shot up out of her body’s sleeping state. The Joker howled with laughter as he pointed, suddenly snapping out of his giggles to grab her by the back of the neck so, for what seemed the hundredth time, their faces met although she didn’t look up at him.

“Know that you’ve awoke from you’re slumber, I was wondering, wanna know how I got these scars?” The Joker mumbled while using his knife to point at his lips, not even caring that she wasn’t looking.

“Depends, wanna know how I got mine?” She replied back, finally fixing her gaze on his before using her sleeve to wipe the remaining makeup she had on, her lips curving into a callous smile as she felt his grip tighten.

Bruce shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Alfred tried to pour some tea out into the china set.

“Alfred, did they say how long it will be before that police station is fixed?” Bruce questioned irritably as he while standing up in frustration, only to hear the sound of sighing.

“Master Wayne, I know you feel the need to go and round up all them people again; but there is no point. You heard them, it’s going to be weeks at the very least,” Sighed Alfred while he watched Bruce pace the same piece of carpet, practically wearing it away.

Bruce collapsed into his seat with frustration as he dragged his fingers through his hair, giving it a slight tug. Of course he wanted to help the people of Gotham but he was more worried about Lizzy – knowing he couldn’t do anything to save her yet.