"Finger River, you got it! You heard that, Jervis?" Jerome ruffled Jervis's hair, then started inspecting himself in the mirror. "Ah, what a smile. No wonder the bitches won't stop coming, gotta beat them off with a stick."

In the back of the car, Edward had already put on his shirt and discarded the Arkham uniform top, buttoning up the buttons as he sat there on the ground, glancing at the scythe. "Do you actually use that thing, Jonathan, or are you just very committed to your aesthetic? No judgement. I'm just wondering."

"We meet up at eight! You two and I, anyway. Reckon we'll catch up to Jervis en route back to the asylum."