"Oh dormouse." Jervis looked at Edward and slowly, he felt their heartbeats fall into sync. He felt that same feeling run through of all him and maybe Edward felt it too. He was never sure how it felt for others, he assumed the same. "Lock away this thought for me. You and I will have tea. Today at dinner time. You'll tell by the chime." Jervis was very proud of himself.
He then noticed Edward was not back so he relaxed and then held up his hand. "Come back to me, Mr Nygma, don't have fear."
The truck was slowly down and Jervis squirmed excitedly. "We're here!"
Something had just happened. Edward knew it, knew it because he remembered the moment Jervis had started to speak even if he didn't recall the exact words. Didn't recall any words. Something was off and something had to be in his mind, but he didn't manage to even feel an emotion in response.
That repulsive, squirmy little man had planted something inside of his mind and he didn't even know what and he couldn't even manage to feel upset over it right now. He glared at Jervis, as it was all he could think to do, feeling the very opposite of his excitement. "Oh, shut up."
Worth a try.
The doors of the truck were opened and Edward walked out behind Jerome, already dreading that awful Arkham uniform. No, he had not missed anything about this misery.
Arkham enrolment was the same as always, Jervis didn't have to do much this time. He was still in his uniform but they insisted he changed. Edward too. Jervis giggled the whole time and yes, they got changed together. Jervis did not respect the personal space considerations or the unspoken rule to not look.
They were separated when Edward was took to processing and Jervis found himself following the guard. One of the guards in with Jerome.
Oh, he was excited to see the Cheshire cat and have tea with Edward!
"There you are, Jervis. How was your moment in the sun?" Jerome waved Jervis over as soon as he was taken to the common area - something that obviously only happened when Jerome wanted it, because Jervis was strictly in solitary otherwise. Entirely too dangerous. "Come here, sit with Uncle Jerome and tell me all about it."
He was curious, there had only been whispers in here so far. The Tetch virus. Fun, he had to admit, sounded like a hell of a lot of fun.
"I 'm afraid, I didn't get much done. I was on the wrong side of a gun. Mr Nygma used me to get his bird. I think he was spurred. Very sad, they were all so mad. Alas, my Alice was stopped by the cop. Jim came at me, all chop chop. I lost a pint or two in the battle. It was quite the rattle." Jervis came and sat right beside Jerome, slowly putting his head against Jerome's arm. He was exhausted, overworked and very banged up but so, so happy to be here. And out of his cell too.
"I need the March Hare to come out, come out. He need not pout. It's time for tea, with Mr Nygma, Mr Crane, you and me." He was sure they all had a lot to discuss.
"Nygma, yeah? Right, that's the Riddler. Big fan of his, honestly. He's got flair, knows how to put on a show. I haven't met him properly yet, you'll have to introduce me. Make sure I make the right impression." Jerome ran his fingers through Jervis's hair, indulging him given that he clearly seemed to be tired. Poor boy. "Spooky is gonna be here any minute. He's being a bit boring lately, I think he needs something to drag him away from his books."
He would come up with a project for him, he was sure.
"He's learning all the time. It's sublime. What a mind. He's reading files, books and papers. Better than idly just inhaling his vapors. He's learning about patients, treatments and pills. I suppose it must offer him some thrills." Jervis smiled as he stayed slumped mostly against Jerome, twitching and fiddling. Since he came to Arkham, he had stopped self medicating and it had helped a lot. Hell, all therapy from Jonathan was good too.
Jon turned up not long after, a book in his hand as he approached his two friends. He sat down and then looked at Jervis again. "Oh. You're back. Hello, Mr Tetch. I'm glad you're not dead." He opened his book and then frowned. "I have a diagnosis for you, once you're ready."
"You've diagnosed the little one?" Jervis was always the little one, but especially right now, all soft and melting against him, clearly drained - quite literally - after the events of the day. "Let's hear it, Spooky. He was just on about how hard boiled that egghead of yours is, so wow me."
What a mind. Jerome wasn't quite sure, he did prefer Jonathan when he was completely off his tits, but he supposed this one had more application. Always a bit of a delicate balance with business associates.
"Paranoid schizophrenia." Jonathan explained with a bright smile as he looked at Jervis, who didn't seem to be able to focus on him. In fact, he looked almost like he was dozing off. "It explains a lot. The mania, the voices, the paranoia, the inability to see truth and the cluttered, disorganised thoughts and speech." Jonathan felt it fit perfectly. "With anti-psychotics on a regular basis, he could function... semi normally. Given he has a lot of other issues. So best keep him away from helpful meds - the -pines, the -dines and the -dons."
He turned his book around and slid the page for Jervis' diagnosis over to Jerome. He found it interesting but he was unsure if Jerome did. Last time he tried to diagnose Jerome, he got hit with his own book.
"Yawn," Jerome said, without even bothering to yawn. "How can someone as fun as you be so duuuuull?" It was maddening, but here he was, indulging his little psychiatrist. Whatever. "I'd rather you made people miss the footballs they have to kick, but fine. Lucy, the doctor is IN."
He glanced around the room for a moment, then down at the book Jonathan had pushed his way. He resisted the urge to throw it, for the moment, and instead decided to challenge Jonathan. "Diagnose the hell out of the Riddler as fast as you can. I'll give you something nice if you do well. He's back in as of today, so be on him like a fly on honey."
"Hmm. The Riddler? Which one is that?" He frowned and then looked around before leaning in to Jerome. "If he's been here before, he has a file. I'll need the file. Do you have a key, I want to go hunting." He needed to approach this with as much material as he could to try and work it all out.
"March hare, beware. There's something about him that's ... split. To whit--"
"Don't spoil it, Hatter." Jonathan teased playfully as he reached forward and ruffled Jervis' hair. "Mr Tetch is very pale. If his heart rate drops, call a medic. He may need a transfusion."
"He'll be smooth as butter, he probably just needs some tea. Maybe some sugar." Jerome wasn't too concerned. "My man Timothy over there has the key." He indicated the guard. "Get it off of him and get your file. And tell him to send some food and drink for Jervis before he starts drooling on my shirt. I'd have to punch him for it and then I'd feel bad."
That was how sweet and caring he was. He dismissed Jonathan and looked at Jervis, mostly to get a look at his pupils. "How are you doing, Hatter? Don't pass out, I want to have fun."
"Thank you. And I would advise elevating his legs if he doesn't recover soon." Jonathan offered. He had been reading a lot of medical textbooks. The Arkham offices were full of them. Mostly outdated but very interesting either way, He got up to find Timothy, knowing he had to brush up on Edward before Jerome got disappointed.
Jervis rubbed at his face and pulled himself upright, looking at Jerome as best he could. His pupils were still very blown out. "What kind of fun? Low-key, please, I'm quite done." He was ready to sleep but he knew he definitely shouldn't. He watched Jonathan leave to talk to the guard, interested. "Our smart boy."
"Yes, yes, he's quite the smart cookie. You're more of a bimbo, I suppose. It's fine, you're pretty." And ever so powerful and amazingly crazy. A bit of a push and a shove, it hadn't taken much. Jerome helped Jervis by making him lie down on the bench, with his head in his lap. He didn't want him passing out, after all. So he was pleased to give him the lemonade a guard brought for them, even helping him get the straw in his mouth.
"There he is." Some commotion pointed toward a new arrival and Edward Nygma walked into the common area, posture rigid and expression pretty miserable. Some of the inmates clearly recognised him and greeted him in a friendly way. Jerome took note of that. "Huh. He's taller than he looks on TV."
"He is, yes." Jervis mumbled as he stayed in Jerome's lap, trying to keep himself awake and with it. He had some sugar, some energy and he was just catching a few moments of nothingness. Jon would soon have the files and then they could really begin to study him. "He put a grenade on me. Pretty funny, you'd agree. Kaboom, he said. One wrong move and we're dead."
Jervis haphazardly struggled up from Jerome's lap and raised a hand, no shame as he waved it around. "Mr Nygma!"
"Kaboom? Really? See, that's what I'm looking for. Flair. So many of these nutjobs are missing that!" Jerome chuckled and let Jervis get Edward's attention. Which he did, even if Edward looked less than pleased.
Still, Edward knew when he was being summoned by who was obviously king of this castle. He walked up to the bench they were seated at and nodded his head. "Tetch. And Jerome Valeska, right? We haven't met but you indirectly got me together with the love of my life, really got things going. I killed her, but what a catalyst that was."
"Aw. I love love." Jerome sighed playfully, gesturing to the opposite bench. "Sit down. Jervis was just failing to tell me all about you. He's too sleepy."
"You have to stay sitting with us until the March Hare comes." Jervis didn't demand it, he just said it like it was a hopeful suggestion. He had to be out of it, he was struggling to rhyme and despite his pupils, his power wasn't turn on. "He's just gone for your file, he'll be a while. He wants to read about you..." Jervis paused, his brain not able to make a naturally flowing sentence. "Shoe."
Good enough. Jervis reached out and grabbed the candy bar the guard had given him.
"Riiight." Ed considered Jervis for a moment, wondering still who the March Hare might be, but not expecting much useful from that corner. "Little blood left in your circulation after all of today's commotion. So, my friend, if you will, sit quiet and hold still."
Perhaps if he rhymed, Jervis would stop the inane chatter. He turned to look at Jerome again. "I hear you are the big Kahuna here these days?"
"Pretty much. It's a nice place, isn't it? I've always liked it nutty." Jerome grinned his Cheshire grin. "If you entertain me, Mr Riddler, sir, you'll have a good time here. If not, I'll have you lobotomised."
"Yippee," Edward commented drily, "Do I get to pick which one I want? Because today it might be a toss-up."
Somehow, it did work with Jervis. He calmed down a lot suddenly and closed his eyes, falling back down in Jerome's lap as the two talked to each other about whatever this was. He didn't really do much until he heard the tell-tale footsteps on his darling Mr Crane. "March Hare!"
Jonathan was standing by the table, files in his hands, looking at Jervis and tilting his head. Then he came and crouched. "You look tired, Mr Tetch.
"I am in pain, Mr Crane."
"Tsk." Jonathan righted himself and then came around Edward, sitting down next to him and opposite Jerome. "Turns out, I already had the file in my reading pile." Huh. "I didn't rhyme that on purpose."
"Power of suggestion, becomes a bit of a habit with some exposure." Evidently. Edward looked at the new arrival - the March Hare - who apparently had interest in his file for whatever reason and whom he had recognised, even before Jervis had confirmed it, as Jonathan Crane. "I've read your file. Actually, I'm the first one to write in your file, as far as the medical notes are concerned."
He turned to Jonathan and offered a hand out. Might as well hold on to some decorum, even if it felt silly in here, under Jerome Valeska's insane gaze. "Edward Nygma. Riddler. We haven't met. Fair warning, my file is likely to be useless. When I stayed here, there was even less focus on patient care than now. I think I saw a therapist once and I did not cooperate." So it had mostly been either cruel treatments that were essentially torture or absolute boredom as he got ignored while Hugo Strange worked on his schemes.
"Oh. GCPD medical or Gotham general?" Jonathan asked as he shook the man's hand. Why not? Life was a funny old thing, he found it all more entertaining these days than horrifying. "You know who I am but you can call me Jon." Opening Edward's file, he looked at it for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders.
"Therapy here is worthless, that's not why I look. You can learn things like height, weight, allergies and tolerances." Jonathan was already doing that, looking at the weight and then looking at Edward. That checked out. In case he needed to give any dosages. "I wanted to see a picture too but now you're here so it's moot. I think I can now pick you out of a crowd." Not that the picture of Edward here wasn't great. He looked utterly miserable and his glasses were busted.
"Forensic science technician, GCPD. I helped the medical examiner work your case. Your father's case." Whatever, kind of tangled together. It had been a wild time, both on the side of the crime being committed and on what was going on within the GCPD. Shame about that medical examiner getting fired. Ah, well.
"I don't like onions when they're cut too large. Otherwise, no intolerances or allergies that I'm aware of."
"Oh, lucky you. Before I died I had so many allergies. Ginger, you know?" Jerome felt the need to bring that up. "It's kind of gone away, so I can recommend a slight case of death."
"Jerome's file was an eye opener." Jonathan admitted because it had been a fascinating read. Who knew someone could be intolerant to so many things. Death really seemed to have made Jerome a much hardier man. "Jerome has nothing now. Jervis is only allergic to paracetamol and, interestingly, nickel."
"I can tell a cheap watch." Jervis mumbled from Jerome's lap, giggling slightly.
"I have none. Perhaps when I die, if I come back, I'll suddenly have them all." Who knew how such a thing worked. It was honestly fascinating. "Death is so exciting."
"Death is cheap in Gotham." Kind of took the excitement out of it. Edward wondered if he'd ever figure out how he truly felt about Oswald not dying when he had killed him. It was a hard one to call. "Anyway, given your mind has made it through that dosage you got into coherence, it'd be a shame to risk it on a death."
"Aw, Spooky, he cares. That's so sweet." Jerome was touched. He really was such a sap. "Listen, boys, this is fun, but I think I actually do need to get Jervis here to the nurse." That was the closest he'd get to being caring. "Come on, Hatter. I'll carry you. Now, Scarecrow, I'm expecting results." He snapped his fingers. "And make it snappy."
"Remember, he's blood type O." Jonathan called out as he watched Jerome lift Jervis like a sack of spuds. Well, at least Jervis wouldn't die from blood loss. There was a win. He was quite fond of Jervis, they had built up a very odd little friendship while in Arkham. "Good luck, boss."
With Jerome gone, Jonathan looked down at the file and started to move the papers around to see what Edward's file had theorised. "It's not a very flattering summary of you. Egotist. Sadist. Psychopath." He hemmed and then looked at Edward for a few moments. "No, definitely not a psychopath."
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He then noticed Edward was not back so he relaxed and then held up his hand. "Come back to me, Mr Nygma, don't have fear."
The truck was slowly down and Jervis squirmed excitedly. "We're here!"
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That repulsive, squirmy little man had planted something inside of his mind and he didn't even know what and he couldn't even manage to feel upset over it right now. He glared at Jervis, as it was all he could think to do, feeling the very opposite of his excitement. "Oh, shut up."
Worth a try.
The doors of the truck were opened and Edward walked out behind Jerome, already dreading that awful Arkham uniform. No, he had not missed anything about this misery.
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They were separated when Edward was took to processing and Jervis found himself following the guard. One of the guards in with Jerome.
Oh, he was excited to see the Cheshire cat and have tea with Edward!
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He was curious, there had only been whispers in here so far. The Tetch virus. Fun, he had to admit, sounded like a hell of a lot of fun.
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"I need the March Hare to come out, come out. He need not pout. It's time for tea, with Mr Nygma, Mr Crane, you and me." He was sure they all had a lot to discuss.
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He would come up with a project for him, he was sure.
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Jon turned up not long after, a book in his hand as he approached his two friends. He sat down and then looked at Jervis again. "Oh. You're back. Hello, Mr Tetch. I'm glad you're not dead." He opened his book and then frowned. "I have a diagnosis for you, once you're ready."
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What a mind. Jerome wasn't quite sure, he did prefer Jonathan when he was completely off his tits, but he supposed this one had more application. Always a bit of a delicate balance with business associates.
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He turned his book around and slid the page for Jervis' diagnosis over to Jerome. He found it interesting but he was unsure if Jerome did. Last time he tried to diagnose Jerome, he got hit with his own book.
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He glanced around the room for a moment, then down at the book Jonathan had pushed his way. He resisted the urge to throw it, for the moment, and instead decided to challenge Jonathan. "Diagnose the hell out of the Riddler as fast as you can. I'll give you something nice if you do well. He's back in as of today, so be on him like a fly on honey."
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"March hare, beware. There's something about him that's ... split. To whit--"
"Don't spoil it, Hatter." Jonathan teased playfully as he reached forward and ruffled Jervis' hair. "Mr Tetch is very pale. If his heart rate drops, call a medic. He may need a transfusion."
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That was how sweet and caring he was. He dismissed Jonathan and looked at Jervis, mostly to get a look at his pupils. "How are you doing, Hatter? Don't pass out, I want to have fun."
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Jervis rubbed at his face and pulled himself upright, looking at Jerome as best he could. His pupils were still very blown out. "What kind of fun? Low-key, please, I'm quite done." He was ready to sleep but he knew he definitely shouldn't. He watched Jonathan leave to talk to the guard, interested. "Our smart boy."
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"There he is." Some commotion pointed toward a new arrival and Edward Nygma walked into the common area, posture rigid and expression pretty miserable. Some of the inmates clearly recognised him and greeted him in a friendly way. Jerome took note of that. "Huh. He's taller than he looks on TV."
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Jervis haphazardly struggled up from Jerome's lap and raised a hand, no shame as he waved it around. "Mr Nygma!"
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Still, Edward knew when he was being summoned by who was obviously king of this castle. He walked up to the bench they were seated at and nodded his head. "Tetch. And Jerome Valeska, right? We haven't met but you indirectly got me together with the love of my life, really got things going. I killed her, but what a catalyst that was."
"Aw. I love love." Jerome sighed playfully, gesturing to the opposite bench. "Sit down. Jervis was just failing to tell me all about you. He's too sleepy."
"He did lose a lot of blood," Edward said.
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Good enough. Jervis reached out and grabbed the candy bar the guard had given him.
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Perhaps if he rhymed, Jervis would stop the inane chatter. He turned to look at Jerome again. "I hear you are the big Kahuna here these days?"
"Pretty much. It's a nice place, isn't it? I've always liked it nutty." Jerome grinned his Cheshire grin. "If you entertain me, Mr Riddler, sir, you'll have a good time here. If not, I'll have you lobotomised."
"Yippee," Edward commented drily, "Do I get to pick which one I want? Because today it might be a toss-up."
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Jonathan was standing by the table, files in his hands, looking at Jervis and tilting his head. Then he came and crouched. "You look tired, Mr Tetch.
"I am in pain, Mr Crane."
"Tsk." Jonathan righted himself and then came around Edward, sitting down next to him and opposite Jerome. "Turns out, I already had the file in my reading pile." Huh. "I didn't rhyme that on purpose."
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He turned to Jonathan and offered a hand out. Might as well hold on to some decorum, even if it felt silly in here, under Jerome Valeska's insane gaze. "Edward Nygma. Riddler. We haven't met. Fair warning, my file is likely to be useless. When I stayed here, there was even less focus on patient care than now. I think I saw a therapist once and I did not cooperate." So it had mostly been either cruel treatments that were essentially torture or absolute boredom as he got ignored while Hugo Strange worked on his schemes.
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"Therapy here is worthless, that's not why I look. You can learn things like height, weight, allergies and tolerances." Jonathan was already doing that, looking at the weight and then looking at Edward. That checked out. In case he needed to give any dosages. "I wanted to see a picture too but now you're here so it's moot. I think I can now pick you out of a crowd." Not that the picture of Edward here wasn't great. He looked utterly miserable and his glasses were busted.
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"I don't like onions when they're cut too large. Otherwise, no intolerances or allergies that I'm aware of."
"Oh, lucky you. Before I died I had so many allergies. Ginger, you know?" Jerome felt the need to bring that up. "It's kind of gone away, so I can recommend a slight case of death."
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"I can tell a cheap watch." Jervis mumbled from Jerome's lap, giggling slightly.
"I have none. Perhaps when I die, if I come back, I'll suddenly have them all." Who knew how such a thing worked. It was honestly fascinating. "Death is so exciting."
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"Aw, Spooky, he cares. That's so sweet." Jerome was touched. He really was such a sap. "Listen, boys, this is fun, but I think I actually do need to get Jervis here to the nurse." That was the closest he'd get to being caring. "Come on, Hatter. I'll carry you. Now, Scarecrow, I'm expecting results." He snapped his fingers. "And make it snappy."
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With Jerome gone, Jonathan looked down at the file and started to move the papers around to see what Edward's file had theorised. "It's not a very flattering summary of you. Egotist. Sadist. Psychopath." He hemmed and then looked at Edward for a few moments. "No, definitely not a psychopath."
From all he gathered, seemed unlikely.
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