"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 Mostly outdated but very interesting either way, He got up to find Timothy, knowing he had to brush up on Edward before Jerome got disappointed.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."
"I've got my days," Edward muttered, looking at Jonathan rather than at the file. It was more interesting to see what Jonathan chose to tell him about than what was actually written down. "I don't generally enjoy causing pain. Only when the ones I'm hurting deserve it. Some idiots are too dumb to live unimpeded."
Perhaps that was anti-social. Perhaps it was just a logical consequence of dealing with a dumb world.
"Jerome wants me to get a diagnosis of you. I don't think I can do that as swiftly as he wants to I have something to propose to you." Jonathan admitted as he looked at Edward and wondered how willing this man would be. He looked tired. Tired and sad. He assumed that would make him easy to play with. "I like to do a test with the other crazies here. I prefer when people tell me what they think their diagnosis is. But, of course, people overthink it and get in their heads."
Jonathan didn't think simply talking was enough. "I have some... chemicals. They loosen you up a bit. Fancy a game? How well can you think when your brain is under stress?"
"I can always think well," Edward said honestly, while leaving out what he didn't even know how to explain. Under stress, under duress, yes, sometimes the split could occur. But him and the Riddler were on the same page these days. Edward was the Riddler, the Riddler was Edward. He looked at Jonathan Crane, trying to guess at what chemicals someone like that would want to expose him to.
Trying to decide whether he had anything left to lose. "I self-medicate when I want to enhance my mind. Or to control it. Or just for a lark, honestly." He shrugged. "If you think you can figure me out, be my guest. It's not a riddle I've solved yet. I'm the smartest man in Gotham and I couldn't tell you much about myself. Maybe try the second-smartest man in Gotham. He's annoyingly quick on the uptake when it comes to that."
"Why does it matter if you're smart? Doesn't seem to be much of an asset or you'd not be here." Jonathan pointed out as he got to his feet and shoved all the papers back into the file. "Come with me, Mr Nygma. Let's have a game, shall we? Expand our minds. I'll play too or it's not fun."
Not that exposing himself to any of these chemicals did much any more. These things couldn't do anything compared to what his father had done. Mostly they just made him dizzy. "I'm just down the hall. Let's see what we can learn."
"Maybe I am here because I'm so smart. And you'd not be here if your father had cared less about you. There's some irony there somewhere, I'm sure of it." Something hidden anyway. "Although, if I was to break it down a little less Freudian, I was here the first time because I overestimated Jim Gordon." What a mistake to make.
He got up and gestured to Jon, making it clear that he'd follow. What was the worst that could happen. "This time... Perhaps I'm here because I've underestimated Penguin." He supposed he should admit that. First step and all that.
"Of course, your brain must be running a million miles a minute. How does one finely tune such a brain?" Jonathan held the rec room door open for Edward and then started along the hallway to his room. "I probably wouldn't be here if I took a chance to leave. I probably could have left a year ago..."
But when the toxin washed off, he just didn't have the drive to go anywhere. He didn't know anything out there any more. He just went back to bed. Jerome was the one pushing him to care and have a purpose. "I'm room A-13, we're close. Brace yourself, you'll need strong nerves."
"Your brain is nothing to sneer at. Look what you've become. And you showed promise before everything." Edward did remember that much. Well. Edward remembered everything he had ever read, but currently it was Jonathan he was focusing on.
"I'm braced." Not that it showed much in how he held himself. Today was not a day for being overly expressive. Although when he did enter Jonathan's room and he took it all in, his eyebrows did go up. "Oh dear."
He stepped closer to get a better look on the charcoal drawing on the floor. "You have quite the-- hallucinations, is it? Vivid. I wonder if it still counts as surrealism when you simply draw what you see. Fascinating."
"I don't know what it is. I suppose hallucination to everyone else. It's real to me. I see it right now. It's hand is on my shoulder." Jonathan turned his head slightly, looking at a hand that wasn't there. "It's growling in my ear. It's not like when you see something and it's gone. It's not something that whispers in my ear all day. It's just there. The Scarecrow is in me. Well. No. I am in the Scarecrow."
Jonathan smiled as he crept through his dark room and crouched down to pull a basket out from under his bed. Inside, he had some many test tubes and vials full of random chemicals.
"It's not just the Scarecrow. Everyone is part of his world. I know logically you don't have green, burning eyes or blood oozing from your mouth but I see it. On and off. It flickers." These days, he could battle it enough to be able to see people as normal for a while but in this room especially, that went out of the window. Jonathan inhaled deep. "I like green."
"It's my favourite colour." Green. Green like his suit. Like his question mark tag. Green like Kristen's eyes. Like Isabella's eyes. Like Oswald's. Edward shook his head at the spiral inside his mind and stepped closer to Jonathan, watching what he was doing. "I see things that aren't there too. Not always, not constant."
When? "Mostly when I really want to hate myself more effectively."
"Do you see double? I assume so. I think it's fascinating. My brain did the same thing, I would suppose. With the Scarecrow." Jonathan finally found what he wanted and pulled out the spray device he had, swapping the cartridges. It was a customised inhaler that sprayed a lovely, controlled puff.
"I'm sure you saw my work before. People keep using it. It's swift panic and screaming, biggest fear, all very fun. Useless for us." Jonathan got to his feet and then sprayed the toxin around them both. "We want lower dose, more intensity. We will panic, we won't lose our minds. Well... too late, I suppose."
"Does make me wonder what my biggest fear would be, these days." The truth was that he was mostly afraid to know exactly what his biggest fear was. Oswald, dead. Oswald, gone. The knowledge that he needed Oswald and Oswald did not need him any more. He frowned just thinking about it now, while he waited for the effect of what Jonathan had sprayed all around them to set in. Or perhaps they had already set in. "I really want to clean in here."
He was trying not to focus too much on that, but the place was repellent.
"I lived here for 4 years. I'm quite happy." Jonathan insisted as he looked around, wondering what needed cleaning. Yes, he had a lot of books, papers and files everywhere but they had an order. And sure, the walls were messy but he was young then. It was like family photos on he wall, he supposed.
"We can find out your biggest fear later, that's when we get to the fun part. For now, tell me about you, Ed. What do you think is wrong with you?"
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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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Perhaps that was anti-social. Perhaps it was just a logical consequence of dealing with a dumb world.
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Jonathan didn't think simply talking was enough. "I have some... chemicals. They loosen you up a bit. Fancy a game? How well can you think when your brain is under stress?"
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Trying to decide whether he had anything left to lose. "I self-medicate when I want to enhance my mind. Or to control it. Or just for a lark, honestly." He shrugged. "If you think you can figure me out, be my guest. It's not a riddle I've solved yet. I'm the smartest man in Gotham and I couldn't tell you much about myself. Maybe try the second-smartest man in Gotham. He's annoyingly quick on the uptake when it comes to that."
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Not that exposing himself to any of these chemicals did much any more. These things couldn't do anything compared to what his father had done. Mostly they just made him dizzy. "I'm just down the hall. Let's see what we can learn."
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He got up and gestured to Jon, making it clear that he'd follow. What was the worst that could happen. "This time... Perhaps I'm here because I've underestimated Penguin." He supposed he should admit that. First step and all that.
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But when the toxin washed off, he just didn't have the drive to go anywhere. He didn't know anything out there any more. He just went back to bed. Jerome was the one pushing him to care and have a purpose. "I'm room A-13, we're close. Brace yourself, you'll need strong nerves."
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"I'm braced." Not that it showed much in how he held himself. Today was not a day for being overly expressive. Although when he did enter Jonathan's room and he took it all in, his eyebrows did go up. "Oh dear."
He stepped closer to get a better look on the charcoal drawing on the floor. "You have quite the-- hallucinations, is it? Vivid. I wonder if it still counts as surrealism when you simply draw what you see. Fascinating."
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Jonathan smiled as he crept through his dark room and crouched down to pull a basket out from under his bed. Inside, he had some many test tubes and vials full of random chemicals.
"It's not just the Scarecrow. Everyone is part of his world. I know logically you don't have green, burning eyes or blood oozing from your mouth but I see it. On and off. It flickers." These days, he could battle it enough to be able to see people as normal for a while but in this room especially, that went out of the window. Jonathan inhaled deep. "I like green."
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When? "Mostly when I really want to hate myself more effectively."
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"I'm sure you saw my work before. People keep using it. It's swift panic and screaming, biggest fear, all very fun. Useless for us." Jonathan got to his feet and then sprayed the toxin around them both. "We want lower dose, more intensity. We will panic, we won't lose our minds. Well... too late, I suppose."
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He was trying not to focus too much on that, but the place was repellent.
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"We can find out your biggest fear later, that's when we get to the fun part. For now, tell me about you, Ed. What do you think is wrong with you?"