let me see you smile | open

[criminallysane]

WHO: The Joker & you! OTA (plus a closed starter for Harley)
WHERE: The Laugh Factory and other De Chima spots
WHEN: Throughout October
WHAT: Catch-all log
WARNINGS: It’s the Joker, so standard warnings apply: violence, clowns, manipulation, language, etc.


THE LAUGH FACTORY

The Laugh Factory is a moderately-sized comedy club in the heart of De Chima.

The club is almost entirely one big room, with a stage at one end, a bar at the other, and tightly-packed tables in between. Restrooms and a handful of offices are tucked away in the back, along with a green room for performers, a cramped break room for staff, and a full kitchen specializing in classic bar foods like burgers and wings.

The decor is colorful and vaguely industrial (lots of exposed duct work and old brick), with framed posters and photographs everywhere showcasing the comedy greats of old: Charlie Chaplin, the Stooges, Carole Lombard. The overall vibe is very much intimate neighborhood dive bar, not upscale nightspot, and you'll run into plenty of regulars.

1. Before the Show

Get here early if you want a table…or if you’re brave enough to let the Joker make you a drink. A half hour before the first show of the night, you can find him behind the bar, fishing for gossip from patrons and mixing up cocktails. Ten minutes before the show, he’ll be working the room, shaking hands and patting backs and saying hello. If you’re in the audience—even if you’re hiding out by the wall and a total stranger, and even if he hates you—get ready to be personally greeted with a handshake and that patented Joker grin. “Finally made it out here, did you?”

2. Open Mic Night

Tuesdays are an Open Mic madhouse (with cash prizes for the best act), and the talent ranges from very good to truly awful. Perhaps you’d like to try your hand at stand-up? If so, better head to the table at the back, where Joker’s waiting with a sign-up sheet. He’ll look you over, top to bottom, then burst into laughter. “You’re joking, right?”

If you’re more of a watcher than an entertainer, come sit and snark with him at his table once the show begins. But be warned: Open Mic Night is loud and rowdy, and heckling is encouraged.

3. Back Room Dealings

Between shows (or late at night, once everyone else has gone home), you’ll find Joker in his office at the back of the club. The nameplate on the door reads THE JOKER, and inside is a somewhat run-down office that looks straight out of the 70’s. Papers and maps are piled all over the desk, the ashtray’s overflowing, and he’s clearly been more or less living here. Regardless of when you stop by, expect him to be smoking and to have an old radio comedy show playing in the background.

4. Problem with the Bill

Uh-oh. Joker’s heard you’re not happy with your bill. Since the manager’s a spineless piece of rancid roadkill if ever there was one, the Clown Prince will be dealing with your complaint himself. He strolls over to your table, grin already in place, and there’s a glint in his eyes that says he wouldn’t mind having a little trouble with you at all. “So! What seems to be the issue here?”

ELSEWHERE IN DE CHIMA

The Joker hasn’t been out and about as much as usual lately, but you can still catch him here and there if you’re lucky. Perhaps you find him picking up takeout at the same time as you, browsing the hair pomade selection at a corner drugstore, or wandering the stacks at the local library (and looking a little lost).

(( If you want something specific, hmu at sharkattack and we’ll make it happen!))

CLOSED TO HARLEY

Joker and Harley wait side-by-side on a bench for a delayed late-night train. The clowns are at the farthest, darkest end of the platform, where Joker thinks they’ll be least likely to be spotted. A chilly autumn rain has begun to fall, and the breeze keeps bringing it in on them, coating them both with a fine, cold mist. They’ve been waiting a very long time.

The full adrenaline of the night’s robbery has long since worn off for Joker, but he’s still on edge, drumming his fingers against his knee and going through cigarette after cigarette. He wants to look at the things they took from the medical research center: the vials, the beakers, the supplies. All of that is stashed in Harley’s miraculous bag of wonders, where he can only hope everything will be safe. He still doesn’t entirely trust her, not with materials that are this important. But there was no other option. What was he going to do, carry smallpox around in his jacket pocket?

He glances at his watch, then remembers it’s broken, a casualty of a scuffle with one of the building’s surprisingly competent security guards. The guard is dead now, of course, along with a handful of others. Presents for Batman, if old Long Ears even bothers to collect them. Joker took care to leave them all with cheerful smiles, just in case. But it sucks about the watch. He’d really liked that watch…

Ah, well. Surely the train will come soon. All he needs is some sort of distraction, to help speed the wait along.

“Harley.” He grinds out his most recent cigarette, not even bothering to look at her. “You have any snacks in that bag of yours?”

Comments

1

[fireandhoney]

Finn figures that anything the Joker is involved with can't be good. Since he's the inquisitive sort, and it was pretty much what he did back in Tamriel, he figures this is a good time to go snooping.

He arrives pretty early, figuring he might as well get a read on the place, and then go snooping after or between shows. It rather reminds him of having to go undercover at a party at the Thalmor embassy.

Sitting down near the back, Finn takes out his sketchbook to draw, just to kill time. Still too early to go snooping. He's in the middle of drawing a the monster that nearly ate Jonathan last month, when he hears a very familiar voice.

His face impassive, he just looks up and says, "That I did. I'm as surprised as you are."

[criminallysane]

"Yes, you look it." Joker gestures at Finn's face, chuckling. "The very picture of shock."

He helps himself to the chair next to Finn's and sprawls out in it, making himself at home. It's still plenty early, he reasons, so why not enjoy catching up for a moment?

His gaze does a quick run-over of the other man's outfit, and the memory of their last encounter--in which Finn got to play dress-up--puts a little extra oomph into his smile. He hasn't quite made up his mind yet as to which he prefers: crystal-crazed fashion icon Finn, or... this guy.

No, wait, that's a lie. He definitely prefers the other version! But maybe this one has something of interest to offer, too.

"What's that you're drawing there?"

[fireandhoney]

And today Finn tried not to look too eye-catching. Which just means that he still wore jeans and a denim jacket, but he selected a plain black t-shirt with no logos or designs on it. The two blue streaks he has in his hair now might be a bit eye-catching.

He hasn't seen the Joker since he picked up the black kryptonite. He's not proud of himself for some of the things he said while under its influence.

"Something I'm growing in my basement," Now it's pretty obvious that he's being snarky. "I was going to bring it with me, but it would have gotten mad when it realized it wasn't the ghastliest looking thing in the room."

[criminallysane]

"You'd think it would be used to that."

Joker reaches for the sketchbook, more out of morbid curiosity than anything resembling manners. He's already seen that Finn has a... well, let's call it an eclectic side, and he's hopeful that some of that will be conveyed in his art.

"May I?"

4

[mysterioisthetruth]

Get out of the house more; see a show, David had said. And this is why Quentin Beck was here at the comedy club. It wasn't exactly a play but it was an entertainment that could be good? He was unsure about that but he was pleased at once to see the framed posters of classic performers and he smiled as he examined each one, reminding him of old movies he'd enjoyed, and then sat down in a good mood to watch the comedians. It was a mixed bag but there was some amusement to be had. He nursed a drink throughout the night and therefore was surprised when the bill came.

And then the Joker came over, asking what the issue was.

Beck waved the bill around a little too over-dramatically.

"I'll tell you what the issue is. I had one drink. Just one! And this is charging me for three. You've made a mistake and I'm not paying triple for one lousy drink."

[criminallysane]

Joker lets the accusation hang in the air for a long moment, during which he gives this bearded Karen a deliberately slow head-to-toe once-over. His smile quirks up at the corners, and when his eyes return to his guest's, they're full of polite condescension.

"And what was lousy about it, precisely?" He knows full well that wasn't the point, but his tone is all sincerity.

[mysterioisthetruth]

Beck's eyebrows raise.

"Really? It wasn't liquid gold. With this kind of service I should get the entire evening for free. No, wait. Maybe get it back entirely. You got somebody around here who can turn back time?"

[criminallysane]

The condescension evaporates in a snap, and Joker bursts into laughter. If you're going to complain, now, that's the way to do it!

He nods as he laughs, visibly tickled with the response he's gotten. "You know, when you're right, you're right! I keep telling the owner, I tell him, 'Buddy, what we need around here is a time-turner.' But does he listen to me? No."

One gloved hand reaches for the bill, fingers waggling to indicate, Give that here. "What are you drinking, friend?"

Joker/Harley

[madlove]

When Joker had told Harley to wear something she could run in, she’d apparently completely disregarded that advice. Instead, her mind had already been racing towards a candlelight dinner, maybe a romantic tango. She certainly hadn’t been expecting to go rob a lab for… actually, now that she’s thinking about it, Harley’s not entirely sure what she has hidden in her purse.

It’s not like there’s not plenty of room in there, even with the hyenas stowed away. They seem to think it’s some sort of luxury resort vacation, which makes things easier for Harley. It keeps them on hand in case she needs them for backup without having to deal with anyone in her vicinity freaking out if they see Bud and Lou.

As for her clothes, the 4 inch heels and black and red mini dress hadn’t exactly been the best choice. But in true Harley fashion, she’d broken a few noses (and maybe a guard’s arm), even in stilettos. Though now she’s starting to wonder what happened to their ‘quality time’.

She’s starting to fidget on the bench and trying to ignore the bite of the rain and wind. Heckofa night picked to go out. Though that wasn’t Joker’s fault; he couldn’t have known it was going to rain or that the train would be late. And sure, yeah, maybe the night had started off with robbing a place, but was just to get the blood pumping, Harley’s sure of it.

So, instead of starting to get irritable, she’s trying to keep her hopes up and her demeanor as cheerful as possible.

“Snacks? Do I have snacks?”

Was the sky blue? Did fish swim? Did Bud and Lou eat people they didn’t like?

Snapping open the credit-card sized purse, she sticks her fingers in, rummaging around, like there’s more than a couple of quarters in there. First, a vial comes out and she hands it over, like she’s not dealing with some sort of potentially deadly virus. “Here, hold this for a sec--” Then a bag of chips. A giant bucket of movie theater popcorn that has (somehow, miraculously) managed not to spill. And a small bottle of some sort of fruity-flavored soda and a paper-wrapped straw. “I think I’ve got a box of Buncha Crunch too. If the babies didn’t tear into it already.”

[criminallysane]

Harley's purse is perhaps the most useful thing about her, but Joker still gets the heebie-jeebies when he watches her use it. He can all-too-easily imagine her shoving him in there and refusing to let him out. Carrying him around in her back pocket like an old ticket stub until she inevitably loses him on a bus seat or under a couch cushion or while diving off a bridge to avoid Batsy Dearest. And then what will happen to him?

He can contemplate a life sentence in the Slab with nary a blip of emotion. But a deathless eternity spent at the bottom of a river in Harley's lost handbag, probably being torn apart for all time by two very hungry hyenas? No. No, no, no. That's enough to give even him pause.

So he deliberately keeps his eyes averted now, as she dips into that magical hellhole in search of Barnum-only-knows-what sort of food. He looks back at his watch instead, wondering if there's a craftsman in De Chima who might be able to repair it. It seems silly to be sentimental over a timepiece, but he really is fond of it. It's easy to read in the dark, it has a nice bold second hand, it matches everything he owns, and it doesn't do that annoying twisting-on-the-wrist thing when he runs in it, either. Seems a pity to have to chuck the whole thing...

Harley's putting something into his hands, and Joker, distracted now by thoughts of his watch, accepts it without looking. Hold this, sure, sure.

It’s only when the item is already in his grasp that he realizes what he’s holding. She’s just carelessly given him the smallpox. You know: the thing that really needed to be kept safe. The raison d’être for the evening’s adventures. The piece of loot that’s most integral to his entire blasted plan! And she’s tossing it about like it’s a corndog!

Joker sputters, his face darkening. He’s just opening his mouth to tell her precisely what he thinks of this slovenly sloppiness when she adds the chips. The popcorn. The bottle and straw.

Now his arms are full of a towering, teetering heap of snacks, with the delicate vial of pox wobbling between two of his fingers. Popcorn pieces fly as Joker juggles it all to get a better grip, and he’s going to slaughter this bitch, he really is.

“Harley! Stop.”

He glowers at her over Snack Mountain.

“Do you realize,” he asks, carefully, “what you just handed me?” He begins setting things, one by one, on the bench beside him. “Do you have the slightest, vaguest, tiniest idea?”

[madlove]

Harley’s still rummaging around in her purse -- presumably for the Buncha Crunch -- when she’s rudely interrupted. Glancing up and blinking, like she doesn’t have a clue what the problem is, because, honestly, she doesn’t, she frowns faintly. “Were you thinking something more like a Snickers? Because I might have one of those too. Just one of the bite-sized ones but…”

She’s giving him a once over and realizes…

Oh, she had been throwing an awful lot at him all at once, hadn’t she? Like she was expecting him to juggle an armful of snacks without a problem. And he probably could have if the popcorn had had a lid.

The fact that she’s also handed over a vial of smallpox doesn’t really hit home in its dangerousness. Because it’s sealed. And it’s not like he’s going to just go and drop it. And, mostly, because she hasn’t been informed that what they’ve stolen was, you know, smallpox and not something a little less nefarious like flu strain H1N1.

This is kind of what happens when you leave your henchwench out of the loop.

Holding her purse out to him with the top still open, she says, “Here, look at all that. Put some back in before it spills.” A pause and she tilts her head to the side thoughtfully, looking at his hands. “Hey, I think your watch got broken.”

Elsewhere in De Chima

[desmodusdraculae]

[De Chima isn't Kirk's local haunt, but he happened to be in the area and looking for a book. He sticks out a bit with his large, red glasses, but otherwise seems determined to blend into the background as he accidentally bumps another patron.]

Oh, sorry!

[He mutters instinctively, turning to see what he hit. Wow, and he thought he was pale.]

[criminallysane]

[ Joker has had no luck whatsoever in finding a book that can actually assist him with what he needs. He's found plenty of small electronics guides for the do-it-yourselfer, but they all seem geared toward the home hobbyist. There's nothing here for professionals, or at least nothing he can find.

Worse, it's impossible for him to be in this library without remembering the argument he had with Jane Porter here. As he wanders the stacks, he finds himself replaying their conversation in his head, sorting through all the things he said wrong. All the things he wishes he'd said instead.

Before long, the combination of not finding what he needs and brooding on an unpleasant memory has gotten him into quite a state: annoyed and distracted, and not paying a lick of attention to anyone around him. He's leaning against a bookcase, sulking and thinking, and has just gone to light up a smoke when some moron bumps right into him.

His lighter and the unlit cigarette hit the floor, lighter clattering to a stop near his feet and cigarette rolling off to be lost under the opposite bookcase.

Joker whirls toward the offender with a snarl. ] Watch it!

[ Some dope in stupid glasses. Of course.

The clown drops to one knee and retrieves his lighter. Then dips his head to see if the cigarette is really and truly lost to him. It is. ]

Goddammit. [ He looks back up at the moron, his expression souring still more. ] This is a library, you know. You might show a little care.

[desmodusdraculae]

[Kirk opens his mouth to apologize, only to realize what it was he inadvertently stopped.

Now he doesn't quite feel so bad about bumping this guy.]

Same could be said to you. You can't smoke in a library.

Picking up takeout

[drivesadesk]

Jonathan was just picking up some Chinese takeout when he spots Joker's ghastly white face. He remembers talking to this guy. He's the guy who wanted to feed burgers to an elephant. Of course, Jonathan doesn't know this, but Joker might also recognize Jonathan as the scaled guy in Finn's sketchbook.

"Hey, you're the guy with the elephant. What ended up happening with that?"

He can't imagine this guy still is taking care of an elephant.

[criminallysane]

Now there's a face you don't forget.

Joker's sitting in a hard plastic seat just inside the door, waiting for his lo mein and sweet-'n'-sour chicken. Apparently the chicken's running a bit late.

He brightens at the sight of Lizard Boy, because company is almost always better than no company, and, hey, he likes the guy's color scheme.

"Well, hello, you!" He beckons L.B. over. "Just so happens you were right: elephants don't much like burgers." He shrugs, but his smile's still amused and happy. "Who'da thunk? Turns out the old girl prefers Chinese."

[drivesadesk]

"Huh. No wonder why they're running behind on orders. It'll probably take a few hours for them to cook up enough food for an elephant."

He assumes Joker's just messing with him again. At least, he hopes he is. Jonathan really doesn't want to wait for them to cook a few tons of food before he gets his own order.

2

[crypdick]

The show begins and those performing at open mic night start, and for a while the other chair at Joker's table is empty.

Then it isn't.

Black smoke forms, twinkling with lights of the sort that give one goosebumps, and the Outsider is there. He sits, casually, watching the stage.

"Hello, Joker. Settling in?"

[criminallysane]

Oh, that's a nice trick. That's a very nice trick. Classy, even.

Joker doesn't jump at the sight of the Outsider sitting there beside him; Bats has long inured him to having brooding men pop up out of nowhere. Instead, he offers a slow, approving smirk, then turns his gaze back to the stage.

"Comfy cozy. Get you a drink? Blood of a virgin, perhaps? Tears of a saint?" He raises a hand and gestures for the server to come on over and serve. "Whatever your dear little cult-leader heart desires."

[crypdick]

A lack of notable reaction tells the Outsider just as much, if not more than a jump would. It's not why he does it, but he does notice.

"One of those sweet bubbly drinks that are so popular in this world." He waves a hand dismissively. "Flavour doesn't matter."

The server mentions coke and the Outsider accepts that before turning to the Joker. "A cult leader would have to be more proactive in their affairs than I am. Or care at all. But you've noticed them, it seems."

three;

[catlady]

[ Selina doesn't usually deal with the Clown; back home there's a very clear division between them and her and the less she buddies up with the rest of the Gotham City Rogues Gallery the better. See, the way that Selina sees it, she was being very generous in agreeing to a sparring session and he'd spit in the face of her generosity by not showing up.

She could just as easily let it go, but, y'know-- ]

HEY, CLOWN! [ Yes, that would be Selina -- catsuit and all -- standing in the doorway of his office late at night. ] YOU STOOD ME UP.

[criminallysane]

[ Joker has long since forgotten about that sparring session he promised to show up for. It was one of those things that sounded like a hoot when they were talking about it, but that slipped through the cracks of his mind shortly thereafter in favor of more pressing, more interesting things. He didn't mean to bail on Selina, exactly. He just forgot she existed.

But looking at her now--in her ridiculous catsuit, like she's some bargain-basement fetish dancer--it all comes back in a flash, sending his brows up in surprise and amusement. Oh, he can picture it all so clearly! Catwoman sitting around and waiting for him, getting huffier and huffier... thinking through all the nasty things she's going to say when she finally gets her claws on him!

Leaning a little further back in his chair, and leaving his feet right where they are atop his desk, Joker begins to giggle. ] Ooh... You mean you actually showed up for that?

Selina, Selina! All this time, and you still can't tell when a guy's just pulling your tail.

De Chima (Fifty years late, but I brought Moonbucks)

[sleight_of_hand]

As Joker happened to be leaving with his cherished takeout one day, a happened glance in the right direction, and he might just catch sight of a familiar head of messy black hair, poking out of the bushes nearby. He wasn't... that well hidden, at least not from this side of the row of greenery that surrounded one of the fancier restaurants in the area, and quite a few people were stopping and staring on occasion, like they weren't sure if they should call the cops or not.

Adachi, meanwhile, was bored out of his skull. Some jobs required surveillance, and... well, he wasn't the most patient person in the world. The double tall cup of good old reliable pumpkin spice latte probably wasn't helping, but that was beside the point. At least it was keeping him awake, which was more than what he could say for the people he was watching.

Gimme that sweet, sweet 🌙💲!

[criminallysane]

The takeout smelled amazing, even better than usual. Or maybe Joker was just hungrier--perhaps even hangrier--than usual. He couldn't actually remember the last time he'd eaten, so probably it was the latter. Regardless, the big, gooey cheesesteak sandwich currently oozing the scent of meaty, cheesy, greasy goodness through its wrapper and paper bag smelled like heaven on earth, and all Joker wanted was to get back to his office at the club and demolish every bite of it. He was certain that the second he'd finished eating, he'd feel about ten thousand times more clear-headed, and then the solution to the problem he'd been wrestling with all day would present itself to him all at once. And then everything would be just peachy.

Bag in hand, he strolled out of the sandwich place, whistling Ring Around the Rosie and thinking in detail about all that melted cheese. Absolutely nothing in this world was going to stand between him and his supper, by god! Why, the very future of De Chima (and the salvation of Bats!) depended upon it, surely.

And then something caught his eye.

...Hold on just a second, now. Was that a man hiding in the bushes, like some sort of creepy voyeur?

Joker paused, his song dying mid-posy, as he peered more closely at the Peeping Tom. It had been a minute since he'd seen Tohru Adachi, Private Investigator, but the man had made quite an impression upon him. And if he wasn't very, very mistaken, that was the old boy there right now!

Momentarily forgetting all about his dire need to wolf down his meal, and giving precisely zero fucks about discretion, the clown beamed and threw his arms wide, his sandwich bag swinging from one hand. "Well! I spy, with my eye, one P.I.--ooh! that rhymes, too--who can't hide worth a lick!" He beckoned to Adachi. "Olly olly oxen free."

[sleight_of_hand]

Adachi had been so absorbed in being bored, that he didn't notice the clown guy until he called for him. He flinched, glaring at the damn clown, before his head whipped around, seeing his surveillance target staring right at him. They got up, walking out, and Adachi let out a groan, turning a glare toward the clown.

"I was working," he hissed.