maskormenacelogs | You must have been a beautiful baby

WHO: Crane, fellow employees and noted guests.
WHERE: Wayne Enterprises.
WHEN: Mid January.
WHAT: Getting settled in at work.
WARNINGS: Violence. Discussion of long-term conditions.

[Crane considers it a remarkable triumph that he occupies his own space in the heart of Wayne Enterprises. The room has been transformed into a base of academic research; a collection of papers, books and chemical equipment. Every day he can be found here, reading to himself or pretending to be a productive member of society.

It's an impressive office, really - right down to the last filed note on subjects he's met. His name on the door. Hygenic. Quiet.

Till he hears a noise and confronts his visitor.

Or his burglar.

Annoying, both. He murmurs and clears his throat. He has no time for giving false courtesy. The less anybody is around, the more he can get away with. What an annoyance it would be to shoo them away. The mindless, the mad and the unwilling, who stare at him with reverence and fear. He remains patient and allows his guests to speak. There is no authority here to match his. None.]

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[The Major leans against the door frame, arms crossed and expression stern. It's hard to imagine what Wayne was thinking when he hired Crane, or if he was even thinking at all. She'd never been adverse to hiring criminals when they posed a certain set of skills, and she had several on her team back home. But hers were of a less... megalomaniacal variety, and didn't pose a threat to every other coworker.]

So, what's the con this time?

[His eyes don't quite focus on the Major. He does not need to face her to make his address clear, just like he hadn't needed to face his jury - he just needs to sit above it all.

He looks almost normal as he flicks through his notes.]

What makes you think there is one? You must realize I'm not one for lying?

[Crane thinks he's so far above everyone else that he lives in the stratosphere, but he must think she's really dumb to believe that one.]

Past experience. You haven't exactly proven yourself to be a model of truth.

[A shrug. Now he's really interested in his work.]

That is your opinion. Do not confuse it with fact. [He concentrates on a passage, and sounds more remote.] A con artist believes he lives in the centre of the universe. I simply explore it.

Your own little universe, perhaps. [One where pretending to be another version of yourself that wasn't criminally insane doesn't constitute lying, for instance. She's going to invade his personal space by actually stepping into the office, glancing around at all the furnishings with only vague interest.]

I would have thought you'd be too proud to work for someone like Wayne.

It isn't pride. It's the expediency of resources as and when they arise.

[Opportunism! He leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers over his chest.]

Why do you work for him?

[Well, as much as she hates to admit it, they've got that in common. She browses his library of books while they talk. His taste seems about in line with what she'd expect so far.]

I suppose for the same reason. Though I'm not an employee.

[His gaze follows as she investigates his library. He expects appreciation. Demands it, even. His taste in books is flawless. Pretentious, he's been called, but he doesn't believe it.]

No? You linger here like one might. [Curiously.] What resources are you seeking, I wonder? Animal or mineral?

It's more of a mutually-beneficial partnership. [She won't give him the satisfaction of complimenting his taste--though she has to admit, she doesn't disapprove. She flips through his copy of Jung's Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious absently as she ignores his question.]

What I want to know is, what does Wayne get out of hiring you? Other than higher employee insurance premiums.

The benefit of my experience.

[In what, though? That's the question. He won't share the answer as he doesn't believe she'll credit his work with due respect.]

And my intelligence. What might I create for a company with an arm in medical technology, I wonder? Something that can do plenty of good.

[Which is another way of being given respect, Batman had said. But he's not too sure.]

[The look she gives him is, at best, skeptical.]

And is that what you want to do, or just what you could do?

[He's never struck her as being interested in the welfare of his fellow man, but rather just what personal insight or amusement he could get out of them. She doubts his research would be for anything but his own benefit.]

[He waves away her insolence.]

Does it matter? The result is the same. My work here will help people.

[But what rewards he gained from it wouldn't be approved by most men. He doubts they would accept his work, either way.]

[If the Major was the type of laugh hysterically, now would probably be the point when she'd do so. Even if that were true, Crane always seems to have an ulterior motive that results in pain and suffering.]

I'm sure you understand my skepticism. You have an impressive track record for causing mayhem with your work. What exactly are you planning to research?

[Crane rests his hands over his work, his eyes unemotive as his body leans forward. He looks calm and polite, and indeed is ready to answer, his voice a whisper.]

I believe that's a request you should make of Bruce Wayne, not of me. I am far too busy.

[He pulls himself back up, whilst yanking his body into position. A small man with a big, big desk.]

You must have been a beautiful baby

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