Vorpal Alliances(White Rabbit)

[Scarecrow]

All the preparations had been made. And yet before Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow had checked his email as it popped up on his screen with a deafening howl to let him know he had mail.

Follow the White Rabbit. She has something for you.

Spam! He had no time for this! He put on his threadbare mask and tightened his hangman's noose around his neck and made his way into a cold gotham night. It was that time of year again, he'd finally found that which he wanted near more than anything else. The toxicology symposium, with special keynote speaker on psycho pharmacology, with ubiquitous white lab coats, tweed jackets, blazers, name tags, and an overwhelming amount of glasses wearing individuals, one might never expect this to be the target of a terror attack. And yet as the doctors shuffled about, sitting and ordering their drinks, sparking some and dark others, they listened intently to the keynote speaker as he entered.

A former colleague of Jonathan Crane, now Doctor Richard Gilchrist had been a lowly undergraduate student when Crane had been teaching at Gotham university, he'd been part of the class that had sued Jonathan to have him sacked after he'd pulled a gun in class, he studied and did well in class afterward as he was quite terrified of the good doctor Crane. When years past and he worked an internship in Arkham Asylum he left the job knowing that Doctor Crane was also employed there. Most notably, he left AFTER stealing the majority of Crane's notes, he published a book making outrageous claims about Crane, his childhood, sexuality, proclivities and even going so far as to claim he had "the cure" to his fear toxin.

All lies of course, Crane had known so. Had he purposely stayed out of country to publish he books, safe in the bosom of Bialya, had Jonathan not had "bigger fish to fry" than this reckoning would have come far sooner. Before he was a sentence into his speech, before he could even address the crowd, their beloved keynote speaker began to choke, to scream bloody murder, to claw at his face as the unseasonable pumpkin decorations exploded clouds of smoke, all of the occupants began similar behavior, none of them seemed to be immune, and among them stalked a single figure, his brown trench coat billowing a bit, his brimmed hat bobbing ever so slightly.

When he shoved over one of the speakers at the table they did nothing to fight back, instead preoccupied wiht clawing off imaginary bugs. He put took a sip of the bubbly they'd provided and let out a"82. Very good year!" and then took the podium to address the crowd of shrieking horrors.

"My former colleagues. And I do use that term loosely, I've crashed this little meeting of minds to illustrate a point. One, that doctor Gilchrist and I have no real association and what he has printed is entirely libelous, and more importantly I, the Scarecrow am superior to all that would consider themselves my peers. I have transcended you saw bones and head shrinkers, I am the master of fear, it's god, offer to me hosannas of terror until you choke on your vomit, break your back in seizure or your heart explodes in your chest!" with that he walked to the doctor and routed around for that which was his only to NOT find what he had been spying earlier.

"It's not here! WHERE IS IT! Doctor! DOCTOR! Where is your briefcase with my notes!" his voice was flustered, frustration rasping in his tone, belching from it, but the good doctor was entirely too busy hillucinating about a gun wielding Jonathan Crane to answer, his jerks and shivers indicative that he was about to stroke out. It didn't make sense! the briefcase had been here when he'd looked earlier BEFORE he'd set off the pumpkin bombs filled with his fear gas. Then suddenly they were gone.

After turning over the table angrily onto the various spectators in the front row who were too busy living their most morbid and pronounced fears to dodge, he noticed it. A huge white rabbit had been spray painted with an arrow on the stage. He groaned, how was it even possible someone stole his notes and painted such a large figure on the stage in seconds between the bombs going off? It didn't seem possible.

He kicked open the door it had him go out and heard what sounded like heeled feet running, and the image of someone in white running behind another door, he ran for it as fast as his lithe body could take him around one corner, then the next, only catching the most faint image of his target. It was as if he was going deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole.

[Jaina Hudson]

Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
Travel the world and the seven seas
Everybody's looking for something

The song had persisted even as she listened to the full song and it entangled her fueling her on this little adventure. A new one as the lyrics rippled through her having her sing the song almost hauntingly as if she were a siren ready to have sailors lured to their death in the hopes to be with the one with the most beautiful voice they have ever heard. No matter hero or villain, no one could withstand chasing the White Rabbit. 'Everybody's looking for something', and it was as easy to try to discover exactly what some wanted diving into their deepest desires to make that achievement. A majority of the villains were easy enough as well as the heroes that plague the cities all over the world and universe. It was a matter of if they are the ones that 'want to use you', or want to be 'used by you' some where a bit more obvious than others, but the song really did not like especially when in the end, she would be the one to abuse them all and they would beg for more.

Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused

The music roared in her ears as she had set her sights with her most recent prey. It was all about the bait, to find what one desired enough to make them start chasing her. The question is did she want to be caught. Jonathan Crane, aka Scarecrow was a delight to read about in the papers and his antics often cried out to be noticed and to be feared. Some take heed of the warnings a little late and he would be an excellent pawn to start playing with. It was a matter of playing hard to get until they get tired of chasing before plopping down beside them long enough to tease while they rest until that weakness is forgotten and they keep chasing. The exhilaration of being chased and winning while the other would falter and slow doubting that they had even seen her. A 'sweet dream' that could soon enough turn into a nightmare which may very be right up this particular rogue's alley.

The email was just the start the font specifically used with hearts over the i's and a soft pink lipstick looking print as if someone had kissed the email. The rogue would probably believe that it was junk mail, but it would have done its job by implanting her signature and message.

I wanna use you and abuse you
I wanna know what's inside you

It was not difficult to know exactly where Jonathan Crane was headed and it was amusing to watch the rogue work his fear toxin over the crowd and at the one where all of his hatred was directed at. It was when he was preoccupied with spreading that fear toxin, monologuing, and creating complete chaos did the White Rabbit slip in to remove the briefcase that Gilchrist was asked to bring after having been enticed with the possibility of a hefty donation to assist with the completion of the book he had been working on regarding the 'tell all' about the Scarecrow. It helped to have people in high places with a lot of political pull and cash to wallpaper several mansions over.

The White Rabbit had a rather interesting ability to pop in and out of time pockets that allowed her to appear 'faster' than a speedster with a large amount of cheating. It did not feel like cheating especially if it accomplished what she needed to do to get exactly what she wanted. She giggled as she heard the man's frustration at her little disappearing act and set the stage so to speak to get the rogue to chase her.

I'm gonna use you and abuse you
I'm gonna know what's inside

If it all worked according to her plan, she would get exactly what she wanted, but first the chase, give an opportunity to wear the Scarecrow down before she made another attempt to draw him in. It was easy enough to pop in and out of the time pocket always giving her the advantage of being ahead, teasing laughter along with a woman's voice singing a few stanzas of a song that currently inundated her mind seducing her prey as she began her particular brand of foreplay.

I'm gonna use you and abuse you
I'm gonna know what's inside

[Scarecrow]

Jonathan Crane would not often regret his decisions despite having made many that would land him behind bars in Arkham any time he'd set himself against a certain caped crusader. Man had given him black eyes, broken bones, missing teeth, and an endless stream of pain and trials and tribulations.

But when he hadn't taken his henchmen, enough to create a concise and complete perimeter of the building he genuinely regretted it, he saw the white tail of some...person...a term he could only assign half heartedly and in-assuredly given that all he seemed to see was that tail. It seemed as if it might be wagging, shaking at him playfully as if this was a game, when he saw those white ears he was well read enough to make the connection between the works of Lewis Carrol and what he was now doing, it had taken many stairs, hallways, corridors and even elevators before he had. He stopped, doubling over, his hands were like spiders, even without the gloves and their frightening curve, deadly as the weighted blade of a kilij and frightening as the lacerating grasp of Krueger, the other master of nightmares.

His chest heaved mightily despite not being a mighty chest by any stretch of the imagination. Save his jaunts and egress from batman on any given day, any given caper; this was the most aerobic activity he'd had since high school. He thought of peeling off the threadbare mask now sticking to him itchy and uncomfortably as such coarse, harsh earth tone threads might well with the addition of such bodily fluid to the mix.

His crimson eyes narrowed as a hawk to a field mouse, this muad'dib would not escape his grasp, he let out a guttural, rasping cacophony from the gaping maw "TETCH! IF YOU'RE BEHIND THIS THE NIGHTMARE I SUMMON FROM THE DARKENED BOWELS OF YOUR INCESSANT ADDLED MIND WILL BE UNLIKE ANYTHING YOU'VE EVER IMAGINED! A PHANTASM THAT WILL HORRIFY YOU ENOUGH TO WISH YOU WERE MAD AS A HATTER!" his breath was heavy and ragged, and he nearly stopped in mid sentence to take a breath. This was incessant, laborious, Sisyphean, it could not be made to stand, for those who crossed the Scarecrow be prepared to face the worst of their nightmares, the most chilling of their terrors, the most horrifying, heart stopping fears they ever imagined.

And just like that, just thinking of the evil he was going to do, the torture he would unveil to this -what he assumed was- a henchmen of The Mad Hatter given this person's bunny costume, he seemed to get a second wing and take off like a phantasm, a banshee howling blood curdling murder as he burst through the doors of the building in what might be the most ungraceful of all attempts at shouldering a door open. As it were when the welded steel reinforced door is met with bony almost non existent shoulder of the Scarecrow the match is a no contest.

He' nearly fallen back instead kicking the push bars and causing it to jostle open just enough for his frail, slight frame to slip through. The hill he mounted couldn't have been more than a bump to most crossing but he was so exhausted that the unlevel ground had defeated him even more soundly than the door, and he flopped over, but it seemed to be large enough for his form to somersault down as he did, landing hard on his coccyx after a large rock bludgeoned his head, ripping his mask ever so slightly and causing t trickle of blood.

The ghostly wail that followed was enough to frighten the birds from the trees, lovers in the park nearby drew themselves together and walked off in a feared hurry, even when not trying to be fearful the rogue was ever the avatar of Fear, the god of terror, the hymns offered to him screams, his homily the last words, cries of sheer terror. And yet, now Jonathan Crane, surely the most fearsome and feared of all batman's adversaries was on his side in the mud. Like a lame dog.

[Jaina Hudson]

It was rather easy to string Crane along who was not quite as athletic as the rest of the rogues. The sloppy image at first made her giggle as he tried his best to keep up. She was not even going at a top speed and probably walking would have still slowed him down. It was on purpose, she needed to make sure that he would become worn out to slow his mind down while the physical tried to take over.

Even if Scarecrow had the foresight to have his henchmen complete the perimeter, the White Rabbit would have avoided a majority of them with her abilities. Now you see me, and now you don’t. Her mind said playfully as she again found herself giggling to herself especially when he yelled out blaming Tetch for this little escapade. “Not even close, darling Scarecrow, but please continue chasing me to ensure that you get the answers you seek.” She teased as she went through one doorway and popped out suddenly to be next to another doorway slipping out the door. “I promise you won’t regret it,” were the last words he heard as she disappeared behind the door.

The platinum blond haired woman looked back towards the one who chased her as he howled like a banshee and waved before setting off again with the briefcase in her gloved hand. It was right as she was going to disappear and re-appear from rabbit hole to rabbit hole did she witness the most amazing spectacle that she could have hoped for. Jonathan Crane tumbled down the hill and the way he landed even had her wincing. Her lips pursed and pulled to the left for a moment and her eyes rolled as she gave a rather overdramatic sigh and for a split second she disappeared, and re-appeared without the briefcase that the rogue desired.

“What are you doing in the mud?” She murmured as she drew close to the prone figure. The display was pathetic enough to draw an inkling of concern that he had played her game and played it rather horribly. Knowing to get close would bring her close within his grasp, but not having what he sought would perhaps stay his hand at any attempts to gas her with his fear toxin with the risk of never finding that which he desired enough to go on this merry little chase.

She looked down at him and removed the mask noting the blood on the mask. “Hello Johnny.” She murmured softly with a warm smile, an innocent gaze used filled with curiosity and concern as she placed a soft kiss upon his lips as if to wake him up from his daze in a reversed role. Silken gloved hands gently touched his cheek that was not in the mud as she waited for him to gather himself. The mask was now in her hand, but no sight of the briefcase. “Are you going to be okay?” She asked sweetly as if someone else had created the mischief of Crane landing in the mud in the first place and was his savior.

[Scarecrow]

Chase her!? CHASE HER!? I'LL CHASE HER! I'LL SKIN THAT LITTLE... The Scarecrow was seething with anger, livid, his rage boiling, his body exasperated. All he'd seen was a tail, ears, all white, white hot like his rage as he flopping into the gutter, into the dirt. It was as ungracious as it could've possibly been, and his anger seethed like a pot going to boil, and as he did she appeared to him, and at first in the white numbness of it all superimposed with the white of her costume he thought he may well have been in heaven, or hallucinating.

His mind seemed only half aware of all that went on about him as the woman so tenderly touched him, gingerly taking his face in her hand, when she removed his mask he let out repulsed hiss "My mask!" reaching for it somewhat feebly. Regardless, the attempt at unmasking him had returned some level of mental acuity to him when suddenly his eyes widened as a kissed was placed on his lips.

The kiss was all a man such as he could ever want and infinitely more. And just as unexpected, infinitely more welcome. And when she pressed her lips to his it was as if he had kissed something as ethereal as a cloud and soft as cream, his brain scrambling to figure out just what happened as he surprised himself in kissing her back. He didn't know her, nor did he know what she was capable of, but he was so wholly disarmed when the kiss enveloped him as he did, warming his body more than he could ever hope, like a furnace and his heart's pattering from the run he'd taken all through the building seemed as a trivial flutter compared to what she engendered from him even from the most casual of lip locks, and this was certainly not a chaste kiss.

Doctor Crane The Scarecrow had hardly expected a congenial interaction with whomever had absconded with his property, least of all someone with some kind of flahs like superpower, or so he assumed- though as he looked to this woman that had so enraptured him he began to wonder if she was a figment of his imagination or he was having some manner of fantasy- so when she referred to him his response was almost a tame "Who are you?" it was as if he were in a lull, who could this woman be? she was dare he say the most beautiful woman he'd laid eyes on, scantily clad and had been treating him tenderly after sending him on a fool's errand around this building. He hadn't ran that much since the last time the bat had so chased him.

"Of course I'm okay! I'm..." his contacts had fallen out in the fall and he pulled for his glasses, craning and turning his head as he put them on and looked to her to continue "....I'm the god of fear!" although he had retrieved some of the venom to his tone and voice attempting to reassume the fearsome air he had about him at any given time the fact that he was down in the mud, her lipstick covering his lips, her hands holding his face as they were it was hard to not see his pronouncements as anything less than akin to when a child stomps his feet and makes claims to being a big boy.

He touched his head with his hand then, removing his gloves to reveal nails blackened and perfectly trimmed, still the long, slender and nimble precise hands of a doctor that covered his head for a second, touching it tertiarily with a slight wince and then looking to the blood as he swept his bangs from his eyes ever so slightly with his opposite hand.

"I'm bleeding..."

[Jaina Hudson]

The myriad of emotions that ran through that tall lanky rogue had made the White Rabbit bubbly and giddy, but when he had fallen and hurt himself, there was a modicum of sympathy that only seemed to grow. Of course, it did not mean that her brain shut down completely while she put herself close enough for him to kill her. Oh no, she knew what he wanted and she was ready to give it to him once she was ready to do so.

His expression at her action was absolutely priceless and there was an obvious pleasure read as he kissed her back. So starved for attention, affection, touch, while pulling in deeper into his fear studies and maniacal agenda, she knew that even though at this moment he was clouded with uncertainty, soon enough he would regain some of his strength through his mental instability. One kiss and he was temporarily lost. The pain dampened by the endorphin rushing through blood stream. Perhaps that was ultimately, the white haired woman’s scheme. Her way to right a wrong that she had begun, no this game was not over yet, but she wished for him to know exactly who she was and how she operated.

Scarecrow’s tone of voice when he asked her who she was after the kiss was broken was adorable and a warm soft silken hand was placed upon his cheek to caress him. “Your best friend.” She whispered sweetly as her violet eyes locked gazes with her prey.

She allowed him to get himself back together again as he mentioned being okay and putting his glasses back on. Then he turned his head and mentioned that he was the god of fear which again looked absolutely adorable and unconvincing even though he could be frightening. Many would say she was playing with fire, and how she adored how warm it was and how it burned the wings off of a moth that hovered too close.

“I am sorry that you fell even though you cannot entirely blame me for your fall. It is always a good idea to watch where you run to know where you are going. Let us get you someplace comfy, shall we?” The voluptuous woman seemed to not feel any shame dressed in a corseted top, panties, opera gloves and thigh high boots. Not to forget the large floppy ears protruding from her soft platinum hair and a cotton tail attached to her violet panties. She looked ready for a slumber party at a lascivious billionaire’s home, not gallivanting around with Gotham’s Rogues.

White Rabbit had rose and offered the Scarecrow leverage to lift him upwards and closer towards her. “It will be somewhere comfortable and private so we can talk business and we can discuss how much more lucrative it is to consider my offer instead of trying to gas me to kill me off?” She asked with the sweetest unsuspecting smile that she could muster as if they were talking about her shoes and her attempts to coax him to go to the mall with her.

When he finally managed to get onto his feet and before he could take a breath or blink, she had wrapped him in her silk clad arms pulling him into an embrace, and they both fell in what could have been a rather strange wormhole or rabbit hole head first. The woman had a look of glee and she cried out, "Wheeee!" The moment was over as quickly as it started and suddenly they were plopped out of the hole and into what looked to be an executive suite on the top floor of a very trendy hotel in Gotham.

Squatter or not, White Rabbit made herself at home not taking any care of how they would leave this place. The carpet was plush and pristine in white, the leather sofas of the same color. The walls were dark wooden panels with a very intricate motif that screamed wealth and the most important of amenities were available from a big screen television, bar and a rather large King sized bed in one of the rooms of this place. The entire place was controlled by an electronic panel from temperature control and the lights. "Make yourself at home, Jonny, and if you need a shower or bubble bath, you can go down that hall, would probably be around there somewhere." Then she smiled and cocked her head to the left as her eyes lit up, "If you need someone to wash your back, give me a holler."

[Scarecrow]

Jonathan Crane had never grown up with a security blanket, he'd never taken a warm bath and let the warmth and the comfort of it all wash over him, he'd never been content or safe or happy growing up, even in the times he'd lost himself in his science books in the forbidden library ever was there the raven pecking at the back of his skull, whispering in his ear that his granny could, would find out any moment and then he'd go to the old rectory. Oh God. The old rectory frightened him so much until one day, he couldn't feel fear anymore. He was cold to it, numb to it, and he'd become cold since, having only a few interactions with the opposite gender his entire life, none of which had any staying power or sense of security and stability.

So when met with the warmth of her touch, the intimacy of her embrace, the caress that enticed within him a feeling of contentment and the stability of kind and earnest, supportive words of comfort about being his friend he realized then he'd never had any of this. It was all novel, all alien to him and he pushed it away with something of a statement "I don't have friends, I'm the Scarecrow." it was almost as if he were stating a cold scientific fact, proven through the scientific method and measured, quantified by real, presentable and repeatable methodology. So too did his voice carry the fact that he didn't understand why she was offering to be his friend, and he realized then he didn't know how to react to any of it.

He hadn't realized he'd nodded in complete and utter culpability as if he'd been put under some hypnosis, some spell by a woman more than half naked voluptuous vixen when she pulled him to her, smashing them together as if they were nucleotides bonding covalently. Having her body, curved and soft and pressed against him as it was was not something he'd expected though perhaps and this kept him just as off ease and off kilter as the fall had, and then the subsequent tenderness. The strange sensation that punctuated this all was that of being taken out of the area he was in and before he knew it he was not anywhere near the courtyard he'd flopped over in.

His head turned as if it were on a swivel then and he spoke similarly perturbed and unsure of all about him. "I..what?! where am I? is this...this is Gotham Towers!? on the other side of the city from where I just was! Whats going on here!? I'm hallucinating! thats what this is! I've a concussion. It all makes so much sense!" he approached her again after admiring the skyline of gotham that only reinforced the obvious deductive reasoning he'd concluded, diagnosing himself as it were.

"But...but you're a beautiful woman in lingerie. That isn't even CLOSE to any Jungian archetypes my brilliant mind is capable of concocting. And why a rabbit motif?" his voice was analytical but also somewhat frantic and impassioned given he was talking on the topic he knew best, he spent his life mapping and navigating: the human mind. In this case, the specimen he most thought perfect and beyond reproach. His own. And as he spoke it his now naked hand ran up her arm, feeling the smooth and soft silk of her gloves and not stopping until he'd met the crux of her shoulder to be sure that touching her was like that of touching a real person, as if he expected his hand to go right through her.

His face had heated up as if he were taking a sauna, he didn't perhaps outright blush noticeably, but he'd not had such a flirty and aggressive woman since his last run in with Poison Ivy, and that hadn't ended well by his own calculations. And while not frightened of her- as he was incapable of fearing anyone or anything- he respected and knew the power she had over him, and had been doubly careful to not make an outright enemy of the green goddess, and though he never would admit it, there were other motivating intangible factors there to be had.

Jonathan pressed a hand to his neck a bit and rubbed out a kink while he spoke "You have yet to tell me why you're doing this, what you want from me?" obviously ignoring the washing of his back as her primary motive for cornering and then seemingly abducting him. He'd inched backwards ever so carefully until he'd made his way to the shower room not sure what to make of all this. Or her. Especially her.

[Jaina Hudson]

With big violet eyes meeting Jonathan’s gaze, the White Rabbit smiled without any hesitation as he ‘revealed’ that he had no friends being the Scarecrow. “Why do villains feel that they need to always be so anti-social? I scratch your back you scratch mine, doesn't that sound a whole lot better?” She cooed softly unfazed by his naturally aloof and suspicious nature.

If it was one thing, the white haired woman adored evoking confusion, uncertainty as well as a medley of other emotions that often end up with her victim holding their heads not sure if they want to chase after her, run away from her, kiss her or all of the above at the same time. The chase is always fun, but this was another little game she loved to play curious at the outcome, excited of the race knowing that in the end even if it did not seem like it, she would always have it her way. One big plus is always leaving those darling victims in the dark and letting them skip along on their merry as if they were in control.

“It is, it isn’t, and does it really and truly matter where you are?” She asked sweetly as she fluttered her lashes giving him a smile meant to disarm and distract.

The next part seemed to be his analytical side giving a monologue to try to determine for himself why he was seeing her, or what sort of dream he was trapped in. She grinned playfully with her hands behind her back and bent forward with a head tilt to see if he would continue to try to ignore her as a possible figment of his imagination. “Hallucinating, dreaming? Perhaps, do you usually dream about someone like me taking you to a hotel room asking you to undress and shower?” She asked again giggling before adding, “Naughty, Jonny, very naughty,” the White Rabbit murmured softly before kissing him on the nose as his hand ran up her very solid arm and soft silk clad arms.

“It is not what I want from you, but it is what I can do for you.” She answered finally as her silken hand caressed the nape of his neck before applying a bit of pressure working out a kink probably from the fall. “Why I did what I did was to get your attention.” As she was leaning forward again, allowing him to feel her solid and curvaceous frame, the former professor stepped back towards the restroom where she had indicated earlier was where the shower was. Good boy. She thought as she followed at a sauntering pace, her long thigh-high boot heel making a staccato sound upon the tiled floor. This is like one of those horror movies where the terribly slow monster is chasing after the bosom air-head that just keeps tripping and falling enough for a catch up and kill. The thought made her smile and her violet eyes to twinkle with glee as she ushered the tired, dirty, bleeding rogue to get washed up.

[Scarecrow]

"My dear, gods don't require friendship." he would have said had the thumping in his head not had him swimming with all manner of confusion and perplexity. Her lack of committed or clear answers could not help the situation, and he found himself wondering if she could be more infuriatingly disingenuous, glib and vague.

There was a low groan as she answered each of his questions as she did, if one could call them that. Do something for him? get his attention? who did she think she was dealing with!?!!!! this was Jonathan Crane! The Scarecrow! the master of fear! The god of fear! the most fearsome of all the rogues who walked night, bathed in shadows and of darkness the way even the Dark Knight himself so feared. Even the supposed man of steel had bent, contorted by his most potent and powerful of fear gases.

To talk to him so trivially, so leading, as if he were naught but a boy in need of guidance...her guidance. It was absurd! It was an insult not to be tolerated! But as his hand grazed her, he felt the silken nature of her glove and skin, to his shock and surprise the latter had been moreso than the former, and he felt a very unnatural warmth and craving growing within, he knew it and it oft peaked it's head at the most inopportune of times, around the most cunning and dangerous of his "allies", the thoughts of Ivy came to him like a flood and he felt unclean and strange, as if the core of his being had hollowed out, and then his college girlfriend and high school crushes and he met the memory with such vehement vitriol it may well have frightened her if he'd let such an emotion bubble to the surface and take over his features.

Lust. It was unnatural for him. Save in the way he lusted for fear and power that it entailed, enrapturing him. It was far more "natural" a feeling than he was used to, simply a man desiring a woman in the most basic, primal and carnal ways, and yet he hated it so for now he knew his ability to manipulate had turned, more than gasping her and using her to his whim he found himself desiring her in a way that was so unlike him. And as he stalked to the bathroom dirty, dusty and disheveled, bloodied and berated, utterly defeated she had followed and his eyes had widened. He had been told as he swept his dark hair from his face and backed to the shower, stripping off threadbare and dirty clothing that the softness and gentle nature of his eyes had often been the most disconcerting of all his traits, moreso than his sinewy form, his spidery fingers, his tall, gaunt nature.

For when he looked to anyone they carried a warmth that the man's soul did not. And to be looked upon with such eyes, so becoming when his face was contorted in the abject ecstasy that inflicting fear did to him, it was far more frightening than the red contacts he put in his eyes as the Scarecrow.

What happened in the shower was beyond his ability to put into words. It had been something that had shocked him and elated him, foreign and yet natural, the best of times and the worst of times, bringing back memories of both in equal parts, and when he climbed from the shower he somehow felt more dirty than when he'd started it. Setting himself out whatever this man had to wear, the suit was business and an off blue that wasn't entirely unbecoming of him considering his eye color and that the man seemed to have the same proportions and dimensions as himself. And as he thought of it, it seemed entirely too coincidental to sit well with him, and those eyes were set again accusingly on the woman in the rabbit costume.

"You do realize your brand of playful, gay frivolity is the exact polar opposite of what I deal in on the emotional spectrum. Why do you want my attention? All those who incur my attentions typically incur my wrath in the fullness of time. That should frighten you." his voice was earnest and mellow despite that there was a veiled threat there, which he punctuated by affixing the wrist mounted fear gas spray to, and then took a small can of aersol to his pocket. While he could induce fear with but words, touches, and even a gaze having his most potent agent on hand was always a must to the Scarecrow.

And yet as he spoke this threat he knew that what they had done had caused his threats to lose their teeth. He gazed in the bathroom mirror affixing a towel around his shoulders so as not to bleed on himself, as he winced to stitch his wound, it would take no more than five, he estimated. Nothing to write home about as his hand gazed at himself, and casually her own form as he worked cautiously. All the while his hand moved with a surgeon's precision, having hardly forgotten all those years, hours in surgery.

[Jaina Hudson]

If thoughts could be made real, the White Rabbit would have been amused. Yes, she probably could be even more infuriating disingenuous, glib and vague. In fact, she felt she was being quite tame in her playfulness. The groan that she heard had her hiding her smile as she fiddled with the expensive tablet that controlled all the appliances in the suite that happened to have a sensor.

She could practically feel his rage and uncertainty and pushed it aside as she made the room more comfortable. It was really not surprising how much more patient she was than the one that had given himself the moniker Scarecrow. There was perhaps a chance that she could have been scared, but there was not much he could really do to her. She was nothing more than a dream. A solid, warm blooded dream.

One could not ignore his hand grazing hers and to read that well known look upon his face. It was perhaps unnatural for him, but perfectly natural and readable to her. That emotion allowed her eyes to gleam and to lick her lips slowly before he thought it best to make his way to the bathroom instead. She almost skipped with glee as his seemed to be a much darker if not a bit more dangerous mood and her smile never failed while her eyes were warm and glittered with glee.

The chase was not very difficult and he barely fought with her. If she was one to gloat she would have said ‘I told you so’. Amusingly enough nothing was said as Jonathan was offered up one uncertain situation after another. She could see him trying to digest it all, understand, compartmentalize it all and he could try, but it would be rather futile or at least if that running question was ‘who is she’?

Everything was amusing to her; her reactions were always ‘off’, when she followed him into the bathroom her greatest accomplishment yet was to steal away the Scarecrow’s words.

While he was finishing up in the shower, to get clean, she pulled out the suit, tie and other assortment of clothing that was meant for another but was now to be Jonathan’s. She prepared, she made sure everything was right. The briefcase was hidden; his mask was as well as her all-time favorite game was a scavenger hunt. All enjoyed a scavenger hunt, except probably Jonathan Crane. He could be such a wet blanket unless there was something warm or shiny distracting the man.

Once he was dressed, she picked out a tie for him and gave him such a warm smile as he talked. “Yes, it should.” She said simply not disagreeing with him but there was no fear either. Violet eyes gazed upon the man who was sewing up his own head wound, her lush body leaning against the door jamb as he stitched himself up like a patchwork quilt. “I just thought I could help…you.” For once, she seemed a bit sad and uncertain almost as if she felt remorse for injuring the man. The bright eyes and even more brilliant smile was gone as she looked at him as if she was just told that her favorite pet had just been torched.

It was only when he had finished stitching himself and had put away needle and thread did she draw closer to him. The smile failed to re-emerge as a solemn gaze met his before she removed the towel off of his shoulders and placed a tie about his neck making quick work of the Windsor knot. Before any other words were exchanged though, she pulled him closer by that knotted tie and kissed him upon the lips tasting him, nibbling on his lips as if they have always been lovers before gently breaking the kiss off and simply fixing the tie as if she were about to send him off to work.

“Would it make you happy if I just disappeared? Take away the dream that you just do not wish to dream?” She then asked not quite meeting his eyes as her head was now averted as if she was making sure no lint dared to mar the man’s image in the suit that she had ‘picked out’ and that he had put on.