Video: 'Footloose' by Kenny Loggins, not important at all but Joker references it here, so it's there in case anyone doesn't know and is wondering :)
Disclaimer: Uncensored mention of the word 'f*ggot' early on in this chapter- I don't condone the use of that word and again, it is said by an antagonistic character. Also I don't censor curse words because I feel it breaks the authenticity and flow of the writing; it's almost like fourth-wall breaking and personally, I feel like it breaks the immersion. Sorry if anyone's offended by this word and thanks for reading!!

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Chapter 3: Mutilation, Slaughter & the F-Word

She ate a chocolate bar before lunch to calm her nerves but ended up feeling sick; poor regrettable Juniper Stoltz. By the time it'd hit 12:55 p.m. she'd completely forgotten about her lunchtime session with the Joker, then spent the next four minutes in panic once she remembered, in which she then ate the chocolate bar. Walking from her office to the Joker's cell- where she'd then have to escort him to the cafeteria with a guard present- she told herself that hey, maybe this just isn't my day. Wednesdays are in the middle of the week, so maybe my head's just in a scramble. Looking too forward to the weekend, she suspected.

Walking through the intensive treatment ward, June looked again at the number scrawled on the back of her hand. 425. The Joker's cell. Getting there was simple enough, just a quick detour past the cafeteria and down the corridor, but once she heard the echoing laughter of Colter around the corner, she knew she was in for the longest two minutes of her life. Surely enough, there he was, stood outside cell 425 talking to another identically broad-shouldered brute, evidently talking about the new patient that had arrived the night before. June had only just managed to catch a glimpse of it on that morning's news broadcast, but word was that the GCPD had found Poison Ivy and recaptured her after her last escape attempt. There was something about vicious plant life spontaneously growing on the shores of Downtown Gotham near the slums which must've given her away, but June had yet to see Ivy being escorted to her cell- that was, if she hadn't been transferred already. In which case, congratulations Arkham, this is the fastest work you've done in your life.

Colter guffawed obnoxiously as his hands drew the outline of a bodacious feminine figure to the other guard and stupidly nodded. "Yeah, man, she's got, like, these hips and legs for days. And I mean days."

The other guard raised a brow and crossed his arms, "Don't she got, like, green skin or something? Is that actually true? 'Cause Benny in extreme isolation said--"

"Yeah, well fuck what Benny says. Benny's one'a them, uh... faggots, whatever you call 'em."

June's brows raised as she heard the slur leave his disgusting mouth and she found yet again another reason to despise Colter more than she already did. Misogynistic, ignorantly racist and homophobic. Put that on your Tinder profile.

"But Ivy, like..." Colter took a moment to snicker, licking his thin lips, "She's got like..." In a vulgar attempt to describe her he brought his hands out to his chest and mocked squeezing, "...y'know, man... jugs... like huge ones, know what I'm sayin'?"

Enlightened, the other guard's eyes lit up and he nodded, "Ah, yeah, I get ya, I get ya."

Just as June approached the cell, the conversation took an abrupt stop when Colter spotted her over the other guard's shoulder, and his expression remained the same- idiotically lustful. As she clenched her clipboard Colter made a show out of moving the guard out of the way and approaching her, waving a gargantuan hand her way. "Hey, baby. How come you're here during lunch hours, huh? Missed me?"

"I've got a patient interview." She stated with a dry and dismal voice, waiting by idly as the nameless guard unlocked the cell door by keycard- something all guards had and doctors did not, for some reason- and Dr. Arkham wondered why there were so many cases of guards abusing their power. June tried avoiding Colter's gaze as he leant on the wall next to the cell door, peering inside quickly with a disgusted scoff.

"How crazy do you gotta be to assign a girl to treat that freak?" He asked rhetorically, taking a moment to look her up and down, eyes flickering every so often to her chest.

Without looking at him, only ahead at the cell door, June took a peak at patient 4479, still in full straightjacket, and answered him, "I volunteered."

Colter spluttered in laughter and stood up from the wall, invading June's line of sight. "You? You volunteered? You mean, you asked?"

This time she looked straight at him, giving the impression that she was entirely fearless despite it being the opposite. His chest still reverberated with laughter as he crossed his beefy arms one over the other, looming over her like the great dread she felt when she tilted her head to look up at him.

"Yes. I asked."

"But you're--" He wheezed in laughter, "You're as delicate as a pansy, Junie!" She hadn't bothered listening to him until she heard that nickname, that whiny two-syllable hiccup of mockery that she despised, and her mouth straightened into a frustrated line. "What- are you- you suicidal now?"

"What did you just call me?"

Colter was still reeling from laughter when he answered, "What? Oh, Junie?"

"Don't call me that." She snapped defensively, shaking her head, "Nobody calls me that."

Smirking slowly, he shrugged and raised his brows, lowering his voice to a whisper. He moved his squared face closer and June recoiled back uneasily, curling her fingers tighter around the clipboard. His voice was gargled and not at all pleasant, almost distorted when it reached her ears, and it rattled in her head like stones, "Ain't what I heard," He said, before motioning back to the cell behind him with his fat thumb, "'Cause it sounded like you and your friend there got along real swell during that session yesterday, Junie."

Feeling vaguely threatened, she eventually broke eye contact with Colter and lowered her head, fearful of how much closer he could get to her. It was times like these where she was certain that the phrase 'to get under her skin' could be taken literally, with the way that each step she took back, he'd make up for with two. She was scared that one day, he wouldn't stop coming towards her, no matter how many people were there to see.

June stammered, "I-I told him not to."

"Barely sounded like you tried."

"You try talking sense to someone with serious mental illnesses and a pathological superiority complex," She said, feeling herself grow smaller as he stood over her. Superiority complex. Funny. It seemed to fit Colter better than it did the Joker. "It's- it's not as easy as it- um..."

The grouchy voice of the other guard broke the stuttering lilt in June's voice as he pulled the Joker out of his cell, keeping him grounded with handcuffs binding his hands together behind his back. "Colter, leave the kid alone, you're scarin' her." The guard said, and Colter took one last look at June before backing away, raising his hands in false surrender. Although she wasn't necessarily pleased to be called a kid by the guard, she was somewhat relieved that he had stepped in, as June wasn't sure how much further Colter would've gone in terms of intimidating her; he didn't exactly have much sense of self-restraint, even if there were people around to witness it. Unpredictable, with the mind of a rapist.

This statement was ironic to her as she turned her head to look at the Joker, whose hands were forcibly held behind his back, arms uncomfortably twisted behind the bright orange shirt. He eyed Junie with the same pensiveness of two days ago, that fateful first therapy session that had been amusing to think about ever since. He simply couldn't... decide on her. It wasn't that he felt he had no control over her- he'd bend and twist her until she'd break- but he just couldn't seem to place her, categorise her. Pin her as a certain type, to say. There was something off about her, past all the witty comebacks and occasional nervous stammer, there was something else there that he couldn't quite see. And to see that fear in her eyes when that brute guard stood over her was something so deliciously invigorating to see that it almost excited him. As if he couldn't wait for his turn.

June caught his eyes for a second and she saw it: that manic hunger, like a ravenous animal who had been starved for weeks. Behind her was Colter, breathing heavily down her neck. And there she was, in the middle of it all, a piece of meat waiting to be ravaged.

The anonymous guard's voice saved her once again. "Ready to go, ma'am?"

June's eyes were stuck watching the Joker's, mouth slightly parted in both apprehension and curiosity. She had never seen anything so dark in her life, those two black irises that flitted back and forth from watching Colter and back to her, absolutely endless pits of tar. They mesmerised her in the same way that they almost scared her, as his eyes were the blackest, most infinite things she was sure she'd ever seen. She never quite understood how people could sense immediate evil in others until now, as those eyes held... nothing. Empty and yet so full of bad; infinite and finite all at once. The two greatest ends that met in the middle, met her.

The guard spoke again. "Uh, ma'am?"

Colter's mouth pressed by her ear. "Junie."

Suppressing a yelp, she leapt away from him and swatted at her ear as if he'd bitten it, all the while she watched him with complete caution as if expecting him to pounce at her. Joker held back a laugh as she straightened herself back out, smiling at the guard who had initially called her. "Yes, I'm ready."

The guard nodded and forcefully turned Joker around as they walked down the corridor, but as June turned with them, Colter sent a quick hand flying towards her backside and slapped her, eliciting a scared and pained whimper from her mouth. He laughed as he walked down the other end of the corridor but she couldn't bring herself to look at him, the humiliation was too much at times. He whistled an old tune to himself as he left, and June's mind was struggling to make sense of the situation. This wasn't the first. And it would never be the last.

When Colter was gone, she realised the Joker had began whistling and picked the tune back up from where Colter had left off, pausing to hum and even throw in a word or two, which earned him a warning look from the guard who still had a death grip on his handcuffs.

Joker turned his head to look at the guard, still whistling and hummed again, "Cut loose... footloose... kick off your Sunday sh... no?" He arched a questioning brow to the guard.

"What the hell're you singing?" He grunted.

"Footloose. From the movie Footloose. Y'know. Kenny Loggins?" He said, only to get a silent response and then he gasped. "Ya don't know Footloose?" He asked in astonishment, as the guard scoffed and shook his head, looking away dismissively. Joker turned his head around to look at June and he tutted, shaking his head as if to make fun of the guard. "He don't know Footloose, Junie."

"Dr. Stoltz." She coughed awkwardly, afraid of what the guard might think. He didn't seem to take any notice.

Joker carried on, "C'mon! Footloose! You know that song, right, Junie?" He pressed her and unsure of how to react, she quickly nodded. He smiled and looked back to the guard, "See? She knows Footloose."

"Can we please stop talking about Foot- Footl- whatever it's called." The guard huffed, face as dead and dull as a brick wall.

"It's a good song," Joker nodded and whistled it momentarily before interrupting himself again, earning a groan from the guard, "Gotta say, uh- what's that other guy's name? Carl?"

"Colter." Piped June, knowing she shouldn't have.

"Colter, right. Hit me with a, uh, a belt before." His voice suddenly grew airy as he recalled the memory, then shook his head and got back on track. "Well. If you ask me, he's a nasty piece'a work and sight for sore eyes, but at least he knows Footloose..." He paused as he craned his head to look at the guard's name tag. "...Kenneth."

"Just Kenny." Said Kenneth.

"Just Kenny?" Joker's upper lip curled, "What kinda name is that? What kinda sadist calls their kid 'Just Kenny'?"

"Shut up, clown."

"Just Kenny. Huh. Sounds like a girl's name."

Just Kenny's hand tightened once more around the handcuffs just as the three approached the cafeteria. "If you don't shut up--"

"Is it short for Justin?"

June cut in before the situation could escalate any further and clearing her throat, she nervously laughed, "Well, um, thank you, Kenny--"

"It's Just Kenny, Junie."

"--for escorting the patient. I'll bring him to his seat."

Just Kenny sighed and took the handcuffs off the Joker, watching him warily as the clown rubbed his wrists in mock pain, June standing by the side to wait for further instructions as if Just Kenny would give her super helpful tips on how to help them find a table or something. But instead, he just left, mumbling about how pissed he was that he now had that stupid fucking foot song stuck in his head.

Already ahead of June, Joker had bravely entered the crowded cafeteria as though entering his own kingdom, the doctor quickly following behind with her high heels clicking against the floor.

The cafeteria was about the same as any, with large windows and grey walls, dozens upon dozens of tables all laid out in rows throughout the hall. The only difference was the people sat down; every seat held a criminal or a 'crazy', as Mara liked to say (June liked this saying as it slipped off the tongue easily, despite its negative connotations). Everyone was talking and luckily, no-one was screaming, so this put June at ease as she followed her patient towards a table in the back that was full, despite Joker's confidence. With only one seat on that table spare, he sat in it, and before June could object so that he could find somewhere else where she could talk to him, all eleven patients who were sat down had scrambled up and left, gone so fast that if she had blinked, she might've missed it. She watched in awe as they scuttled away frantically, not once daring to look back at the murderer who was now sat down contently, brushing a stray crumb off of the table before wiping his hands in his shirt. With June still stood, he motioned to the seat opposite him, and without a word, she sat down.

"They seemed to be in a hurry." She hummed.

"Mm, they're scared of me, dollface," He almost bragged, running his fingers messily through his freshly dyed and cleaned green locks. Once a month they let him touch up his hair; despite the staff not necessarily agreeing with it, it did keep him under control when he got what he wanted. That was it, the deal they'd made- let him keep the persona and he'd behave. "Whadd'ya think it is that scares them, huh? The scars? My rep? The fact that, unlike the other average loony-toons, I manage to pull off orange so well?" He laughed while smoothing down his shirt. June had to say, although it didn't necessarily suit him, the colour made an interesting combination with the green hair.

June placed her clipboard and pen on the table in a way that was as far from him as possible, watching his hands cautiously as he put them in front of him on the table. He clenched his fists, one in the other, palms taking their turn to stroke his knuckles and wrists, still bearing red lines from the handcuffs. Bruised and calloused, he had the distinct hands of a killer's, yet the paint that'd been left over from applying it said otherwise, that the art of painting his own face was something meticulous and methodical, streaks of white and black and red left under his nails and in the webs of his fingers. The joints clicked when he cracked his knuckles. June blinked.

When he noticed her presence had returned, he resisted a smirk as he asked, "So, uh, why is it that you're accompanying me to lunch again, Junie?"

"Dr. St--" She paused with a sigh, knowing that no matter how many times she'd say it, he'd never stick to the formal title. She answered him, fixing a stray curl in her hair, "Dr. Arkham thinks that an occasional change of environment is a good way to test therapy effectiveness to see if background and atmosphere has any impact on your behaviour."

"In English, please?"

"He thinks it's a good idea to see how you react to therapy in a different room. Environmental changes and all that."

He hummed with a smile and clapped his hands once, the sound bringing a sudden jump out of her. "That's better, see? Quit it with all that-ah, fancy terminology n' all. Makes you seem so uptight, Junie."

"Excuse me?"

Her objection fell on deaf ears as one of the kitchen workers approached the table with a grey plastic tray and slapped it down on the table without any cutlery to eat it with. June took a shot in the dark and guessed that the unidentifiable mush parted into two separate unidentifiable mush-piles was mashed potatoes with mashed peas and then a pink blob that she'd come to the conclusion was mashed jello, almost flattened back to its liquid form. Not even a glass of water to wash it down with. The only vaguely appetising thing on the tray was an apple, red and ripe and all of a sudden wonderful when compared to the piles of abused, alien mush. It was times like these where she suddenly forgot how awful this place was until faced with the ugly truth.

Joker looked up at the kitchen worker and smacked his red lips together expectantly, "No napkin? No 'bon-appeti-t'? No, uh, 'dinner is served, sir'?"

The kitchen worker just groaned and walked away, muttering under their breath about hating their job. Joker simply tutted, pointing back to the worker with his thumb, "Pfft. Waiters. Think they're so important."

Astounded, June watched as he examined the food on his tray, prodding it with his finger and licking it each time, an inquisitive look on his face as it slowly stiffened into an unimpressed and disgusted grimace when he swallowed the first mouthful. She couldn't help but think about the way he'd treated the kitchen worker like it was a game of make-believe, how he somehow managed to draw the attention back to himself in every little situation, how during each boring moment he still managed to crack a joke or annoy somebody else- just for the sake of it.

Joker scooped up a lump of mashed potatoes and ate it all clean off his fingers, cringing once more at the taste, then motioned to the empty space in front of June. "Where's-ah, your lunch?"

"Oh, I just had a quick snack before coming here." She casually said, although under the table she twiddled her thumbs at the sudden sickness she felt in her stomach. It's just the nerves. Just the nerves.

"What did'ya eat?" He asked like he cared.

"Chocolate."

"Ah."

There lingered an uncomfortable silence after that, filled by the chattering around them that seemed to dissolve into nothingness as the two stared emptily at each other. Through each other. There was that feeling again, that curiosity that sat in the both of them. June watching him as if he were under a microscope. Joker watching her as if she were his food. Probably tastes better than whatever's on the tray, he'd funnily thought to himself.

Seeing that Junie wasn't much up to talking, the Joker eyed the apple on his tray and then at the empty space before her. He picked up the fruit, rolling it in his palms as he admired it, blood red and delicious. Blood red. Blood. God, it'd been a while since he'd seen some blood. The beatings didn't count- that was his blood, not theirs. It wasn't as satisfying when it was his. Just a mess, really.

He then wished he had a fork, where the fantasy of stabbing out Junie's eyes and pretending to wear them as his own suddenly played on his mind, something that kept him occupied as he looked at her innocuous freckled face. He imagined what her blood would look like. Dark red- dark, dark red, he was sure. And her insides... they'd look quite pretty, although much like clothes, they'd look prettier on the floor. Her guts would be neat, uniform and packed together tightly so that they could all fit at once into her tiny body, shrink so small that once he cut her open they'd spill out into his hands and he could mould them together like clay... oh, he was losing himself again...

Looking at the apple, he tossed it in the air once and caught it, before looking at Junie and letting it roll onto the table towards her. Her eyes followed the fruit and she caught it as it landed just in front of her clipboard, holding it with two hands as she examined it herself. Bright, piercing red, and so shiny.

Looking up at the Joker, she sheepishly laughed, "Why'd you do that for?"

He balanced some jello onto his fingers before licking it off, and then raised his brows as if to offer the apple to her again. "Why don'tcha eat it?"

June shook her head and rolled the fruit back to him. "I-I can't do that. It's your lunch."

Joker chortled and pointed to his tray. "Sorry, does this look like lunch to you?"

June was really scraping at the bottom of the barrel to try and justify the inedible mess on his dinner tray and she croaked, "Well, it's, um... it's... healthy. Lots of..." He began to pick up the potatoes as it slopped back down onto the tray. He raised an expression at June as if to ask her to try and explain it. "...proteins?"

"Healthy or not, Junie, that is not going in my body." He pushed the tray to one side and ate the remaining jello on his thumb, instead picking up the apple. He tried offering it to her again, wordlessly holding it towards her but she was stubborn, shaking her head so vigorously that her unruly hair followed her movements, bouncing from one cheek to the other, and although he did laugh, she hadn't noticed it.

Joker shrugged at her refusal, his eyes strangely locking with hers as he then took a bite, his teeth sharply sinking deep into the fruit, spraying just the tiniest amount of juice. The crunching noise was so vivid that she felt it in the very pit of her stomach. He stayed there, staring at her, mouth biting, crunching, devouring. He tore it away from his mouth and chewed relentlessly, not once breaking eye contact with her rounded, curious gaze, both frightened and intrigued at his behaviour. His hand was clenched around the bitten apple, firm and strong. The veins in his wrists protruded in a branching pattern, like twigs of a tree. Aggression seemed to spill from every pore, and June wondered if he even knew it.

After he swallowed, he shook his head and threw the apple back down on the tray. June looked at it and saw that the inside was brown and rotten, not edible in the slightest. The outside of the apple was enough to fool anyone, and here he was grimacing. "Nuh- uh. That's a bad apple."

As Joker stretched his arms, June sighed disappointedly and picked up her pen, ready to start the session that she hadn't exactly planned. "That actually kinda leads on to what I was about to ask you." She said, looking up at him expectantly.

He settled back in his seat and raised his brows, resting his arms on the table. "Oh?" He blew a green strand out of his eyes, "And what's that, sweetheart? What interest did that, uh, apple pique, huh?"

"Nothing exciting. Just wanted to ask how you're handling things in here. Y'know," She waved her hand as she listed, "The cells, your free time, the conditions..." Her eyes drifted back to the rotten apple. "The, um... food."

"How I'm handling them?"

"Mhm." She nodded, then formally corrected herself, "I mean, yes."

He chuckled inwardly, realising how quickly she was starting to loosen up. Her words were slipping. Her posture slackened. Went from as standing as stiff as a board to sitting with her elbows on the table- and it'd only been three days. Don't hang up on me now, Junie, we haven't even gotten to the fun part yet.

Joker scratched his chin in thought and hummed, seeing how June was preparing her pen. He pointed at it and asked, "Why're you writing this down?"

"Well, if you're uncomfortable with certain things, I could try and ask Dr. Arkham about it to see if he'd make some arrangements." Not that he ever listens to me.

He laughed, rubbing his hands together excitedly, "Well, in that case, I'd like extra pillows, a vibrating toothbrush, a TV set- make it black and white, those flashy colours drive me nuts- a coffee machine, one'a those little bells that rich people have to call on their butlers like- like- ting-a-ling-a-ling- that'd be cool. Just like out of that one movie with the guy--"

June, despite her annoyance, found herself letting out a laugh. "I'm serious."

He paused for a minute to take in the sound of her laughter. Shrill and innocent, the snarky snicker that scratched its way up her little throat was nothing less than music to his ears, the renowned signal of her oblivious and ignorant joy. He could see it in the way that she didn't cover her mouth to hide her giggles this time- she'd almost forgotten entirely where she was, who she was. Professionalism? She payed it no mind.

"So am I." He smirked, before tilting his head. "Most times." And then he laughed again, as June shook her head and stared down at the blank page, trying to straighten out the situation before it got out of hand again. At least he wasn't interrogating her this time.

She tried again, eagerly leaning forward, "But in all seriousness, 4479, how are the conditions for you?"

He suddenly snapped- 4479, 4479, 4479- eyes narrowed as he waved his hand, "No, no, no, no. A'right, first off, cut that shit."

Taken aback by his attitude, June lifted her elbows off the table as if he'd jump over and strangle her. Her face hopelessly altered into one of immediate wariness, her brown eyes widened for a moment. "What?"

"You know what shit. That 4479 shit. I ain't some robot, Junie, so cut that crap." Joker pointed threateningly at her, causing her brows to furrow downwards. There it was- it flashed in her eyes- that fire! Like magic.

She scolded, "Could you please not swear during these sessions? It's not very professional."

Aw, she was worried. He leant over the table and smiled. "Fuck."

"Joker!"

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck."

"Stop it!"

"Fucking fuck, Junie, fuck, fuck, fuck."

By now, some of the other patients had started to look at them and June panicked, unsure of what to do. It wasn't like she could just get up and slap a hand over his mouth or anything, so she desperately shushed him, tapping her nails on the table repeatedly. "Joker, cut it out!" She hissed, as he kept on going.

He toned it down with a long and breathless laugh, resting his cheek in his hand, "Oooh, boy, do I love that word, Junie. It's my favourite word. Uh, second to 'mutilation', of course," He chuckled, then paused, "Wait, no, fuck's actually my third favourite. My second favourite is 'slaughter'," He nodded, somewhat proud of the useless decision he'd come to, "'Cause that's got laughter in it too. Much like me, heehee."

June stared at him, baffled- he was acting as if the situation had never happened. "What is wrong with you?"

He smiled innocently, "I thought you were the doctor. You tell me."

June sat there for a good minute with her head in her hands, sighing deeply to herself. Only the third session and she was already starting to get frustrated. She saw now why every doctor had resigned before the Joker had the chance to kill them himself. Just plain frustration. But she wouldn't do that. She couldn't do that to herself, she couldn't let him get to her. She had to prove Dr. Arkham wrong. She had to know what there was to the Joker.

Taking a deep breath in, she sat back upright, Joker eyeing her form unfolding upwards, like a flower in bloom. An oblivious, totally naïve, easily irritable, wild-haired flower. He was having the time of his life. Not as fun as that hypnotherapy session with Hugo Strange, but it came close. Junie was a fun little toy. Shiny and new. He'd get his fun out of her before she eventually broke.

She quietly asked through barely grit teeth, "I just want to know how you're coping with the conditions around here," She slowly said, brown eyes flaring. There it is, there it is! That fire he loved so much! "I know some things."

"Do you?" He sarcastically asked, licking the insides of his scars.

"I'm not blind. I see how the guards treat the patients here. You're no exception."

Joker was silent, let her continue as he dragged his tongue across his bottom lip, the paint cold and tasteless.

June continued, "Colter is especially... violent. He's--"

"Yeah," Joker nodded, wagging a finger at her. "That's what I meant to ask. What's going on there, huh?"

She eyed him suspiciously, fiddling with the pen in her hands, "What do you mean?"

He tutted, leaning forward against the table again. "You know what I mean, Junie. You and Col-terrr."

She suddenly stopped talking, and although Joker would've been thankful, she was holding precious information from him. She looked down to the silver pen in her clammy hands and traced her red nails along the tip of it, feeling his eyes following her movements as she went. He'd noticed now how delicate her hands were. Smooth and tawny coloured, knuckles rosy just like her cheeks. Three freckles began at the top of her wrist and disappeared into her sleeve, the white labcoat that still had that coffee stain on the collar, faded from rigorous washing at the laundromat. Junie moved slowly as though she were made of air, floating, twiddling her pen as though her fingers could make it fly.

She clicked the pen once and Joker let go of a breath he'd greedily inhaled, causing her to look back up at him only to find that his black eyes hadn't left her.

"You and Colter," was all he said. He was waiting for an answer.

"That's private information." She mumbled, barely looking at him.

The thought of that guard's brute hands around her throat was both amusing and oddly uncomfortable to him, thinking how Colter would only have to apply the tiniest amount of pressure to squeeze her windpipe shut, surely. She seemed to hate Colter's presence, like his voice slithered down the back of her neck each time he spoke, and while Joker did absolutely relish in watching her squirm, he preferred the intimidation of a knife, not a rapist. And Colter was a very special kind of rapist, in the way that he'd never truly been caught.

"You fucking?" Joker asked her, tongue darting out against his bottom lip again.

"No." She tried not to spit out the word.

"Used to?"

"Not even once." Her words didn't waver. She was telling the truth.

"Been to his place?"

"Never."

"He been to yours?"

"Without asking."

"So you've never met him outside of work?"

June thought about it, the chance encounters outside the grocery store and the coincidental appearances Colter had made outside her apartment building. She shook her head. "No. Not voluntarily."

"Then it ain't private information." Joker concluded, waving his hands openly as they dropped back to the table. June, although reluctantly, had to admit, he did have a fair point. "Everything that goes on in here--" He motioned around him, "--I know about. But you," he pointed to her, "You're new to me. I ain't never seen you here, not for the whole year. I mean, uh, most of it I spent down in extreme isolation, but that ain't the point." He rolled his eyes, trying to get back to his question, "How long have you worked here?"

"Had an internship at nineteen." She let it slip, wishing she'd bitten her tongue. Who shares that kinda shit with their patients?

"And you are...?" He arched a brow, awaiting an answer.

"Twenty-two." She told him, as he mouthed the numbers along with her. Talking about her age would do no harm, surely.

He smirked and turned his head, raising his brows in a somewhat suggestive way as he licked his lips, "Mm, you're a little young to be treating the likes of me, aren't you?"

She put her pen down, clasping her hands together. This session wasn't seemingly going to be much worth noting down after all. She said, "I volunteered to treat you."

"This, I do know," He nodded, wetting his mouth before it settled into a straight line, "D'you wanna know how old I am, doll?"

June peered down from his face and the first thing she fixed her attention on was the glaring orange of his shirt as she tried to avoid his question. The number tag glared back at her: 4479. This conversation was taking stranger turns than she'd expected, in a strangely mundane way. "I, um, I already read your case files, it's alrigh--"

"But you never heard it from me," He pointed out, pursing his lips as though his observation was pure genius. He was quiet for a second and June realised it was to get her attention, so she could look up at him. She did, and he shot her a disappointed look. "It's, uh, it's rude to base facts around what you've heard, Junie. That's gossip. D'you gossip?"

"No," she said, although even she couldn't deny her own curiosity. She liked to know things, liked to know people, and how they worked and what they were doing. She liked certain gossip as it told her a lot about the person who was spreading the rumour, not who the subject of it was. This was why Mara fascinated her- she was the papergirl for gossip, doing her daily rounds through the office and staff rooms, spreading things she was sure she'd heard before she'd even finished processing it. June had been the subject of some of these rumours, although Mara believed that she was blind to it. Every story was wrong, and only lasted a week, but they were dangerous. And June liked how they circled around people like ripples, always multiplying, growing exponentially before vanishing, waiting for the next drop to come along.

Joker's voice, followed by a daring nod, brought her back. "Guess how old I am."

June sighed, folding her hands together. She decided to play along, first going off by what the case papers had told her. "Twenty-five."

He hissed through his teeth and shook his head, "Not quite, Junie, not quite. If I were only a mere three years older than you, I wouldn't be interested in having this conversation."

She nibbled at her lip, trying again with a fresh pair of eyes. She took in his physique: lean but muscular, the athletic type; then the features of his face: wrinkled in all the right places, obviously worn but not sagging, aged enough to say he'd lived his life well, but not enough to say he was ready to pull his back out at any given moment. The smile lines by his eyes. She took another shot in the dark, but almost held back in case she offended him. "Twenty-sev..." His brows knotted at her guess and she could only guess higher, "Um. Thirty?"

She almost anticipated him to yell at her or something, but was relieved when he slowly broke out into a wide smile. "Second guess, Junie! You're smarter than I thought."

She let go of a breathless laugh, suddenly clearing her throat as soon as it left her mouth. She was almost about to say, what, you're thirty? But she held her tongue, not wanting to sound rude. Smoothing down her skirt, she tried looking away from him again, almost shy from the unexpected praise she got. From a killer, no less. "I, um... lucky guess, I... guess."

At her awkward words, he laughed in disbelief, shaking his head. She was too easy. Too easy. An open book, he was right. And he'd make sure he flipped through every page, read every word, before burning her into nothing. This one wasn't gonna slip through his fingers. Junie was simply too fun for him to just give the silent treatment. No, that'd be insulting to the girl's intelligence.

He went to speak, but she let her words loose again with an awkward smile. "You don't... look thirty. Doctor reports thought you were twenty-five."

He didn't believe her words. Compliments! He'd dug out a compliment! How supple and innocuous his little Junie Stoltz was, already showering him with compliments as though she were... comfortable in her situation. Here came the butterfly, stuck in the spider's web. What pretty wings she had. Too bad he wanted to cut them off.

He smiled, tongue in cheek. "Watch you don't-ah, butter me up too much, princess. Else you'll have to start making weekend trips by my cell."

June's smile slowly shifted into an open-mouthed, silent and non-existing gasp of astonishment and confusion. She swore she'd imagined the words she'd just heard but the way he looked at her, the way his tongue poked around the inside of his scars and the way he was slowly tapping his fingers on the table... what she'd heard was very much real, and had very much come out of the Joker's mouth. She wasn't sure how on earth to respond to that kind of comment- she just sat there with her mouth hung open like a damned fish trying to find her breath.

June blinked rapidly and swallowed, stammering to herself as her eyes drifted to the bright red rotten apple beside the Joker, checked her watch for the time; anything, anything to avoid meeting his eyes again. She thanked God it'd already been an hour- it was time for her to escort him back to his cell.

She finally mustered up the courage to speak, scrambling for her once again blank clipboard and her silver pen, slowly getting up. "I, um... I better take you back to your cell."

Joker slowly rose in time for her to step back warily, and he observed how her hands obsessively began to tug down on the hem of her skirt, as if trying to adjust how she looked all of a sudden, which he hadn't exactly caught her doing besides the spontaneous finger-curling of her hair. He kept a straight face when he asked lowly, "You gonna consider my prop-o-sition, Junie, or...?"

"Dr. Stoltz." Her eyes were exactly like a fragile doe's at this point, scared and confused but oh, oh, so curious. "And I'm not allowed to do that. It's not professional, 4479."

"Dammit, Junie, I told you not to call me--"

"If it's all the same to you, patient 4479, I'll stick to what's on the paper."

And he complied, maybe for the first time in his life.

---

Yay, Apples already hit 1k!! And meanwhile, Ace of Spades just hit 300k :) absolutely amazing tbh thank u guys so much!! I do read every comment I get, and so far the feedback for Apples have been amazing and really encouraging!! I was really sceptical about this story since it's so different than AoS, so I'm glad it's being received so well. And also that you like June!!

Speaking of apples, yes, the apple holds some symbolism. Of course, I'll let you figure it out. Hope you enjoyed!!! :)