A Userguide To Understanding Joker

Question 1: How Do You Gain The Joker's Trust

Sometimes the Joker would whistle for an hour straight.

Not random tunes. Not a collection of his favorites. Dr. Quinzel had never been able to put a name to the song itself. She had never heard whatever it was. But he would repeat it, over and over, in the exact tempo every time, without deviation. He never screwed up or missed a single beat. He had a pretty perfect whistle too.

Occasionally he would show up half sedated. His eyes would be barely opened and nearly crossed.

Those days were usually him at his most agreeable. He actually gave verbal responses when asked a question. However, you couldn't make out his words for all the slurring.

So after months of this, Dr. Quinzel decided that the Joker simply refused to talk to her because he didn't see them as equals. She got to sit however she wished on one side of a desk, while he sat bound in a straight jacket and chained to the floor. She would ask obtrusive questions designed to delve into his psyche, and he was allowed no questions of his own. To put it simply, the Joker didn't trust her. And if he couldn't trust her, he would never let his guard down. Meaning she never got any answers.

So the doctor finally saw the proverbial light bulb flick on in her head. She saw a way to gain his trust. But it was a risky move. No, it was downright dangerous. However, Dr. Quinzel really wanted that best selling book with her name on the cover. To her, it was worth the risk. Even when the risk at hand could mean her own death. She spent weeks working up the nerve.

Dr. Quinzel's POV

I was sitting at my desk when they brought the Joker into my office for his therapy session. The chain shackles around his ankles scratch, drag, and loudly clink at the floor as he awkwardly walks in. The guards are on the highest alert with tazer wands readied in their hands. Half expecting, half hoping for him to take one step out of line. The guards then flip a coin to see which one of them would be the unfortunate one that had to bend down in front of the clown and lock his chains to a metal ring made into the floor. There's a second one to attach handcuffs to, made into the surface of my desk.

I've asked many times, why he was always put into a straight jacket before leaving his cell. I was told dozens of horror stories. Stories about how many staff members he had managed to kill. Tales of his many escapes. Warnings about how incredibly fast he was. How smart he was. How easily he could manipulate people. So the straight jacket became standard procedure. For everyone's safety.