Paper Planes

VII

A/N:
Can we just admire how INSANELY HOT Heathy looks in that picture?! Literally my favorite scene in the entire movie. I lose my mind when he yells "hit me" ugh. Daddy as fuckkk. (I'm so vulgar and inappropriate I'm so sorry. He really brings it out of me.)

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"The reason I talk to myself is because I'm the only one whose answers I accept."
—George Carlin

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Ember shifted uncomfortably in the bed, her back beginning to ache from laying in one spot for hours and hours on end.

She was disgustingly bored, the time creeping away as she continued to daydream, an undying desire to write down some of the poetry that she'd been harvesting in her brain over the past few days overcoming her.

The boxspring creaked beneath her weight as she shifted into a sitting position, her fists rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she propelled herself from the mattress, her feet dragging her towards the closed door as she pried it open.

The familiar low voices of Joker's henchmen resonated through her bones as she crept around the beaten sofas, her fingers gliding over the cracked leather as she sucked diligently on her bottom lip.

The disheveled kitchen suddenly came into sight, the three men hunched heavily over the island counter as they scribbled on what appeared to be an overly large map of Gotham City.

"Excuse me?" Ember squeaked, her feet freezing into place outside the threshold of the room as she shivered slightly.

None of the men turned around.

"Uh, excuse me?" She called, the volume of her voice increasing slightly as an exasperated sigh escaped Bleaker's lips, his shoulders hunching in irritation as his neck craned backwards, beady eyes glaring in her direction.

"What?"

"Do you guys have any paper and pencils?" She innocently wondered.

Bleaker redirected his gaze, focusing once again on the map on the counter as he groaned "ask the boss" in response.

Ember's heartbeat accelerated, her hands trembling as she shuffled towards the hallway which lead to the madmans room, her heart thumping painfully in her throat as she slowly approached the familiar deep purple tinted door.

The undertones of rather loud music vibrated through the walls, the bass nearly compressing her chest as she shakily knocked against the wood.

"Joker?" She croaked, her knuckles rapping against the painted wood several times, emitting no response as the music resonated through her bones.

Several unanswered moments passed by, and Ember decided to toy with the handle of the door, turning it slowly until it clicked open.

Her breath hitched in her throat, the door creaking open as Joker's apparently vacant room came into view, "Scars" by the band Papa Roach filling her ears as she loudly gulped.

That's fitting.

"Mister Joker?" She questioned, her voice low and shaky as her eyes roamed the room, her fingertips grazing along the stack of papers that littered his desk, amusing doodles of what seemed to be Batman pranced across several pages. Her lips pulled into a smirk at the rather childish pictures, a blob of purple chasing after the blob of black as they scurried across the pages.