The Schemer

Around the World

"I wan-t them scrambled. Beaten the life outta them." 

Nodding once, the woman disappeared. A barely noticeable scent of clove reached the man, who slowly made his way after her, dissipating quickly. He had something in mind. "Honey-y-y?" Jack half-shouted, so Clara could hear him.

"Sweet pea?"

"Change in plans-s-s."

"What kind of?"

"We're no-t going anywhere today." He was already in the kitchen, looking at the surgeon's wide back, transforming into a trimmed torso.

"Why is that?"

"Dunno. Not feelin' like." Clara threw him a lazy look from behind her shoulder, one eyebrow raised in obvious mock.

"Just admit that you're getting old. Can't keep up with every day's intensity, huh?" She was doing weird movements with her hands, noises were heard, and the smell of something started floating around. Joker wasn't sure what that something was, but he could recognize the unmistakable sizzling of eggs.

"Yeah. Just like you can't, uh, stand against the young Batsy here anymore. Time catches up, huh?"

"Words of wisdom, J."

Moments later, the assassin turned around, a plate of delicious-smelling food in her hand. She moved towards the table, placing it there. "Ya didn't happen to dro-p some poison in there, did you?" A keen, one-sided smirk tore through her chapped lips.

"Why would you think so?"

"I dunno. A feelin' of some sorts. Call it intuition, toots."

"Hmm. It's good to have one." Clara bent down, lifting a fork and taking a bite of Jack's scrambled eggs, chewing slowly. Her point was proved. 

The woman sat down, attentive eyes on Joker. "If we're not robbing banks, or killing asylum's patients, then what are we going to do? Not that I have to be anywhere."

"You seem overly enthusiastic." Motioning towards the already half-finished plate, he added. "It's good. Although I don't know what I'm eating."

"Not a fan of sitting without any work to do. It's purple basil. A little more pungent than the sweet basil, therefore, used less frequently in culinary. But I like it a lot. Found some in your garden."

"Basil in my garden?"

"That's what I said. Basil, some wild oregano, a few sprigs of marjoram. A great garden you have."

"You seem to know spices by hear-t, little assassin."

"It's because I do." Joker licked his lower lip. The arrogant woman was fully back, no previous trauma in view.

"Back to the, uh, topic. Since you can't poke your nose out from the house, I can't send ya outside." The last bite disappeared, chewed throughoutly, despite the fact that his food was soft, mushy, hardly anything to bite into. "But I've go-t something. Here, inside, that ya can work with." He caught her curious gaze, grinning. The bait was mouthed up.

"I'm all ears."

"I need bombs. Lots of them. Good, quality stuff, toots." With a yank, the hook buried itself in his victim's cheek. "Lots."

After showing Clara his technicality's room, in which various devices and parts of them were located, the Joker disappeared. And for the first time in weeks, the surgeon didn't care what he was up to. She hadn't made anything explosive in years. Years. The technician within her craved the action, and currently, the Joker provided exactly that.