One Winter Knight | Arkhamverse

Chapter 7: The Case of Poison Ivy

Eve shakes that train of thought astray, depriving it the chance to even fully take off. Not tonight, not now.

So caught up in her own tumultuous, distracting thoughts, the North Carolinian doesn't hear her name cried out the first or second time, only snapping to attention when an alarmingly familiar, bubbly blonde crosses into her immediate line of sight.

"Hiya Evie! How's it goin?"

Evangeline Winter only barely stops herself from startling back at the abrupt invasion of her personal space and thoughts, especially when she identifies the newly single jester-themed criminal standing before her, the very one who was side by side with her threatening, terrifying boyfriend last Eve saw them. The thick New York accent is of some variation found in Brooklyn, slightly jarring at first, yet also delivered in a sing-song lilt. As sing-song as a Brooklyn accent is capable of being, anyway.

"Evening, Miss Quinzel," the investigator manages a light smile, hiding her nerves behind a polite, gentle mask. "Apologies, was lost in thought."

"Na, don't sweat it detective, happens ta me all the time," the Cupid of Crime waves off nonchalantly, adorned in her customary black and red tight leather pants and a corset tank top, with a creative assortment of buckles and her four-diamond print. "Just wanted ta say sorry for everythin' that happened with Mistah J last time I saw you, wasn't nothin' personal. You actually seem pretty nice! Didn't get mad at my Puddin' or anythin', like most people do. Eddie likes you, and I'm pretty sure Harv and Harvey do too, and even Johnnie hasn't gassed you yet, so that's pretty damn impressive!"

Yet? That's reassuring, the detective's nerves multiply at the words, instantly noting to ask Bruce for an on-hand antidote for the fear gas when she returns to the manor, on the off chance Dr Crane isn't so agreeable the next time they cross paths.

"Anyways, I was just goin' ta offer ya to sit with us if you like, seein' as how Eddie or Harv and Harvey ain't here. Gotta admit, ya definitely the buzz of the streets and Arkham right now. I mean, it takes a lot to impress Eddie, and I think Harv just about blew a few blood vessels yellin' at Puddin' for shakin' you up at the Mayor's gala. Wanna see what all the fuss is about, ya know? Unless you were waitin' for someone else?"

Harv actively engaged in an altercation with the Joker over that night? Eve, as previously established, is well aware of the dual-themed criminal's fascination with her, said fascination additionally fuelling her own for them. However, protecting her against Roman Sionis – their most notorious adversary, who they would happily engage in a war with over a spilled drink – is one thing, but reproaching the Joker? The most unstable, unpredictable, relentless, apathetic individual in this entire city? That is something else entirely. Definitely a topic to broach with Harv next time I see him.

Returning to the present and staring at the hopeful, happily smiling former psychiatrist straight on, Eve almost elects to turn down the offer and continue with her so far fruitless perusing for the whereabouts for Sionis' weapons, when at the very last second, upon opening her mouth to reply, she decides against it.

One by one, Eve has begun to acquaint herself with the criminal underworld, and befriending Harleen Quinzel? The on and off girlfriend to the Clown Prince of Crime? As well as Poison Ivy herself? Those are potential connections the Southerner simply can't pass up. Not to mention, it would be nice to unwind with a drink or two, especially after such a tiresomely unsuccessful night.

The startling realisation that Eve is becoming all too numb and accustomed to being in the presence of highly notorious, wanted, profoundly dangerous criminals is alarming to say the least, especially after only just ruminating over the worrisome prospect of finding comfort in that very same element of the dangerous, the deplorable and the unknown. Eight months spent in this dark, treacherous, depraved city, where even when you're not in the East End or in the Narrows, it would be foolish and suicidal to wander the streets alone at night, and the PI is already finding herself slowly growing desensitised to the fact she is face to face with someone who actually murders people on a regular basis. Someone who is certifiably insane. Someone who – with her ex-partner – threatened her very life three months ago.