"Do I really look like a guy with a plan? You know what I am? I'm a dog chasing cars. I wouldn't know what to do with one if I caught it!"
—Heath Ledger

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"He's got to be joking, right?" Bleaker scoffed, his stubby fingers fiddling with the loose strands of his worn sweater as he lounged in the ripped mahogany barcalounger. "He actually wants us to cater to this woman? He was about to off her, and then suddenly he changes his mind?"

"Don't question the boss, Bleaker. You know how he is. He's unpredictable." Horton plainly put, a ball-point pen held tightly in his clutch as he doodled on an old piece of lined paper.

The bald man, who goes by the name of Spalding, sat silently in the corner.

"It just makes no sense! He's never let anyone stay in this house who isn't one of his men, and now this woman sees him escape and suddenly she's an exception?"

"I don't know why you're freaking out over this, Bleaker. Maybe the boss was about to kill her, noticed the hefty rack she's got, and decided to keep her around for a little bit for some fun. I mean fuck, dude, he's been couped up in that cell for six months, the guy has to be horny." Spalding stated.

Bleaker scrunched his nose in disgust, picking mindlessly at his overgrown fingernails. "You think the Joker actually has sex? I always thought he was asexual or something, I dunno. He just doesn't seem like the type."

"He seems like the type to have some pretty kinky sex to me." Spalding snorted, a look of disapproval present on Horton's features as he tapped his foot irritably.

"You two know better than to talk that way about the boss," he scolded. "Remember when Garling joked about him having a tiny dick and he ended up circumcising him in front of all of us?"

Spalding and Bleaker loudly gulped at the memory, Garling's convulsing, bloodied torso still imprinted in their brains.

"Excuse me?" A small voice called from the opposite end of the room.

Three pairs of eyes darted towards the direction of the sudden sound. Ember stood in the doorway, her fingers laced together as she nervously fiddled her thumbs.

"Are there any towels?"

Bleaker raised an eyebrow, glancing in Horton's direction as he simply shrugged. The men knew that the nicest, most upkept room in the entire house was the Joker's.

"You'll have to borrow one of the bosses." Spalding informed her.

Ember loudly gulped, her gaze diverting to the floor as she tried to think of any possible way to get one of the men to ask him instead of herself.

"Look," Bleaker began, standing to his feet and slowly making his way towards the cowering woman in the doorway. "There's a reason he's keeping you around. I have no clue what that reason could be, but he's given you your own bedroom, with a fucking bed with sheets and all. No one has ever stayed in that bedroom, so I'm almost certain he's not going to stab you if you ask for a damn towel."

"Quit harrassing her, Bleaker." Horton scolded.

Ember glared at the man, his face no longer hidden by the grueling clown mask. He was visibly young, younger than herself by the features of his face. He's undeniably attractive, strutting a mess of chocolate brown hair that curled around his ears and a pair of bright blue eyes.

His expression slackened at her lack of response. Bleaker watched as she silently admired him, her severely chapped bottom lip pulling tightly between her pearly white teeth as she tugged at the hem of her stained, untucked t-shirt that sat underneath her overalls.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I'll go ask him."

Ember's features brightened, Bleaker turning curtly on his heel as he headed in the opposite direction, rounding a destroyed corner of the wall and disappearing from view.

"So what's the deal?" Horton barked, breaking her from her small trance. She blinked several times, an unsettling feeling bubbling in her belly as she raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" Ember squeaked.

"Is the boss fucking you? Why is he actually keeping you around?"

"Horton!" The bald man scolded, tossing a chewed straw at the portly blonde man's face.

Ember crinkled her nose in disgust, shaking her head quickly. "No! I don't know why he spared me, to be honest. I just—I really want to go home." She admitted.

"Tough shit," Spalding countered. "You either stay here or die."

The woman gulped once again, her expression faltering as she stared at her toes.

It's not like she had anyone to go home to anymore.

Bleaker returned moments later, his cheeks flushed as he ran a hand through his hair anxiously.

"Uh, the boss wants to speak with you privately." He stuttered.

"O-Oh." Ember shifted uncomfortably against the frame of the entryway. "Where is he?"

"He wants to speak with you privately, in his bedroom."

A still silence littered the stale air, the three men shifting restlessly in their places. Horton flashed her a strange glare, one that Ember could actually pair with that of jealousy.

What could he possibly want to talk to her about?

"I'll lead you there." Bleaker said, clearing his throat as he outstretched a bruised arm in the direction of the monsters bedroom.

Ember's heart raced in her chest, her legs wobbling violently as she followed closely behind the attractive man, around the corner and down a dingy hallway, littered with shattered picture frames that clung to the chipped carob tinted walls. Nearly all of the stock photo individuals that sat inside the frames eyes had been blacked out with dark ink, along with dark red Glasgow grins scribbled across their mouths.

"Last door on the right." Bleaker dryly spoke, halting in his steps as she shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

Ember silently nodded, her breaths becoming shallow as the man promptly abandoned her, isolating the woman in the unfamiliar hallway as she slowly raised her fist up to the deep purple painted door. Her knuckles tapped lightly against the wood, her heart beating wildly in her throat as she rocked forward and backward on her heel.

The door clicked open the moment she retracted her knuckles from the wood, a shiver running down her spine as a heavily painted face came into view.

The Joker's lips curled into a smirk as he lounged against the open door, his ankles crossing as he shoved his paint-stained hands into the pockets of his purple pants.

"What can I do for you, toots?" He mused, his brown eyes glimmering with amusement as he sucked on the inside of his scars. She began to notice his little ticks, from the lip-licking to the scar sucking...

"I wanted to take a shower." Ember whispered, trembling in her rubber boots as Joker smacked his lips in response.

"Sooo, take a shower." He grinned wildly.
"Unless you'd like some company, which I cer-tain-ly wouldn't de-ny."

"Oh, uh, I just need a towel." Ember squeaked, her cheeks growing hot at his inappropriate comment.

An exasperated sigh escaped through his nostrils, his hands retracting from his pockets as he stepped aside and waved her inside the room. Her stomach twisted into knots at the invitation, her feet frozen in place on the ground as he raised his eyebrows.

"Y-You want me t-to come inside?" She stammered.

"I promise I won't bi-te, sugar plum." Joker snickered. "Hard."

Her knees wobbled as she slowly shuffled into the room, her eyes widening as she took in her surroundings.

Joker's room was rather large, and was the polar opposite of the rest of the house. The walls were splashed with deep green paint, lacking any smudging or chipping. She was a bit intimidated, however, by the blood red writing that scattered the walls, a series of "HA"s littering the walls on top of the paint. A black stained wooden desk sat along the wall immediately to the left, the surface completely covered with an assortment of papers surrounding a desktop computer screen, which illuminated the otherwise dark room, due to the thick blackout curtains that hung over the single window on the opposite side. A neatly made king sized bed sat in the center of the room, clad with deep purple sheets and half a dozen fluffy pillows that lined the inky wooden, fence-like headboard, with thin poles that lined the wall (perfectly crafted for handcuffs).

"Your-uh, eyes sparkle when you admire things." Joker observed, thrusting a mocha tinted towel into her arms.

"I just didn't expect your room to look like this." She sheepishly admitted.

She didn't expect it to be so neat and decorative either.

A low chuckle resonated through his chest, his ungloved thumb tracing the deep crevices of his scars as Ember stood silently before him, towel held tightly in her clutch.

"Do those hurt?" She innocently wondered.

"No." Joker whispered, retracting his fingers from his face as he ran a hand through his overgrown hair. The green had nearly dissipated entirely, courtesy of the six months he spent behind bars.

Do you want to feel them?

He immediately shoved the thought from his head, clearing his throat rather awkwardly as Ember stilly stood perpendicular to him, only arms length apart, towel draped over her arms.

"Thanks for the towel." Ember whispered, her head hanging lowly as she turned on her heel, exiting the room without another word and leaving the madman alone to his thoughts.

He let out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding at her departure, his fingers lacing around the handle as he slowly closed the door behind her.