Joker was both relieved and pleasantly surprised by his driving skills. Considering it was years since he'd been behind the wheel he wasn't as rusty as he feared. Initially he'd got off to a rocky start by stalling a couple of times and grinding the gears, but he soon got the hang of it again.

As they entered the district of Burnley, the streets became noticeably more dimly-lit and lined with large detached houses that looked mostly unoccupied. Shops stood vacant, business buildings closed, graffiti scrawled everywhere, and many windows had been boarded up as a result of vandalism.

It made Alice sad driving through the shady streets of the abandoned neighbourhood. Growing up, she remembered how it was once a thriving community. It's semi-rural location not too far from the coast made it an attractive holiday destination, but after the recession the tourist trade suffered and many local hotels and restaurants closed down, creating an unemployment problem, and residents had been forced to leave and seek work elsewhere. Now it looked like a ghost town.

Had it not been for the dilapidated family home Alice had come to inherit, she too would've probably relocated, especially to save herself from having to commute so far to work each day. She dreamed of one day being able to afford a quaint little apartment in Gotham Village, but her salary wouldn't cover the rent and cost of living. So instead she had to settle for what she had. A crumbling, gothic Victorian house, which was situated in the middle of nowhere.

Swinging the car into the driveway she'd indicated to, Joker stared up at the impressive structure through the side window.

"You live here?"

She nodded. "Yep."

"All by yourself?"

She nodded again.

"Don't you ever get lonely?"

"I...I guess I don't really have time to think about it. I usually get home late and I'm so tired I just want to go to bed."

Trying hard not to think about what a bore she sounded, Alice reached for the handle on the door, then hesitated. Reluctant to say goodbye, but unwilling to ask what he planned to do next. It wasn't any of her business after all, and it certainly shouldn't have been any concern to her.

Still, she owed him.

The injury on his forehead needed tending to. Ideally he should've gone to a hospital but it wasn't even a possibility. He was a wanted man now.

Perhaps she was out of her mind to trust him, but she felt compelled to repay him for his kindness.

"You know, that gash on your head looks pretty nasty." She pointed out. "Do you want to come up and let me take a look at it?"

Joker stared at her in apparent disbelief, as if he'd somehow misheard her or didn't trust his own mind. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm just saying that cut looks quite deep. I could clean it up for you."

His green eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why would you want to do that?"

"Why wouldn't I?" She retorted, nonplussed. "I mean, I'm not a nurse or anything but you might even have concussion. An injury to the head can be dangerous--"

"I know all about the dangers of head trauma." He interrupted in a clipped tone, but then immediately regretted his sharpness and hastily gabbled his apologies. "I...I'm sorry I didn't mean to...that is, I shouldn't have..." His words dissolved into strained laughter, which he fought to suppress but failed.

"Hey, it's okay. You don't have to apologise."

"It's been....a rough day, you know?" He spluttered, eyes watering. "It's been a rough few days."

She nodded. "I can imagine. Listen, you don't have to come in but the offer is there--"

"No no, I'd like to. Thank you."

Wondering if she'd completely lost all sense and reason, Alice got out the car and made her way to the front door, with Joker following close behind.

Switching on the hallway light, she hastily explained how she lived on the upper floor of the house as the rooms downstairs were used for storing antique furniture that her family hadn't taken with them when they moved but they didn't want to part with, so Alice was stuck with it cluttering up the sitting room and dining room.
And besides, she explained, living on just one floor of the house made economic sense, as she'd never be able to afford the costs to heat an entire house of that size.

Joker listened as they went upstairs, and she showed him into what would've been a master bedroom, but was in fact being used as a living space.

"Wow. Some place you got here." He remarked, head swivelling this way and that.

"Um, thanks. It's a bit of a mess though."

The house was not dirty by any means, but more of a shambolic, cosy organised-mess.
As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, provided by a standard lamp which stood in the corner, he admired the opulent decor and furnishings, which appeared to be an eclectic mix of old and new. Ranging from the most elegant antiques to modern tat, for example an elaborately carved cabinet stood against the back wall, with a modern -- and no doubt very pricey -- stereo system sat atop of it. Some iconic movie posters hung on the walls, along with some beautiful oil paintings depicting landscapes and forests, and in the opposite corner a flat-pack DIY bookshelf was precariously overstuffed with books.

"So....how did you come to live in such a big house all by yourself?"

"Oh, well my aunt died. She was much older than my mom. We moved in with her when I was just a little kid. The house belonged to my grandmother originally. My mom moved out about six months ago, so yeah....I have the place all to myself now." Alice gestured for him to take a seat on the floral-patterned couch which stood in the middle of the room.

"Did you not want to go with her?" Joker asked, perching on the arm of the couch.

She shook her head. "No, she met a guy from out of town."

"And your dad?"

There was a long pause, before she answered stiffly. "He's never been around. I never knew him. Only remember my stepfather and he was a bit of an asshole."

Joker blinked, slightly taken aback by her bluntness but he gave a knowing smile. "Yeah. There's a lot of them about." He didn't feel it was appropriate to ask any more questions. Besides she was studying his face closely now, which made him feel decidedly nervous.

"Would you mind washing the face paint off? So I can take a proper look at that cut."

He contemplated the request for a few moments. The makeup felt like his war paint. His  armour. The barrier between himself and the rest of the world. It made him feel more confident, like a different person when he was wearing it. Removing it would leave him vulnerable and exposed. But refusing didn't seem like an option either. After all, she only wanted to help didn't she? And he was eager to please her.

"Uh, sure." He replied finally.

She gave a relieved smile, because there had been another reason why she'd asked him to wash it off. It hadn't escaped her notice that Murray's blood was still spattered across the left side of his face, and looking at it gave her chills.

"Cool. The bathroom is just down the hall here." Alice led the way, opening the bathroom door and flicking light on for him. "There's soap there, and plenty of clean towels. The boiler is old, so you'll have to wait awhile for the water to run hot."

"Thanks."

Leaving him to it, she headed back down the stairs and into the kitchen, to make a pot of coffee.

Taking two mugs from the cupboard, she switched on the radio. The voice of a newsreader filled the small room, and she realised immediately that the man was talking about Joker, recounting the events which had taken place at the Murray Franklin theatre, and excitedly proclaiming the killer clown to be on the run.
The surreality of the situation then hit her all at once, in a moment of unforgivingly harsh clarity.

The man she had worked for was dead, and she'd invited the man responsible for the crime into her home.

Hell, the newsreader was warning for people not to approach Joker as he was dangerous, yet he was currently in her bathroom.

Perhaps she too had lost her mind, why else would she be willing to help him?

Having heard enough to unnerve her, she hastily turned the radio off, finished making the coffee, and went back upstairs.
The timing couldn't have been better, as just as she was setting the cups down on the coffee table, she heard the door creak open and looked up just as Joker came back into the room.

Still dressed in his bright clothes, though the top few buttons of his shirt had been unfastened, he seemed noticeably more shy now, his mannerisms bordering on twitchy. There was still a few spots of white face paint around his neck where he'd missed, but Alice didn't point it out, not wanting to make him even more self-conscious than he already seemed.

"I made you coffee." She told him airily. "I'll just go grab the first aid kit."

Joker mumbled his thanks, and in her absence he sat down on the edge of the couch, fiddling with the cuffs on his shirtsleeves. Try as he might he couldn't relax. Never having been invited into a girl's house before, he felt so out of his comfort zone it was pitiful.
He was a thirty eight year old man, acting like a nervous school boy.

Pathetic.

But he had good reason to be nervous.

The last -- and only -- female he'd found himself in the company of, their exchanges had all been a figment of his imagination. A delusion. And when she hadn't been a delusion, he hadn't even known what to say. His anxiety was bound to get the better of him now, just like it had with his neighbour Sophie, and ruin everything.
How could he make conversation now? Without the makeup he was simply Arthur, and that had never been enough before.

He was still deliberating the conundrum of how to interact with Alice when she returned, carrying a bowl of water and the red plastic first aid case.

"Okaaay, so let's take a look at this shall we?" She said efficiently, sitting down beside him.

He watched closely as she set the bowl down on the table and opened the case, and for the second time that day he found her leaning in close, scrutinising his face.
She was so close he didn't feel brave enough to look at her, afraid of so much as breathing the wrong way, but he also found it impossible to resist. In the end he settled on stealing glances at her bashfully, growing increasingly hot under the collar as his nerves got the better of him.

Her brow was scrunched slightly in concentration, as she carefully dabbed at the gash on his forehead with wet cotton wool.

"This will probably sting a bit, but if I'm hurting you just tell me." She said softly. "I am trying to be gentle."

"Oh, you're not hurting me." He assured her. "I don't really feel anything."

She raised a dark eyebrow in enquiry. "You have a high tolerance to pain?"

Joker shrugged resignedly. "I guess I'm just used to it."

Alice hesitated, both intrigued and saddened by his words. She didn't feel comfortable pressing him on the subject, so instead opted to go on wiping away the dried blood in silence until she was satisfied it was clean.

"Well, I don't think you need stitches, so that's something at least. Still you must've hit your head pretty hard. You don't feel dizzy do you?" He shook his head, as she gently patted the wound dry. "Do you have a headache or feel sick?"

"Not really."

"Okay that's good. I'll get you some aspirin anyway, just in case."

"Thank you but I'm fine. I don't like taking pills."

"Oh, alright. No problem."

Without thinking, Alice impulsively licked her thumb and rubbed away the remnants of makeup from his neck. Only when it was too late did she realise how intimate the gesture was, causing her hand to reflexively fall away, eyes skittering to his face.

His wide-eyed stare put her in mind of a startled animal caught in the headlights of an on-coming car. Mistaking his surprise as a negative response, she hurriedly began to apologise, only to be interrupted with a bewildering question...

"Are you real?"

She blinked. "Am I....real?"

"Yeah, because honestly I'm not so sure of anything anymore. And I don't know how I'm supposed to tell if you're real or not."

Alice's heart wrenched in on itself. The cautiously hopeful tone of his lilting voice coupled with his earnest expression made her ache with sadness for him. She was sitting close enough to pick out the intense filaments of emerald in his pale green irises, and they were swimming with confusion, drowning in bewilderment.

"Yes Joker, I am real."

He swallowed hard. "Arthur. I guess you can call me Arthur. I don't really feel like Joker without the makeup."

Alice smiled and gave a small nod. "Alright, Arthur."

And now she was taking the opportunity to really look at him, and felt her skin grow prickly and hot, as if seeing him for the very first time.
He was handsome.
Awkward, a little tired-looking, and unarguably older than she, but most definitely handsome.
He stared at her and she stared right back, and if she wasn't mistaken the shared look lasted long enough to be considered a moment.

The revelation and unexpected intensity of the moment shook her. She really shouldn't be finding him handsome.

Pulling back a little too abruptly she fumbled to collect the bowl of water and accidentally spilled it. Cursing, she made to mop up the spillage with a wad of cotton, at the exact moment he had the same idea, which resulted in them awkwardly grabbing hands for a split second.

"Oops, sorry." She giggled, a hot blush staining her cheeks.

Arthur shook his head. "Don't be sorry it was just as much my fault."

She gathered up the bowl and first aid kit, and beat a hasty retreat for the door. "Looks like we're both as clumsy as each other, right Arthur?"

Or awkward. Perhaps that would've been more apt.

Fearing the onset of another bout of uncontrollable laughter, Arthur decided to fend it off by taking a huge gulp of his coffee. It was blistering hot so it burned his mouth and the back of his throat, but it was better than suffering another chest-wracking fit of laughter.
Figuring that he had already more than likely outstayed his welcome, he decided to finish his coffee and leave, whilst some of his dignity was still in tact. If he hadn't already made a fool of himself with all his deep-staring and clumsiness, then surely it would only be a matter of time before he did.

Which is why when he turned and saw her walking back into the room clutching a blanket and pillow, he was immediately blindsided.

"Listen, I was thinking that given the circumstances it's probably best if you didn't go home tonight. The police are looking for you. Do you.....do you have somewhere you can go?"

"No. I hadn't really thought about it."

Now he was thinking about it, if the police had gone to his apartment that would also mean they'd have found Randall's body, and it'd probably be best if he never went home again.

"Well, if you need a place to sleep then you're welcome to stay here. Although the couch is the best I can offer you. There's no bed in the second room." She explained.

"I suffer with insomnia." He informed her needlessly. "So I don't exactly need a place to sleep, but thanks....that would be great."

Smiling nervously, Alice handed him the pillow and blanket, wondering yet again what the hell she was doing. Was she catching crazy?

But that was the problem.

She didn't think Arthur was crazy. Not in the least.

Now she just had to put her faith in her instincts and trust that he wasn't going to murder her as she slept.

"You're welcome. Anyway, it's been a long night and I'm pretty beat so I'm gonna turn-in. If you need anything the kitchen is downstairs, help yourself to food."

Arthur's legs trembled as he stood, wanting to thank her more profusely but not knowing how. He couldn't hug her. No, that was too daring, something he'd perhaps be bold enough to do as Joker but not plain old Arthur Fleck.

"T-thank you, Alice. That's really.....kind."

"No problem."

He cocked his head to one side in a puppy-like fashion, regarding her as if he still wasn't quite convinced of her existence. "I feel like we've met some place before. Do I know you?"

Alice shifted nervously. "Um, who knows. Maybe."

Arthur frowned. "Why are you being so nice to me? After all I've done, it doesn't make any sense."

Closing her eyes, Alice sucked in a deep breath.
Perhaps it was time to come clean.

"I'm being nice because I want to Arthur, it's the least I can do to thank you. What you said about those guys on the subway, you were right. They were awful."

"Oh. Did you....did you know them?"

She shook her head, feeling her chest tighten a little at the unwanted memory. "No thank God. But I did have the misfortune to meet them. I'm guessing right before they died."

All at once the realisation hit him, knocking the air from his lungs. His eyes widened due to equal parts shock and relief.
He hadn't been imagining it. His mind hadn't been completely lost.

"You!" He exclaimed, as soon as he regained the ability to speak. "You're her aren't you? The girl from the train!"