milliways_bar | (no subject)

"I'm sure they do," he remarked, smiling back faintly. "Pity I have a job, or else this might be a more frequent stop."

They would behave themselves if the board would stop treating them like children. Or if I let Scarecrow out. But both counts are hopeless.

"Pity," Puck agrees with a slow smile. "You know, time here and time out there don't exactly coincide."

Jonathon nods, conceding. "True. I didn't miss my appointment -- unfortunately -- the first time I came here." He blinks, then, and realizes that Puck is clothed.

"Yes, that's how it goes. I've known some to stay for days or weeks at a time with nary a second passing on their worlds."

He tilts his head to one side at the blinking.

"I'll have to remember that, in case Arkham threatens to drag me up the wall more than usual."

Jonathon added, a glint to his eyes, "And who was it that put you in clothes?"

He chuckles, a glimmer of ... something ... in his eyes. "Consider it asylum away from your asylum."

Puck frowns-- actually, it could probably be termed a pout. "Well, I hope you don't object," he says. "Apparently, the Lady Bar took exception to my lack of fabric."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow. "Why so suddenly, if I might ask?"

"I'm afraid she didn't give a reason. She has that luxury." He smiles, plucking at a button. "Is it really so remarkable?"

Jonathon shrugged. "I assumed you had been here a while, and wondered why the sudden change. But then, the Bar appears to be an exception to logic."

"Oh, I have been," he replies. "But you get quite to the heart of things: our sweet Bar is indeed governed by her own caprices."

Not like he'd know anything about that.

"In this case, much though I hate to admit it, I may owe her thanks."

He picked his glass of cold water up from the bar and set it against his forehead to deflate his headache. "Oh?"

"Oh, yes," Puck says, lowering his voice so as not to further aggravate the headache. ~~Took him long enough.~~ "As it happens, it's not so unbearable as I'd believed. A friend of mine called it 'social conditioning.'"

He knew that term well. "I'm glad it's tolerable, as I don't think the Bar takes no for an answer," Jonathon noted. He removed the glass and wiped stray water droplets from his forehead.

He puts cool fingertips to Jonathon's temple.

"You did have a bad day, didn't you?"

He eyed Puck's hand lazily. "Two patients today. One of them thinks she's queen of the plants. The other one thinks his wooden dummy is a seperate person." Jonathon shrugged lightly. "All part of the job."

Puck, to his credit, doesn't laugh.

"So why not let them go on with it?"

"Well, Ms. 'Ivy' tends to kill people who do ill to the enviorment, and 'Scarface' is a mob boss." He smirks just a little bit; he couldn't care less if they were out on the streets causing terror. "Gotham tends to dislike that."

"How lovely of her to care for the growing things," Puck says, withdrawing his hand.

He smirks back.

"Gotham dislikes it?"

"I don't know why. They've got half a dozen worse members of society scurrying around under their ratty noses. But they seem to like... giving me things to do." He wrinkles his nose a bit. Jonathon had too many things to do.

"It's a shame."

He smiles. "Lucky you to end up here again."

"Mm, yes, lucky me," he agreed, a bit innocently, rubbing his index finger against his forehead. The dull roaring of his headache was down to a soft tapping on his skull.

Puck raises an eyebrow.

Crane is still smirking, though it's more of a lip-quirk now. "There's a board meeting tomorrow," he said by way of explanation. Maybe. "Pity I can't miss it."

He smiles.

"Send Mistress Ivy in your place?"

"Oh, she'd love that. Hold them all for ransom and cover them in vines..." Jonathon wouldn't have minded terribly. In fact, he might have been proud.