i'm not the killing type, i'm not...

[attending_physician]

Technically, there are request forms that are supposed to be filed if doctors want to get their hands on security footage.

But Harleen has been here long enough and made enough friends on the staff that getting some time to herself with the security recordings is much, much easier.

(She's a doctor, after all. It's not as if she could want them for anything sinister.)



Knowing that the man she's looking for is on the midnight shift narrows her search. She cycles through the DVDs methodically, fast forwarding until a guard approaches the Joker's door, pushing play to see if he enters.

Comments

[attending_physician]

Harleen, meanwhile, managed to get all the way back to the records room without looking like she had been threatening anybody. She drops the scissors on a desk and starts gathering up the DVDs to put back.

The one she was watching earlier is still in the machine.

(She's tired. She wants to go home and open a bottle of wine and figure out if she's in the middle of a nervous breakdown.)

She pushes play.

[manofmyword]

Hawkins onscreen concludes his business and leaves, taking the gun with him.

The Joker rubs the underside of his jaw, and retrieves his blanket (but not his clothes), and licks his lips (slower than usual, more like he's tasting them), and snuggles down in bed.

After half a minute, his shoulders start to shake. He ducks his face down, pressing it against the mattress; when he brings a hand up to wipe his eyes, his fingers are wet in the second before he tucks them back under the blanket.

[attending_physician]

"Well, fuck."

She puts the rest of the disks carefully away, then collects her scissors and heads for the door.

Time to get out of here.