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HeyThereLittleBear
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Heya Puddin'
[size=-2]It was the opportunity of a lifetime. A chance to expand and finally get a chance to work with the patients that would one day be hers when she was able to get her way through college and get her degree. Until then, she may as well be just a pup tagging along at her father’s heels, holding onto his coattails as he whisked her through the hallways. The opportunity of a lifetime. She had waited for years to be able to even be allowed inside of Arkham, much less to be allowed anywhere near the patients. It had taken so much convincing for the man to even sway, but this past year she had needled and pushed and prodded until he could take no more.
The man had warned her about the type of people that he worked with on a daily basis - the scum of the earth, the whole lot of them. Her father’s sympathetic heart had been hardened from years of dealing with the criminally insane. He had put his everything into the work he’d done there only for the world to once again cut the funding and once again turn their back on the people that were imprisoned inside of the asylum. These people had taken the lives of others in horrible and unthinkable fashions, had tortured and raped, played games with the minds of others… And yet here they were, being examined like animals in captivity.
“Harleen, remember, these people aren’t safe. They’re in here for a reason. All of them are here for a reason.” Her father had repeated these words over and over again like a mantra to her, trying to burn the words into her brain so that it would be impossible for her to forget, even if she got paired with one of the more manipulative. No, he wouldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t be so irresponsible as to let it happen. He had already chosen her patient, a dangerous man but on the softer side of the spectrum. He was a man that was feeble in body and growing even more feeble in mind as he got older, but still someone that would be interesting to her inquisitive young mind.
As her father parked the car, his face was heavy and his movements slow, as if he really didn’t want to leave the safety of the vehicle and didn’t want to take his daughter to the hell that was his work place. “Are you… Sure that this is what you want?” He asked, staring at the steering wheel instead of her face. At seventeen she had retained so much of the innocence in her face of a girl younger than herself, still so much a child at heart that he couldn’t bear to think of taking her into the lion’s den, even at her behest. She didn’t truly know what she was getting into, couldn’t possibly understand even though she had read the books and looked at the case files.
“Yes, daddy,” She offered him a soft smile to assure him, though it only set his heart to racing once again, “I’ve read the files. I can handle him.” Her father couldn’t help but let out another resigned noise, rubbing at his eyes as they exited the car and he lead her into the asylum. The place had seen its better days, the cut in funding resulting in a cut of the better staff members that had required the higher paying salaries. What was left was a motley crew of people that essentially could have manned any low-class hospital, not nearly secure enough to work a place such as Arkham. But it was the best that they could do with what they had. He had already begged for more funding twice and been turned down.
He lead her to the room that she would be spending a majority of her time in, a simple room that had minimal decorations - a large table in the center had two chair on opposite sides, and a small painting from a local artist that had been donated. “Just… Wait here. I have to do my rounds. An orderly will bring him to you.” He pat his hand on her shoulder, attempting to quell her nerves and his own.
Harleen took one of the seats that was vacant, laying her case files on her ‘patient’ out on the table in front of her. She had looked them over until she could almost recite them from memory - Casey Jones, fifty-seven year old man from Gotham, diagnosed with severe paranoid schizophrenia. He had attacked his wife and children while suffering from a delusion and had been remitted to Arkham to carry out his sentence. He was medicated now and mostly harmless, a man that had made a mistake that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
She had just shut the files when there was a soft tap at the door, a tired-looking orderly poking his head in, “Ms. Quinzel?” He pushed the door open, “Got ya psycho for you.” Her brows furrowed a bit as the man drug in someone that was quite obviously not Casey Jones - no, this was someone else. “That’s n--” She stopped herself from making possibly the biggest mistake ever. No, this wasn’t Jones. She had heard of this man before. “Thank you.” She amended herself, smiling nervously at the orderly. This was her chance to prove her father wrong. This was her chance to prove herself as a young psychologist. This man’s mistake was the only way she would ever come in contact with the worst of the worst -- the Joker.[/size]
The man had warned her about the type of people that he worked with on a daily basis - the scum of the earth, the whole lot of them. Her father’s sympathetic heart had been hardened from years of dealing with the criminally insane. He had put his everything into the work he’d done there only for the world to once again cut the funding and once again turn their back on the people that were imprisoned inside of the asylum. These people had taken the lives of others in horrible and unthinkable fashions, had tortured and raped, played games with the minds of others… And yet here they were, being examined like animals in captivity.
“Harleen, remember, these people aren’t safe. They’re in here for a reason. All of them are here for a reason.” Her father had repeated these words over and over again like a mantra to her, trying to burn the words into her brain so that it would be impossible for her to forget, even if she got paired with one of the more manipulative. No, he wouldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t be so irresponsible as to let it happen. He had already chosen her patient, a dangerous man but on the softer side of the spectrum. He was a man that was feeble in body and growing even more feeble in mind as he got older, but still someone that would be interesting to her inquisitive young mind.
As her father parked the car, his face was heavy and his movements slow, as if he really didn’t want to leave the safety of the vehicle and didn’t want to take his daughter to the hell that was his work place. “Are you… Sure that this is what you want?” He asked, staring at the steering wheel instead of her face. At seventeen she had retained so much of the innocence in her face of a girl younger than herself, still so much a child at heart that he couldn’t bear to think of taking her into the lion’s den, even at her behest. She didn’t truly know what she was getting into, couldn’t possibly understand even though she had read the books and looked at the case files.
“Yes, daddy,” She offered him a soft smile to assure him, though it only set his heart to racing once again, “I’ve read the files. I can handle him.” Her father couldn’t help but let out another resigned noise, rubbing at his eyes as they exited the car and he lead her into the asylum. The place had seen its better days, the cut in funding resulting in a cut of the better staff members that had required the higher paying salaries. What was left was a motley crew of people that essentially could have manned any low-class hospital, not nearly secure enough to work a place such as Arkham. But it was the best that they could do with what they had. He had already begged for more funding twice and been turned down.
He lead her to the room that she would be spending a majority of her time in, a simple room that had minimal decorations - a large table in the center had two chair on opposite sides, and a small painting from a local artist that had been donated. “Just… Wait here. I have to do my rounds. An orderly will bring him to you.” He pat his hand on her shoulder, attempting to quell her nerves and his own.
Harleen took one of the seats that was vacant, laying her case files on her ‘patient’ out on the table in front of her. She had looked them over until she could almost recite them from memory - Casey Jones, fifty-seven year old man from Gotham, diagnosed with severe paranoid schizophrenia. He had attacked his wife and children while suffering from a delusion and had been remitted to Arkham to carry out his sentence. He was medicated now and mostly harmless, a man that had made a mistake that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
She had just shut the files when there was a soft tap at the door, a tired-looking orderly poking his head in, “Ms. Quinzel?” He pushed the door open, “Got ya psycho for you.” Her brows furrowed a bit as the man drug in someone that was quite obviously not Casey Jones - no, this was someone else. “That’s n--” She stopped herself from making possibly the biggest mistake ever. No, this wasn’t Jones. She had heard of this man before. “Thank you.” She amended herself, smiling nervously at the orderly. This was her chance to prove her father wrong. This was her chance to prove herself as a young psychologist. This man’s mistake was the only way she would ever come in contact with the worst of the worst -- the Joker.[/size]
