An Unlikely Encounter ch.16

CHAPTER 16

I could feel the Joker's eyes burning a hole in the back of my skull, penetrating deep and making it almost impossible to ignore.

"Here's a question," He asked me finally, "Why did you call me Mister J earlier? The Fuck was that all about? Where'd you get that one from?" He asked, sounding a bit amused.

I cleared my throat a bit, giving myself a moment to think about his question. Honestly, I'm not quite sure why I called the Joker Mr. J. Strangely it just kinda . . . fits . . .

I also thought of this moment as an opportunity. An opportunity to get to know the way he thinks. I looked up at him.

I took a deep breath. "I'll answer your question . . . if you answer my question."

The Joker tilted his head curiously and frowned slightly. I didn't take my eyes off him, and I held my breath, hoping for the best.

The Joker turned his head away slightly and I noticed that he shook with the quiet chuckles that wracked his body.

"Ahh, Kitty." The Joker sighed happily, "You see, this is why I like you. You never learn. Are you telling me, that you're gonna make another deal with the devil?"

I swallowed hard.

"I—"

"You're also treading on dangerously thin ice by being so, uh, bold,"

The Joker licked his lips menacingly. "I could kill you right now. In this very room. In that very spot. At this very second."

I didn't respond.

The Joker lifted his eyebrow. "Tell me, uh, Kit Kat," The Joker purred, "One reason why I should continue to let you live."

He stared at me intensely, making the ability to speak increasingly difficult for me. Finally, I gathered my words.

"I don't have one," I answered in a tiny voice. All sketching long forgotten.

"What?"

"I—I said that I don't have a reason." I replied with a slightly stronger voice.

The Joker stared at me for a long time, not blinking, not moving, just thinking.

He suddenly shook his head, and broke out into a grin.

"Alright," He said, shrugging his shoulders. "Ask ol' Mister J your question."

I tried not to look at him, as his gaze was so penetrating and intense, that my mind faltered for a moment, as I tried to formulate a competent sentence. That when the weight of his words finally settled in.

He was going to let me ask him something.

"Granted, he could still choose to ignore the question. Or not answer it. Or worse; respond with a riddle," I thought morosely.

I picked up my palette and my paints, and began mixing the colors. The distraction of doing something I love usually calms me down.

I inhaled deeply, and focused on phrasing my question accurately. I want to be clear and precise. No wavering, no stuttering, and absolutely no discomfort.

"Remember when you sent me to get one of the hostages? You know that Italian mafia boss guy?" God, what a perfect time to forget names.

The Joker raised a single eyebrow questioningly.

"Ok well, you remember you gave me a paper?"

The Joker tilted his head towards me, and I took this as an affirmation.

"The paper was a list of instructions that instructed me to follow, and given the definite consequences if not applied properly, I made sure to follow each word to the letter."

"What?" The Joker chuckled, finally speaking up, "You want a cookie or something? Oatmeal raisin?"

I shook my head and chuckled nervously, "No Joker, the point I was trying to make was that there was one thing on the list that perplexed me. It was number six, and it said something like, 'If you're still looking at this, then you've already failed'? What did you mean by that? How did I fail?"

"AHA!"

I blinked in surprise.

"You lied little Kitty."

"Wait, what? How did I lie? I didn't—"

"You said you had 'a' question to ask me. You asked me two questions. So now I'm a little uh, confused. Which one do you want? Me. To. Answer?"

I blanched a bit. God, he scared me a little. I am in possession of an extensive knowledge about the Joker's aversion to . . . liars . . .

I gathered my courage, looked at his closed eyes dead—on and repeated, "How did I fail?"

The Joker didn't speak for a few beats, most likely contemplating his reply.

He turned to me.

"How does anyone ever fail Katty Baby, hmm? Ever thought of that one? What exactly does it uh, mean . . . to fail? Last I checked, there are very many ways to do so . . . "

"Of course he wouldn't give me a strait answer," I thought irritated, "That would be way too much to ask for."

The Joker shifted a bit when he caught the look on my face and rolled his in amusement.

"Think Kitty. I'm a man of my word, don't you worry," The Joker shook his finger at me, "I gave you that note for you to think about."

I gave him a sour look.

He sighed, beginning to get annoyed.

"What exactly were you doing when you read the note Kat? Hmm? Start with that. You're a smart girl. I don't wanna hear shit until you figure it the fuck out." He concluded.

He was pretty quiet after that, and true to his word, if I even made the smallest of squeaks, he would open a single eye just to shoot me a dirty look, before leaving me back to my thoughts.

This guy.

Seriously though. I'm glad he thinks I'm smart, that statement alone already leads me to believe that he holds me in some for of respect. But not much I guess, because his incredible vagueness is readily grinding heavily on my nerves . . .

Reluctantly, I observed my artwork, trying to get an angle on it. I usually have a plan for things I want to draw. I always see it in my head and just make the picture come to life on paper. But strangely enough, it's just not happening that way. It almost appears to be just forming on it's own, without requiring any pre—thought or strategy whatsoever.

As I repeatedly lifted the paintbrush softly up and down the canvas, stippling the paint in certain areas, and switching the brushes for certain jobs, the task at hand felt relatively easy—natural in a way. Like I didn't even need to look at anything to know what I was doing.

I was just following my instincts and letting the picture finish itself.

My ministrations continued for a few more moments, before my mind connected the dots.

I squealed excitedly before I could stop myself, and the Joker peered over at me casually, with only a single brow raised, before bursting into hysterics.

"Oh, Kit . . . KitKitKit, your wonders never cease to amaze me. In fact, they just. Keep. Coming," He choked out.

My typical response initially was of course to blush.

I cleared my throat, in an attempt to get his attention. He glanced over at me.

"Uh, yes dear?" He said with a smile, trying to throw me off.

"I think I have it now."

"Good job."

"I think you wanted me to just use my instincts at that point. You didn't want me to have to look at the paper to know what to do right? You wanted me to act."

"Act upon what?" He asked, grinning.

"It doesn't matter what!" I concluded happily.

The Joker began a slow clap and rolled his eyes whimsically.

"Took you long enough," He sighed, as if he believed me to be a hopeless cause, "I was beginning to have a brain aneurism sitting in that same position, bored out of my mind, waiting to you to finish taking your sweet ass time thinking, while you languidly paint on that hunk of wood over there."

I didn't know how to respond to that last comment, so I opted not to.

Instead, the Joker's words had me looking down at the canvas curiously, and to my immense surprise, somewhere in the duration of my sudden insight, I had finished my first piece.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, a little shocked, "Well Mr. J, looks like you can uh, just, move I guess, whenever,"

The Joker inhaled deeply and stretched his arms over his head, cracking various body parts and stretching his constricted muscles with multiple groans of pleasure.

Not surprisingly, his loud noises were accompanied in my brain with explicit images and vivid fantasies that might definitely entice the Joker to making more those noises.

I rolled my eyes at myself. "God I need to get laid," I muttered.

"Oooh? What's this? A request for sex I hear coming from my little sweet, innocent Kitty Kat?" The Joker purred, his body hovering above my canvas.

In my lustful fantasy haze, I hadn't realized that he'd had the time to finish stretching and get that close to me. Shit, I didn't even know I'd spoken ALOUD!

I could only gape at him as a result of extreme mortification.

"Well Katty, baby, I'm sure you have a bit of a, um, tight schedule of the moment . . . but I'll see if I could uh, squeeze in a moment or two . . .

Shit. ShitShitShit. There was no way we could release all this sexual tension in 'a moment or two'. I know it'd at least be a few days before I saw sunlight again if I decided to let him do this now. And I just didn't have that kind of time.

It only took a second for me to find something to distract him with before he managed to make me change my mind.

"Your question!" I blurted out, my voice about three pitches higher than normal. He paused, and tilted his head slightly.

"My question." He repeated.

"Yeah! You know! Remember? Your question? The one that you had for me? The one you wanted to ask? That question?"

I watched the Joker's eyes as he sobered up a bit, that familiar smile slowly returning to his face.

"Ah yes, the question. I recall it being something along the lines of a name that you had recently decided to call me?" The Joker licked his lips, "I kinda like the ring to it. Mr. J huh? How'd you figure that one?"

I stared up at him blankly in response. Honestly, I had no idea where the name derived from, it just fell out of my mouth before I could stop it and there was no explanation for that.

"The only person," Joker continued, "Who's ever dared refer to me with a name other than Joker, was my mother. And she's been, uh, dead . . . for ten years."

I quickly opened my mouth to apologize but he quieted me with a hand.

"It was simply her time, Kitty. She was a crusty old bitch. There's nothing to say." He simply shrugged and kept smiling.

"So tell me," The Joker said, leaning down closer to my face, "Why?"

I inhaled his scent for a moment, basking in his close proximity.

"I—I just . . . wanted to . . ." I replied meekly.

He frowned at me suspiciously. "You just . . . wanted to call me names?"

"No! No!" I cried, my voice all panicky. I shut my eyes and took another breath, "No," I said clearly, with a calmer voice.

I sighed a bit and looked directly into the Joker's dark eyes.

"I wasn't 'calling you names', I just gave you a nickname. And before you ask, I don't know why. I just wanted to—I thought you wouldn't mind it."

The Joker straitened up a bit and scratched his chin in thought. After a long pause, he nodded his head thoughtfully, and gave me one of his prize-winning shark grins.

"Well, Kitty, I like it. It's has a little, uh, ring to it. Mr. J. Sounds official dontcha think?" He looked to me for assurance.

"PSH! Oh yeah!" I agreed enthusiastically, internally breathing a sigh of relief.

The Joker peered over me and observed my completed painting for the first time. He quirked an eyebrow and curled the corners of his lips. He kept glancing at me while viewing the artwork, before his eyes just settled on just staring at the painting.

"I Look fucking sexy," He commented finally, still grinning.

Then he stood up, turned on his heel and headed for the door.

"So good. You're done. Now I can get some fucking slee—"

"Wait!" I called, stopping him before he opened the door, "That was just the first piece! I still need you for the other three!"

The Joker literally growled and spun around angrily striding quickly to his little chair. He sat down hard and crossed his arms childishly.

I looked over at him cautiously. He was glaring at the floor.

"So uh, should I have a goon get us some coffee or—"

The Joker directed his glare to my face.

"Right." I amended quickly. Stupid question.

I sent the Joker an apologetic smile before I walked out the door. The next three days is sure to be eventful . . .

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