Doctor Jonathan Crane (nightmareserum) wrote in newalliance, @ 2012-05-01 21:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | riddler, scarecrow |
Who: Edward Nigma and Jonathan Crane
Where: Edward's Lair
When: May 1, 2012
What: A look into the everyday lives of criminals...
Rating: PG-13 (drug use, mental break-downs, and even more fighting).
Jonathan ran down the hall, past the computer lap and sliding into the bathroom, upending the bubbling, smoking vial before cursing as he ripped off his glove, holding a burnt finger. He didn’t know how he had managed to create something that resembled an acid when he had simply been trying to perfect a stain remover to get rid of the blood stains that the pair had accumulated after a while of being villains.
Okay, so he was just so blasted bored. He had gone from making more toxin with his limited ingredients, to cooking whatever he could with the very, very meager ingredients in Edward’s refrigerator, all the way to diagnosing the psychosis of various characters on whatever crap Edward watched on Hulu until he got kicked out of the computer room.
He was tired of staring at the same cement walls every day.
He turned on the water to chase the acidic liquid out of the plumbing before it did any damage, leaving the glass in the sink to head back to his wannabe lab, shuffling down the hall in a fit of pique. He missed his life and wanted desperately to return to it.
It didn’t help that Edward was so consumed with his own things that he barely seemed to remember Jonathan was there, stuck, unable to go anywhere or do anything thanks to both Edward’s paranoia and the fact that Jonathan was currently ‘kidnapped’.
Sometimes Eddie would disappear for hours on end, leaving secretly without telling Jonathan when he was busy, distracted or asleep. Eddie would then return, entering through the hallway, which he warned Jonathan not to explore, just as mysteriously, with supplies, which he often dumped unceremoniously upon the kitchen counter. But it was usually stuff that Jonathan would mention needing, this time being the fixings for a roast, including potatoes and radishes. Eddie hadn’t had a home meal cooked for him in a long while. A very long while. He was used to frozen and fast foods, something he could eat while at the keyboard.
The scent filled the hall and made Eddie’s nostrils flair. “What did you do?” he shouted out loud, not knowing where Jonathan was located, but assuming he was still around, if he hadn’t killed himself yet. “This isn’t toxin, is it?”
“I didn’t do anything!” Jonathan called, still sucking on the acid burn on his finger. “Although I discovered that acid is not a decent stain remover,” he shuffled into the kitchen, socks sliding on the floor before he stared at the food on the table, blinking.
He had just mentioned wishing he had the ingredients this morning.
“Edward? Why is there a roast on my table and am I hallucinating it?” he called, wondering if maybe he had inhaled too much of the acidic fumes while he was running down the hall. He blinked up at Edward in question, pushing his new glasses up his nose (another thing Edward had picked up for him).
“You’re an idiot,” Eddie said with a sneer. “Doctor Crane, you’re going to kill us both with your experiments!” He grabbed a bag filled with frozen items and pulled the freezer door with a jerk and threw the bag inside without unpacking or nicely arranging things. “It’s a hallucination. You’re imagining this whole thing. You’re really in a coma, at Gotham Hospital, dreaming all of this.” He smiled to himself and his barb.
“It was perfectly safe!” Jonathan countered, shoving his burnt hand into his pocket before inspecting the ingredients, a soft smile crossing his lips. He forgot about the burn the second he dived into the food, carrying the roast over to the counter to prepare it, running back for the vegetables and spices.
He started mixing the spices, washing his hand before smearing them all over the meat, humming happily. Cooking, much like chemistry, was an artform, and one Jonathan took great pride in.
Granted it wasn’t the same as creating something that could make someone tremble at his feet, but considering the taste of food...it was almost worth the time he spent destroying many a kitchen pot in learning.
“Thank you,” Jonathan said off handedly as he preheated the oven before grabbing a knife, cutting the carrots.
Opening the fridge now, Eddie started unpacking some more, reserving one bottle of root beer for himself. Watching Jonathan happily tend to the groceries, he narrowed his eyes while twisting the bottle cap off. The doctor was full of surprises. He took a swig then wagged his finger in the direction of one of the shopping bags. “Got something else for you, too. That bag, there. If you cook as well as you mix chemicals, we’ll be heating up a pizza tonight.”
Jonathan gave Edward a dirty look, finishing the now stringed carrots, dumping them into a bowl before glancing at the bag Edward had indicated. He looked between his cooking and the bag before giving in to his curiosity and crossing over to the bag, poking at it for a moment just in case it was booby-trapped, before peering in.
“If you weren’t staining your clothes as often, I wouldn’t be...you bought me clothes...” Jonathan said, blinking at the items before pulling them out. he had been complaining about only having one clean pair of his own clothes that weren’t utterly destroyed...and now Edward had provided him with an entirely new set.
Much like the new glasses.
Jonathan felt a flutter in his stomach and shoved it off, frowning at Edward. “Are you trying to tell me I smell?”
“I thought I already did,” Eddie replied, taking another swig. “There’s more.” He wagged his bottle, this time. “You never struck me as the cooking type. Then again, we never had much to talk about at the Asylum.” Eddie crossed the room toward the door, but instead of going through and leaving he turned and leaned against the frame.
Jonathan bit his tongue against asking if insulting him gave Edward some sort of sick thrill, before turning his attention back to the bag, exploring the rest, holding up the boxer briefs with a raised eyebrow in Edward’s direction. “At least you knew what I prefer,” he muttered, folding them back up and examining the shirts. “I like cooking, it’s much like chemistry only more relaxing,” Jonathan said, not looking at the other man as he confessed this secret.
He had never told anyone about his love of cooking, afraid of being teased. “Food is big in the south and learning to cook was something my grandmother actually treated me well during,” Granted, more often then not afterwards he would be locked in the church for the slightest thing, but during those few hours when they were in the kitchen...they were almost a family.
When the oven signaled its pre-heatedness with a happy chime, Jonathan carefully lowered the roast into it, turning on the timer before turning back to the vegetables, shredding the cabbage. “When I was growing up, I always had this stupid fantasy that I when I had children I would have this huge Sunday dinner every week and that stories would be told about the incredible creations I made long after my death...” he snorted, a small smile on his face. “Guess they will...just not for the food.
“The South.” Eddie repeated. “Which part of the South? I’ve heard your accent slip only when you were really upset, so I couldn’t identify. You didn’t have a good relationship with your grandmother?” He quirked his head to the side. This was interesting, a game of role reversal. In the past, it was Crane that was doing the questioning, at Arkham. Eddie directed his wide eyes down at the floor, staring at nothing in particular. “Interesting. I never had any fantasies like that.”
Jonathan’s hand stilled in cutting, lowering his head for a moment as he let his control and tongue slide. “I was born ‘n raised in Greensboro, Georgia, a small town of ‘bout three thousand people,” he said, and there, in all its glory, was his thick accent. He coughed, brain switching back to properly forming his words before speaking, accent vanishing. “And no, I didn't have a good relationship with my Grandmother..well, Great Grandmother actually. She is the reason I’m terrified of crows,”
She was also the reason his body was covered in fine, almost invisible scars that only he seemed to be able to see these days. A reminder of birds, claws, beaks and the woman’s favored tree branch whip.
“You never had any fantasies of growing up, having a family, who you would be when you got older?” he questioned, curious. He knew Edward didn’t have a lot of memories from his past, and judging from what he saw from the man’s x-rays and the most recent CT scans, Jonathan was sure Edward wouldn’t want those memories.
Jonathan sure as hell didn’t want his.
“Terrified of crows, huh? Then you picked an appropriate name, Scarecrow.” He thought for a moment. “It makes sense. But don’t talk Georgian again, alright? Now that’s scary.” His mouth twisted into a smile, but it was short lived. Jonathan’s question about his own dreams made him withdraw inside himself, his eyes becoming hollow and empty as he continued to stare at the floor. He started to sway a little in place. “No,” he finally answered, as if in a dream.
“You’d be scared of those fuckers too if they were pecking at you for hours at a time,” Jonathan muttered, moving on to peeling the potatoes. “And everyone else says my accent is adorable,” He was mid-slice when Edward withdrew and the knife clattered to the floor as Jonathan dashed across the room, reaching out to steady Edward before suddenly withdrawing his hands before he touched the other man, biting his lower lip.
“Edward, it’s alright, focus on me and calm down,” A stupid thing to say considering Edward was calm, just internalizing, but old habits were hard to break and Jonathan was more used to massive attacks from patients. “Why don’t we sit down, you can tell me a riddle,”