Jonathan licked his lips, staring at the money. He wasn't sure how much was there, but it seemed to be more then enough to get him set up in New York, far way from bitter memories and the pain held within.
"Two weeks?" Jonathan asked, glancing at Joker. "And how do you know that won't buy you only a gallon?" he asked, wondering what was going on in the clowns mind.
Not that it was even close to an accurate number. He had two gallons of toxin in the backroom of the clinic just as extras. Two weeks, provided he actually ate or slept, could produce over one hundred galleons, two hundred if he worked until passing out.
"What sort of container do you want? Delivery system? I can make the toxin as a liquid, but it won't do much unless you inject it into a person or get them to drink it, aresol is most common and what I use on most nights, but there's also powdered, solid..."