Who: Dr. Jonathan Crane and Dr. Harleen Quinzel What: Meeting When: Wednesday, late night Where: Arkham Asylum Rating: PG Status: In progress
Dr. Jonathan Crane was not one to pay much attention to any of his colleagues that worked at Arkham. There was no need, really, given his tendencies to stick to himself, his devotion to his research precluded any sort of interactions other than the occasional brief passing and exchange within the halls. Of course, that didn't mean that he didn't at least know who was there. To some extent, partially. Such as with the new addition to the staff, mentioned in the memo recently. Dr. Har... Charles? Charles Quinten? Something to that effect. He didn't really pay much attention, not noting anything worthwhile mentioned. More than likely just another name and face that chances were he wouldn't even see.
Especially since he only made a few appearances at the asylum. Most of his true patients and work was done at a more private location. Patients was of course a loose term, given that they weren't really willing subjects, nor were they really registered as being in his care. If care was indeed the proper term. Lab rats would be a more accurate term, though not something that he would mention, given he did have a professional appearance to maintain. Especially if he hoped to complete his research. Oh, sure, let the other doctors go about their supposed cures with barbaric torture of drugs that clouded the mind, or rudimentary shock therapy that likely did more damage than help. No, Dr Crane knew that to get beyond their madness meant getting past their fears. That truly understanding fear was the key.
He was close, he knew it. He'd come close to truly freeing the city, though his efforts had been thwarted by the Bat. The Bat. Somehow, the Bat had managed to derive an antidote for his toxin so quickly, that had been quite surprising. Crane needed a new formula for it, one that was stronger and not so easily remedied.
Stopping by the asylum late at night, he headed to his office, picking up the folders of the new cases that he'd been assigned as well as reports on his old 'cases', those of Falcone's gang that he'd had declared insane so that they would get out of being prosecuted. It sucked being tied to the mob like that, but, at least it had given him income to do his research and no questions were asked. Now, everything was being funded by himself, which meant actual work now and then. More 'now' than 'then', unfortunately. Absorbed in his thoughts, he failed to notice the sounds of someone else walking down the hall until he'd collided into them. "Terribly sorry," he said, gathering up his scattered files. "I wasn't aware of my surroundings." He glanced up, noting the unfamiliar face. Not a patient, but... not one of the doctors he knew, either. "Can I be of assistance?"