Jack was making his way back to the Asylum. His home away from... well. Nothing, really. Aside from being on an island, it was still pretty much right in the middle of everything. He traipsed up the path from the gates at the end of the road, gates that hadn't been locked shut in far too long. He was here to pick up a few things, items he wanted in order to plan his next move. Maybe some things that had nothing to do with this next move at all.
He spied the figure in the distance and squinted to see who it was. The silhouette cut out of the front of the building, but he couldn't quite put a name to it yet, too much sun and shadow.
Still, feeling playful, he put on his most happy face. "Fe Fi Fo Fum, I smell the blood of a ...oh. It's just you." Jack rolled his eyes, passing Jonathan Crane with only a small wave. "Are you in our out, man, I got shit to do and I don't have all day to sit here with you and watch while you poke around in your butt with your thumb."
Jack paused a moment, noting the coat and the blood. "What did you do, crawl out a window? You know the doors just open with a push of a button, right?"
There was all the chance in the world that this wasn't a Dr Crane who was familiar with the workings of Arkham Asylum, but Jack wasn't about to treat him any differently. Any Scarecrow should be aware that a run down Arkham didn't exactly function the way that it should. At least in Jack's mind that's the way things were.