“And how would they know me, unless someone has a big mouth,” Scarecrow asked, raising an eyebrow as he studied Jack, eager to spray the man with his toxin and climb behind the man's smile to see what made him scream. But he would wait, anticipation making the reward that much sweeter.
He grinned widely as Jack continued speaking, the images the man painted as pleasurable to him as the best pornography in the worlds. He did so adore having a town at his mercy and it had been far too long since he got to indulge in full scale panic. “And what will you be doing while I turn them into sobbing wrecks? There's not much in this City that would interest someone like you...excluding the Bat, but I haven't seen hide or hair of him yet, and ours would have been here the moment her heard it was opening again. So far, all I've had is a Doctor Lecter....and the Nigma slut.”
Scarecrow bounced slowly in his chair, blue eyes never leaving Jack's form, whispering softly under his breath, something he tended to do when thinking. “Tombstone Harry of Spring Grove Cemetery, how does your garden grow? With broken skulls and rotting hulls and brittle bones all in a row....” He suddenly sat up straight. “I need a horse.”