"No." Harvey answered. The riots seemed to give the damned clown some sort of energy, the same sort of spark trailing after the mad man's nails. His head tilted at the bites and he remembered that drunken night. The nauseating feeling passed in barely a breath. "They stabbed me in the back."

His thumb pressed into some shallow scar, soft for a halting moment before his touch became violent again, as if remembering. "They don't believe in you." He said, low and harsh, lips curling just a touch as he spoke into the Joker's ear and neck. "They're terrified of you, and the minute you vanish for too long they'll pretend you were a bad dream."