"You don't--" he started, words spilling out of his mouth messily among chuckles, far slower than he was thinking and it was frustrating-- and then Joker was in his lap, the weight heavy and uncomfortable and disgusting.

It was just happening too fast for him to comprehend and for however angry or frustrated he got, the more he laughed and laughed-- Yes, this was probably hell.

He slumped against the chair, just smiling up at Joker, the hand that was at his mouth before now at Joker's chest, grasping his shirt, twisting, but making no other move, "This is... compromising, hahaha."