[RL - A Visit at Lisa's Place]

[tntandgasoline]

The Joker had his way with things. It was never hard to do something for him; if he wanted something, he got it. It's just how things were. They'd always been like that.

And right now, he wanted to do two things: intimidate Jackson and check up on that darling Lisa, who just so happened to live in a Miami. How he got there was nobody's business; all that mattered was that it was nightfall, and he was standing in front of the door of (hopefully) Lisa's house, a bottle of decent wine (it's so hard to find a good wine when you're a wanted man) in one hand.

He smirked, smoothed back his hair, leaned against the door way and knocked, three times, against the door. Hello, anybody home?

Comments

[tntandgasoline]

"Shh shh shh. I'm not here to hurt you, Lisa, remember?" He held up his hands - look, unarmed, backing away - and internally grumbled at overstepping his boundaries at a time like this. So close. Damn it!

"And I am going, but..." He patted down his jacket, frowning before reaching into one of the interior pockets and pulling out an old, relatively unwrinkled playing card, the jester crouching in silloughette on the front. "If you need anything - really, Lisa, anything - just call me." The number was on the back, printed in sequence through the diamonds, but she probably wouldn't call. Still, better safe than sorry.

[nobaybreezes.livejournal.com]

Lisa's glare softened as he backed away. There was a good chance it had been completely accidental, that he hadn't known she would be so protective of her space but dammit why was she still so jumpy? She reached out and snatched the card from his hand, turning it over in her hands as she made a mental note to talk to her therapist - of course, leaving any mention of plural worlds or the people from them far away from that conversation.

"...Sure." Was her tentative reply. She set the card down on the counter beside her, eying him with unabashed suspicion. "Don't expect to be my first call."

[tntandgasoline]

"You have Clint for your first call," he chuckled, pulling out his gloves and casually slipping them back on his hands, waltzing towards the door. "Just remember, sugar - you're playing a game with that Crane-lookalike and I'm playing on your team."

For now.

He reached the door and swung it open, turning to give her a flourished bow. "Have a great night, Lisa-dear," he sing-songed, "Don't stay up too late with that wine."

At least he knew not to slam the door on his way out.

[nobaybreezes.livejournal.com]

Clint for her first call. Probably not. She considered briefly who would be, but didn't let it bother her for too long because in a moment he was out the door. Immediately, she slumped against the wall and put her hands over her mouth, trying to stem any possible sobbing. Slowly sliding to the floor, she shut her eyes and tried to keep herself from crying.

"Come on, Lis', get up," she coached herself. "He didn't even do anything, he just... get. up." Slowly, clumsily, she got back to her feet and moved to her bedroom to get her cell phone and dial up her therapist. Something had to be done about this twitchy, emotional nature of hers.