Wilson looked at Joker and forced his brain into overdrive, trying to remember.
For a moment, he felt grateful that Red Hood and the others had never kept him out of their conversations.
As an ordinary man who did not know the full story, Wilson had only half understood what they had discussed.
But at least he could scrape together a few solid details to interest Joker.
Otherwise, with nothing to tell her, he would probably end up being tortured horribly.
Wilson slowly rolled his eyes, pushing an ordinary middle-aged man's wits to their limit.
He tried starting with the virus.
But barely had he begun when Joker impatiently waved a hand and cut him off.
"I'm not interested in that stuff. Tell me, where has my friend gone into hiding?"
Wilson paled, but after nervously swallowing, he cautiously asked a question in return.
"Who is your friend?"
"Aha!" The question seemed to flip a switch in Joker.
Wilson watched her jump down from the chair, then begin swaying back and forth amid the light and shadows cast by the desk lamp.
He watched in terror for quite a while before realizing that she seemed to be performing some sort of play.
Accompanying that stiff-jointed dance, a song with oddly cadenced syllables spilled from Joker's lips.
"When night chews up the final thread of light,
Clad in ink, you grow out of the shadows-
No clamor, no medals,
Only pitch-black wings sweeping past cold walls.
I paint absurdity, you carve propriety,
I sow chaos, you build walls,
You chase the shadows, I laugh and hide, we are two sides of a coin-without either, there isn't madness enough.
No need to give your name, no need to strip away your disguise,
As long as I laugh, you'll arrive right