"Finished, whew!"
In the Batcave, Dr. Quinzel had dismembered the Joker after opening him up, placing each filthy organ into separate boxes and having Jack store them in the refrigerator. She then removed her blood-soaked gloves and glasses before slowly stretching.
"I've wanted to chop him up for a long time. Mm, I feel much better now."
Barbara, standing nearby, had long since turned her head away. She had not been able to bear watching this sort of thing from the beginning. Gagging, she asked, "Wait, is your work finished just from the autopsy?"
"Yep." Dr. Quinzel tilted her head and cleared her throat with a dry cough. "Ahem, I mean, the current task is done. Next, I still need to look up some information before I can research an antidote."
Stare.
Batwoman narrowed her eyes, the corners of her mouth turning downward in the classic expression of suspicion.
For some reason, she had always felt that this so-called Dr. Quinzel from Another World was suspicious. Yet the Joker calling himself the Pale Knight behaved like a normal person, and his existence made it impossible for Barbara not to believe the whole story.
"Then how long will you need?" Barbara raised one eyebrow, her small hand secretly reaching for the Batarang on her belt.
"How long? That isn't up to me. We'll have to see how things go on Deathstroke's end. I'm a little tired. Mr. Butler, could you show me to a guest room? Pregnancy really is different. It's so easy to get tired, you know. And prepare a big cake for me while you're at it—chocolate flavor."
Batwoman was about to say something else, but Jack had already solicitously supported the doctor. The two of them clustered around the butler as they headed upstairs, talking as they went.