"He said he'd come back? Really? Did he say it himself? You didn't hear wrong? When?"
Joker's face drew close to Barbara's. His pale face was covered in cracks and blood, yet he was smiling happily, his eyes brimming with excitement.
"Yeah, he told me to go back to Gotham and wait for him. He didn't say exactly when, though. There aren't many people at the Hall of Justice. Why don't we raid it?"
Barbara leaned against a nearby railing. As she answered Joker's questions, she forcefully pressed down the swollen skin on her palm. It looked like a huge blister.
Joker sniffed and raised a hand to wipe his face. "Without Gotham, she isn't the Bat at all. You wouldn't understand! I only want the Bat!"
"Fine, you're the boss. Your call. So what do we do next?"
Barbara showed a strange smile and stuck out her long tongue to lick the corner of her mouth.
Joker jumped onto a park bench nearby. He did not care about the damp wood at all. Instead, he happily watched the dark clouds overhead. The mark Batwoman had left among them was becoming increasingly distinct.
"Go back to the Hall of Justice. I'll have Bane and Butterfly make some noise. Make sure Batwoman gets to our performance on time."
"Fine, but I need an excuse. An excuse for disobeying orders."
Barbara touched her neck, then adjusted the hair atop her head.
Joker fell silent. His gaze gradually deepened, then he suddenly burst into laughter, as though he had heard some hilarious joke.
"An excuse, of course, an excuse. Let me think... ah, what should we use? There are too many excuses." He wiped at his tears, raked his hair back, stuffed all ten fingers into his mouth, and muttered, "Of course, a