You wanna know what I think?

Chapter 17

Hope you like this one...

Thanks to Ripley10 for making it American and readable. :)

Chapter 17

"So how long are you staying?" Jane asked and took the empty breakfast plates to the sink.

"You make me sound like a fucking lodger," the Joker grunted drumming his fingers on the table top.

Jane looked back at him, his face was clear of paint but he looked distracted.

"What's up?"

"Dunno," he murmured and stood up. "I got you that post office box if you're interested still... look, I need to just..." He swore and made his way over to the room he had and went in shutting the door behind him. Jane made a face and began clearing the dishes before heading to her laptop.

Jane was lost. Her entire awareness was on the characters on her screen. She didn't see words; she saw images in her head. She was completely immersed in her plot line when the door flew open and banged against the wall loudly, it made her squeal and jump.

"I'm fucking starving!" growled the Joker from where he stood in the doorway, his face as black as thunder. "Do you know what time it is?"

Jane blinked at him, three-quarters of her still at the Circle Q ranch where Billy, her hero, lived.

"He's just struck oil," she said stupidly and went straight back to tapping on the keys. "He's just too damn pig-headed to lower himself to selling some of the land rights off, but he will," she murmured to herself.

"What?" he grunted and shook his head, going out again, but leaving the door open. Jane tried hard to get Billy to co-operate but the banging of pans in the kitchen made her save the document with a sigh and get up. She stretched the kinks out of her back and slapped a hand over her stomach when it growled in hunger. She made her way out of the room and stopped short when she saw it was late afternoon.

"Damn, is that really the time?" she asked and went to the breakfast bar to slide onto the stool.

"Apparently so," he grunted and battled with the can opener before dumping meatballs into a saucepan and slapping it onto the stove. He turned the burner on and stood opposite her at the bar. He placed his palms on the top and leaned towards her slightly.

"Did you spend the last couple of days just typing?" he asked.

"Yup, pretty much." She yawned and covered her mouth. "Do you want me take over there?"

"Nope," he shook his head. "I can heat meatballs, Janey."

"Didn't say you couldn't," she replied calmly. "I didn't realize what the time was. I can't believe that I've spent all day in there. I was sure it was only a couple of hours."

"You must have nearly finished this one by now," he remarked and sucked on his scars.

"Yeah, pretty much," she said quietly and stared at a spot on the breakfast bar, her mind already wandering back to her plot line. "It's actually a rewrite. I had it finished and boxed on top of the wardrobe, but it went up in flames with the rest of my stuff. It's funny really, but it's not going the same way as it did before. He didn't create nearly as many problems as he has this time." She rubbed at the spot and shrugged, sliding off the stool and going back toward the bedroom.

"Where are you going?" he called irritatedly.

"Yeah," she replied vaguely and sat back at the laptop, and lifting the lid, disappeared behind the screen.