Paper Planes

XXXIX

"Sometimes divulging your vulnerabilities without any kind of filter can make you more human, but then again, it can also provide material that can be used against you."
—Tonya Hurley

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"What's Arkham like?" Ember innocently wondered, twirling a strand of hair around her index finger. Her slender legs rocked back and forth as she sat planted on the wooden kitchen stool, her ankles colliding with the wood when she accidentally swung them back too far.

"Oho," Joker snickered, standing directly across from her at the kitchen island, a blue ball-point pen laced in his grasp. His eyes flickered upward, meeting her curious gaze as his tongue toyed with the corner of his mouth.

"I thought you'd never ask."

The pen toppled from his grasp, his arms meeting the granite counter as the inky black dress shirt bunched up at his elbows upon contact.

"What'cha wanna know?"

"I dunno," Ember murmured, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. The visuals of Joker possibly being tortured in the institution made her stomach violently churn. "Just tell me anything."

Joker smacked his heavily colored lips, arms straightening against the cool counter as his fingers soothingly met hers.

"They hated me from the second I walked in the door." Joker dryly explained, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Why?" Ember gawked, running the pad of her pointer finger along the calloused skin of his thumb.

"Don't-uh, act like you didn't hate my guts at one time too, toots." He playfully mocked, bottom lip pouting out to blow a stray curl from his black holes for eyes.

"I had a good reason to. You killed my husband." Ember promptly defended.

"And I tore apart their city." Joker pressed, gaze darkening as he hastily tugged his fingers from her desperate hold.

"Anywho, they stripped me down as soon as I go-t there. Took all my knives, my clothes..." Joker trailed off, wincing at the memory of the guards blatantly beating him out of pure distaste. His ribcage was bruised for a solid three months.

"They-uh, tried so hard to get the necklace. Ended up lettin' me keep it 'cuz I bea-t the shit out of some guard name Morrissey."

Ember's brows raised compassionately at his confession.

"You wanted to keep it that bad? Even though I was probably good as dead to you?" She shyly inquired.

Joker exhaled heavily, gaze diverting to meet his colorant-stained hands atop the counter.

"I'm nothing without this damn thing."

Ember inched forward, balancing her weight on the stool with the soles of her bare feet as her palm met Joker's white cheek. His softened stare met hers instantly, going lax under her comforting touch as he buried his nose into her palm, lips grazing the skin as he pressed a shy kiss to the flesh.