Crazy for You - Valeska Brothers x Female OC (Gotham)

31. The Circus Part 2

Jerome's P.O.V

I notice that Sam is still trembling out of the corner of my eye.

I quickly walk up to her, pressing my lips against her ear, in which she flinches against my touch.

"Stop shaking," I whisper so that only she can hear me, and she doesn't even try to stop herself.

Instead, she gets even more scared, her shaking intensifying.

"Did you not hear what I said?" I snarl.

She heard you loud and clear. How do you think you're making her feel any better by shouting in her face?

"I-," she pauses, sighing. "I'm sorry."

Her eyes aren't on me, but are fixed on the floor. She's terrified.

For a good fucking reason, dumbass.

I practically groan in annoyance a the nagging voice in my good 'ol head.

I watch as Sam glances at something behind me, before firmly staring at the floor again, not tearing her eyes away from it for a second. I turn to what she looked at.

It's the Whack-a-Mole residue, which is a person. When Gordon finally figures out where I am, he's gonna have a tough time figuring out who that is.

I chuckle, facing her once more.

"I forgot," I place both of my hands on her arms. "You're too delicate too be seeing this sort of thing..."

She doesn't reply, but instead looks up at me, her fearful expression now replaced with an angry one.

"I wouldn't be seeing these things if you hadn't brought me here," she grits out, her eyes glistening with annoyance.

"You'll get used to it," is the short answer I give in reply, and then turn to the two clowns holding her. "Careful, she'll bolt for it. My advice? Don't let her," I narrow my eyes, and they both nod quickly.

I love being able to tell people what to do! I mean, I always could, but I love doing it without them begging me not to kill them!

... On second thoughts, it's funnier that way.

----

Sam's P.O.V

Me and Bruce are moved around the circus, which is eerily like the one I grew up in.

As we make our way towards wherever the hell we're going, Jerome stops us once in a while, usually playing one of the circus games that ends up with someone being hurt, or killed.

It's not long before we stop at a mirror underneath a small canopy. This must be where the makeup artists used to work. I wonder where they are now.

Bruce is practically forced down onto the chair, and someone runs towards him, face painting tools in their hand.

The man starts doing his work on Bruce's face, but after a second, he looks up at me, and then at Jerome.

"Do you want me to do her?"

Jerome frowns, "Are you implying what I think you are?"