Freedom

Part 1: Ginger Snap

Something seemed different about this one, though. The others were insane, absolutely fucking crazy; they obviously were not the right kind of mad that she wanted to interact with-mainly because they were too serious... Danica glanced at Greenwood, and her lip pursed in disgust-*or too stupid*.

Arkham had a wide variety of felons: intellects; self-righteous and deluded narcissists; the pained and the heart-broken victims of abuse who reacted with survival instincts -the list could be increased ad nauseum.

Danica's curious attention fell in Jerome Velaska-the ever-always grinning, leisurely strolling inmate who strode the floor of the general population as if he were taking a walk through Gotham's park. Danica's right eyebrow always rose with an interest whenever Jerome would holler out with raucous laughter after an inmate would get fatally wounded, either by fork or by spoon.

And today, Danica's interest peaked when Jerome glanced her way and his face seemed to lighten up. He had been seated lazily in a steel chair, arm draped over the back of his chair. From his seat he popped up like a daisy, and once he reached the seat right next to Danica, he slid smoothly into the chair and perched chin on her hand.

Before he could speak, Danica spoke first,

"Good morning." Danica's voice, smooth and dulcet, was inviting, and she didn't hide her interest in him; even if she had attempted to feign disinterest, she was sure that he would be able to see through the charade.

"You," Jerome remarked, "have been watching me like a feline does to a bird." He paused, tapping his jaw with his long fingers. "I like it."

"I was thinking," Danica shrugged.
Jerome gestured for her to keep talking.

"I'm hungry," she casually mentioned, turning her body to fully face him.

"I know that you definitely are not referring to the grub, baby,"-Jerome clicked his tongue-"*Say what is on your mind*."

"I don't want their *shit*," she corrected his phrase for his description of the amenities. "Mmm. I'm in the mood for a ginger snap."

Jerome's small smile widened in amusement and he chuckled. Danica smirked.

"Clever," Jerome remarked, "but not funny."

"No, Darling," she replied, crossing her arms on the table, "that's your department, isn't it?"

"Yes," Jerome said. "But if you're so interested, *Darling*, say what you want."

He rose to his feet, and hopped onto the table and swung his feet over to hang them over the tableside; Danica didn't move, glancing up at him. She liked him. She liked him a lot.

Unpredictable. Handsome. Smooth-talking. Humorous in both dark and light humor.

"*Hmmm*," Jerome almost growled. "Look, babe. I'm a comedian, not a politician. If you *want *something"-(his eyes gazed up and down quickly from head to toe)-"and I know you do, you have to tell me...*exactly*what you need...*from me*."

Jerome wanted no bullshit. No sugar-coated build-up. The only thing that needed to built up was the punch line. Otherwise, if it was anything but a joke, he liked his conversation to go straight to the point. It was not unlike him to want his compadres to fizzle under his fixed, unblinking gaze -she remained unflustered, passive.

Jerome's eyebrows furrowed when she didn't pull back her eye contact.

"I haven't had sex in a while," Danica spoke frankly.

Jerome nodded with consideration,
"I really can't blame you. I wouldn't want any of them putting anything in me either." He smiled. "But, Danica, if you're as 'hungry' as you say are- unless you tell me that you want me to bring you to a corridor and make you say my name,"-he hopped off the table-"then I really can't feed you...*can I*?"

Danica's eyes widened, both in arousal and surprise by his phrasing, and she grinned.

Jerome's hand came to her lips when he lightly tugged on her bottom lip, exposing her bottom teeth,

"Mmm," he muttered, "though I have always wanted a pet of my own."

Danica felt her stomach tumble, the first in a while since the steel doors had slammed behind her. He must have recognized that tumble either through experience or some kind of human understanding, for Jerome released her lip and passed a hand through her blonde hair and whispered into her ear,

"Good girl. When you find those words, you let me know, Kitten."

Danica watched him stride gracefully away; he glanced over his shoulder to see her eyes on him and raised his eyebrows at her flirtatiously, adding a handsome smile.