Freedom

Part 32: Don't Touch My Stuff

The television reported, "...Maniax. There was a report filed by Harvey Bolluck, who subsequently stated that he had been held hostage by Danica Bauer, a seventh escapeed inmate of Arkham Asylum. She is warned to be armed and dangerous. Her diagnosis is extreme borderline personality disorder with a flair for artistic crimes, theft, drug abuse, kidnapping, and murder. Bauer is said to have killed her father at the age of 18. She was victim of sex trafficking, physical and emotional abuse. She is manipulative, cunning, resourceful, and is competent in close combat. Her whereabouts are unknown. This a recent mugshot but since her photo was taken, she is distinguishable by two scars on her face, blonde hair, and several-"

Galavan switched off the news as the morning news showed her mug photo. He showed the report to the rest of the team.

Jerome looked at Danica. "Well, that explains why you wouldn't tell me how many men you've been with, doesn't it?"

Danica kissed her teeth, annoyed, and looked at her lover, "Well, in Arkham, it didn't exactly present itself as a pressing issue."

"I'm not mad," Jerome reassured her. With a wave of his hands, he said, "Parents. Who could judge, really?"

"Jerome makes a fair point." Galavan concurred. "Danica, this isn't about your past."

"Even so, what could be done, right?" Danica stated as she reached for a glass of wine. She turned to them all. "To clarify, I was only turned out to the people who'd purchase product from my father."

Greenwood scoffed, "Yeah, which means 80% of Gotham. Face it, baby, you were a drug fuck-Aaah!"

Jerome had subsequently stabbed Greenwood's hand with the fork. The fucking thing went straight through, erect. While the act was crude and violent, the table guests didn't react. Galavan glanced at Jerome with a gentle, fatherly disappointed gaze; then turned his sight onto Greenwood.

"Robert," he said. "That was rude."

"The fucking brat knows it's true!" Greenwood called out as he pulled the fork out of his hand.

"This fucking brat," Jerome whispered darkly, "didn't call her a 'drug fuck'."

Danica made a small smile. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

Galavan sliced a piece of meat on his plate. He let the table in admissable silence before speaking.

"To settle this," Galavan said. "Jerome. It was rude to stab Robert in the hand. I do admire your defense for Danica, but as I've said before: this relationship that you both have are not to affect the team. However, Robert, your speculation of her past doesn't have to be voiced-especially in such a crude manner. Danica is still a woman."

"I ate a dozen women-" Greenwood began. But Jerome cut him short,

"Seriously. Again with this schtik. Not as impressive as you think, Greenwood."

"Jerome-" Greenwood started again angrily, but Galavan smacked a hand hard on the table.

Danica jumped.

Galavan turned to Danica.
"The point of this dinner has to be made now or we will never get through the second course. Danica," he breathed, obtaining his original, collected nature. "I wanted to commend you on your performance this afternoon. Very creative. I understand you brought 'a gift'?"

"I did!" Danica said with a childish delight.

Galavan gestured for a servant to bring in the canvas of Harvey Bullock. The servant dramatically removed the sheet over it. It has smeared considerably, due to the sheet, and Danica's expression showed her anger.

Galavan glanced at the servant. "What deemed it necessary to cover it with a sheet?"

"For effect," said the servant. He looked nervously at the table guests.

Danica rose to her feet. She indicated the painting, "Do you know what I went through the make this? Your stupid sheet ruined what I had to make in 5 hours within ten minutes!"

Jerome jumped up and strode around the table, observing the painting.

"I like it," he said with a grin. "Dark and messy. Reminds me of you a little bit." Then he turned to the servant. "But she's right. You fucked up."

Galavan shrugged when the servant turned to him hopefully, but he didn't stop them when Danica punched the servant in the ribs. Jerome bent down on his knees to look down at the bleeding man,

"She really doesn't like it when people don't appreciate her things. And as bi-polar as she is, I don't like it when people touch my things."

Jerome shrugged. "Everyone has their trigger. So, tough cookies."

He stood to his feet and went back to the table.

Galavan let Danica assault his servant for a few more blows before pulling her back to the table.

"Too much of a good thing," he sighed. "Danica, you've got an impulse control problem. Not bad in certain circumstances. But bad in others. Come sit."

Jerome saw her face twitch. He caught her eye, patted the seat beside him furtively without Galavan suspecting the sway in loyalty. Danica joined them. Jerome steadied his hand on her thigh, and he squeezed approvingly.