FREAKS || Jerome Valeska¹

43 || Where's My Doll?

"Wow." Jerome Valeska mused with wide eyes, clapping his hands, impressed. Leslie was not. She was both afraid and clueless about how to escape this unscathed. "Well, that is quite a story. You know, I know I've been dead, but doesn't that seem kinda crazy to you?"

The doctor feigned worry. "Hey, maybe you're dreaming." She suggested sarcastically. "Try shooting yourself."

Jerome almost rolled his eyes, finding it amusing that she believed he was stupid. Nonetheless, he decided to play alone and feigned confusion. "Huh. Oh..." He looked at the gun in his hand and placed it against his temple. Leslie stared with anticipation, hoping he would do it, but Jerome wouldn't give her that. "Nah." He removed the gun, pointing it back at the doctor, who rolled her eyes. "Hey, tell me more about this cult. They think I'm pretty great, huh?" He grinned cockily.

Her face twisted with disgust. "They're a bunch of raving lunatics and idiots."

Jerome sat up, amazed. "Lunatics and idiots?" He repeated with a dramatic gasp, like a child on Christmas morning, and got off the counter. "Ooh, my kind of people." He mused, starting to pace, but was quickly halted by a weird, fuzzy feeling attacking his brain. The ginger began to gag and twitch unnaturally; Lee grimaced, likening the sound to that of a choking cat.

Jerome coughed and turned back to the doctor. "Sorry." He apologized insincerely, trying to clear his throat. A groan came as he crouched slightly to the woman's size. "Head's still a little fuzzy. You know, I was just reborn. Last year was nothing but darkness... as far as the eye can see." He whispered, scrutinizing her. He stared for a while before his head cocked to the side, realization coming upon him. "I know you, right?"

The dark-haired woman blinked, bored. "Yep."

"Hey -" He stood up straight, a cocky expression sprawled across. His mood changed a little. "Did you and I ever, uh -" Jerome trailed off, placing the weapon against his hips, rocking them while he clicked his tongue.

Leslie's face fell with disgust. "Oh, God, no."

Jerome's shoulders sagged at her tone, and he leaned closer. "Why? Gingers not your type?" He teased, still visibly scanning her face. If they'd never been an item, then she had to be someone he had encountered before. A victim?

"Breathe, James. I haven't touched a hair on your girlfriend's pretty head."

It all rushed back with ease. He immediately took her by the throat. "Oh, I remember. You're Jim Gordon's little -" He trailed off, sticking his tongue out, pretending he was going to lick her jaw and growling, trying to repulse her. It worked because Leslie recoiled her head back in an attempt to move away. "twinkie."

"Easy." She scolded.

Jerome let her go but still kept the gun pointed. His eyes showed curiosity. All he knew was that a year had passed, meaning a shit ton of things had happened. "How's it going between you and Jimbo? Huh?" He inquired, staying face-to-face with the older woman. "You still together or -"

Leslie shook her head. "No."

"No?" Jerome whined disappointedly. Then again, since when did everyone else's misfortunes matter to him? "Oh, that's a shame. I really liked you guys." Was stated almost half-heartedly. Leaning a hand against the metal M.E. table, he assumed a pose as if he was ready to hear whatever she wanted to confide. "What happened?"

Lee hesitated, fully aware he didn't genuinely care. Discussing her issues with someone like him felt strange, but she replied with the same annoyed tone. "He killed my husband on our wedding night."

Jerome's eyes widened with surprise. James Gordon, what a little menace. A series of croaky, amused chuckles began rolling out.

Lee rolled her eyes. "Glad you find it funny."