Jason sat at the head of the formal dining table at the penthouse. He was dressed in a full tuxedo with a perfect purple bowtie and cumberbun. It was his first time to act as the head of the table. Come to think of it, he's never even eaten at this table before. J never used it, not in Jason's presence anyway. So Jason figures its high time that somebody used it. It was a very beautiful and ornate table. The silverware was real silver. The dishes, all matching fine china. The glasses were all crystal. The table looked like royalty would be dining there this evening.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Jason might have even felt a bit nervous. The Joker had drilled it into his head, that he 'had to be able to fool those closest to the Joker'. But in this particular circumstance, he has to fool someone who knew Jason best. Therefore, his performance would have to be an immaculate perfection. So Jason pulls on the Joker's poker face. He glances up through slightly narrowed eyes. He reaches for his glass of wine. He plays over all the dinner etiquette J had taught him. Three fingers, three fingers on the glass and use the thumb to hold. Pinky bent and neatly tucked out of the way. He raises his glass and takes a drink. A perfect execution.
At the opposite end of the table Alfred sat, staring blankly at Jason. He wonders if every night was like this in the Joker's lair? So...formal? Things were only this formal at Wayne Manor when Master Bruce was throwing a party. At each side of the table, halfway between he and Jason, sat Frost and Ace. Both looked like they would rather be anywhere other than at that table. The chef comes out, And Alfred is rather surprised to know that the Joker employs a chef. The chef passes out plates with Hors D'oeuvres beautifully arranged.
Alfred is tempted to look at what the dish was, but he couldn't help but watch Jason as he unfolded his dinner napkin and lay it in his lap. He didn't even move like Jason anymore. Alfred must have gotten on to Jason daily for slouching. But now, there he was, sitting arrow straight, and as proper as royalty. Something that he must have learned from the Joker. Alfred was searching for some tiny insignificance to prove that this person was the boy he used to make lunch for, that he had bandaged, and that he loved. So far, all he could see was the Joker. As if Jason had truly become the Joker.
"So Al," Jason suddenly says, his shaved eyebrows arched upward, "it must be quite a change for you to be served, as opposed to serving." And Jason knows Alfred deserves it, even if only once in his life. But then, Jason mentally slaps himself for being sympathetic. The Joker would be anything but sympathetic. He softly clears his throat.
Alfred unfolds his dinner napkin and lays it neatly across his lap. "Indeed Master Joker, sir," he says in his normal perfect tone. He knew better than to show any fear. He would treat this as if he were a gracious guest. He would be cordial and polite. But he couldn't promise that he wouldn't be sarcastic. "Tell me, wherever did you ever find such fine china? It's remarkably beautiful."
"You are too kind," Jason says, "as far as you wanting to know if I purchased it, or stole it, I'm afraid I'm not sure. As you see, my memory can be fuzzy at times. But perhaps one of these fine gentleman," he looks from Frost to Ace, "might recall the origin of the China more accurately. What about it boys? Do either of you know where the China was obtained?"
