(no subject)

[notmydiagnosis]

The bat-man.

The very name made Johnathan Crane twitch, even though he wasn't even in Gotham. The roads were dusty, dingy. Difficult. But he'd personally requested to assess the Slayers, and Castle, upon hearing he was one of the brightest minds in Arkham, readily agreed.

'So long as none of my beauties go missing, huh?'

And of course, Crane had promised. Crane was a man of his word. None of them would go missing, because Crane had no intention. He had his eye on one Slayer and one Slayer only.

It was long and arduous and by the time he arrived at the prison compound he could already feel the headache spreading from his temples all the way to the bridge of his nose. The other interviews didn't help, either--clinically diagnosing those he already knew to be insane.

But, finally, the room was empty and Crane was left with just his paperwork and his headache.

"Dr. Crane?"

He looked up, brows raised.

"Kable is outside."

"Good. Send him in."

Comments

[slayer_not_player]

If the implication about his intelligence was supposed to get a rise out of him, it didn't succeed. Tillman merely lay back on his cot and rested his head on one forearm, his left knee bent so he could get up quicker if he needed to.

"It's just Tillman," he said softly as the door creaked open.

[notmydiagnosis]

"Tillman," Crane repeated, clasping his hands together and nodding. "Excellent. You start tomorrow, when I can get you out of here without much fuss. I've taken the liberty of putting you here in solitary confinement so as not to upset the other patients, or have them upset you." He was concerned about people like Croc and Bane--because as good as Tillman was, Crane doubted he'd last five seconds versus Clayface.

Taking a step forward, Crane extended a hand to shake.

"I'm looking forward to working with you."

I'm looking forward to figuring out what you fear most. What makes you tick. What makes those blue eyes widen in terror.

Crane nodded to himself. "I imagine this will be much easier than the Slayers regime."

[slayer_not_player]

Tillman's handshake was firm and confident and he might have held on a second longer than he needed to. Physical contact had been pretty scarce in the past two years, and the kind that he had received had largely been attempts at his life or being cuffed or otherwise dominated. The last person he had shaken hands with was his lawyer.

Crane's hand was soft and just a little cold. Tillman released him and lay back to stare at the ceiling once more. "See you later, Doc," was all he said.

The door clicked shut, the harsh heavy sound of metal on metal temporarily shattering the silence. Tillman closed his eyes and listened but after the walls absorbed the resounding clatter, there was nothing but silence. No footsteps in the halls, no murmur of guards, no screaming prisoners talking through the walls. It might have been relaxing if it weren't for the knowledge that he was in an asylum. He hadn't taken an insanity plea for a reason and yet here he was. Two years into a sentence, half a year away from freedom, and here he was at square one in a dank, shadowy little cell.

Tillman traced the letters of his tattoo without looking at it. Just a little bit longer.