Joker lets him take his time. That's the other thing about this whole negotiation process, the part it had taken him a while to master in the beginning: you've got to give the other party a little breathing room, got to let them come to the obvious decision on their own. Later, when they're actually on payroll and working a job, he can snap and order all he likes. But at this stage, what's required is patience and a dash of respect.
He does not, after all, want goons who feel like he bullied them into anything. He wants the men (and they are nearly always men) who work for him to know that they chose this of their own free will. That they're invested, as it were, because it was the smart choice for them.
Which, nine times out of ten, he genuinely believes it is. As for the tenth, well... That's a story for another day.
So he waits, and he watches, and he keeps his smile business-friendly, even as his companion's expression signals enough emotions for the both of them. That, too, is no problem. Gotham's henchmen are, in Joker's experience, an unexpectedly but amusingly emotional bunch, and few of them have learned the fine art of smothering everything beneath a neutral expression. There's a reason his men often wear masks when on a job, and it's not just to meet brand expectations.
He doesn't flinch away from the lean-in, when it comes. He doesn't, in fact, respond at all. He just stays put and waits, knowing full well that if buddy boy here tries anything stupid, he'll have a face full of acid before he can say, C'mere, clown. But he doesn't think that'll happen. No, Joker's pretty sure this is just the next round of Dog-B-Sniffs-Dog-A, just his pal testing the waters a bit to make sure he knows what's what. It's fine. Have at it.
And then, there's the sign Joker's waiting for: that teensy hint of a smile, the one that doesn't do much to the guy's face, really, but that still speaks volumes. They may not be quite in business yet, but they're getting very, very close.
"A pleasure." And from the slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes, it certainly looks like he means it. "And I'm the Joker, of course." He says this as if it's so obvious it barely merits saying, as if he's quite certain Mr. Knight here (and what a name that is, my oh my) already knows him by reputation and is simply being polite.
He offers a gloved hand, which for once is devoid of any electric shock buzzers, poisoned pins, or any other such unpleasantries. "Why don't I give you a call, hm? The next time I could use a little assistance. And then you can think over my offer in more detail. See if it seems worth your while."
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He does not, after all, want goons who feel like he bullied them into anything. He wants the men (and they are nearly always men) who work for him to know that they chose this of their own free will. That they're invested, as it were, because it was the smart choice for them.
Which, nine times out of ten, he genuinely believes it is. As for the tenth, well... That's a story for another day.
So he waits, and he watches, and he keeps his smile business-friendly, even as his companion's expression signals enough emotions for the both of them. That, too, is no problem. Gotham's henchmen are, in Joker's experience, an unexpectedly but amusingly emotional bunch, and few of them have learned the fine art of smothering everything beneath a neutral expression. There's a reason his men often wear masks when on a job, and it's not just to meet brand expectations.
He doesn't flinch away from the lean-in, when it comes. He doesn't, in fact, respond at all. He just stays put and waits, knowing full well that if buddy boy here tries anything stupid, he'll have a face full of acid before he can say, C'mere, clown. But he doesn't think that'll happen. No, Joker's pretty sure this is just the next round of Dog-B-Sniffs-Dog-A, just his pal testing the waters a bit to make sure he knows what's what. It's fine. Have at it.
And then, there's the sign Joker's waiting for: that teensy hint of a smile, the one that doesn't do much to the guy's face, really, but that still speaks volumes. They may not be quite in business yet, but they're getting very, very close.
"A pleasure." And from the slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes, it certainly looks like he means it. "And I'm the Joker, of course." He says this as if it's so obvious it barely merits saying, as if he's quite certain Mr. Knight here (and what a name that is, my oh my) already knows him by reputation and is simply being polite.
He offers a gloved hand, which for once is devoid of any electric shock buzzers, poisoned pins, or any other such unpleasantries. "Why don't I give you a call, hm? The next time I could use a little assistance. And then you can think over my offer in more detail. See if it seems worth your while."