Joker's brows rise in an involuntary show of genuine incredulity.
Because he understands Bats perfectly, of course. Batman is letting him know that no, goddammit, he is not the kind of vigilante who fucks on the seven-hundredth date. He wants to be pursued a little more, thank you. See at least a few dozen more people killed as a courtship offering. Perhaps for their thousandth dance...
So the objection, somehow, isn't actually about Joker at all. It's about the pace of all of this. That to go back with him now, to let Joker bury himself balls-deep in him and use and defile him, is an issue simply because it would be happening too fast.
All these years together, and it's just too fast.
That's honestly the funniest thing Joker's heard in months, and these have been some memorable months, too.
He lets out a bark of a laugh, and then that fabulous eye contact between them is broken, and he lets go of Bats's wrist. He runs the fingertips of his other hand over his browbone, closing his eyes, and he can't help it: he's laughing again, harder this time.
Whoever would have thought that Batman would prove such a needy little bitch?
"Oh, God." He opens his eyes and looks back at Bats, and with visible effort, he gets his laughter under control enough to speak. "Look – I meant, we should go somewhere where we can have an actual conversation. A more candid one, for once. Not our forte, I know, but..."
He knows full well he never explicitly said anything about anything else. Not once did he say, Bats, what say you and me spend the next few days playing hide-the-pickle? No, all of that was in the subtext. And subtext, as Joker well knows, is damned hard to prove.
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Because he understands Bats perfectly, of course. Batman is letting him know that no, goddammit, he is not the kind of vigilante who fucks on the seven-hundredth date. He wants to be pursued a little more, thank you. See at least a few dozen more people killed as a courtship offering. Perhaps for their thousandth dance...
So the objection, somehow, isn't actually about Joker at all. It's about the pace of all of this. That to go back with him now, to let Joker bury himself balls-deep in him and use and defile him, is an issue simply because it would be happening too fast.
All these years together, and it's just too fast.
That's honestly the funniest thing Joker's heard in months, and these have been some memorable months, too.
He lets out a bark of a laugh, and then that fabulous eye contact between them is broken, and he lets go of Bats's wrist. He runs the fingertips of his other hand over his browbone, closing his eyes, and he can't help it: he's laughing again, harder this time.
Whoever would have thought that Batman would prove such a needy little bitch?
"Oh, God." He opens his eyes and looks back at Bats, and with visible effort, he gets his laughter under control enough to speak. "Look – I meant, we should go somewhere where we can have an actual conversation. A more candid one, for once. Not our forte, I know, but..."
He knows full well he never explicitly said anything about anything else. Not once did he say, Bats, what say you and me spend the next few days playing hide-the-pickle? No, all of that was in the subtext. And subtext, as Joker well knows, is damned hard to prove.