Guards, right. Good. Cameras, and guards, and a show for the masses. Here we go, folks...

Joker thumbs back the hammer on the revolver, the barrel still pointing directly at Grunty's now-sweaty face. The thumbing-back is completely unnecessary here, mechanically speaking, but he wants to see the look in Grunty's eyes when it happens. And he wants to make sure the cameras, if there are any here, have time to get a nice clear view of exactly what he's holding.

"That was better." One purple-suited shoulder lifts in a shrug. "I mean, marginally. And ordinarily, my crude little friend, I don't settle for 'better.' Not when you and I both know you're capable of so much more."

He holds the gun where it is for just a moment, then winks and lowers it. With an ease that suggests he's done this many, many times, Joker decocks the hammer and makes the gun vanish again beneath his jacket. "But fortunately for you, I'm learning about compassion today."

He doesn't take his gaze off Grunty, and he doesn't turn his other hand to reveal what's hidden in his palm. If Grunty's going to do something stupid, Joker knows, it will happen right about now.

"So I'll think we'll call it good enough. If you're satisfied, that is, wretch?"