Has he really not bothered to give Skippy his name yet? Huh. Funny, how easily one little altercation can distract...

Ah, well. Easy enough to correct now. Joker looks over at his useful new pal and raises a brow, as if surprised that an actual introduction should be necessary for a man like himself. "I'm the Joker, of course."

What he'd really like to ask is how a guy manages to get through a few thousand years, with powers no less, and somehow remain the living embodiment of a Pollyanna, but that seems like the wrong way to go about making friends. So he chooses instead to pursue the other scrap of information he's just been given, even though it doesn't sound particularly promising. In Gotham, after all, Joker was surrounded by people who liked to come up with and name concepts, and virtually none of them were any fun. But if Hythie's that old, maybe he did come up with something fresh.

"So what was it you named?" Probably not a death machine. Probably not a bullshit psychological concept, either. "No, wait, let me guess... Seasonal dance number?"

The elevator dings for the sixth floor, and Joker leads the way to the apartment proper.

"One of those ones with fair young maidens and a meaningful tree."