a dance of doves & crows ( jonathan crane )

introspection and inebriation .

notes : KIFGBHIKEFJCBEDHJFND this chapter. lord. i love this chapter. literally no warnings, all dumbassery ; jon's neurotic side really comes out this time, it was so much fun to write :) also scarecrow is a DWEEB !

song of the chapter : she said - the jins

I can't believe you let her walk out, Scarecrow repeated for the umpteenth time that night, sulking about and scolding Crane for his "slip up". He muttered about it for the rest of the work day, all the way home, and for several hours afterwards while Crane kept himself idle in his Gotham apartment.

I'm aware. Can we focus now, please?

Years of his work remained sprawled out on his desk, notes upon notes of toxin reports reflecting his frazzled state. Loose papers, annotated text books, entire college-ruled notebooks filled with his handwriting scattered about, horrifyingly unorganized at the moment.

While it's all spread out like this, it refocused him and reminded Jonathan Crane of who he was. Even he could fall victim to losing his way, and his behavior earlier in the day proved that. He didn't think he was ready to self-reflect on as to why, though.

Focus on what?

Normally, his notes and everything pertaining to his work were organized reverse-alphabetically in a briefcase under a false floorboard — but... he did idle things when he was unable to sleep. Or do anything else. There was nothing to take notes on, nothing to write a report about, nothing to clean... so he reorganized. Again and again. What else was he going to do, stare up at the ceiling until the sun came up? Read a book? Watch Adult Swim? No.

This was the fifth time reorganizing at nearly two in the morning. It wasn't abnormal for him to be up at this hour, but this was the night he was supposed to catch up on sleep. Tuesday night. He was supposed to get at least six hours of sleep on Tuesdays.

There was no sleep being caught, however, and that threw the rest of his week off.

Because you let her walk out. You ruined our week.

Yes. Yes, I did.

Why?

We weren't getting anywhere. She needs more time.

Yeah. Okay. Whatever you say, Johnny.

If you have something to say, say it. He had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at his own altar. (Which he's sure Scarecrow was aware of, so he's not really sure why he resisted in the first place.)

If that were anyone else, they'd be delusional with fear, muttering to themselves in a straight-jacket. If Jules wasn't Jules, you wouldn't be compulsively reorganizing our notes in this ungodly hour.

Your point?

You need to put an end to this before you get attached.

What are you going on about?

Don't play dumb. She's interesting and she's pretty. She's a challenge. Don't let it deter you from our job.

If I recall correctly, you're the one constantly talking about her.

Maybe it was a weak argument, but it was true. Scarecrow was just as unfocused as Crane was at late. His altar was behaving more juvenile than usual - reaching near Harleen levels of childishness - and he was at least seventy-five percent sure it was because of Jules. It was his own destructive way of expressing the frustration they shared.