Jonathan Crane PoV
I pace around in my top security cell. All I can hear is the thunk of my thick Arkham boots against the cold, dark floor that is my bed. Instead of thinking of all my woes, I think of Layla for a change, and sigh. I wonder how she is getting on? Better than me that I know. After more agonising hours of solitary confinement, a small hand with red fingernails gives me my first meal through the flap in the door. I grin widely, probably looking like an idiot but I really couldn't care less. I smile while I wait for my most delicious meal yet.
Ivy's PoV
My cell is damp, and dirty. They gave me this one a few hours ago, when lily rose left. I can see why they didn't want her to see me in it. She has more powers than she could every imagine. If she got angry seeing me in this ( and she would ) she could rip this place apart with pure strength. Not that me or any of the Arkham guards would tell her that, of course. I try to focus on Lily, to tell her something, anything, but the walls block any waves that I am sending and no doubt waves that come this way. Great. I sigh and poke at my ugly orange Arkham uniform. Orange and green? Idiots. I wish I could give everyone here a piece of my mind, but I stay in silence. After all, Pamela Isley is the sensible inmate. The trustworthy inmate. Wouldn't want to blow my reputation now, would I? I was torn out of my thoughts by a hand with red fingernails giving me my fist meal. I allow the smallest of smiles to appear on my composed face, and let it turn into a proper smile. Soon, everything is going to be ok. Soon.
