Chapter Text
"But think of it this way, doctor," said Victor, eagerness rising in his grave voice, "what if the next time there's a breakout, I come over to your office and show you a good time."
To say that Leland wasn't the least bit scared of Mr. Zsasz would be a lie, but she didn't let it show. Instead, she humored him.
Much to Victor's surprise, Leland seemed to mock him. "And I suppose you'll expect me to say, 'Oh no! Someone save me from the clutches of Victor Zsasz!' And then you cut me and you cut yourself."
While Victor showed offense, Joan went back to her calm and soothing demeanor that distinguished her and added: "Yes, you could absolutely do that, Victor. But consider this: why, in my twenty years working here have I not already been slain by one of the many patients in this facility?"
Realizing that it wasn't a rhetorical question, Zsasz grumbled to himself.
"I don't know. Should I know?" he said in a hushed tone.
"I think you should hear me out for your own sake, yes." She leaned forward to level with him. Her voice was impassioned behind her stoicism. "One prevailing theory I've been told is that I'm one of the only doctors that actually cares here. It's a sad thought, but I think it's true. I'm not here to write a paper on a celebrity criminal, or here to run some dubious, government experiment. I'm here to listen and to understand you."
Victor looked at her as if she were a plate of rotten food he'd been served in the cafeteria. Joan continued then, seeing that Victor remained silent, with an explanation that seemed more credible to Victor.
"I've also been told," she said, "that I do certain favors for patients and that buys me their mercy."
Victor raised a shaved eyebrow. "What kind of favors?" he whispered eagerly.
"Don't get too excited," she clarified, "I only do them if they're for your own good."
"And if I cooperate, then." he grumbled.
"Precisely."
Victor rubbed his hands and glanced out the window, pensive. It was still gray, but the downpour from that morning had subsided to a light drizzle.
"Do you keep quiet?" he asked.
"About what?"
"When inmates escape. Do you keep quiet? Is that why it's so easy to get out of here?"
"Inmates escape Arkham regardless of what I do. I'm required by law to report a disappearance as soon as I notice it."
Victor sneered at her. Leland's expression seemed unchanging, but Victor could've sworn that there was something wrong with her last statement. It reminded him of the way politicians talk. He almost expected her to add 'but' at the end. She didn't.
Leland was waiting for his response. Her soft smile reminded him of rotten food again. Rotten to the core. There was no way she did this job in good faith and also granted favors as she said. Too bad. He would've loved to have gotten intimate with her, but if this was the case, he would probably risk getting gutted by another of her patients.
"Victor." she said, snapping Zsasz back into reality. "Are you still intent in having your way?"
Victor took in a deep breath. "No."
"Good. I won't report this then." she said plainly. "Should I consider myself lucky?"
"Very." Victor hissed.
Joan nodded. "So, is there anything I can do for you to make you feel more comfortable?"
Victor took no time in responding. "My lunch. They keep mixing rotten shit in it."
The doctor frowned and added something to a list on the side of her documents. "Again, I see."
"Again," he muttered, "They're trying to poison me. I should stab that cook."
"You will not stab the cook, but I'll see to it that you won't eat anything rotten while you stay here."
"Mhm." said Victor. Joan took it as a thank you and moved on.
Victor didn't open up that day, but he did get a good lunch the following day.