Don't Act Like It's Okay (Alyss)

[James Wayne]

"Oh yes, because that's so realistic," he practically drawled to the guard who proclaimed he had someone to see him. He had been sitting in his cell, leaning back in his chair, feet on the table, staring at the ceiling and busying himself with counting the paint drips. He lost count after one hundred fifty-two. And that was only because Mr. What's-His-Face Guard had walked in and disturbed his train of thought. It was quite rare that James Wayne actually had a train of thought, so when he did he didn't particularly enjoy it being ruined.

In short, Arkham had become the kind of asylum that Matthew had said it wasn't because of James.

"Get up," the guard growled, not making a move to touch the boy. Most of them were afraid to touch him. Knowing this amused James to great extent.

He smirked, letting his eyes flash a blood red for a brief moment to get the man's heart rate up, letting out a bitter laugh. "I'm quite comfortable. You want me to go? You'll have to pull me out." His eyes flashed. "I'd like to see ya try, Mr. Dennis Andrews." That's what his name was. It came back in a flash and James couldn't help but feeling a little proud that it had come back on its own and he hadn't needed to go searching the guard's brain to find it.

The guard's lips turned up in disgust, but he went forward, grabbing James roughly and dragging him out of the cell, snapping hand cuffs around his wrists. Ever since the first incident, James had almost always had a guard stationed on him and he wasn't allowed to go anywhere without being handcuffed.

As if that would stop him.

"Aw com'on Andrews! Do we really need the cuffs?" Scuffed James, taking a look around his shoulder and the guard shoved him forward with a growl of: "Walk."

James chuckled darkly but walked. "Don't ya think ya ought to let me wear somethin' else than this damned orange thing? It smells like dog."

The guard smirked, "That should be a usual smell for you, wolf boy." He pushed James along into the visiting room to the shocking sight that awaited the Arkham patient, although he kept his shock hidden.

"Oh, so it's you," James said rather blankly. He glanced at the guard. "I can break this," he said cockily gesturing to where his right wrist had been cuffed to the table. "Want to see?" He offered, giving it a yank. The guard got ready to defend himself, while James laughed and turned back to Alyss, leaning back and putting his feet up on the table.

"Sit, sweetheart," he said the later a bit mockingly, pointing with his foot to the chair across him. "You're lookin' dark." He smirked a bit.


(Note- probably destroyed Arkham there but... that's okay? I guess.... *Runs*)

[Alyss Jay Blake]

Alyss Jay Blake had finally made up her mind. She was going to see him. She didn't know if he knew she was alive. Frankly, she didn't care. Would she be a pleasant surprise or if it would be a nightmare. She didn't care. Though she didn't exactly know what had brought her here to him today. How crazed her life had become, but just sitting here waiting to see him was enough to make the retched organ in her chest begin to beat.

She heard the guard bringing him in. She looked up from where she stood in the darkest corner of the room. She was comfortable in the dark. Her clothes were black. Black jeans. Black shoes and socks. A black shirt, gone up to her neck to hide her new scars. The new outnumbered the old, and a lot of them were self inflected. Like his name tattooed across her wrist by the ink of her own blood by the tip of a knife. The cuts across her pale skin. Her blonde hair had lost it's shine. The dark bags under her eyes were more noticeable than ever before. The brown eyes she had had taken a wolfish turn for how long she had been the wolf. The lupine edge they held would unnerve men on the streets. She didn't care.

As they brought him in, she knew right away he had changed. Though she had as well. At his command, she moved forward, taking a seat in the chair across from him. She looked at him, her eyes finding his of pale blue. She offered a smirk. "Haven't felt very cheerful in a while." She said and it was the truth. She knew she would be able to feel him in her mind, but she wasn't sure she would remember the feeling any longer. She wasn't sure she wanted to remember...But if he tried, she would not put up a fight.

Her eyes flashed as she turned to look at the guard. "Leave us." She snarled, hate of so many things blazing in her eyes.

[James Wayne]

James smirked at her. "Ya know, dark never fit you. Never will." There was no playful truth to his words, they were harsh, mocking almost. His blue eyes met hers, boring into her soul. He knew what she was angry at. He knew who she was angry at. Matthew Reid, his doctor, and Amelia Blake, his doctor's girlfriend and her mother. They were probably good people to be angry at, if you were Alyss that is. But James wasn't angry at either of them. He was angry at his father. And he was angry at his guard, but that didn't matter.

"He ain't gonna leave, sweatheart," he said coldly, leaning back on the back two legs of his chair, fiddling a bit with the chain around his wrist, boredom etching across his face. "Why are you here?" He demanded suddenly, letting the chair drop to all fours again, his eyes on her, reaching into her mind and searching through her thoughts, her feelings and her memories.

[Alyss Jay Blake]

Alyss looked at him, guarding her secrets as she looked at him. She looked at him with a cool expression, blank and unfeeling. She pulled her sleeves down to cover the white lines of scars. To cover his name. To cover the thick knot of scar tissue where she had dug the shears into her flesh. Memories of the incident flooded her mind, the pain of it, the release of it all she felt. The rush of her dark red blood flowing out around her wound. The steel blades of the shears coming out dripping red. The iron smell in the air. The life dripping out of her as she just sat there and watched it happen. Slipping away into the black from loss of blood. She thought about stopping the memory, but didn't bother. She didn't care if James knew what she had been doing to herself. She didn't care if James could feel her pain as she showed it. She didn't care anymore.

She looked at him, feeling the old prick of him in her mind. She hoped he could see her horrors. Feel her pain. Confront her demons. She didn't care. She didn't meet his eyes any longer, letting him tell himself her story. Wasn't that hard. He was already in her head. She pulled her sleeve down farther, to hide his name etched into her wrist in pale white lines. She looked down at the floor, ignoring the guard then, no longer wanting to deal with him.

[James Wayne]

"You've been busy," he nodded towards her wrists, shaking his head a bit. "Is your mother terribly disappointed?" He asked with a faint smirk, almost taunting her, "Is your father beside himself with anger?" His smirk grew, "Is your brother worrying and trying to help?" He leaned closer towards her. "They aren't are they?" His tease came out bitterly, a smirk balancing perfectly on his lips.

"You're. All. Alone." He said each word slowly, drawing them out perfectly before leaning back away from her, watching her with somewhat amused eyes. "You've carved my name into you," he rolled his eyes, "How...sweet." He shook his head, playing with the chain around his wrist. "They don't give me knives, they know better," a laugh exited his lips, a laugh that almost sounded insane, a laugh that was almost like the Joker's, "it's one of the few things they do know."

He knew very well how he was behaving, so much unlike the James she knew. But he wasn't the James she used to know, not any more. Her death, his working for the Joker, his putting himself in Arkham, her return, and his father's visit had changed him. All of it had changed him, impacted him in some way or another. He'd always been darker, but he'd never been this dark before.

He couldn't say he didn't like it.

(Notes: James turned into ... idk what, but James muse got screwed up by Tristan's split personality muse. XD)

[Alyss Jay Blake]

Alyss stared at him. After everything that had happened, he had the never to taunt her? Did he want her dead? He must. He seemed keen on reminding her that whatever she had tried to come back for was already long gone. She bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood. Her brown eyes flickered to and from blue as she forced herself to breath slow and deep. She felt her fingers twitching, but she forced them to steady themselves. She lifted her eyes to stare at him. They were just a sad brown, a sad, dull, lifeless brown.

"You're right James. I am all alone." She whispered. Her voice was quiet. Sad. Alyss shook her head. "No. I carved your name hoping that would be what would kill me." She whispered, looking away from him. She debated standing. Standing and leaving. To just finish what she had started. "If I am alone...Then you shouldn't care if I were to just die." She whispered quietly. It seemed like another world as she slowly rose from the chair about to make her way towards the door.