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"Lemme show you," he suggests, producing a knife from somewhere. It is a little bit amazing how good the Joker is at coming up with knives.

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Well. Even in the unlikely event Alice decides to keep creepy duplicate scars by suppressing his regen, his present when they get home will get rid of them, Bella has that on good authority.

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"The boyfriend again?" guesses Roberta.

Alice, meanwhile, is experiencing the sudden and obvious understanding that of course the Joker gave them to himself. He laughs.
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"Alice asked about the..." Bella traces the scar locations on her own cheeks. "The Joker has offered to show him. The scars won't keep even if Alice lets them form to begin with, but... yeah." Pause. "Alice, who I guess would probably know, thinks the Joker gave himself said scars."

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Roberta frowns, more interested than disturbed. Although she is definitely also disturbed.

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The Joker slides the knife into Alice's mouth and rips it out again. It bleeds quite beautifully, and even more so when he does it again.

Time for a kiss?
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Hell yes.

He lets himself heal somewhere in the middle of it, because he likes the tension between his cheek trying to come back together and the Joker's tongue pushing on the edges. It doesn't even hurt that much, but it's hot in a way that plain old pain can't compete with.
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"He's letting himself heal," Bella reports. "So that's good. And of course they haven't gotten anywhere near the edges of his actual pain tolerance, which I don't think nonmagical humans can even approach without dying..."

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Roberta blinks.

"...Do I... want to know how you know that?"
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Bella smiles wanly. "I don't know, do you?"

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"Just tell me: consenual experimentation, or some kind of horrible... magic... thing?"

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"Both," says Bella. "That's definitely a both."

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She raises her hands. "Okay, that's enough knowledge, thank you."

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The Joker shifts his grip on the knife, rests the edge against Alice's throat.

"You're gonna do me a favour," he murmurs.
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...Well. Alice was not expecting that flashback.

It's not even exactly the right wording, and practically everything physical about the situation is wrong, but it still works just the way he's sure the Joker meant it to. All of a sudden he's seventeen again, in a dim New York alley, every detail of the scene crystalline in a way only eidetic memory can achieve.
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[Are you okay?] Bella asks him, sitting bolt upright. [You can leave. You can leave without notice at any moment.]

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She hits a busy message midsentence.

The busy message is [Fuck off!]
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...

Bella keeps reading.

"He blocked me," she mutters. "I asked him if he was okay because he was having a flashback and he blocked me, and now I can't talk to him unless I brute-force it..."
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Alice and the Joker are flat-out brawling now, and the knife does damage to both of them in the process. So does the floor. And the frame of the bed. And the nightstand. And a wall.

He is more pissed off than he normally ever gets. At the Joker, at the man he was just reminded of so viscerally, at Bella; also, in a weird complicated inexplicable way, at himself.
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The Joker laughs and laughs.

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"People having flashbacks do strange things," says Roberta. "Although I still think you should get him out of there."

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"Yeah," Bella says. "Yeah, at this point I agree with you. He'll be pissed, but he's pissed now..."

She still doesn't want to go up there in person. She wishes on a pentagon.

It stays on its chain.

Bella blinks, and swallows, and asks in a trembling voice, "Bar, was that you?"
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No, says a very apologetic-looking napkin.

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Bella tries a hex.

Bella uses that stubbornly undisappeared hex to declaw a star, and she tries the star.

"Fuck," Bella says. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, Lazarus did not warn me about this -"
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"What's going on?" says Roberta, rather urgently. "Who's Lazarus?"



Alice does not even know she is trying anything. He gets the Joker pinned, rips the knife out of his hand, and slashes open the side of his neck almost exactly over the scar they used to share.
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