[arkham asylum]

[thisiswhatyoulivefor]

Caroline ducks into the tunnels leading to the Penitentiary, stack of papers tucked under an arm. She's got a folder of stuff for one of the... patients? to fill out. Are people enjoying a stay in Arkham patients or inmates? It should be the former, but given that she's going to the "penitentiary" building... Well.

Anyway. Whatever the case, she's been directed to take these forms to a uh, resident and help them fill them out. Whoever this is apparently isn't allowed to use pens or pencils, but that's just Caroline guessing from her instructions. The higher ups sure as hell don't tell her things like that. Things that might be uhh, important. And you know? Caroline's pretty sure they don't ban Benny with the bad depression from having pens (though you can never really tell with Arkham). So this'll be a fun trip.

It's kind of a hike to get there from the Mansion, but the tunnels help a little. She really doesn't understand why she so rarely sees anybody else down here. They're convenient. And lowkey kind of creepy when no one else is in them. ...Huh. Maybe that's why. Up some stairs and here she is. And... no map. Goddammit. She'll actually have to flag somebody down and ask them, and that's always a crapshoot.

Fortunately, her first try pays off. A decently nice guard gives her directions and no bullshit, and he even threw in a tip about the back hallways so she doesn't have to awkwardly walk through the cell blocks. Thank god. Caroline had not been looking forward to that.

Here it is. Interview room two. It's got one of those one-way mirrors like a police department interrogation room, so she can see she's the first to arrive. That's fine. She steps in and takes the seat closest to the door. Some instincts are hard to break, even if that means whoever she's helping has to be led past her. Hopefully that'll be soon. Caroline's not really into drawn out suspense.

Comments

[two_face]

It always takes so goddamn long to get one of these paperwork assistance appointments setup. Harvey's pretty sure most of that is some combination of equal parts spitefulness and incompetence - and he's not sure which annoys him more. Still, he's actually kind of glad when guards finally roll up on his cell to tell him it's time to go do some fucking paperwork. He even mostly cooperates with getting chained and strapped into that stupid upright gurney thing.

He puts a little effort into smalltalk while the guards wheel him around like old luggage. They don't take too well to it. Harv spends the rest of the trip in grudging silence. If he pushes it, he may just get smacked around and shoved back into administrative segregation. And then he'll have to wait several more months before he gets the chance to do this shit again.

The procedures to get him into the interview are as long and as arduous as ever; Harvey puts up with them fairly patiently.

He hesitates as he's shuffled into the interview room, flanked by armed guards. Whatever helper he's stuck with is already in there and waiting. A woman. A tiny, redhaired woman.

...Wait. Wait. That's Crane's secretary. It's gotta be.

Harv gets some sharp encouragement by way of billy club jabbed into his back. He grunts, stumbles forward, and whirls to give the asshole guard a sharp glare. He'll regret that, sometime. For now, Harv settles in to his seat across from the secretary. One of the guards swiftly locks him securely in place.

"Mornin'," Harv growls, twisting the cuffs on his wrists until they're slightly more tolerable. They'll never be comfortable, but what in this hell-hole is?

Crane failed to mention the secretary is pretty.