[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

[thisiswhatyoulivefor]

Caroline lets her eyes go wide in a very concerned way. She can pull off innocent a little better than Dent can. (Not much if you know her, though.) "Well," she says thoughtfully, in an upbeat tone of voice, "I was going to give you some scissors, my credit card number, and a hug." She pauses to frown. "But apparently that's against the rules."

Well, maybe not Doctor Bradley's rules. He'd probably allow hugs. Not scissors though, unless they were the dopey crafting kind. Nice little zigzag, curlicue scissors nobody needs. Anyway.

Caroline finally takes the opportunity to open the folder of forms they're going to be filling out and holy shit that's a lot. That's a lot of forms. "Sheesh, are we doing Bruce Wayne's taxes or something?" They'll be at this a while.

[two_face]

"We wouldn't say no to any of that," Harv says with a thoughtful sort of crooked frown. He considers for a short moment, then laughs very quietly. "And we ain't exactly the rule-abidin' type." That probably goes without saying, though.

"Bruce Wayne's rich, he don't pay taxes." Still. He eyes the amount of paperwork shoved into his folder - there's... a lot. He hopes it's in anything resembling order but there's always the strong possibility it's just been shoved in carelessly. "Yeeeaah," He says slowly, exhaling. "I know." He's pretty sure that's all the paperwork since his arrest and intake. "We could'a done it ages ago but..." Harvey trails off, rattling the restraints on his arms for emphasis. He opens his hands and gestures vaguely, palms up. "And y'know, the whole no-pens-or-pencils thing."

[thisiswhatyoulivefor]

Caroline laughs. "Nah, you don't want my credit card number. I'm broke enough to work here." She waves a hand idly at the room.

Even if she hasn't filled out these forms with or for anyone yet, Caroline's definitely seen plenty of these. And filed them. And filed them and filed them. There seem to be rooms and rooms full of the damn things. She starts reshuffling them into the proper order on autopilot. "Yeah, and people get mad if you fill out forms with anything else." Is that... no. Not the one they need first. Damn.

"Really digging this shove everything in at random system someone had going on here," she grumbles while she works. "Oh my god, this one isn't even yours." She squints at it in a mixture of annoyance and disbelief. Who does this shit. "Unless you're leading a secret double life as the Riddler." Caroline snorts. Double life. That's awful.

[two_face]

"Eh... fair enough," Harv says and laughs again. "Not like there's anything in here for us to use it on." No commissary, and all.

"Welcome to Arkham, home of doing everything with the least amount of effort possible." That's more or less on the brochures, at least he's pretty sure. Right under the 'scenic solitary confinement' tagline. He cocks his head to one side at the next bit. Of course there's other people's shit in his file. Of course there is. "Oh no, you caught us," He says with the straightest face he can manage. "The Two-Face thing has been a clever ruse all along. Next thing you'll say you know where we hid the red wig and green suit."

[thisiswhatyoulivefor]

"Yeah, I don't think Mister Rules is gonna let you out to use the vending machine with your ill gotten pocket change any time soon." Okay working at Arkham isn't quite that bad. They have to give some incentive to work here, after all. But you know. It's mostly doctors and security folks who get the alleged big bucks, not paperwork goblin number seventy-three.

Caroline laughs again. "Uh-oh, I broke the code. Do I get one of those light up trophies?" Those things are everywhere. There was one on the roof of the building across the street from hers for a while, even. "Oh thank god, here," she says suddenly. "I found page one finally."

[two_face]

"Nah, unfortunately. No stale candy bars for us." Harvey sounds a little vaguely disappointed at that. It's not entirely faked. After long enough in Arkham, even stale vending machine food sounds appealing.

He impatiently bounces his feet on the bottom bar of his chair while she hunts through paperwork; his stupid prison-issue flip-flops make a very small flap flap flap. "Sure, we probably left one of those fuckin' things in a corner or under a table around here somewhere." That's probably even true. They're everywhere. If Nygma tripped, fifty of them would just roll out of his pockets.

"I'm amazed that's is even in there," Harvey says, eye the now much-neater paperwork hell. "We'll be lucky if the important shit isn't missing entirely."

[thisiswhatyoulivefor]

"All right," Caroline says a thousand forms later, "I'm guessing this is about all we can get done this time." She sets her pen down and shakes her hand out. "Mister Rules has probably had all the coffee he can stand."

They're not done. They're not even close. Caroline guesses there's another two sessions' worth at least, if nothing else accumulates in the meantime. "How long does you usually have to wait for a turn in paperwork hell?"

[two_face]

She handles the actual paperwork doing well enough. There's a lot of it. A lot a lot. That they get through as much as they do is kind of amazing, on a couple different levels. He also learns her name is allegedly Caroline. It may be a fake name, and he wouldn't really blame her for that. She's been friendly with him but he has no illusions about that. She's got plenty reasons to be afraid of him, friendly or no.

"It varies. Weeks, at least," Harvey frowns thoughtfully, half-shrugging. "Usually months."

[thisiswhatyoulivefor]

Caroline makes a face and a disgruntled ech noise. "Of course it does. Why wouldn't it take weeks and weeks to do necessary paperwork." Paperwork that she then gets to file at lightning speed, of course.

She shuffles the papers back into some kind of order so she can put them back in the folder. Distantly, Caroline hears some shuffling around that's probably the guards reluctantly getting ready to do their jobs again.

"Well, I think all the noise out there is my cue," she says, standing and stretching. "I don't really want Mister Rules interrogating me like I brought you home past curfew." He's a very overprotective father, Mister Rules.

Instead of heading out the door though, Caroline makes a uh, slight detour first. If anyone ever asks, she'll claim it was a last minute impulse, but it's really more like a several hundred forms ago impulse. So sue her. She scoots around the table to the No Crayon Zone. "All right, before I leave, as promised--" she leans down into Dent's personal space and wraps one arm around his shoulders in a hug. Not a very long one, and it's not a great angle for it, but you know. A hug.

"Anyway," she says as she straightens up and moves back toward the door, "good luck with lunch." She picks up the folder full of papers. "I hear they're doing meatloaf again already." And with that, she's out the door.

Whew good, the guards are only just heading this way with the... upright gurney thing they're apparently going to strap Dent into. Fun.