retired

[pm] Bingo.

You could have called them afterwards. Not that I’m saying you didn’t call them afterwards. Christ, Doctor, I’m a mess, this is a lot to process. Harvey Dent? Harvey Dent pulled a gun on you? And you’re okay? And he And he seemed okay? Minus the, uh, medical complication.

#replies #withbruce #ibelieve-ingothamcity #strikethrough is deleted

[pm] They already consider him a threat, but Two Face knows how to hide himself and Dent better than most. I thought it was simply a waste of time.

Yes, I'm fine. He, however, seemed troubled. Obviously.

[pm] …Harley Quinn? Black Canary? Batgirl?

Thank you for contacting me, Dr. Cross. I didn’t think there’d be a doctor left in Gotham who wouldn’t hit speed dial for 911 and call it a day.

[pm] Black Canary, I assume.

He had a gun. I wasn't calling anyone.

#strikethrough is deleted #anonymous #asks

I cannot physically stop throwing my bologna. What do I do? I just want a nice sandwich with some miracle whip. But every time I try to make one, I throw my bologna right into the fish tank. It's definitely medical, it's some weird involuntary flinging motion. Help me, doctor!

I’m…not sure I can. I recommend Dr. Sandra Ryle, a behaviorist at Arkham.

[pm] I don’t know whether to thank you or applaud you, Doctor. Did he say how he got the injury? And not that I’m not grateful, but er, why am I being told? I’m hardly the next of kin here.

[pm] Neither. A "pretty blonde lady" gave it to him, apparently.

I doubted any of his family would answer. You seem to be the only person in Gotham who cares about him.

[pm] I guess that’d be against your Hippocratic Oath. So, Harvey, huh? Not Two-Face? Is he all ri Are you all right?

[pm] Harvey, yes. I fixed his wrist. At gunpoint, I should mention.

I am.

[pm] Is he all ri Dr. Cross, Two-Face hasn’t been Harvey in a long time. If this a joke, I don’t get the punchline. Unless you’re referring to Detective Bullock, in which case, I told him to lay off the prime rib.

[pm] I wouldn't make a joke about Harvey Dent, Mr. Wayne.

pietercrossphd replied to your post “meggie swyayerer says u look 4 good grammar in a partner so i swallowed a piece of paper that says good grammar on it. will u luv me now???? ;));)”

Oh my.

Come on, Doctor. This person went and swallowed a piece of paper. I had to refer her to you. I wasn’t going to fish it out with my tongue.

That ought to make an interesting checkup.

[pm] Your friend Harvey paid me a visit last night.

#para #p: weak willed #withharvey #scorchedwhiteknight

Can you read braille?

Yes.

#anonymous #asks

Weak Willed | Pieter and Harvey

True to his word to Elaine, Pieter thought the rounds at the hospital seemed to be getting slower.

It wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility. Patients were getting better and taking great pains not to come back if they could help it. Gotham was being more cautious (much too late, always too late, but it was an obvious effort). More so than Pieter could remember, and he had a very long memory. With threat after threat underway, it seemed like the city was barricading themselves in their homes, living in terror of the Game Master and dreading whatever disaster he was plotting next. Ironic, in this way; the erroneous bout of winter had kept the people of Gotham inside and the Cordyceps had infection scared them inside. The summer ought to have lured everyone out, serving not only as a break from school but an end to the mayhem.

Some nights, it seemed as if the only people outside were the heroes trying to defend Gotham and the criminals trying to tear it down.

The afternoon allowed Pieter a respite from boredom, however. A long round of Connect Four rematches with Jacob, Pieter's pediatric patient, had him conceding defeat, smiling all the while. He promised another game that would follow a surgery, much to Jacob's delight. Like Pieter had answered on his blog, it was always the most rewarding to treat a child. The eventual good health felt like hope personified. A rarity, in Gotham. Pieter appreciated each opportunity, despite his more optimistic of tones.

Checking in with each of his patients, Pieter stopped a quick read of a file to answer Harley Quinn again. Their conversations had ranged from absolutely ludicrous to something of note. For that, Pieter was relieved. His career as a vigilante came second to his career of being a doctor, and while he preferred the latter over the former, it still felt good to advise some form of due process. The Joker had Harley's ear, love, and attention, but Pieter hoped his clumsy bargaining would allow him to see something in the woman that made her just as human as the rest of the city.

If that meant watching Buddy the Dog for hours in exchange for her adherence to a moral code, so be it. Truthfully, Pieter wondered frequently if she was setting him for an elaborate joke. The latest correspondence gave him a flicker of hope, however. I won’t tell Mister J or anyone else if you won’t, Harley promised, message plainly void of her witticisms. It was something. Pieter would take it. A simple deal had deterred Pamela Isley from wrongdoing. Maybe it could do the same for Harley Quinn. Finishing the assessment of the file in his hands, Pieter moved on to his office, preparing for a another round of organizing past and current patients. Gotham General was enforcing a stricter policy than Leslie's clinic. Each file needed a online copy. With some effort, he persuaded his superiors to get him a typist, knowing transcribing the records himself would be disastrous.

He shut the door to his office, about to cross the room and get started when a hand clamped down hard on his shoulder and a gun barrel met the back of his neck. Pieter sucked in a breath, remaining perfectly still.

"Your help would be appreciated and it might keep me from killing somebody."

Pieter cleared his throat, unable to get rid of the sharp spike of nerves that settled in his chest. He was helpless. More than most. "What can I do for you, Mr…?"

[mask pm] I’ll see if I can talk her into it, ‘kay?

Um, thanks, Doc. For believing in me or something. I won’t tell Mister J or anyone else if you won’t. You can tell Catwoman if you want, I’m sure she’d like it. Just no one else.

#replies #withharley #hardlyquinned

[pm] That's unnecessary, but thank you, anyway.

I won't tell anyone. And that's all right. I suspect it'd be better received if it was from you.

[mask pm] Aw, don’t beat yourself up, Doc. Red doesn’t like most people—it really says something about you that she decided to trust you. Can’t say much about what’s gonna happen, though.

Great! ‘Kay, if you see me doing anything bad, don’t be scared to be like, “Harley. You’re doing something bad.” Okay?

#strikethrough is deleted #replies #withharley #hardlyquinned

[pm] I doubt that as well. She was near delirious when she agreed to the same deal as you've undertaken. What does that say about me?

I won't hesitate.

[mask pm] Yeah, her cure. Forgot about that. Good thing, right? Real good. I’ll see if I can get her to talk to you again, if you want it. Red ain’t a woman of many words, but maybe she wants to be your friend again.

Okay, got it. I wrote it down on a piece of paper and put it on the fridge. Um, what if my life is in danger? Can I protect myself?

#replies #withharley #hardlyquinned

[pm] Very good.

I doubt that. I wasn't a good friend to her. Perhaps this distance is for the best.

Of course.

harryshumjr

#photo

[mask pm] That’s doctor-talk for “I don’t expect you to do good,” but it’s okay. Can we not tell Red about this, if she asks?

Also: what else does bad stuff imply? Like ding dong ditch? Staying up past my bed time? I’m serious.