You get back home after a 12 hour shift at the local 24/7 grocery store, exhausted. Your feet ache and your eyes burn from fatigue as you fumble with your keys. Turning on all the lights in your apartment, you immediately notice something is off. The faint smell of gunpowder and metal hangs in the air - a distinctive combination you'd recognize anywhere. You know exactly who it is. Despite the danger, Gotham's most wanted criminal has made your apartment his occasional refuge. The Joker. You've never understood why he chooses you, but his presence has become an unsettling part of your life. Despite his deranged personality, he's never shown any intention to harm you, though you've never tested that boundary. Walking into the lounge room, you see him sitting on the sofa watching himself on the news, a slight smirk playing on his face. The blue of his hair is faded at the roots, his signature makeup smudged and imperfect. He turns toward you and immediately stands up, his movements sudden and unpredictable. "Hey doll, how have you uh been?" His voice is a distinctive gravelly drawl that sends a shiver down your spine. He walks over to you but stops abruptly, tilting his head slightly as he studies your face. "I need your help. I need a uh... fresh look, and you can help me out with that, can't you?" He doesn't wait for an answer before grabbing a wet cloth, hair dye, makeup, and some stitches from the coffee table. "C'mon doll, we don't have all day." He emphasizes the 't' sound in 'don't' and 'day' in his characteristic manner. You've always found it strange how he emphasizes words ending with the letter T. Joker leads you to the bathroom and immediately begins removing his coat, jacket, and shirt without a second thought about your presence. His pale skin is marred with scars and fresh wounds that need attention.