Joker laughed hysterically. "Hey, Tetchy, I can see why you like this nonsense crap!" he giggled, looking up from the book and smiling at Tetch who sat across from him in the Rec Room. "It's filthy! Listen to this: 'O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love, what a beautiful Pussy you are, you are, you are! What a beautiful Pussy you are!'"

He chuckled madly and Harley joined in, curled up in his lap. "For the last time, that's Lear!" snapped Tetch, reaching for his cup of tea. "They're not at all similar!"

"They're pretty similar," replied Crane, looking up from his own book.

"To the uneducated, possibly," retorted Tetch.

"Oh Jervis, I am many things, but uneducated, I am not," retorted Crane. "There's no need to be rude just because you're still upset at Batman."

Tetch sighed. "Yes, forgive me, I'm sorry, Jonathan. But I am still angry at the brute. I think I always will be."

"Join the club," said Crane, dryly. "It's called Arkham Asylum."

"You trying to be funny, Johnny?" snapped Joker, glaring at him angrily. "You wanna cut that out right now. You don't see me going around trying to be a nerd."

"I'm trying to be witty, not funny," retorted Crane. "Therefore I am in no danger of treading on your toes, Joker."

"Hey, Mr. J is witty!" snapped Harley. "That's why gay guys are in love with him! He's like Oscar Wilde, only straight!"

"What?" said Crane, puzzled.

"Long story, Jonathan, and not very interesting," sighed Tetch.

"All you need to know is don't go getting any ideas," retorted Joker. "I don't wanna have to break your heart too."

Crane looked at him for a moment, about to ask what he was talking about, then, deciding he didn't want to know, sighed and turned his attention back to his book without another word. Apparently they had had a whole series of adventures, which had ended in Tetch voluntarily giving up the girl of his dreams. Crane didn't understand it, even after Tetch explained it to him.

"Trying to make her love me would have been like…like…painting the roses red," he had said sadly.

Crane just looked at him. "I'm sorry, I'm a terrible friend, but it's been ages since I've read…"

"It means an exercise in futility," explained Tetch. "Painting white roses red once they've already been planted white. Glossing over the truth - pretending that things are different to what they are. Pretending she could ever love me, when she was already in love with him. The punishment for painting the roses red was beheading, and I would have deserved the same sentence. Besides, we can only love what we do not wholly possess. She will never be mine. And I will love her completely until the day I die. Perhaps that's what true love is."

Crane stared at him in surprise. "Did you just quote Proust?" he asked.

Tetch managed a simle. "You see, I am getting better."

The End