[Being human is what connects me to you whisper through his head, black and whisping like a drop of blood twisting through water. But he doesn't say it.]
[He doesn't say how he'd startle at his own hand back in the early days, robbed of even a little bit of flesh for him to touch his loved ones proper and trying not to think about it. It'd been easier when he had been half out of his own head, not really believing that he was actually still alive, but then he'd gotten that kick to the reality of the carnival, and his arm had seemed so glaring when he'd looked at it. Still does, and for all the little things- how he can't toy with his hair without strand catching in wood, his inability to snap his fingers again.]
[He doesn't say how his ears had been one of the first things to change, and he'd tried to ignore them for a while- not the worst, right? Surely not the worst, and he'd used to practice in his head, late at night, how he would play it off when he saw his family again- ha ha, look, now he'd be able to wear even more earrings, and it'd be a joke, something to ignore-]
[He doesn't say that the first time he'd looked into the mirror and seen those eyes staring back, he'd wanted to vomit, because now he was like that, because he was getting farther and farther from his family, and maybe one day he'd finally finish up all his damned contracts but it would mean just a little less because what if they didn't even recognize him anymore- ]
[(He'd gotten drunk, then, never really a drinker because he knows how he gets, but god had he hidden away in his trailer then when his roommate had stayed otu a little later at the cookhouse and drunk himself into near a coma, and he's only glad that he could lie enough that no one really thought much of it.)]
[But Joker doesn't say any of that. He only keeps his head bowed as she yells at him, fingers still curled at his neck, and waits for the quiet.]
[Then, and only then, does he finally start to step forward, reaching forward to tug her close. Without thinking twice, his wings shift to fold around her as well- a replacement for the right arm he doesn't have.]
Oh, Doll...
[He can't look at her, not really, trying to press his face into her hair, but there's cracks in his voice that show so many emotion, they're tangled up in each other, impossible to tell apart.]
The only ones who wouldn't love ya are bleedin' daft. S'the truth.
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[He doesn't say how he'd startle at his own hand back in the early days, robbed of even a little bit of flesh for him to touch his loved ones proper and trying not to think about it. It'd been easier when he had been half out of his own head, not really believing that he was actually still alive, but then he'd gotten that kick to the reality of the carnival, and his arm had seemed so glaring when he'd looked at it. Still does, and for all the little things- how he can't toy with his hair without strand catching in wood, his inability to snap his fingers again.]
[He doesn't say how his ears had been one of the first things to change, and he'd tried to ignore them for a while- not the worst, right? Surely not the worst, and he'd used to practice in his head, late at night, how he would play it off when he saw his family again- ha ha, look, now he'd be able to wear even more earrings, and it'd be a joke, something to ignore-]
[He doesn't say that the first time he'd looked into the mirror and seen those eyes staring back, he'd wanted to vomit, because now he was like that, because he was getting farther and farther from his family, and maybe one day he'd finally finish up all his damned contracts but it would mean just a little less because what if they didn't even recognize him anymore- ]
[(He'd gotten drunk, then, never really a drinker because he knows how he gets, but god had he hidden away in his trailer then when his roommate had stayed otu a little later at the cookhouse and drunk himself into near a coma, and he's only glad that he could lie enough that no one really thought much of it.)]
[But Joker doesn't say any of that. He only keeps his head bowed as she yells at him, fingers still curled at his neck, and waits for the quiet.]
[Then, and only then, does he finally start to step forward, reaching forward to tug her close. Without thinking twice, his wings shift to fold around her as well- a replacement for the right arm he doesn't have.]
Oh, Doll...
[He can't look at her, not really, trying to press his face into her hair, but there's cracks in his voice that show so many emotion, they're tangled up in each other, impossible to tell apart.]
The only ones who wouldn't love ya are bleedin' daft. S'the truth.