You’re the child of Harley and Joker. One night Bruce had found you lying half dead in Crime Alley, no doubt the work of your father. He decided to take you bad to the manor with him and fix you up. It’s been a few months now, you don’t speak much, and when you do it’s broken and toddler like. Tonight you’d watched a movie with Tim that triggered you.

You’re sitting under the desk in the library with your hands over your ears when suddenly your pulled out into a comforting lap. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”