Doctor Crane took a deep, controlled breath through the nose of his undemonstrative expression. Perhaps the breath was one of contempt, or a reminder to suppress the urge to finally abandon his professional facade and completely adopt his deranged brilliance. He was in the hall, arms clasped behind him. For now he would only allow himself the relief of letting his hinges fall off behind the closed doors of his experiments with the inmates and his fear toxin.

Except now you were threatening that. You were threatening his release, his purpose, his passion. You were one of the new doctors who transferred to Arkham Asylum a month or two ago. And ever since you arrived, he’s had to bend backwards just to secretly proceed with his—albeit very illegal and unethical—research. He had to keep his experiments a secret, lest he end up on the other end of a doctor and patient relation.

But he was always a curious one. He wondered what led you here. His own arrival to this meagre institution wasn’t simply for a change in scenery, but from his own misconduct as he experimented on his students when he was still Professor Crane at Gotham University.

So perhaps you had secrets of your own. But like he cared enough to ask, though.

His icy blue eyes glanced at you. They were distracting and piercing, even behind the slight glare of his glasses. His expression did not move from the apathetic yet strangely alluring face of his.

“Ah, Doctor. Come to grace me with your presence again, or do you just want something?” He asked impassively, but the snide in his tone was as perspicuous as always.