Midnight, in the city of Gotham, and not a creature is stirring. Except Edward, it's his regularly scheduled turn to try to murder Batman and take over the city. And that mouse in the corner there, eating the cheese that Jonathan so kindly put out for it earlier. Oh, and the thousands of petty criminals doing petty crime.

... And Batman. He's probably stirring right now.

Okay, maybe the silly reference doesn't exactly work, but the most important thing is that Jonathan Crane is not stirring.

For once, he's asleep in bed, at home instead of a random safehouse. And you'll be damned if you wake him up in your quest for midnight snacks.

You've been so careful, sneaking down the stairs, avoiding the creaky floorboards and opening the fridge ever so softly.

Nothing in there that interests you.

Ah, that's okay, there's always the pantry. That door always squeals bloody murder whenever it's opened, though.

You check the fridge again.

Nothing. Again.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you check the dinner table and find something!

It's a mini cake. A mini banana cake that you picked up from the gas station a few days ago. Well. Too late to change your mind, you've already opened and taken a bite.

Pretty good for days old gas station cake. You squint at the loaf of bread sitting on the countertop.

Campagne loaf. 100% baked and made in Gotham. Fermented for 24 hours. You always thought it was champagne. Maybe you should pay more attention to what you buy. Probably not, though.

You wolf it down as quietly as possible, and then choke on the last bite. Dry. Far too dry.

But there aren't any drinks in the fridge except iced coffee. But you'd rather die of thirst than drink the Gotham tap water, who knows what weirdo has decided the poison the towns water supply this week?

Coffee it is.

Huh. This iced coffee has 390 milligrams of caffeine in it. Isn't 400 milligrams the daily limit?

Before you can think too hard about it, the hair on the back of your neck stands on end, and you whip around to blink at the Scarecrow. The Scarecrow stares at you for a moment, slowly lowering the glowing orange syringes between his knuckles to his sides.

Then, the mask comes off and you're left blinking at a very confused-looking Jonathan.

"What, are you doing down here? I thought you some... Petty thief!" He places the syringes on the table, and runs a gloved hand through his hair, squinting at the strands he accidentally pulls out. "You're lucky I wasn't wearing the other mask, the one I can barely see out of."

"... Didn't that cake go bad two days ago?"