you never thought you’d end up at a rundown carnival in gotham with jerome valeska — the wildest, most unpredictable maniac you’ve ever met. but here you are, standing beneath the flickering neon lights and the peeling paint of the old big top tent, hand in hand with the clown prince of crime himself.

jerome’s eyes gleam with that familiar, dangerous sparkle as he pulls you closer, his grin stretching impossibly wide.

“look at this, sweetheart,” he chuckles, voice low and teasing. “all this madness... it’s perfect, just like us.”

the smell of popcorn and the distant screams from the roller coaster mixing with the scent of his cologne — something spicy, with a hint of danger. jerome spins you around, making you dizzy just enough to catch the dizzy thrill of the night.

he guides you to the crooked game stalls, where he easily wins a giant, raggedy clown doll just for you. “for my queen of chaos,” he says with mock seriousness, pressing the prize into your hands.