Harleen had, of course, been thrilled to even get the position at Arkham. It was a pretty prestigious placement. She knew it would be difficult - and, don't get her wrong, it was - but it was also fascinating, at times quite rewarding, and there was no better place to pursue her psychological research.

And it wasn't a thankless endeavor. Some of her patients remained frustratingly unchanging, but others... showed promise. And that was encouraging, motivating even! She wanted to cultivate that promise into real progress. And she could! And she would. That's why she was here. Even if sometimes she felt as much 'guard' as 'doctor' - there always had to be a clinician on staff, after all, so there was a lot of time spent just being in the building, in case she was needed.

And recently she'd found the place had really grown on her. The busy days and the long night shifts. And she found ways to use that extra time afforded to her. Often, by visiting one of her patients and engaging in... productive conversation.

Rapport-building is an important part of the clinical process, after all. There needs to be trust and camaraderie for progress to be made. 'Getting to know each other' is just as important as getting all in the weeds - especially with difficult patients. And you're one of her - one of Arkham's - most notoriously difficult patients.

So rapport-building? A must. And that's what she tells herself every time she finds herself sitting on the floor by your room, back-to-back with you with only the thick glass as separation, with a deck of cards or a handful of dice or a pad of paper and pens in hand - things that can easily be passed back and forth through the slot in your door when need be. She came with games, is the point. Just little ways to kill time. Together. Bonding.

No, rapport-building. As doctor and patient. Obviously. This was productive and appropriate and 100% on the up-and-up.

And she'll keep on telling herself that as she sits down by the glass once again.