among her own kind

[she_sells_seashells]

Shell Bell finds Milliways once when she is eighteen. She has been there for two days now, setting up her sign ten minutes out of every waking hour, wiping down tables for her quarters in the staff area, eating buttery potatoes (she has been told that this is a complete nutrient package, for humans). Her wand is holding a bun of hair in place on the back of her head. Her shells are stashed safely in her room; she's budgeting carefully and she'll pay her tab when she leaves.

No one's talked to her due to the sign yet. They don't always. She sets it up anyway, like clockwork, so everyone gets the chance.

Comments

[she_sells_seashells]

Bell laughs. "You still haven't told me who you are."

[manofmyword]

"If you tell people you met the Joker," he says, "they'll know who you mean."

[she_sells_seashells]

"Okay," says Shell Bell, "so is that you telling me that if I want to know about you, I should stop talking to you and go ask someone else?"

[manofmyword]

"Nah, not at all. Want a jelly bean?" he offers.

[she_sells_seashells]

Bell has never had a jelly bean before. They don't... exactly... look like food. An hour ago she wouldn't have turned down anything that might be food. At this moment, she says, "What are they made of?"

[manofmyword]

"Sugar, mostly."

He picks one out of a bowl—electric blue—and pops it in his mouth.

[she_sells_seashells]

"Mostly?"

[manofmyword]

"They taste like all different stuff. Some good, some bad, some just weird."

[she_sells_seashells]

He's probably not going to poison her. Milliways frowns on that sort of thing. "I'll try one if you're offering," she says.

[manofmyword]

He gestures invitingly to the selection.

[she_sells_seashells]

Bell takes a red one.

She pops it into her mouth. She's not really sure if she's supposed to chew on it or not, so at first she doesn't. It's... weird. Sorta fruity, though Bell's ability to identify fruits is not what it would be if she'd had more dietary variety. But it tastes like sugar, mostly, and sugar, mostly, is good. "Interesting," she says, after going on to chew it and having dispatched it completely.

[manofmyword]

The Joker grins at her. It's quite friendly, considering.

[she_sells_seashells]

"Thank you," she adds.

[manofmyword]

"Y'welcome," he says affably.

[she_sells_seashells]

"So my template is famous for becoming Empress of assorted magical empires," Bell says. "If I ask people about the Joker will they know I mean you specifically, or are there lots of you by that name who've got a reputation for something?"

[manofmyword]

"I've only met the one of me, and he went by Alice. Haven't heard of any others. Could be, though."

[she_sells_seashells]

"So why will they know who I'm talking about? Are you just here a lot?"

[manofmyword]

"If they've heard of me, they'll know, and if they haven't they won't," he says reasonably.

[she_sells_seashells]

Bell's becoming less interested in this conversation now. If she were still nine, she'd be hanging around and keeping him talking and throwing manipulative looks at the jelly beans. That was years ago. "Well, yes. I think that's how that works."

[manofmyword]

"I usedta be famous," he adds, taking another jelly bean and repeating the inviting gesture. "Back home. You meet somebody from Gotham, two thousand eightish, they'll tell you all about me."

[she_sells_seashells]

"What did you do?" Bell asks. She takes the jellybean. She hasn't been on the Starks' tab long enough to obliterate her instincts that say yes, carbohydrates, take. "I don't think most people in other worlds get famous the way it's customary to in Panem."

And this conversation has begun to interest her again so she sits down.

[manofmyword]

"Mmm. Well, there's a lotta ways I could tell that story," he says. "You the squeamish type? Bet you're not."

[she_sells_seashells]

"I'm not," Bell agrees. She's pretty sure no one from Panem who doesn't actually faint during the Games broadcasts is "squeamish" by normal standards. She gets woozy around blood, but only in person - it's the smell, not the sight of it.

[manofmyword]

"Didn't think so."

He takes another jelly bean, invites her to have some more again, and settles back a little on his bench.

"The really short version," he says, "is I'm a retired terrorist. But I think you'd rather have the details. Am I right?"

[she_sells_seashells]

"Yes."

This is, as of recently, relevant to Shell Bell's interests.