That was easier than we thought, wasn't it?

Jonathan declined to respond to Scarecrow's voice inside his mind, focusing instead on the task of meticulously folding and hanging his suit in the closet.

Over the years, he had learned how to control that side of himself to some extent. He did not have to respond, nor did he have to indulge the demon's every impulse.

But some were harder to ignore than others.

He shared the surprise at how easy it had been to worm his way back into Jane Corrigan's good graces. He had expected more of a fight after the ruthless way he had severed ties with her, but found the task to be much simpler than anticipated.

She missed you, Jonny. Did you miss her, too?

He grit his teeth at the playful taunting, exhausted from being so thoroughly human and sociable all evening. He was in no mood for jabs and glib remarks from what was essentially himself, just then.

There had been some unexpected change of plans in the middle of the conversation with Jane, when he realized that he had, in fact, missed her.

Of course, he rationalized his way through it, compartmentalizing those feelings for the good of his goal; he told himself many times that evening that he was simply experiencing an episode of nostalgia, compounded by warm memories of a person who had treated him very kindly.

Nothing more.

It was essential that there be absolutely nothing more, lest he feel more monsterous about what They had in mind for Jane.

She had been the only person to treat him kindly, that much was true. But she stood alone in a less desirable category, as well - she was the last person for whom he had once stifled the urge to introduce his other half, the last person who had come face to face with Scarecrow and walked away unscathed.

Sherry Squires had met her end when she was ejected from the passenger seat of Griggs' Mustang, another casualty of underage drinking and a lax attitude towards seatbelt safety.

Bo's promising career as an overpaid athlete had come to a screeching halt when he hit a tree, his spinal cord severed by a fractured vertebrae that left him paralyzed from the waist down. He was then admitted to a psychiatric institution for a short spell after insisting he had been attacked by a walking, talking scarecrow weilding a pistol.

Those two, the unfortunate souls, had met Scarecrow and subsequently, the end of their lives or sanity, respectively. Jane, on the other hand, had met him intimately and continued on without any issue.

It took years for that thought to plague either Jonathan or his other half as a problem which needed to be solved.

We can't let her get away, not that easily, he had insisted. She doesn't even remember us.

After one too many nights filled with the same thoughts and a fortuitously timed invitation to East Gotham's ten year reunion, a plan began to form.

And it had gone off without a hitch.

She bought the sincerely delivered tale of Granny's demise, the expertly timed stolen glances, even the faux internal debate over whether or not to ask her out once more.

But it wasn't all for show, was it, Jonnyboy?

"I'm not discussing this tonight," he snapped aloud to what would have looked to anyone else like the emptiness of his loft.

He had to keep his head clear of such thoughts and distractions if things were to go as planned. He also needed his rest to put on a convincing display of normalcy, the following day.

After a solid eight hours of sleep, the sound of his alarm clock rang out as it did each day without fail.

A creature of routine, Jonathan's day played out much like any other. Breakfast, shower, research, note taking, a light lunch, more research, followed by another shower and - on this particular occasion - dressing for his evening plans.

He arrived at the Four Seasons at precisely eight o'clock, unable to stifle his need for punctuality even for the sake of appearing casual. When it took Jane approximately nine extra minutes to emerge into the lobby, he found himself annoyed.

That feeling was replaced by something even more uncomfortable and unwarranted when she did show up however, some emotion stirred by the sight of her in a dark red, form fitting evening dress.

Focus.

He plastered on a smile and rose to greet her warmly.

"You look marvelous," he complimented her, attempting not to sound so... 'Cardboard', as a date had once described him.

As it stood, he needed things to go well enough that she would invite him back to her place or accept an invitation to his.

Cardboard was not acceptable.

"Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself," she parroted with a grin, blushing ever so slightly.

That much he had been sure of when he left his loft, selecting a solid black, well tailored suit for the occasion. He may not have understood the human weakness for aesthetically appealing things, but he had accumulated many years of practice when it came to playing up that aspect of himself.

"I've made reservations at Dorsia for eight thirty, so we'll have to be going," he informed her, wondering if perhaps he sounded too smug.

He wouldn't usually opt to spend his hard earned money on something so mundane as food when it could be used to fund his extracurricular activities, but it was necessary to impress Jane as fully as possible.

They made their way to the parking garage where his relatively new, Sedan style car was waiting. He held the door for her politely before climbing behind the wgeel and turning on the radio for the drive.

"I didn't know you liked classical music," she broke the silence softly. He kept his eyes on the road but smiled reflexively.

"It stimulates the brain and quickens your response to stimuli. I'm sure you can see why that would be beneficial when driving," he answered factually, forgetting for a moment to infuse a warmth into his voice.

A silence fell over the two of them and he allowed it to linger momentarily before stealing a smile at her at a red light.

"I'm a bit surprised that you accepted my invitation," he offered honestly.

"Oh?" she prompted curiously.

"Indeed. After the sour note we ended on before, I half expected you to throw a drink in my face the next time we met," he revealed with a grin. Also an honest statement.

She laughed - the sound as bright and clear as he remembered it - and shook her head.

"I'm not quite that dramatic, Jonathan," she reminded him, sounding playfully offended.

They arrived shortly thereafter at the restaurant, beginning the evening with a fine bottle of wine and side salads. As the main course arrived, they continued chatting, primarily about Jonathan's storied career, Jane's academic success, their respective travels.

Jonathan was pleased to find that she was every bit as easy to talk to and intelligent as she had been a decade ago.

Scarecrow was busy mentally tabulating what the dinner and drinks were setting him back in terms of how many vats of chemical compounds he could have purchased with it, the experiments he could have done.

We're in the middle of one right now. Don't forget that.

They were on their second bottle of wine - mostly consumed by Jane - when dessert arrived, the precise timing Jonathan had planned to intensify his 'game', so to speak.

He gazed at her without speaking until he locked eyes with her, catching her off guard as she took a bite of the chocolate mousse she had ordered. She sheepishly ate the bite before giggling.

"What is it?" she asked with a grin, the wine obviously making her a touch giddy.

"I can't believe how stupid I must have been to let you go. I've no idea what I was thinking," he faked a sudden outburst of emotion, immediately putting on a mask of regret. "I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean to say that aloud. It must be the wine."

That pseudo slip was enough to turn her grin into a fullblown smile, blood rushing to her cheeks once more. It had precisely the effect on her that he intended it to.

Almost there. Just keep going. We've almost got her.

"I hate that you have to go back to Cyprus on Monday," he baited her with soft blue eyes and a small frown.

She bit her lip and traced the mouth of her wine glass, mulling over her next words in her head. He was silently willing her to say what it was he needed her to say, to make it easy on him.

"I am in town for the night, though..."

It was as good as an invitation.

It makes me so happy that you guys are enjoying this, and I sincerely appreciate hearing from you all. MissGotham made a very good prediction in regards to what Jonathan has planned, but who knows if it will work out?

Also, bonus points if you caught my American Psycho reference.

Definitely let me know what you guys are thinking!