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[Dr. Harleen Quinzel]

Harleen walked down the grungy sidewalks of downtown Gotham at a brisk pace. The sun was gradually sinking behind Wayne Tower and the growing shadows were bringing the nightlife out. Unfortunately, she wasn't a participant tonight.

She'd taken a taxi only half way from Arkham Asylum to her destination. Partially, this was so she could enjoy a bit of a walk in the mild weather they were enjoying and collect her thoughts a bit. That, and, she'd run out of cash to pay a longer fare. So, her sensible heels clicked along past the masses of humanity heading home from work or out to the clubs. Eventually, her absent-minded walking brought the doctor right up to the door of the Gotham PD.

The police department was not a location Harleen had a lot of experience with. She'd never been arrested and, even considering her line of work, the cops usually brought the crazies to her. She wasn't about to dwell on the fact that she'd never actually entered a police station before, though. She had bigger, wilder things on her mind. With her purse on one shoulder and a file full of professional looking papers under the other, Harleen walked confidently through the doors and to the front desk.

It was chilly inside, she vaguely noted. Almost as thought they were literally trying to keep the criminals "on ice" as the police slang went. The lobby was a generic looking room wit hoff-white walls, blue plastic chairs, and a potted plant in the corner. There was one large generic desk in the center of the space, behind which there were several computers, innumerable telephones, two police radios, and one very generic looking receptionist.

"Hi," Harleen began as she approached the woman, "I'm Dr. Harleen Quinzel from Arkham Asylum. I called earlier. I'm hoping to be able to speak to some of your officers regarding...a case of mine."

[Charlie Holden]

Sally, one of the day receptionists at Gotham PD, looked up boredly from her game of Solitaire at the woman who had interrupted her three-hour coffee break. “One moment,” she offered in a lethargic tone as she punched in the extension number for the person she had arranged Dr. Quinzel to speak to. “Lieutenant? Dr. Quinzel has arrived. Uh-huh. Yeah. Okay, I’ll send her up.”

Terminating the call on her headset and picking up a ‘visitor’ badge from a basket on the counter, she handed it to Dr. Quinzel before sliding across a Visitor Register. “Write your name here, position and workplace here, supervisor’s contact details here, date here and sign here,” Sally explained. “Then take the elevator to level 3. Lieutenant Holden will meet you at the elevator.” Now that her job requirements had been satisfied for the moment, Sally turned back to her cards.

Charlie wandered through the Major Crime bull-pen, dressed as per usual in his suit pants (tan, today) and white shirt with his holster strapped around his shoulders. A standard-issue .45 sat in the leather pocket with the safety on, his brown leather belt matched his up-market leather shoes and he smiled and nodded to one of the female officers on his floor as he passed her cubicle. It had been a relatively slow day which was great, seeing as he had paperwork to catch up on and reports from his officers to approve before they went to the Commissioner.

Things had certainly been interesting since Batman had vanished into thin air; the mob bosses were running rampant, there was the small matter of the Gotham PD computer network breakdown (which he was still ribbing Susie over) and new wackos were springing up all over the place. Combined with his very recent return to work after a well-publicised hospital stint thanks to one ‘Poison Ivy’ (which Susie was still ribbing him about), and Lieutenant Holden was certainly glad for a day when he could relax, get some work done and play Doctor/Patient then go home to relax some more.

He made it to the elevator area at his usual casual place and stopped to lean up against the wall opposite the lift doors, waiting for Dr. Quinzel to make her entrance. He knew the case she wanted to speak to him about; everyone knew about The Joker. Holden had worked most of the crime scenes to do with the creep, being that they all involved Major Crime.

Personally, he wasn’t looking forward to talking about the clown – the very thought of that freaky make-up and scarring made his skin crawl – but he certainly was qualified to discuss the matter and no one higher up was available to speak with the good Doctor. Folding his arms over his chest as he waited, Charlie shook his head. He wondered what type of woman this Doctor would be, if she was working with men as dangerous as the latest lunatic locked up at Arkham.