A new waitress was working, he didn’t know her name and hadn’t bothered to ask. As long as she got his order right, he didn’t care. He laid his silverware out just so, turned his empty mug handle to the right, and waited for his usual breakfast to arrive, along with his coffee refill.

Heidi knew what he wanted without asking. She just wrote the ticket when she saw him come in, put it in the window, and came over to fill his coffee mug. No chit chat, no inane questions such as how are you, people didn’t like to hear pissed off as usual.

He started counting as his irritation grew. By the time he finished his first mug of coffee, his breakfast was normally there. He glanced up as he heard sneakers squeak on the floor. The girl set his plate down on the table, and he glared at it. A huge smiley face disfigured the top of his perfect stack of pancakes.

“What the fuck is this?”

“Um, your breakfast, Dem said—”

He surged from the booth, stormed to the kitchen, and he punched open the door.

“Hello, Jackson.” A smiling man leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.

“You—”

“Everyone calls me Dem, but you would know that if you visited your best friends.”

“You fucked up my breakfast, it’s a simple fucking order.”

The man didn’t even blink, just kept smiling with that perky little lift to the corners of his mouth. He didn’t like being made fun of, and he clenched his fists at his sides.

“You didn’t like your morning smile, Jackson?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“It’s your name, and it’s a very sexy name.”

He growled deep in his chest, his fist connected with the steel cooler door, and he spun on his toes. He slammed through the swinging door and the diner, then out the front door.

“Joker, you okay,” his friend, King’s voice barely broke through his anger.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I have to get to work.”

“Isn’t it time for your break—”

He didn’t wait to hear the end of the question and made the ten-minute walk to his shop. When he threw open the sliding doors, the scent of motor oil and rubber filled his nose. His stomach growled, and he ignored it, lunch was only four hours away. He could make it. He’d gone hungrier a lot longer than a few hours. Garnet starved him for almost a week, and he’d survived.

A tiny growling bundle of fur bounded into his garage. He scooped Killer up and shoved her into the pocket of his hoodie, and her little head popped up through the hole he’d cut in the top. He rubbed her ears between his thumbs and index fingers. Her tiny little rumbles threatening, well, as threatening as less than three pounds of dog could get.

She settled in and let him pet her. She knew when he needed extra time. She needed her routine as much as he did. He’d had a pet once before his mother disappeared. After that, it had gone missing one night, just like his mother had. Everything he loved disappeared. He’d never had anything of his own, making him possessive of his job, his home, his garage, and Killer. He didn’t expect anything else to remain, but those things were his.

His stomach rumbled again, but he shook his head. He had one peanut butter sandwich and one bottle of water, that was all he’d have for lunch. Nothing more.

“Hi.”

He spun as that man’s voice sounded behind him. No one came up behind him without announcing their presence. Everyone knew that, and the man should’ve been warned. A white plastic to-go bag was wrapped around the man’s wrist, while his hands wrapped around the arm crutch handles.

“What’s that?”

“Pancakes, no smiley face, lots of butter, a small cup of syrup.”

“Why?”

Dem grimaced, and he looked embarrassed. “My flirting apparently didn’t go well.”

“Why the fuck were you flirting? Are you desperate?”

“No, here, eat your breakfast.”

The man held out the bag with his right hand, the crutch dangled there. Ghost said Dem had a degenerative disease or something. He didn’t know all the details, and he’d barely listened, he’d just helped with a few things to make the house more accessible to Ghost’s friend.

He took quick steps forward, grabbed the bag and retreated before the man could touch him. Touch meant pain and humiliation, he wouldn’t set himself up for it.

“Um, what’s that?”

He studied Dem pointing and looked down to see Killer staring just as hard as he was at Dem.

“Killer.”

“Oh, is that Tiny’s sister,” Dem asked with a bright smile.

The smile was better than the cringe from earlier. He liked the way the man lit up when he was happy. It was odd because he didn’t pay much attention to people’s emotions. Some had mood swings drastic enough to change the weather, and he found it exhausting to keep up. He had boredom and rage, simple enough.

“Yeah.”

Dem reached forward. “May I?”

He stepped back. “No.”

“Okay. I better get back to work, I locked up and put a sign on the door.”

“You can’t—”

“I called Heidi and told her I had to bring you breakfast. You should know the hour you come in to have breakfast is the deadest time of the day.”

“You didn’t—”

“I did, I shouldn’t have teased you. Can I buy you dinner to make up for it?”

“No.”

Dem seemed to deflate, but what he assumed was confusion was present in the man’s features. Some things he could pick out and others he was clueless.

“Okay, I better get going, it was nice seeing you again, Jack—Joker.”

He frowned and his brow furrowed at the—sadness. Maybe that was it. He’d seen Harper sad, he’d even remembered his mother crying when he was a boy, but he’d never seen someone sad because he told them no. Fuck, no one had asked him on a date before, it wasn’t a date, a sorry for making fun of him meal.

“I don’t like to be made fun of; to be made to feel stupid. Don’t do it again.”

“I’m very sorry, Joker.”

He nodded and waited for the man to leave, but instead, Dem headed toward him. He noticed the man’s left foot dragged. This wasn’t the—he caught Dem as the man’s toes caught on a hose on the floor. He caught Dem’s biceps and held on, the man’s breathing ragged and his face slightly pale.

“Could I sit for a minute? I tired myself out walking over here. I’m sorry.”

He released Dem and grabbed his grease-stained stool, and set it behind Dem. He stepped back and started to nervously rub Killer’s ears again. He didn’t like people in his space—touching his things.

“Why haven’t you been out to the farm since I moved here?”

Fuck, a minute ago he had an unwanted guest, and he changed into a chatty unwanted guest. Wasn’t Dem warned about him? Stay away. Felon. Insane person. Violent bastard.

“I don’t like strangers.”

“Well, we’ve met so you can come back out.”

“Okay.”

A tiny smile that held no warmth tilted the corners of Dem’s mouth. “You’re lying. Gideon warned me about your Joker-speak.”

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to work?”

“Trying to get rid of me?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t spare people’s feelings, do you?”

“No.”

“Fuck, it’s like pulling teeth.”

He watched Dem use his arm crutches to get to his feet, and the man spun to head for the door.

“Eat your breakfast, it’s probably cold, but you need it. Your stomach has been growling for the last five minutes. I don’t like that you were going to go hungry because of me.”

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Dem left without a backward glance or another word. His friends worried about him. They made sure they were always available if he needed bail, but no one had ever wondered if he was hungry or worried if he was.

Killer nipped at his fingers when she was done with his attention. He leaned over to pick up the bag he’d dropped and took the seat Dem just vacated. He frowned at the urge to go after the man to see if he needed a ride but shook it off. He rested the to-go box on his knees, Killer shifted until her head stuck out the left side of the pocket. He broke off a tiny piece off the top pancake and fed her the bite, then another until she turned away from another offering.

Once he knew she was full and content, he drizzled the tiny amount of syrup over them and ate the butter soaked lukewarm pancakes. He forced himself not to eat too quickly. No one was there to take away his food. Garnet wasn’t there to let him eat just so much, not enough to fill his stomach, and then snatch the plate away.

He remembered the days he wouldn’t be allowed anything but peanut butter on stale bread. One cup of water. As a grown man, his lunch was a reminder.

He secretly longed for something sweet. Cakes and cookies, pastries that his friend, Ben, made at his bakery, but it was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Something he refused to get used to.

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but his friends made him jealous. They had men who loved them. He observed the sweetness of touches, the loving tilt of smiles sometimes small or wide when their men appeared. Dem had smiled at him earlier. Called him by his name and said it was sexy. He wondered what it would be like if it wasn’t made in jest.

Anger burned in his chest, his food became lodged in his throat as he launched his breakfast against the nearest wall. Killer didn’t react, too used to his outbursts. He sat frozen on the uncomfortable stool and stared off into space. Emotions other than rage were unacceptable, and his anger settled the abnormal urges. He wasn’t like Psycho, Ghost, Bull, or any of the other men he was friends with. He wasn’t normal. He was broken. His existence a cruelty he suffered. His penance for being what and who he was, he was a monster just as the animal who forced him into being.