Post by Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask on Aug 2, 2012 1:49:19 GMT -5
Jeremiah scratched off the current date on his desktop calendar. He only placed a single, black line through the date with the ballpoint pen. Below the date were bullet points, tasks and appointments he had previously placed as goals or business for the day. These he simply placed a check beside as he completed them or he moved them to the next day. It was a simple system and it kept him organized, many could criticize it, but it kept him on track and for Jeremiah Arkham, that was all that mattered to him. All of the tasks save one already sported checks and it was after three o'clock. He was ahead of schedule and if the phone call he had marked down didn't come late, he would be able to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening perhaps getting ahead on his work. Yet first his eyes scanned the calendar to a small scribble he'd made in the top corner.
It dictated that Harvey Dent, Gotham’s ‘White Knight” of a District Attorney had called around three hours ago, inquiring as to whether the man had had any free time in his schedule to meet with him. If his experience with politicians, and he had much, was to be true the quick apologies for asking at such notice to be lies, though the man had seemed anxious and worried, no faux waxing of words. He had seemed genuine in his worry and that made Jeremiah curious. So he had accepted the man’s apologies and assured him that he would see him when it bested suited him, which meant that very day, he’d be there around three forty-five. That would be soon, and Jeremiah was still expecting his phone call, but that was alright. He just hoped they called before Mr. Dent arrived.
His telephone rang; he let it ring twice before he picked up.
“Jeremiah Arkham, Arkham Asylum,” the greeting was automatic, without even an ounce of emotion from the countless times he'd said over the decades. He tapped his finger on the desk in a rhythm he used when he was irritated or bored, which usually went in hand-in-hand. “Oh, yes, Dr. Lehman...I understand your concern...No, I think you'd find the emotion to be genuine, I am not for obstructing justice when appropriate.”
The last item on his list, a call from Dr. Lehman. Oh, he'd not had any verbal promise of such a conversation, but despite being a psychologist, the man was absolutely predictable. Jeremiah had recently testified to the insanity of a man the other doctor had deemed fit for trial, but who Jeremiah now had in his asylum for a psychiatric evaluation that would be happening the very next day. Of course, this infuriated Dr. Lehman and like always, he called the owner of the asylum, his personal enemy to complain and chew him out. It was so, so...petty...and Jeremiah could come up with better ways to be vindictive other than a simple phone to complain.
“Listen, I respect your professional opinion,” that was a lie, but it was one he'd told so easily. “I just professionally disagree and I'm not 'collecting him in my asylum' as you so accuse. What I am doing is offering the man a fair chance, I'm just giving him a test the results...” He pursed his lips, the fury just noticeable on the surface of those brown eyes. He raised his voice. “The results of which will be sent to you to peruse. It will be recorded, the answers transcribed as well and you will have all access to it. I want justice like you, but you forget one important thing so easily: it's innocent until proven guilty and someone who cannot help their mental state is to be given a chance.” He took a breath and he rolled his eyes at the voice that continued to rant on the phone.
“Good day, Dr. Lehman.” He spoke clippedly before the man was finished and returned the phone to its cradle, hanging up. It wasn’t long before it was ringing again. Jeremiah noted the line and was thankful it was his secretary at the front desk.
“Julia, how are you today?” His voice was much warmer as he spoke to his secretary. “Well remember to keep off your feet as much as possible and keep in mind that your maternity leave can be taken anytime now, alright? Alright, now what is it you need? Mr. Dent is here? Yes, yes, I was expecting him. Right on time too. Do send him in please.” He hung up the phone again, cutting the connection. He stood up and pushed in his office chair. He intended to greet the D.A. at door, instead of asking him to stretch his hand out over his desk. Dr. Jeremiah Arkham knew his manners and curtsey often went a long way.
It dictated that Harvey Dent, Gotham’s ‘White Knight” of a District Attorney had called around three hours ago, inquiring as to whether the man had had any free time in his schedule to meet with him. If his experience with politicians, and he had much, was to be true the quick apologies for asking at such notice to be lies, though the man had seemed anxious and worried, no faux waxing of words. He had seemed genuine in his worry and that made Jeremiah curious. So he had accepted the man’s apologies and assured him that he would see him when it bested suited him, which meant that very day, he’d be there around three forty-five. That would be soon, and Jeremiah was still expecting his phone call, but that was alright. He just hoped they called before Mr. Dent arrived.
His telephone rang; he let it ring twice before he picked up.
“Jeremiah Arkham, Arkham Asylum,” the greeting was automatic, without even an ounce of emotion from the countless times he'd said over the decades. He tapped his finger on the desk in a rhythm he used when he was irritated or bored, which usually went in hand-in-hand. “Oh, yes, Dr. Lehman...I understand your concern...No, I think you'd find the emotion to be genuine, I am not for obstructing justice when appropriate.”
The last item on his list, a call from Dr. Lehman. Oh, he'd not had any verbal promise of such a conversation, but despite being a psychologist, the man was absolutely predictable. Jeremiah had recently testified to the insanity of a man the other doctor had deemed fit for trial, but who Jeremiah now had in his asylum for a psychiatric evaluation that would be happening the very next day. Of course, this infuriated Dr. Lehman and like always, he called the owner of the asylum, his personal enemy to complain and chew him out. It was so, so...petty...and Jeremiah could come up with better ways to be vindictive other than a simple phone to complain.
“Listen, I respect your professional opinion,” that was a lie, but it was one he'd told so easily. “I just professionally disagree and I'm not 'collecting him in my asylum' as you so accuse. What I am doing is offering the man a fair chance, I'm just giving him a test the results...” He pursed his lips, the fury just noticeable on the surface of those brown eyes. He raised his voice. “The results of which will be sent to you to peruse. It will be recorded, the answers transcribed as well and you will have all access to it. I want justice like you, but you forget one important thing so easily: it's innocent until proven guilty and someone who cannot help their mental state is to be given a chance.” He took a breath and he rolled his eyes at the voice that continued to rant on the phone.
“Good day, Dr. Lehman.” He spoke clippedly before the man was finished and returned the phone to its cradle, hanging up. It wasn’t long before it was ringing again. Jeremiah noted the line and was thankful it was his secretary at the front desk.
“Julia, how are you today?” His voice was much warmer as he spoke to his secretary. “Well remember to keep off your feet as much as possible and keep in mind that your maternity leave can be taken anytime now, alright? Alright, now what is it you need? Mr. Dent is here? Yes, yes, I was expecting him. Right on time too. Do send him in please.” He hung up the phone again, cutting the connection. He stood up and pushed in his office chair. He intended to greet the D.A. at door, instead of asking him to stretch his hand out over his desk. Dr. Jeremiah Arkham knew his manners and curtsey often went a long way.
