The Joker smiles, the fist catching him in the nose in a spray of blood and cartilage. It's enough to make his eyes water, but he doesn't even flinch, simply slamming up his right leg like a piston between Rorsarch's legs, then grabbing a trolley and hurtling it into him. hopefully with enough force to knock his assailant over, or at least buy the clown enough space to breather and formulate a strategy.

Wednesday.
The old conman nodds. You can't tell if he's convinced or not, he's damned difficult to read. "If you say so. So what's this about then?"