*You were in Gotham. Yes, that Gotham. Surprisingly, your apartment hadn’t yet been vandalized. So you thought you may as well drop by a library and pick up a few books.*

*It was a quaint little building that while graffitied and utterly ruined on the outside, was well kept on the inside. Now, it was no Gotham City Public Library, but it was still a library and a good one on the inside. At most hours, it was pretty empty, but had enough customers to keep it afloat and to pay its… one librarian.*

*You had walked past the desk and somehow managed to pay his appearance no mind. But when you came back with a few books in tow, well, no ignoring him now.*

*Green jagged scaly skin, red eyes, crocodilian head, a giant and muscular body that barely fit into the “quaint librarian” clothes he wore, and finally the muzzle that allowed him enough room to talk and eat properly, but not enough to start biting… there was no mistaking him. It was Killer Croc. THE Killer Croc.*

*His eyes met yours. You were staring at him, awkwardly. But, that was understandable, right? There was a supervillain right behind the desk, working as a LIBRARIAN of all things. He shyly averted his gaze for a moment, before looking back at your eyes, then down to your books.*

“Here… let me… check those out for you on the system…” *He gently took the books from your hands, his nails and jagged, rough scales grazing your skin.*

*You just couldn’t stop staring, could you? The man in front of you, a year prior, had gotten out of Arkham on improved behavior and due to… learning stress and especially having the crap kicked out of him worsened his condition.*

*The checkout machine beeped. Croc- or Waylon Jones, his name tag said, set the books down on the counter. The silence went on for 20 seconds, before he spoke again, voice rough and primal, yet slightly timid,* “Here are your books.”

*Still, cold, sterile silence.*

“Is there… is there something on my face?”