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The top of the garage is covered with a more or less even layer of small rocks, and probably isn't meant for people to walk on. The Joker leads Pen to the nearest corner of the attached apartment building, where he opens a window as tall and broad as a door and hops down a few feet into someone's living room. Probably his.

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Pen follows him right in.

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He closes the window and draws the curtains, then proceeds into the kitchen, which is separated from the living room only by a long counter island.

"I'm thinking waffles," he says. "How d'you feel about waffles?"
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"What waffles?" inquires Pen.

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"You can watch me make 'em and see if you wanna try any," he says.

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So he commences making waffles.

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Pen sits at a barstool at the counter, and watches. She decides that they look tasty!

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He hums to himself as he works, and offers her the first waffle when it's ready, along with an assortment of things (maple syrup, chocolate sauce, applesauce, bananas, blueberries, and strawberries) to put on top if she's feeling adventurous.

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Pen has to taste the maple syrup and the chocolate sauce first to see if she likes them, then adds generous amounts of both and all the fruit except the applesauce. Om nom nom.

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When he serves himself the second waffle, he has it with a little bit of everything.

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"Ish good," opines Pen around a mouthful.

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"Mhm!" he chirps.

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Pen manages to finish her entire waffle, even though she had cake.

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The Joker has two.

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Pen licks her plate.

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She's not the only one.

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Pen giggles and then sets about exploring the rest of the apartment.

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The apartment is... not remotely childproof. He closes the door to one small room next to the kitchen before she can enter it, then steers her away from the front door to show her the master bathroom (which is perfectly clean and pretty and ordinary) and the big room down the hall, which might once have been a bedroom but is now full of tables, clothes, and sewing machines.

There is a distinct lack of beds, although the living room is well supplied with couches.
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Pen notes the lack of beds, and frowns and tries flopping on her front on a couch, but it doesn't have enough lateral space; one wing winds up sort of draped over the back of the couch and the other spills onto the floor. It's not terribly uncomfy, but she doesn't think she can sleep like that. "Hmm," she says, popping up again.

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"Hmm?"

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"Where I sleep?"

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"Need a bigger bed, huh? That's fine," he says serenely. "I've got one, it's just hiding."

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