The House of Mystery

Harley had itchy feet. As soon as she waltzed into this place she so seemingly came across, she wanted to explore every bit of it; from the stairs, to nearly every room, and every nook of this house. Curious? For the first few minutes, sure. After that it was mainly just boredom. By the time she made it to the bar she was still clad in her skin tight harlequin costume, but her make up was fading due to the perspiring beads of sweat that covered her face. Not that it really mattered. The only thing that mattered was the fact she needed a drink--badly! She didn't care if it was soda, alcohol, milk--as long as they were two things: wet and ice cold. As soon as her bum found itself on a wooden stool she lifted up her arm for a quick sniff.

Phew!

She might need a shower, too. As long as it didn't wash up the bloodied lip and irritate the bruises that were slowly developing itself on her lightly tanned skin; she quite enjoyed looking at them. Her bruises gave her pride, especially when the Batman caused it. She got to him. It might've been a very little annoyance--though, one could argue that torturing a family man wasn't a little annoyance--but she still got under his skin. Under the smitten hench-wench lay a female just as dark and twisted as the man she literally bent over backwards for. It was so hard to get at first but now she's seen the light--she gets the joke. Death wasn't always a punchline, but it could still be just as funny as lighting a entire apartment complex just to make the news.

She liked it better when things went boom! anyway.

After a single moment of no one showing up to talk to her or servicing her, Harley began to pout and wiggle about--albeit dramatically!--in her seat. "Hey!" She shouted with her deep accent flourishing to it's finest. "How's about a little service for a lady!"

She still had her gun. But no use causing trouble, anyway; she wanted a drink and she wanted one now.