Harleen Quinzel (revmeup) wrote in roguesgallery, @ 2009-09-11 23:54:00 |
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Entry tags: | harleen quinzel, the joker |
Who: Dr. Harleen Quinzel and The Joker (!!!!!!)
When: September 10th - 11:50 AM
Where: Arkham Asylum - Patient Rec Room
What: Harley finally gets her chance to observe the Joker
Rated: PG-13
Status: Complete
This is it, Harley. After all your hard work, ya finally get to see him. Ya get to watch how he works, nothing more than a pain of glass between you. Harley gently wiped the cool drops of water from her face and took in a deep, calming breath. Her hands were still shaking, but the rest of her was as calm and stoic as she always appeared to be with her colleagues. Few actually knew of Harley's interest in the Joker and she preferred to keep it that way. This was not the time to brag. It was a simple observation; a task set before her by Dr. Crane. She would be professional about it.
Slipping her glasses out of her breast pocket, she put them on and pulled her hair into a loose bun. Once the wrinkles in her white jacket were fixed, she turned sharply and left the bathroom behind her. There was work that needed to be done and now that it was close to noon, they would be escorting him to the recreation hall.
Dr. Quinzel clutched tightly to her notebook and the closer to came to the rec room, the slower she stepped. Her back was straight and her attention was focused straight ahead. It was time to be serious.
A small door led to an offshoot of the rec room and she slipped in without notice. There were only three chairs in the tiny chamber and they were all empty and directed to a thick glass window that looked in at the patients. They were all seated in various places, gray lunch trays before them. She recognized a few of the faces; Ragdoll was bent around himself, eating his lunch in a mishapened position and even her newest patient, Mr. Flatey, sat in a corner, and then she saw him. The Joker. He occupied his own table and he looked so...ordinary. She had never seen him without his signature makeup or purple hues, and there he was, only recognizable by the scarred grin.
Harley's brow creased slightly. She was not sure what she had been expecting to feel at the sight of him. Perhaps elation, maybe fear, but in her small, corner room, she felt pity for the clown.