Force Walker (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} darth_imperius) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} toboldlyrpg,@ 2017-03-06 16:19:00 |
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| Entry tags: | - crew quarters, ^ log, darth imperius | star wars (legends), harley quinn | dc extended |
WHO: Darth Imperius and Harley Quinn
WHEN: 226402.26
WHERE: Quarters D-30
SUMMARY: Roommates being roommates
WARNINGS: Unknown
STATUS: Thread In Progress (closed)
Sharing a room with someone had been an unwelcome surprise for Darth Imperius. But her current circumstances couldn't be helped, and she contented herself with thinking of the tantrum some of her peers would have thrown at the very idea. Her title held no meaning here, which left her torn between tossing it aside, or clinging to it like a life raft. Neither appealed to her. One was giving up, and the other was just pathetic.
Over the past month she'd been struggling to come to terms with the woman she was stuck with and she still wasn't sure if she actually liked Harley Quinn or if she wanted to choke the life out of her with the Force.
The ship felt like it was getting crowded, but she actually didn't mind. Some of the newcomers were intriguing. Lomea crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair as she tapped on her PADD. "Have you met many of the newcomers?"
---
Harley wasn’t used to sharing a room with someone either-- unless you count Joker. And even then, her stuff was tossed about. She was a tidy girl at all, by any means. So keeping her stuff on her side of the room was a tough one. But she tried! Oh lord, did she try. Lomea was kind of scary. Which was also kind of hot, because Harley was a bit Touched upstairs.
“Not really, just the people that have been here have been talking to me. Why, is there anyone really cute?” Her eyes went wide and she fluttered her eyelashes. “Cuter than you, at least?”
---
She turned her head towards Harley, fixing her with a tired, dry look. “I am not cute.” Of all the ways Lomea could describe herself, ‘cute’ wasn’t one of them. Trailing her finger down the side of the device, she added. “Though there might be a few that would fit, depending on your definition of cute. There’s a blonde who reminds me of an apprentice of mine.”
A few others, too, but Elsa stuck out in her mind. Lomea wasn’t the nurturing type, and while she was typically drawn to power like a moth to the flame, she’d quickly wanted to bring out the steel that she could see under the fear.
---
“Apprentice? Oh right, Star--” Wars. She didn’t finish her sentence because it was weird to tell someone they were fictional where you came from. Harley tilted her head like a confused dog. “I mean, were you a bad guy? A sith or whatever?” Harley was secretly a nerd, tell no one. Then again, these days, you couldn’t really escape Star Wars. “I was a bad guy.” She held her hand up like a gun. “Pew pew.”
---
"The Republic has done it's fair share of bad things, as has the Empire." Lomea set the PADD down and pulled her legs up under her body. "But I am a Sith. No matter what some of my peers think, being Sith does not mean going around and murdering everyone. That makes things unstable"
She smiled. "I only killed those who deserved it. The living are usually more useful and loyal than the dead. Tis much more fun to be worshipped."
Giving Harley a once over, she added. "You probably wouldn't make it." That, or Harley would be one of the crazy ones. It was hard to tell.
---
Harley rubbed her hands together like a greedy little fly. Then she heard the rest of what Lomea said, “Wait, what do you mean I wouldn’t have made it? I’ve killed before! I can do it again.” She would have just busted her gun out and aimed it at Lomea if that wouldn’t have gotten her in trouble. That and … well, Lomea wouldn’t like her much after that.
“I’ve killed those who’ve gotten in my way. Which … I think deserved it.”
---
Lomea laughed. It was actually nice laugh and only a little bit sinister. She regarded her with a curious eye. "Are you one of those that are easy to underestimate? Perhaps I should be more careful."
At least Harley wasn't pushing any of her buttons right now, so that was a plus. "There was a woman I encountered once. Thana Vesh. Completely unhinged and just a little out of control. So perhaps you would make it, if someone did not decide to eliminate you as being a threat. So you would have to kill them, first. And they most likely would deserve it."
She looked around the quarters. "Frankly, it gets exhausting. This is like a vacation."
---
Harley laid on her bed and looked at Lomea upside-down. She put her feet on the wall. “I’ve been locked up before. This is a lot nicer, and the job is pretty cool. But it’s just a fancier cage.”
When she heard ‘completely unhinged,’ Harley clapped like a little kid receiving a birthday cake. “I like the sound of her. I’ve been called that before, you know, it’s not so bad.” She said it very conversationally, as if being called Completely Unhinged was like someone asking about the weather.
---
"Yes, a gilded cage. I am familiar with them. And also with those less shining." She brushed her fingers across her throat, remembering the shock collar.
"Are you always so cheerful when someone calls you insane? I don't know whether it's endearing or not."
---
Harley watched Lomea touch her throat and she did the same, only on the side. She remembered the bomb implanted in her neck. It was still there, only disabled. Maybe she should get that checked out.
“Oh, baby, I was made this way. Some people are proud of what they’ve uncovered. And me, I’m downright pleased.”
---
"Whoever made you was a master designer." A smile danced across Lomea's lips. "Almost as good as the person who made me."
She was settling on not-hating Harley. Mess aside, she was proving to be an interesting conversationalist. A bit like trying to follow a rabid ferret, but interesting.
---
Harley was working on sewing herself clothing. She had managed to make a corset with her old colors. She hiked up the front of the corset and adjusted her shorts, still laying upside down. They kept it a nice temperature in this place. It wasn’t like Gotham, cold all the time. At least, it felt like it was cold all the time.
Her pigtails hung aside her face and she pulled one to mimic a mustache. “He’s a whack job, that’s to be sure. But I think he made me crazier than him. I think he broke the mold.”
She paused, unsure if she should ask, “Who made you?”
---
"He did good work. I approve." It was a nice look and one Lomea appreciated on multiple levels. Lomea had worn a corset on more than one occasion and in hotter climes favored a shoulder and midriff baring top. Otherwise, it was robes. Not the simple blase robes of the jedi, but much more fashionable ones, elegant. Usually in white with red highlights, or various shades of purple to match her make-up.
"The answer to that question can be more than one person," Lomea murmured. "Lord Zash set me on my path, she tried to break me, to consume me and failed. Thanaton tried to bury me. He was afraid of what I could become, and what my changes could mean for the Empire. He too, failed."
Without them, who would she be? Not herself. Lightning sparked in her hand and struck the ceiling. "Or perhaps I was molded by the Force."
---
Harley clapped when the lightning sparked. “Oooh, a light show!” She didn’t want to talk about J. She realized in her time away from him that he captured her with his charm and she succumbed to Stockholm Syndrome. Or something of the like. He electrocuted her and convinced her to jump into a vat of acid. That wasn’t love.
But then… why did she love him so much?
“Don’t say he did good work. Maybe I created myself in his image to be with him. Maybe I was molded by the Force, too.” Harley smirked and tilted her head from side to side, as if there was music only she could hear.
---
Love was a funny thing, and in some ways similar to fear. If Lomea ever learned the extent of Mr. J's treatment of Harley, well, he'd die a very slow death on principle if she had half a chance. Her own love affairs had been brief, physical things. Though Lana might have been something more if they’d had time, and duty to the Empire not interfered.
"Mm." She glanced at Harley again, eyes moving up and down her body. "Well sculpted, at the very least. Always trust in the Force."
---
Harley watched Lomea’s eyes. “Ya think so?” She winked at the other woman. “I know so, but it’s nice to hear it now and again.”
Love was like fear for Harley. She was scared of the Joker, even if she could easily out-crazy him. She could easily take over his empire out from under him. She was reckless and wild. He was compartmentalized. He did stupid things to save her. Harley was sick of being saved. Unless it was someone saving her from him.
---
"I've high standards," Lomea assured her. She was used to pointless flattery. Syncophants trying to get in her good graces, either to step on her to go higher, or because they were drawn like leeches to suck her blood.
But she still knew when to dish it out and she did enjoy receiving it. "Do you like who you are?"
--
“You’re not so bad yourself, lovely.” Harley used her hands to make an hourglass shape in the air. She then blew a bubble with her bubblegum and let it pop loudly. “Do I like who I am? Baby, I love who I am. I think I made myself. Everyone thinks he made me. I made myself.”
She blew another bubble and let it deflate slowly. “Do you like yourself?”
---
The way Harley kept repeating that made Lomea think that she wasn't entirely sure. But maybe the best way to believe something was to repeat it.
"Yes. I am perfect in every way." It was the kind of statement she'd make in public, where a persona had to be perfect to survive. "At least, all the ways that count."
---
It was true-- Harley wasn’t sure who made her. But she liked to believe it was herself. It was easier to get away from J that way.
“In what ways then, hotness?” Harley crossed her legs against the wall, barefeet with red nail polish on each toenail.
---
"Intelligence, ambition, cunning. Mercy, when I fancy the idea." She ran her hand down her chest. "Power. And I am physically stunning."
Lomea recalled her speech, to the people of Corellia after she'd conquered the planet. She was always at her best when she was bragging about herself. "There's a reason the galaxy revered me. They looked upon me with jealousy, fear and awe. They all wanted to be me. Or to have me."
---
“Oh, uh,” Harley couldn’t help it, she started to laugh her stuttered hyena-laugh. “You’re really fulla yourself, you know that?” She turned in her bed, so that she was sitting up, still with her legs on the bed. “That or you’re completely nuts. I think I prefer the latter.”
She watched Lomea run her hand down her chest with a stare, “I could see why they would want to have you.”
---
"I think that would have become clear by now," Lomea replied, voice imperious. She rested her hands on the armrests of the chair, moving her legs into a normal seating position. If that seating position was on a throne.
She smirked, lifting her hand to rest the back of it under her jaw and suggestively added. "Most could only ever dream of such a privilege."
---
Harley was diggin’ it. Lomea was a princess in her mind. “I had a dream about it,” she said, casually. “Last night.” That wasn’t exactly true, but she was running with it. “It was very saucy!”
She mimicked Lomea’s gesture, “And most people only ever dream of having me!” Unless Mr. J gave her away as a gift. Which he’d done before… but usually got her back before anything could happen. But still. She wasn’t property! She wasn’t a goat!
---
"Did you now." In other circumstances, Lomea might have shocked Harley for her trouble. But she wanted to avoid the brig. And maybe she was just a teensy bit flattered. "What sort of sauce? Something sweet, or something savory?"
Yet another thing that would have Lomea electrocuting Mr. J. Or at least immobilizing him so Harley could go at him with her hammer. People as property was a button for her.
---
Harley’s eyes got big as Lomea played along. “Oh, it was savory, Miss Imperius.” Harley winked and brushed the hair out of her eyes-- it so perfectly fell as she spoke.
“Or should I call you Darth? Lomea? What would you like me to call you, besides not late for dinner?”
---
Lomea’s eyes followed the sweep of Harley’s hand and she smiled. The same way a snake might smile before striking. “Savory. How intriguing. Is this a common occurrence, or a special occasion?
She lifted her hand and gestured around the room. “Here, I suppose, my name will do fine. Darth should be reserved for special occasions as fits my mood.”
---
“Oh, it happens alllllll the time.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Harley had thought about Lomea in that way before. She was hyperactive and loved sex. She thought about Tony and Bones that way, too. Bones. Heh. Dr. McCoy.
“Lomea it is, then. Pretty name.”
---
Bones reminded Lomea of a few people she'd known, which somewhat annoyed her. He tended to be her type when it came to men. "I am glad to be of service."
She shrugged, and allowed Harley some insight into her past. If only because she'd complimented her. "The only thing about who I was before I was Sith that was worth keeping."
---
“Oh yes, you service me quite often in those dreams.” Harley was trying to hold back giggles and she ended up covering her mouth.
“So they let us bad guys roam the ship with our weapons? We could do a mutiny!” She wasn’t serious, but it was a tempting idea.
---
Dryly, Lomea replied, "I'm unsure if I want to know." But she was curious, though she wasn't going to actually say that out loud. That would be giving too much away, and where was the fun in that?
"We could. I think we should keep that in mind if necessary. Think of what we could do with a ship like this." It was tempting to think about.
---
“You don’t want to know? I guess I’ll just keep it a secret.” She brushed a hand over her tattoo on her upper thigh that said ‘let me tell you a sekret.’ Eyebrow waggle commencement in 3...2...1.
“We could be a band of robbers.” Harley waggled her eyebrows again.
---
Harley just said the magic word. "Secret? Only if it's a secret between the two of us. I do love a good secret."
If it helped give her an out for her curiosity without appearing to be curious, so much the better.
"Robbery. You aren't thinking high enough. Why be robbers when we could be queens."
---
“Oh, I won’t speak a word of my dreams to anyone but you, my dear Lomea.”
Harley wasn’t even sure if they were flirting anymore. It was some sort of strange dance, a mind game. Either way, she enjoyed it.
“I was a queen once. Of Gotham. Joker was my King. Then the Bat got me.”
---
“Are you going to share details? Because I never beg.” Lomea gave Harley a knowing look, before slipping to her feet and moving over to the replicator. “Tea.”
“There are 651 varieties of tea programmed, please specify.”
Pinching her nose, Lomea clarified. “Whichever tea is most commonly consumed on this vessel. I’ve no patience right now to experiment.”
She picked up the replicated mug and took a sip. “A city is nothing. A galactic Empire, now that is something. The Bat?”
---
Harley’s eyes lit up when Lomea went to the tea dispenser. “Tell it I want an espresso!!”
On the subject of the secret, Harley played coy, “I don’t know if I should tell you. I might stop having these dreams. Or… it might come true. That might be weird, considering we’re roommates.”
She clapped when Lomea got her tea. She was so easily amused by technology. She loved it on the ship. “Batsy! Batman. Grown man, dressed like a little rodent… thingie. Chases the bad guys around. He ruined date night.” She pouted then, her shoulders falling. If Joker didn’t slam the car into the railing, they might have gotten away. Instead, only Joker got away.
---
Lomea turned to the replicator. "One espresso. Whatever that is."
The machine seemed to know exactly what it was. To Lomea, it smelled like some kind of Caf. Which was useful to know. She always did love a good Caf in the morning. "Hardly the weirdest thing I've ever done. Or heard of."
She brought the drink over. "A man running around in a costume caught you? That sounds absurd."
---
Harley shrugged and took the cup from Lomea. “I can’t swim! Puddin’-- Mister J… well, he drove the Lambo right into the river. I went through the winda’. The Bat caught me easy because I was drownin’.”
The more Harley thought about it, the more angry she got. Joker left her for dead. He came back for her when she was with the Squad, and when she was tossed back in Belle Reve, but… it didn’t really count, did it?
---
Reading between the lines, Lomea lifted her tea to her lips and sipped it. She set it down on the plate, and then put the plate on a table. She was quiet for a moment before she asked, "And he knew you couldn't swim?"
---
Harley didn’t like this line of questioning. It brought the truth to light and she liked to lie to herself. “...yeh.”
She looked down at her espresso. “Smells great!”
---
"Seems to me..." Lomea returned to her chair and got comfortable in it. "Like he wanted to be rid of you, but didn't have the backbone to eliminate you himself. Perhaps he did you a favor."
---
Harley sipped her espresso slowly. “He loves me.”
She thought about how she begged him to let her in. How she doted over him.
“Have you ever been in love, Lomea?”
---
"I've heard of that sort of love. There was a man I knew once. His wife ended up dead. And then, so did he." Lomea sipped her tea again as she considered her answer.
"Yes. Twice."
Over the past month she'd been struggling to come to terms with the woman she was stuck with and she still wasn't sure if she actually liked Harley Quinn or if she wanted to choke the life out of her with the Force.
The ship felt like it was getting crowded, but she actually didn't mind. Some of the newcomers were intriguing. Lomea crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair as she tapped on her PADD. "Have you met many of the newcomers?"
---
Harley wasn’t used to sharing a room with someone either-- unless you count Joker. And even then, her stuff was tossed about. She was a tidy girl at all, by any means. So keeping her stuff on her side of the room was a tough one. But she tried! Oh lord, did she try. Lomea was kind of scary. Which was also kind of hot, because Harley was a bit Touched upstairs.
“Not really, just the people that have been here have been talking to me. Why, is there anyone really cute?” Her eyes went wide and she fluttered her eyelashes. “Cuter than you, at least?”
---
She turned her head towards Harley, fixing her with a tired, dry look. “I am not cute.” Of all the ways Lomea could describe herself, ‘cute’ wasn’t one of them. Trailing her finger down the side of the device, she added. “Though there might be a few that would fit, depending on your definition of cute. There’s a blonde who reminds me of an apprentice of mine.”
A few others, too, but Elsa stuck out in her mind. Lomea wasn’t the nurturing type, and while she was typically drawn to power like a moth to the flame, she’d quickly wanted to bring out the steel that she could see under the fear.
---
“Apprentice? Oh right, Star--” Wars. She didn’t finish her sentence because it was weird to tell someone they were fictional where you came from. Harley tilted her head like a confused dog. “I mean, were you a bad guy? A sith or whatever?” Harley was secretly a nerd, tell no one. Then again, these days, you couldn’t really escape Star Wars. “I was a bad guy.” She held her hand up like a gun. “Pew pew.”
---
"The Republic has done it's fair share of bad things, as has the Empire." Lomea set the PADD down and pulled her legs up under her body. "But I am a Sith. No matter what some of my peers think, being Sith does not mean going around and murdering everyone. That makes things unstable"
She smiled. "I only killed those who deserved it. The living are usually more useful and loyal than the dead. Tis much more fun to be worshipped."
Giving Harley a once over, she added. "You probably wouldn't make it." That, or Harley would be one of the crazy ones. It was hard to tell.
---
Harley rubbed her hands together like a greedy little fly. Then she heard the rest of what Lomea said, “Wait, what do you mean I wouldn’t have made it? I’ve killed before! I can do it again.” She would have just busted her gun out and aimed it at Lomea if that wouldn’t have gotten her in trouble. That and … well, Lomea wouldn’t like her much after that.
“I’ve killed those who’ve gotten in my way. Which … I think deserved it.”
---
Lomea laughed. It was actually nice laugh and only a little bit sinister. She regarded her with a curious eye. "Are you one of those that are easy to underestimate? Perhaps I should be more careful."
At least Harley wasn't pushing any of her buttons right now, so that was a plus. "There was a woman I encountered once. Thana Vesh. Completely unhinged and just a little out of control. So perhaps you would make it, if someone did not decide to eliminate you as being a threat. So you would have to kill them, first. And they most likely would deserve it."
She looked around the quarters. "Frankly, it gets exhausting. This is like a vacation."
---
Harley laid on her bed and looked at Lomea upside-down. She put her feet on the wall. “I’ve been locked up before. This is a lot nicer, and the job is pretty cool. But it’s just a fancier cage.”
When she heard ‘completely unhinged,’ Harley clapped like a little kid receiving a birthday cake. “I like the sound of her. I’ve been called that before, you know, it’s not so bad.” She said it very conversationally, as if being called Completely Unhinged was like someone asking about the weather.
---
"Yes, a gilded cage. I am familiar with them. And also with those less shining." She brushed her fingers across her throat, remembering the shock collar.
"Are you always so cheerful when someone calls you insane? I don't know whether it's endearing or not."
---
Harley watched Lomea touch her throat and she did the same, only on the side. She remembered the bomb implanted in her neck. It was still there, only disabled. Maybe she should get that checked out.
“Oh, baby, I was made this way. Some people are proud of what they’ve uncovered. And me, I’m downright pleased.”
---
"Whoever made you was a master designer." A smile danced across Lomea's lips. "Almost as good as the person who made me."
She was settling on not-hating Harley. Mess aside, she was proving to be an interesting conversationalist. A bit like trying to follow a rabid ferret, but interesting.
---
Harley was working on sewing herself clothing. She had managed to make a corset with her old colors. She hiked up the front of the corset and adjusted her shorts, still laying upside down. They kept it a nice temperature in this place. It wasn’t like Gotham, cold all the time. At least, it felt like it was cold all the time.
![a corset](https://instagram.fdet1-1.fna.fbcdn.net/t51.2885-15/s1080x1080/e35/16790158_1215546205160582_3913471932648914944_n.jpg"){kind=link}
Her pigtails hung aside her face and she pulled one to mimic a mustache. “He’s a whack job, that’s to be sure. But I think he made me crazier than him. I think he broke the mold.”
She paused, unsure if she should ask, “Who made you?”
---
"He did good work. I approve." It was a nice look and one Lomea appreciated on multiple levels. Lomea had worn a corset on more than one occasion and in hotter climes favored a shoulder and midriff baring top. Otherwise, it was robes. Not the simple blase robes of the jedi, but much more fashionable ones, elegant. Usually in white with red highlights, or various shades of purple to match her make-up.
"The answer to that question can be more than one person," Lomea murmured. "Lord Zash set me on my path, she tried to break me, to consume me and failed. Thanaton tried to bury me. He was afraid of what I could become, and what my changes could mean for the Empire. He too, failed."
Without them, who would she be? Not herself. Lightning sparked in her hand and struck the ceiling. "Or perhaps I was molded by the Force."
---
Harley clapped when the lightning sparked. “Oooh, a light show!” She didn’t want to talk about J. She realized in her time away from him that he captured her with his charm and she succumbed to Stockholm Syndrome. Or something of the like. He electrocuted her and convinced her to jump into a vat of acid. That wasn’t love.
But then… why did she love him so much?
“Don’t say he did good work. Maybe I created myself in his image to be with him. Maybe I was molded by the Force, too.” Harley smirked and tilted her head from side to side, as if there was music only she could hear.
---
Love was a funny thing, and in some ways similar to fear. If Lomea ever learned the extent of Mr. J's treatment of Harley, well, he'd die a very slow death on principle if she had half a chance. Her own love affairs had been brief, physical things. Though Lana might have been something more if they’d had time, and duty to the Empire not interfered.
"Mm." She glanced at Harley again, eyes moving up and down her body. "Well sculpted, at the very least. Always trust in the Force."
---
Harley watched Lomea’s eyes. “Ya think so?” She winked at the other woman. “I know so, but it’s nice to hear it now and again.”
Love was like fear for Harley. She was scared of the Joker, even if she could easily out-crazy him. She could easily take over his empire out from under him. She was reckless and wild. He was compartmentalized. He did stupid things to save her. Harley was sick of being saved. Unless it was someone saving her from him.
---
"I've high standards," Lomea assured her. She was used to pointless flattery. Syncophants trying to get in her good graces, either to step on her to go higher, or because they were drawn like leeches to suck her blood.
But she still knew when to dish it out and she did enjoy receiving it. "Do you like who you are?"
--
“You’re not so bad yourself, lovely.” Harley used her hands to make an hourglass shape in the air. She then blew a bubble with her bubblegum and let it pop loudly. “Do I like who I am? Baby, I love who I am. I think I made myself. Everyone thinks he made me. I made myself.”
She blew another bubble and let it deflate slowly. “Do you like yourself?”
---
The way Harley kept repeating that made Lomea think that she wasn't entirely sure. But maybe the best way to believe something was to repeat it.
"Yes. I am perfect in every way." It was the kind of statement she'd make in public, where a persona had to be perfect to survive. "At least, all the ways that count."
---
It was true-- Harley wasn’t sure who made her. But she liked to believe it was herself. It was easier to get away from J that way.
“In what ways then, hotness?” Harley crossed her legs against the wall, barefeet with red nail polish on each toenail.
---
"Intelligence, ambition, cunning. Mercy, when I fancy the idea." She ran her hand down her chest. "Power. And I am physically stunning."
Lomea recalled her speech, to the people of Corellia after she'd conquered the planet. She was always at her best when she was bragging about herself. "There's a reason the galaxy revered me. They looked upon me with jealousy, fear and awe. They all wanted to be me. Or to have me."
---
“Oh, uh,” Harley couldn’t help it, she started to laugh her stuttered hyena-laugh. “You’re really fulla yourself, you know that?” She turned in her bed, so that she was sitting up, still with her legs on the bed. “That or you’re completely nuts. I think I prefer the latter.”
She watched Lomea run her hand down her chest with a stare, “I could see why they would want to have you.”
---
"I think that would have become clear by now," Lomea replied, voice imperious. She rested her hands on the armrests of the chair, moving her legs into a normal seating position. If that seating position was on a throne.
She smirked, lifting her hand to rest the back of it under her jaw and suggestively added. "Most could only ever dream of such a privilege."
---
Harley was diggin’ it. Lomea was a princess in her mind. “I had a dream about it,” she said, casually. “Last night.” That wasn’t exactly true, but she was running with it. “It was very saucy!”
She mimicked Lomea’s gesture, “And most people only ever dream of having me!” Unless Mr. J gave her away as a gift. Which he’d done before… but usually got her back before anything could happen. But still. She wasn’t property! She wasn’t a goat!
---
"Did you now." In other circumstances, Lomea might have shocked Harley for her trouble. But she wanted to avoid the brig. And maybe she was just a teensy bit flattered. "What sort of sauce? Something sweet, or something savory?"
Yet another thing that would have Lomea electrocuting Mr. J. Or at least immobilizing him so Harley could go at him with her hammer. People as property was a button for her.
---
Harley’s eyes got big as Lomea played along. “Oh, it was savory, Miss Imperius.” Harley winked and brushed the hair out of her eyes-- it so perfectly fell as she spoke.
“Or should I call you Darth? Lomea? What would you like me to call you, besides not late for dinner?”
---
Lomea’s eyes followed the sweep of Harley’s hand and she smiled. The same way a snake might smile before striking. “Savory. How intriguing. Is this a common occurrence, or a special occasion?
She lifted her hand and gestured around the room. “Here, I suppose, my name will do fine. Darth should be reserved for special occasions as fits my mood.”
---
“Oh, it happens alllllll the time.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Harley had thought about Lomea in that way before. She was hyperactive and loved sex. She thought about Tony and Bones that way, too. Bones. Heh. Dr. McCoy.
“Lomea it is, then. Pretty name.”
---
Bones reminded Lomea of a few people she'd known, which somewhat annoyed her. He tended to be her type when it came to men. "I am glad to be of service."
She shrugged, and allowed Harley some insight into her past. If only because she'd complimented her. "The only thing about who I was before I was Sith that was worth keeping."
---
“Oh yes, you service me quite often in those dreams.” Harley was trying to hold back giggles and she ended up covering her mouth.
“So they let us bad guys roam the ship with our weapons? We could do a mutiny!” She wasn’t serious, but it was a tempting idea.
---
Dryly, Lomea replied, "I'm unsure if I want to know." But she was curious, though she wasn't going to actually say that out loud. That would be giving too much away, and where was the fun in that?
"We could. I think we should keep that in mind if necessary. Think of what we could do with a ship like this." It was tempting to think about.
---
“You don’t want to know? I guess I’ll just keep it a secret.” She brushed a hand over her tattoo on her upper thigh that said ‘let me tell you a sekret.’ Eyebrow waggle commencement in 3...2...1.
“We could be a band of robbers.” Harley waggled her eyebrows again.
---
Harley just said the magic word. "Secret? Only if it's a secret between the two of us. I do love a good secret."
If it helped give her an out for her curiosity without appearing to be curious, so much the better.
"Robbery. You aren't thinking high enough. Why be robbers when we could be queens."
---
“Oh, I won’t speak a word of my dreams to anyone but you, my dear Lomea.”
Harley wasn’t even sure if they were flirting anymore. It was some sort of strange dance, a mind game. Either way, she enjoyed it.
“I was a queen once. Of Gotham. Joker was my King. Then the Bat got me.”
---
“Are you going to share details? Because I never beg.” Lomea gave Harley a knowing look, before slipping to her feet and moving over to the replicator. “Tea.”
“There are 651 varieties of tea programmed, please specify.”
Pinching her nose, Lomea clarified. “Whichever tea is most commonly consumed on this vessel. I’ve no patience right now to experiment.”
She picked up the replicated mug and took a sip. “A city is nothing. A galactic Empire, now that is something. The Bat?”
---
Harley’s eyes lit up when Lomea went to the tea dispenser. “Tell it I want an espresso!!”
On the subject of the secret, Harley played coy, “I don’t know if I should tell you. I might stop having these dreams. Or… it might come true. That might be weird, considering we’re roommates.”
She clapped when Lomea got her tea. She was so easily amused by technology. She loved it on the ship. “Batsy! Batman. Grown man, dressed like a little rodent… thingie. Chases the bad guys around. He ruined date night.” She pouted then, her shoulders falling. If Joker didn’t slam the car into the railing, they might have gotten away. Instead, only Joker got away.
---
Lomea turned to the replicator. "One espresso. Whatever that is."
The machine seemed to know exactly what it was. To Lomea, it smelled like some kind of Caf. Which was useful to know. She always did love a good Caf in the morning. "Hardly the weirdest thing I've ever done. Or heard of."
She brought the drink over. "A man running around in a costume caught you? That sounds absurd."
---
Harley shrugged and took the cup from Lomea. “I can’t swim! Puddin’-- Mister J… well, he drove the Lambo right into the river. I went through the winda’. The Bat caught me easy because I was drownin’.”
The more Harley thought about it, the more angry she got. Joker left her for dead. He came back for her when she was with the Squad, and when she was tossed back in Belle Reve, but… it didn’t really count, did it?
---
Reading between the lines, Lomea lifted her tea to her lips and sipped it. She set it down on the plate, and then put the plate on a table. She was quiet for a moment before she asked, "And he knew you couldn't swim?"
---
Harley didn’t like this line of questioning. It brought the truth to light and she liked to lie to herself. “...yeh.”
She looked down at her espresso. “Smells great!”
---
"Seems to me..." Lomea returned to her chair and got comfortable in it. "Like he wanted to be rid of you, but didn't have the backbone to eliminate you himself. Perhaps he did you a favor."
---
Harley sipped her espresso slowly. “He loves me.”
She thought about how she begged him to let her in. How she doted over him.
“Have you ever been in love, Lomea?”
---
"I've heard of that sort of love. There was a man I knew once. His wife ended up dead. And then, so did he." Lomea sipped her tea again as she considered her answer.
"Yes. Twice."