Two hearts, two hearts that beat as one Who: Harley and Mista J Where: Near the strip mall in Grimoire When: Sunday evening What: The Joker lays a trap, Harley plays bait, and things get complicated. Warnings: Poss violence, poss language, poss nuttiness Status: In progress
As much as Harley was committed to turning over a new leaf, or some shit, she found that actually doing so was harder than it looked. There were certain things that were just hard to give up. Shooting things and/or people when she felt like it was one of those things. Getting all that she could out of any given situation was another. The latter was a trait she'd earned fair and square from her Ma, and she wore it well. It got her all kindsa things, really: A whole apartment building, free drinks, a few new shiny weapons, and, most importantly, Mr. J. Had she not been willing to take advantage of that situation, she wouldn't be who she was today. And, hell - she really liked herself.
What was the point again? Oh, right.
She was totally willing to take a sucker outta for what she could get, and she really, really didn't feel bad about it.
Harley hummed as she made her way down the path to Grimoire, having no trouble recalling how to get to the strip mall. She wasn't entirely naive - she knew this was probably a trap, but she wasn't worried. She could take care of herself. And if she couldn't, she had a very shiny friend that'd do it for her. The possible danger was worth it both for the break in the monotony of this place, and for the possible benefits she'd reap. She'd always wanted her own bitch, after all.
"Okay, buddy! No worries. Harley's here and I'll get your weird made-up problem solved lickety split. Just-" She stumbled to a halt, both vocally and physically, as the man in front of her turned, and she got a good look at his face. The paint was messy and faded, the hair long and unkempt, and the scars were new, but there was no mistaking it for her.