Posts tagged twistedgrin
[He quirks a light brow, curious as to why she had corrected him. She was Harley. Harley. The smart Harley. The one without the stupid accent that he so desperately tried to beat out of his own. Clicking his tongue, he tilts his head back, lips pursing. His tone is light and peppy regardless of how he was staring her down,] Well, Harley, it’s ah, one that you might like!
[He giggles then, like an excited child about to reveal his master plan to his elder - though he was sure he was much older than this Harleen as well. Smacking the balls of his hands together, he starts to bounce in his spot.] I uh— I got a job. [His tongue darts out to wet his lips.] And you muh-ight like that I got.
[Taking a step forward, he leans in, eyes wide then.] Woul’jah like to know what it is, Huh-huh-arley?
*She cocks her head slightly when he says it’s something she might like. She’s intrigued despite knowing who he is. There’s something about him being in front of her, instead of behind inches of Plexiglass, that makes her think he might reveal more about himself. Not intentionally, but by mere accident of movement or inflection.*
*She slowly blows out a controlled sigh.* If you keep that up, you just might meet her. *She mutters this under her breath. She blinks at him, her eyes widening slightly behind the lenses of her glasses as his mannerisms take a turn for the childlike. She’s always thought that she and the Joker were approximate in age, perhaps her being a few years older. Without the layers of high security protection, it’s harder to tell for certain, but she still thinks she might be the elder.*
You got a job? *She holds a neutral expression at that, even when he takes a step toward her, looking into her face.* I would like to know. It seems like you want to tell me anyways. But I admit it, I’m curious.
[There it was - that recognition that he had wanted of his handiwork. He wouldn’t have to grab her and make her look now. Watching her hand move up, as if to touch him, he moves back. Touching had to be instigated by him. However, gently rubbing a hand over his work, he grins, lips twitching.] That’s a smart lil’ Harley, [he practically coos.] That’s uh, that all I need-uh.
[Amused by how she’s acting, the man leans back in once more. His back was aching from trying to walk straight and it released some pressure for the moment.] I have a little ex-perry-ment I want to ah, I want to try. [His eyes roll, as does his head briefly. He’s so entirely amused.] Hope that’s uh, not a problem.
*She folds her arms across her chest when he recoils. She interprets his backwards step as a recoil and silently curses herself for even making a gesture at him. She had been that taken aback by the change, in not actually seeing it and the fact that he had covered his scars.*
It’s Harleen. *She reminds him of which personality she is in a flat tone. He doesn’t know exactly how she’s different than his Harley and she’s not about to mention it.*
*He steps back in and she holds her ground, looking him in the eyes. To her, he smells like soap and detergent and little else. It’s almost pleasant.* An experiment? Trying to be on the outside, walking freely? Or is this more of a social experiment? Oh, it’s not a problem, so long as no one is hurt by it.
*She arches an eyebrow at him. As her version of the Joker is in Arkham, seeing him without the war paint was nothing new to her. But she gives him a once over.*Why are you in civilian clothes, for lack of a better term? *She frowns slightly at the thought of what it could mean.* What are you up to? And…since you did ask, it’s not…bad.
[He presses his tongue the roof of his mouth, popping it open. Letting out a breath through his nose, he then rolls his eyes before pointing to the obvious lack of scars. His face was a bit… chubbier because of the special effect make up, but he had figured he had done everything right. Both hands coming up then as he looks at her from under his brow.]
Thuh-anks, doll but uh, I want uh, [he motions to his face again for emphasis.] Did uh, did I do a good job?
*She blinks, the change not having registered. She was so used to his facial scarring that she had stopped thinking much of it. It was as though her mind filled in the blanks. She looked closer at his handiwork and raised a hand only to pull it back, awkwardly.*
Why did you— *She swallowed, her throat having gone tight.* You’ve covered them up. You look… *Her voice trailed off as she took in his appearance again, this time really seeing he changes. Not just the hair and the lack of grease paint, but the posture, the clothing, the prosthetics on his face.*
Why did you do it?
twistedgrin replied to your post: Since ah, my little blonde seems to have uh- to have poofed off, I uh, I need your o-pin-e-on somethin’, lil’ smart cluh-one.
[Eyes narrow, head tilting to the side as he gives her a rather blatant look of ‘you really don’t notice?] Do ah, you like my new *look*?
*She arches an eyebrow at him. As her version of the Joker is in Arkham, seeing him without the war paint was nothing new to her. But she gives him a once over.*
Why are you in civilian clothes, for lack of a better term? *She frowns slightly at the thought of what it could mean.* What are you up to? And…since you did ask, it’s not…bad.
twistedgrin asked: Since ah, my little blonde seems to have uh- to have poofed off, I uh, I need your o-pin-e-on somethin', lil' smart cluh-one.
My opinion? Right…what do you want my opinion on?
drhfquinzel replied to your photo: Tumblr Crushes: damianfuckingstark drhfquinzel …
That’s…right. Okay, then.We talked ah, we talked quite a bit the other day, girly-boo.
I remember. I wasn’t sure if it was something you cared to remember.
*Being called a tramp didn’t sit well with Harleen, but she literally bit her tongue. There were few people who could unsettle her and he was chief among them. Whether it was her Joker or not.*The name is Harleen, or Dr. Quinzel if you want, thanks.
*His mention of Bane made her set her jaw tightly.* Don’t forget, you’re the one that forced him into the shadows for eight years. I don’t know all of the details, but I know you had something to do with that. *He wasn’t her patient, not the one she had treated at Arkham, not the same, but he was still the Joker and he still terrorized Gotham. He’d do just as well as the one sitting in a plexiglass box in the Narrows.*
Don’t worry about Batman. *She swallowed hard, pushing down her feelings.* He’ll rise. He’ll return. You know him better than to think he won’t, don’t you?
[He isn’t sure on what to think. This wasn’t his own Harley? This pretty little blonde, this one that actually had a sense of self wasn’t his…? Finding things hard to see for a moment, he licks his lips, rolling his head back as he attempts to fight back his oncoming panic attack. A laugh cracks through those scared lips as scars pucker and twitch. He concentrates on what she’s saying about his toy.]
You ah, you mistake me with someone that ah, someone that cares-uh what you have to say.
[Joker is trying his hardest to keep in his place. He could hurt her, stab her in the stomach with his harpy… But he holds himself back, instead, he begins to rock on the balls of his feet before he stops, slouched shoulders hunching even more like an angry cat.]
He’s gone-uh. Again. He ah, he went away again. [His eyes narrow.] You ah, you aren’t mine.
*She knows that his comment is a diversion. It was the briefest flare in his eyes, but she saw it. Her Joker took the idea of there being over versions of himself, of her, of everyone in Gotham, in stride; in short, he didn’t care. This Joker…his reaction reminded her of how she felt when she first met herself. Even if she wasn’t really—*
I wouldn’t imagine you caring about anything other than this city and him. *She arches an eyebrow, something itching at the back of her mind. Harleen’s muscles tense as his body language changes. She’s not unequipped, but she’s never had to face him, any version of him, quite like this.*
No, I’m not yours. *Her voice is even and soft. The fact that she isn’t like any other version of Harleen Quinzel, Harley Quinn, is something that has haunted her the past year.* I’m the outlier. I’m the aberration. I’m…the freak.
[He gives her a look, dark eyes glaring out from sunken, forever-exhausted looking eyes.] Of cuh-ourse not you silly lil’ tramp. [Trailing his tongue over his lips, he flares his nostrils. This whole ‘multiverse’ didn’t sit well with him. Not one bit. He didn’t believe it to be possible. Not when he was in his comfort zone.]
And ah, [he rolls his eyes as he holds back a snarl. The thought of Bane, the newest little pest that Gotham offered to the world, angered him to no tomorrow.] you don’t, you ah, you don’t realize it ah, it wasn’t me, hm? That ah, that dead tarantula wearing fuh-reak made him go into hiding. He broke— [hissing, almost in an animal nature,’] he broke my personal item.
*Being called a tramp didn’t sit well with Harleen, but she literally bit her tongue. There were few people who could unsettle her and he was chief among them. Whether it was her Joker or not.*
The name is Harleen, or Dr. Quinzel if you want, thanks.
*His mention of Bane made her set her jaw tightly.* Don’t forget, you’re the one that forced him into the shadows for eight years. I don’t know all of the details, but I know you had something to do with that. *He wasn’t her patient, not the one she had treated at Arkham, not the same, but he was still the Joker and he still terrorized Gotham. He’d do just as well as the one sitting in a plexiglass box in the Narrows.*
Don’t worry about Batman. *She swallowed hard, pushing down her feelings.* He’ll rise. He’ll return. You know him better than to think he won’t, don’t you?
Lovely thuh-ings those, clones.
But uh, yes, I am uh, I’m out and about. But I’m ah, taking my time with goin’ about on my busy-ness. Then again, my toy is uh, MIA.
A clone? So you’re saying the original? You don’t buy into this multiverse or multi-dimensional theory that some people are talking about, do you.
Your favorite…Batman.
You should know better than to complain. You’re the one who practically forced him underground.
