Harleen Quinzel.
Twenty years old.
Arkham Asylum, Gotham City.
Single.
Hi, pudding. My name is Harleen, and I am twenty years old. I have blonde hair, blue eyes, and I won't be caught dead without my crimson lipstick on. I recently moved to Gotham City and took a year off of college to work in a small asylum. I'm studying to be a psychologist, you see, and I thought this would be a wonderful opportunity to work with the criminals hands-on. I want to figure out why crime lords, and murderers think the way they do.
When I was young, I witnessed a murder. Now, don't go thinking crazy thoughts. It wasn't one of my parents that was killed, it was basically a mugging gone wrong. Since then, I've been to many therapy sessions to "fix me," and I never understood why. I thought the killer should be the one here, not me. I've been so interested by their minds since then.
This isn't a fetish, or anything, I just want to know why. I get easily annoyed if people know things I don't, and this is one thing I intend to figure out.
