With a gloved hand resting against a makeup smeared cheek, he stared at the bathtub in the center of the room of the broken down asylum. Someone at one time had a sense of style. The clawfeet, covered in dust and dirt screamed class from a different time. Hours had passed...litterally, and the cold water had finally reached room temperature. Not that Harley noticed any. Maybe the sedative had worked a little too well.
"Hmp." Even that little noise echoed as he watched her lifeless and naked body soak. "Hmm." A finger tapped impatiently against said cheek.
She wasn't as smart as she thought she was, the little ditz. His expression turned dark. His crossed leg tapped with a rhythm no one else could hear, if anyone else was "listening."
She was so damned annoying, with her love notes, and her whispering, and her hand holding, and her suggested prescriptions. Hell, for the last two months he'd made a point of leaving her behind while he attempted to reconfigure the cities current state. You think she'd get the idea...but No. No no no. No ideas to be got.
He closed his eyes, as the static in his brain gained control of his thoughts for a moment. The night before...
He glanced up at the curvy figure straddling him in the thin sliver of moonlight, her blue eyes a glow, blonde hair loose in waves around a sweaty face. Both chests heaving with exertion and release. An ungloved hand reached up and caressed her breast, her nipples hard with chill.
"Mister J..." She whispered, attempting not to moan.
"Mmm, yes Sweetums?" The moment was volatile...just like every moment of every day with him. Just like every motion, every breath. His response was either going to be a regret or a surprise. She was smarter than he gave her credit for. For fucks sake, she had been a psychiatrist.
"Nothin' puddin..." She smiled, feeling his erection harden inside her again.
Opening his eyes, the sight before him sat unaltered. How could she think he wouldn't know...how could she had been so sure he wouldn't find out. Her cheeks were rosy, her breasts even more impossibly full...and the constant complaining that her Mister J wasn't home as often.
"Hmp." He stood and walked to the tub, placing his hands over the side, leaning over his unconscious little butterfly. Her stomach was a little full.. a little more round. He cocked his head to the side, green hair sliding from its slicked back style. Maybe two months. That made sense.
Back to the chair, one leg crossed over the other, a hand placed against his cheek.
"Hmm." A few more moments passed, and he stood suddenly, a glance behind him as if he'd forgotten what he'd brought with him.
"Ah yes yes. Well, it's been quite the party Doctor Quinzel. I'm...ever so grateful for all the...advice." Taking the gas can, he splashed around the tub, and a bit into the tub itself, humming jubilantly. Dusting his hand against one another, his face twisted into a grin of accomplishment. Resting his hands on his hips, he stared at her for a few more moments...
With a box of matches in his hand, he rotated them carefully.
"Hmmmm." A sigh, he looked to the broken ceiling as if someone was talking to him.
"Yeah yeah yeah..." Tossing the matches over his shoulders, he looked back at Harley, pathetic, unconscious, and pruning in the dirty cold water.
"I always thought you'd make a decent mother..." And off he walked.
