Hello everyone, I'll try to make this as brief as possible, but please take a few minutes to read this if you can!
This is the sequel to my first Joker/Harley story, 'Crazy in Love' ( s/12231837/1/Crazy-in-love), and I really reccomend reading that one first if you haven't, because even though I will try to ensure the sequel is accessible to new readers, there will be elements that might not make sense if you haven't read the original (e.g characters who I have invented, the unique relationship between a couple of the characters etc).
To sum up quickly for anyone new, my story uses a slightly different version of Joker/Harley, in that there is a bit more of an equal standing between the two of them. Their relationship is hardly 'fluffy', however it doesn't have the same levels of abuse as you see in the comics. If you're after an abusive, true to comics relationship, this story won't be for you.
I hope you like the first chapter. I'm starting from a rather different area in this story, but I'm really looking forward to seeing where it goes, and I'm hoping that the way I'm portraying Harley is believable when you think about the position she has found herself in. I don't want to give anything away, but all I will say is I love Joker and Harley, and I'm very interested in seeing how they may or may not be able to overcome the difficulties they are going to face in this new part of their life.
Right, that's enough from me! I really hope you like it. I'm going to try to update every Sunday, and really love to get any feedback from you guys if you get the time. This community is so wonderful, and to those who were looking forward to this sequel, I hope I don't disappoint!
You can try all night, it's never going to look how you want it to.
Harley styled her brown hair in front of the full length mirror in her small bedroom. She ran a hairbrush through, trying to tame it into submission. She wanted it to fall in a glossy curtain down her back, and had spent the last half an hour trying to achieve this, but it was so far disobeying her. Her hair never seemed to do as it was told anymore, not since she'd dyed it. Something about falling into the vat of acid had permanently changed the make-up of her body. Her hair had turned white-blonde, and no longer held dye for more than a couple of weeks. She seemed to spend half her life pouring brown liquid over her head in an attempt to maintain her new look. Her skin had also become the palest milky-white, and she had to coat herself in fake tan just to give the appearance of a normal skin tone. And thanks to those charming women at Arkham Asylum who'd decided to try a little DIY tattooing on her face, Harley now always had to wear thick make-up. Combine those changes with the fact that she had to dress in clothes that a nice person would call 'conservative', and everyone else would call 'grandma-chic', and she found that Harley Quinn no longer looked like Harley Quinn.
This had all been part of Joker's plan.
"You want to do what?" Harley asked incredulously, sitting cross legged on the bed. Her hair was ruffled from the activities of the last few hours, and she held the thin bed sheet up at her chest. Joker looked over from the other side of the room, where he was putting his clothes back on. His silver teeth flashed as he smiled.
"We're gonna rob Bruce Wayne."
Harley raised an eyebrow. "Why him?"
Joker shrugged. "Why not him? He's not just rich, baby, he's stupid rich. And the best part is, I have it on good authority that he keeps a load of cash and jewelry right in his little home-sweet-home."
"How much?"
Joker grinned again, "Enough to keep you in lace panties for the rest of your life."
Harley smiled, "You know all the right things to say."
She shuffled over as Bear (the bear cub Joker had bought her for her birthday) climbed onto the bed, snuggling down beside her. She stroked his head absentmindedly. "How do we do it?" She asked. "He's got to have a load of security."
Joker nodded, "He does."
"Do you know where he keeps all this money?"
Joker shook his head. "That's the point: we need someone on the inside."
"Who?"
The penny dropped as Joker grinned at her once more, buttoning his shirt up. Harley's eyes widened.
"Me? How?"
"His PA is quitting, he needs to hire someone new. He's holding interviews at Wayne Enterprises next week."
"And you think he'll hire me?" Harley was skeptical, thinking of her pale skin, pink and blue tipped hair, and the fact that she had the word 'rotten' tattooed on her face. "I'm not sure I'm really 'office material'." She used her hand to gesture to herself, raising an eyebrow.
Joker shrugged, "We can work on that." He came over, sitting on the bed, narrowing his eyes a little at being slightly blocked by Bear, and took her hand. "If I remember rightly, you look good pretending to be quiet and normal."
Harley met his eye firmly, "That's because I was quiet and normal before I met you."
Joker grinned, "And it drove me wild. You can definitely pull it off again." He seemed to sense she wasn't sure, because he kissed her hand gently. "Come on baby, there's no one else I can put on this, no one I can trust."
Harley bit her lip, knowing she was beat. "I do like dressing up."
"That's my girl!"
Harley was wearing only her lacy black bra and panties. Now that she had decided to give up on her hair, she needed to choose something to wear. She moved over to the wardrobe, looking through the range of black and brown dresses. She sighed, thinking longingly of the outfits she used to dress up in: brightly coloured, low cut, and skin tight. Harley held up a little black dress. It was nice enough, but nothing special. Just another example of the incredibly dull person she had become.
In the mirror on the wardrobe door, she could see out of her window, straight into the window of the apartment across the street.
He's there again.
There was a man who lived in that apartment, whose bedroom was directly across from Harley's. She could see he was watching her, with no idea that she knew he was doing it. He was maybe a little younger than she was, and from what she could see he was handsome enough. Harley grinned, a little part of her old self beginning to seep through. She allowed him a few more minutes of voyeurism, then turned around, cocking her head to one side at the sight of him. He froze, the realization that she had spotted him flooding over his face. Slowly, yet confidently, Harley slid into her dress. She blew a kiss to the man across the street, then left the room.
Her apartment was small, yet crammed with her roommate's things. Selina was quite the hoarder, which probably stemmed from the fact that she was a master thief. The tiny apartment was full to bursting with antiques, jewelry, and anything else Selina had taken a fancy to during one of her heists. In the fruit bowl, for example, sat a huge ruby the size of Harley's fist, surrounded by peal necklaces. And some apples. Multitudes of antique vases and small statues sat on any available space. Leaning against the wall were several rare paintings, which Harley had actually thrown her coat on top of when she got in earlier. She grabbed it, untangling the sleeve from a diamond necklace that happened to be underneath it, hearing keys in the door as she did so.
"Hey Harls," Selina said, entering the room gracefully. She was wearing ridiculously high heels as usual, yet was always sure footed. She dropped her keys into he bowl by the door, and threw a wallet to Harley. She caught it, opening it up. There was only fifteen dollars inside, not enough that Selina would usually bother keeping it. Harley read the name on the license.
"George Kirston? What did he do?" He had to have wronged Selina in some way. She would only be keeping this wallet as a trophy.
"He pushed me on the subway."
"What a dick."
"I know, right?" Selina grinned, heading to the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of orange juice. "You look nice." She eyed Harley almost suspiciously as she drank, and Harley got her things in her bag, hoping to escape before Selina put two and two together.
Selina's eyes widened. "That's right, it's your big date!"
Damn, so close.
"It's not a big date," Harley insisted.
"Oh please, Harley, this is the first date you've been on since-" she stopped herself, not saying the one word that would be sure to send Harley over the edge. "It's the first date you've been on for a while. Even if you ignore who the guy is, it's still a big one."
"Don't make this a huge deal," Harley begged. "I'm nervous enough as it is."
"Why?"
Harley shrugged. "I don't exactly have a great history with men."
"That's true enough."
"I'm not holding out any hope. I'm just looking forward to eating out with someone who doesn't eat from my plate." She eyed Selina accusingly, who just shrugged.
"Food from your plate has no calories."
"Uh-huh."
"Anyway, you'll be fine. Just be yourself."
"That's the problem," Harley sighed. "I'm not sure how to be myself anymore."
"Carly Crowe?"
Harley looked up, stretching a smile across her lips. The old man, Alfred Pennyworth, held out his hand and shook hers gently. She was at Wayne Enterprises, waiting to be interviewed for the position as Bruce Wayne's personal assistant. All around her were beautiful women, whom she was competing against for the job. Harley wondered briefly if being attractive was part of the job description: did Wayne only hire beautiful women? And if so, what were his expectations of these women? Did she really want to be put in this position? It wasn't like she had a choice, though. Joker wanted her to do something, and as usual, she was willing to crawl over broken glass if it meant making him happy. If Joker told her to work for Wayne, she was going to work for Wayne.
She hadn't expected to be interviewed by the butler, but she was ready to roll with it. She had done enough research on him to know how to behave: what he would respect in a candidate and what he would not. Alfred gestured to the door behind him with a smile. "This way, Miss Crowe."
She grinned, the name still tickling her a little. She followed Alfred through to the large office, where he sat at the desk opposite her seat.
"I'm sorry that Mr Wayne was unable to attend your interview today," Alfred apologized in his crisp English accent. "He's been called away unexpectedly." Was that a flicker of annoyance that crossed his face? Perhaps she imagined it.
"Of course, I completely understand," Harley answered politely.
Alfred smiled and continued, looking down at the forms in front of him. "Mr Wayne was very impressed with your application form, and you seem to have a great deal of experience. On paper." He paused at that last part, and Harley felt beads of perspiration on her heavily made-up face.
"Yes, I've been doing this a while," she began, not liking the rather suspicious look Alfred was giving her. "I feel like this would be the perfect position for me."
"I see." He held out a cup in front of him, offering her tea. Harley shook her head.
This is fucked. He knows.
He can't know.
He might not know it all, but he knows I'm not what I say I am.
"Miss Crowe… I can see that you really want this job, and I liked what you wrote in your personal statement. However the names of the companies you state in your job history are fictional."
How could he know that? Joker had set up phone numbers and websites for all the fake businesses and people she said she had worked for. Harley was sweating now, and she was so worried about the make-up covering her tattoo coming off.
"Why do you want this job?" Alfred asked. He didn't look mad, he didn't even look irritated, just interested. Maybe even a little sorry for her.
"I don't know," Harley replied. She decided to go for broke: let this man think she was spilling her guts. Maybe even make him feel sorry for her. She let her voice waver a little. "I've spent the last few years working in dive bars, and I woke up the other day and realised that I'm living for nothing. I'm an educated woman, Mr Pennyworth, and I want to make something of myself."
Please don't let him know my qualifications are fake too.
"How will being Mr Wayne's PA help you do that?"
"Because he inspires me." Harley tried to make her voice sound as though she was in awe. "He does great things, his company does great things, and he doesn't care what people think about him. He's ambitious, and nothing is out of his reach. I want to work with someone like that, to try and learn from him. I'll be honest with you, this isn't where I see myself being in ten years, I want to learn from Mr Wayne, and then create something for myself. Something I can be proud of. But I can promise you that while I work here I will give 100%, and you won't regret hiring me."
She paused, gauging his reaction. This would either work really well, or she'd be asked to get out.
"I promise, you won't regret it," she repeated.
Harley stepped out into the warm evening, heading towards her car, which was parked around the corner. It wasn't much, but it was nicer than her old one, and it did all she needed it to do. She climbed in, hoping that most of the rush hour traffic would have dispersed by now.
She was out of luck, as usual, and found herself stuck in a jam. She reached for her phone, sending the message:
'Running late, be there in twenty minutes.'
Would he wait? She assumed so. He'd been waiting for this date for long enough, hounding her almost. He'd wait. The question was, did she want him to? She had agreed to go to dinner with him because Selina had convinced her it was a good idea, and because she wanted to get back in the game. She wanted to take her mind off…everything. Her past, and the disaster that had been the past few months. Him.
She arrived at the restaurant twenty minutes late, and hurried quickly to the doors. This was a swanky place, and even though she was wearing the black dress, heels, and a matching silver necklace and earring set (thanks to Selina's sticky fingers), she felt underdressed. There was a maitre de on the door, who eyed her up and down. He was short, squat, and had a strangely shaped mustache, almost as though it had been glued on to his face by someone with shaking hands.
Harley cleared her throat. "Good evening."
"Good evening madam."
Madam? Madam? Do I look old enough to be a madam?
Ugh just kill me.
Or I could kill him? I haven't done it in a while-
No, Harley.
"Carly Crowe," she said, watching as the man looked at his list. The name had definitely lost its fun now, and was just a constant reminder of her old life.
The maitre de's eyes widened, and he stretched a warm smile across his face. "Of course! Please, please follow me Miss Crowe."
Not 'madam' now I see?
Harley followed the little man through the crowded restaurant. It was decorated beautifully in gold and red, and she wanted to stop to take in the huge mural on the ceiling, but the man was moving quickly, so she hurried to keep up.
There he was, sitting at the table smiling at her. Harley took a deep breath, she wasn't sure she was ready for this.
"Mr Wayne?"
Bruce Wayne looked up from his newspaper. He was in the dining room of his large mansion, and looked at Harley with a flicker of a smile. Harley held out her hand as Alfred left the room.
"I'm Carly Crowe."
"Of course," Wayne replied, getting to his feet and taking her hand in his own. "Alfred has told me so much about you. He was very impressed with your application, and your interview."
"Thank you."
His grip was firm, and his hands rougher than she expected from a man who seemed to do nothing but spend money and date supermodels.
Perhaps that was unfair, this was her first time meeting him after all. Everything had happened so fast. When Alfred had called her that same morning, offering her the job and asked her to start right away, she had barely enough time to slap on some make up and find something conservative to wear. Joker had been over the moon at how easy it had been to get Harley into Wayne Manor, and had kissed her passionately before she left, whispering: "You're gonna do great, baby."
She didn't feel great right now. In fact, as she stood face to face with one of the wealthiest men in the world, she felt nothing but fear. How the hell were they gonna rob this guy and get away with it?
"Mr Wayne," Harley sat down opposite Bruce Wayne at the small table. There was an expensive looking bottle of wine in front of him, and she could see he had already poured her a glass.
"You know, you don't have to call me that anymore."
"Sorry."
Wayne smiled. "No, I just mean, you've worked for me for almost six months, and besides which, we're on a date. You keep calling me 'Mr Wayne', and people will think this is a business meeting."
"And that would upset you?" Harley raised an eyebrow, but Wayne just continued to smile.
"I've been trying to convince you to come out for dinner with me for at least three of those six months, even if you're just doing this to shut me up, I'd like to make the most of it."
Harley smiled for the first time since arriving.
"Ok…Bruce."
Wayne held out his hands. "See, it was easy, right?"
Harley rolled her eyes. "Yes, boss."
Wayne laughed, then motioned to the menu in front of her. "This place does the best duck, I highly recommend it."
"Is that what you're having?"
Wayne nodded. Harley looked down at the menu, noting that nothing had the price next to it.
"No prices?"
Wayne shook his head. "No, they're of the opinion here that if you need to ask the price, you can't afford it." He voice was sarcastic, as if he couldn't stand such wealth, ignoring the fact that Harley knew he could afford to buy this restaurant, and six like it, without breaking a sweat.
"Then I definitely can't afford it."
"This is my treat."
Harley shook her head, "No, we'll split it."
Wayne raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to let me pay for dinner?"
Harley shook her head, remembering the last man she let buy her dinner. The one who tried to rape her, before she was saved by-
Lalalalala. Don't think about Him, not even His name. Not yet. You're not strong enough.
Wayne looked as though he was waiting for an explanation, but Harley could hardly give one. Just as she thought the silence might crush her, however, he was out of his seat, holding out his hand.
"Come on."
"Where?"
"I know another place."
Harley shook her head, suddenly embarrassed. "No, no, this is fine. I can afford it."
I'll just get a salad. They can't charge too much for that, right? It's just leaves.
But Wayne was persistent. He took her hand, dropped some money on the table to cover the cost of the wine, and led her from the room.
Harley Quinn and Bruce Wayne sat on the steps by the fountain in downtown Gotham, eating greasy cheeseburgers from a truck. They tasted incredible.
"This might be the best burger I've ever had," Harley said, barley caring about the juice running down her fingers. She and Wayne had both left their cars at the restaurant, choosing to walk to the fountain, despite the fact that sky threatened rain. For now they were lucky, and the night was uncharacteristically warm.
Wayne nodded. "I've been eating these since I was a kid. My dad used to take me to get them whenever we came into the city. We had to keep it secret from mom, she was a vegetarian." He smiled at the thought, and immediately looked so much younger. Wayne didn't talk about his parents much, it was nice to see him share such an innocent memory.
"We didn't have much money when I was a kid," Harley admitted. "So my mom used to make these big pots of chili because it didn't cost much. I can't smell chili now without thinking of her."
Wayne smiled, then turned back to watch the fountain.
"I'm glad we finally did this," he said confidently. She was surprised to hear that: they hadn't said much to each other for the majority of the date so far. In fact, they'd pretty much been sitting in silence. But it wasn't awkward. It was a comfortable silence, the kind had between two people who know each other well enough not to need to speak. She'd been having fun without realising, and was just surprised to find he had too.
"Me too," Harley agreed. "I'm sorry I've been so quiet."
Wayne shrugged, "You're a quiet person, but I like that."
Oh Mr Wayne, if only you knew.
Wayne continued. "It's nice to be with someone who doesn't need me to talk all the time, someone who can just sit by a fountain and eat a burger."
"Well, with high standards like those, I can see why you're still single."
Wayne laughed, a light boyish laugh so different to-
Lalalalala, no. Don't think it.
"Can I ask you something?" Wayne asked, looking at her with a curious expression. "Why did you say yes?"
"To the date?"
He nodded. Harley thought for a moment, and then decided to tell him the truth.
Not the whole truth, that would be stupid, but a fraction of it anyway.
"I came out of a…pretty intense relationship just after I started working for you. I didn't think I would be ready to date again, maybe ever. It's hard to explain, he was-" she didn't know how to finish that sentence, but Wayne interrupted, putting his hand on her arm. "You don't need to talk about him if you don't want to."
Harley nodded, grateful. She continued, "But, I realised that some things just end, and no amount of crying or feeling bad about it can change that. But it also means my life doesn't have to be over. So I told myself if you asked me again I'd say yes. And you did, so I did." She bit her lip. "Sorry, that's probably not the best answer."
Wayne shrugged, smiling. "It's an honest one, and that's always the best kind."
Harley nodded, but now there was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't wanted to think about Him, but now she had no choice. There He was, wriggling His way back into her mind, with her powerless to fight Him off.
"What's wrong?" Harley looked at Joker with concern in her eyes. He was slouched over the kitchen table with a bottle of something in his hands. He ignored her, and Harley moved a little closer, putting her hand gently on his shoulder. He shrugged her off. Harley scowled.
"What's wrong with you?" She insisted.
Joker groaned. "Something always has to be wrong, doesn't it? There always has to be something going on, something to make you the centre of attention. Can't it ever just be simple?"
Harley recoiled as though she had been slapped in the face. What the hell was this? This wasn't like him.
Well, now she thought about it, Joker had been a little distant with her over the past few days. In fact, she had been waiting for the right time to broach the topic, wondering if perhaps he was feeling a little jealous of all the time she was having to spend with Wayne, but she hadn't expected this.
Of course, Harley being Harley, she reacted in the way she had become accustomed to: she turned his anger right back on him.
"I'm the dramatic one? Surely you can see the complete and utter hypocrisy in that, Mr 'Clown Prince of Gotham'?!"
"Got it, got it, got it," Joker hissed, holding up one hand but not looking at her. "Harley's right, Harley's always right." He took a long swig from the bottle. She hated the fact that he still wasn't looking at her. He'd been moody the last few days, sure, but nothing like this.
"What's your problem?" Harley asked, forcing Joker to face her. He got to his feet, kicking the chair out behind him. Suddenly he seemed so tall, and despite her confidence, she felt herself shrinking.
"You wanna know my problem?!" He yelled, tossing the bottle to the other side of the room where it smashed against the wall dramatically. "My problem is you! Every day you're here, every day you're hounding me, and I'm sick of it!"
Harley crossed her arms protectively across her chest. "Oh, is that right?"
"Yeah," Joker nodded, venom in his voice. "That's right. So why don't you do us both a favour, and get the hell out of here?"
"What?!"
"You heard me, leave! I don't want you here anymore, get out!"
He turned away, heading for the front door of the apartment.
"Wait!" Harley's voice was full of fear, longing, desperation. Her anger and confidence had completely dissipated, and now all she wanted was to hold him, to force him to stay. Was this really happening? What had she done to cause this?
"Please don't go. Don't leave me." She was almost whispering now, trying to fight the tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. She didn't chase him, she stood her ground, scared that any movement towards him would make him leave.
Joker didn't turn, but stopped at the door, holding onto the handle.
"Just tell me why," she begged. "Tell me how I can fix it."
"You can't."
The first tear slid down Harley's cheek. She knew this was real. He was leaving her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. "I don't understand."
Joker shook his head. "That's the problem. You never will." He opened the door, slipped out into the night, and left her to try and piece together what the hell had just happened.
"Are you ok?"
Harley realised she had not spoken for several minutes, and could feel the cool air drying tears on her cheeks. She got to her feet.
"I'm sorry, I can't…I have to go." She turned, running back up the steps and away from Wayne.
Harley made it back to her apartment within ten minutes, fumbling as she tried to get the key in the lock. It wouldn't turn, and she cried out, throwing the keys out into the street and kicking the door angrily.
But she wasn't strong enough to kick open a heavy door like that, and she had only been half trying anyway. Harley groaned loudly, angrily, and stomped down the steps into the street where it was starting to rain. She was vaguely aware of a figure moving towards her.
"Hey, baby."
She automatically turned, a grin spreading across her lips, but of course it wasn't him. It was just some guy in a tatty coat, who looked like he hadn't washed in weeks. Her smile faded.
"You all alone out here, baby?" He asked, grinning and showing her the yellow glory of all of his five teeth.
"Yeah," Harley replied, her voice firm. She was in no mood for fuckery tonight. If this guy wanted to cause trouble, he had chosen the wrong person.
"Silly girl, don't you know how dangerous the city is?"
Harley just stared him down.
The man continued, "You got the Riddler, the plant woman, the Bat, and of course the clown." He moved a little closer. "The things that one does, woo-eee, crazy." He leered at her. "He'd cut your pretty face off as soon as look at you." Another step closer. "If you're scared, I could keep you safe." This close, Harley could smell the alcohol on his breath, along with something like stale meat. She rolled her eyes.
"I think I'll be fine." She picked up her keys and turned on her heel, eager to be out of the rain.
"Stuck-up bitch."
It was just a mutter, a whisper really, but she heard it. Harley turned around slowly, eyes blazing.
"What did you call me?"
She didn't give him a chance to answer, moving closer and punching him square in the jaw. He stumbled back, clutching his mouth, and spat one of his few remaining teeth onto the ground. Harley wasn't done, kicking him once in the stomach, forcing him onto the tarmac. The rain was pouring now, but Harley continued to kick the man on the floor, screaming and yelling things that made no sense at all, taking out her anger on some guy who just happened to call her a name.
But then she was being pulled away, firmly. Harley fought against whoever it was, but they were too strong. They pulled her back to her apartment building door, one arm around her waist, wrenched the keys from her hand, and unlocked the door, before pulling her (still fighting) inside.
Then, as the door closed, she was released, and Harley stormed up the stairs without even turning to see who had stopped her. Unfortunately, she had to wait outside her apartment when she realised she still didn't have the keys. She turned, and there was Wayne, soaking wet and holding the keys in his hand. Without a word, he unlocked the door to her apartment, and she went inside.
It was dark. Selina was gone, but that was probably a good thing. Harley was in no mood to talk. Unfortunately, she got the feeling Wayne might be. But what could she say, really?
Sorry. I beat up that guy because he called me a bitch.
But he didn't ask, he just watched, rain dripping from his clothes. Harley stared him down, almost daring him to ask her, but still he said nothing. Now it was starting to get on her nerves.
"Are you going to say anything?!" She cried.
Wayne thought for a moment. "This is a nice place."
Harley recoiled slightly. "What?"
"This place, it's nice. I like your décor."
It was so unexpected, so casual, Harley found herself on the back foot. "It's my roommate, she decorated. She's into interior design..."
It was hard to imagine how he could see anyway, all the lights were off. But Wayne nodded.
"That's cool, I like yellow."
"The walls are grey."
"Oh right, yeah. Well it's dark-"
"Yeah, I get that."
Then Harley laughed. She couldn't help it. It started as a giggle, quiet and almost controllable, then it escaped, getting louder and louder, until she was practically shaking. Luckily, Wayne seemed to get the joke, because he was laughing too.
Finally, he said, "This has to be the weirdest date I've ever been on."
Harley nodded.
Wayne stepped a little closer. "Are you ok?"
She nodded again.
Words soon, Harley, words would be good. Especially for the guy who stopped you killing that man.
"I should go." Wayne moved for the door, opening it gently. He turned to give her one more bemused smile, before stepping out into the hall. The door clicked shut behind him, and Harley was alone in the dark apartment.
I could turn on the lights.
I could get dressed.
I could smash something.
I could kiss him.
Harley shook her head.
I don't want to kiss him.
That's a lie. We both know you want to kiss him, you just feel bad because you don't want to want to kiss him.
Harley's head was spinning, but at that moment there was a knock at the door. She moved over, opening it. It was Wayne. "Sorry, I left my-"
He didn't get to finish his sentence, because Harley had already flung her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. He seemed a little shocked, then she felt him relax into it, his hands resting on her hips.
He doesn't kiss like, Joker.
Shut up, it's a good kiss.
Yeah, it's good. But I'm just saying, it's not like Joker.
It seemed that it didn't matter what she was doing. The clown was never far from her thoughts.
Across the street, a man called Toby punched the familiar number into his phone. It rung only once.
"Boss. You wanted an update? She's home now."
The voice on the other end of the line was fast, impatient.
Toby took a breath, his eyes still on the window. "No. No, she's not alone."