The earth was damp beneath Harley's bare feet, and the sky smelled like rain, and she stood with outstretched arms, palms and face turned up towards the heavens like she was waiting to be blessed. A smile graced her lips, so red that they were almost black. Her eyes were closed underneath her black greasepaint, and in her own infuriating, Harley-esque way, she was beautiful.
Joker regarded her with his own smile, tinged with the genuine fondness that he only let out when she wasn't looking. In those moments when she didn't speak, he could set aside all those negative feelings and just watch her. Just... observe.