A month passed.
Two.
Two and a half.
At the three month mark, the Joker was starting to--
Well, he didn't regret what he'd done to Harley Quinn, but he didn't like the fact he didn't have a bed warmer at night anymore…
And how presumptuous of her to just disappear like that after he chucked her off the roof of the Ellinstad! A good, loyal henchgirl would have had the decency to turn up dead or at least badly battered in a hospital somewhere, but noooo, not his Harley girl.
The bitch had to drop off the face of the planet, leaving no trace that she'd ever been there.
Disgusting.
The Joker was brooding in the Iceberg Lounge, nursing his third shot of scotch in as many minutes, growing more and more dour by the moment.
He wanted a woman at his side, damn it! That was part of what helped set him apart from the rest of the villainous population. He had a steady main squeeze. One who'd stand still if he tossed her in front of a train and told her to stay there.
He needed one like that again…he needed--no, he didn't need Harley…
He needed someone better than Harley. Smarter, more trustworthy, and easier to bend to his will.
And if she wasn't too hard on the eyes…well, that'd be good too.
She had to be everything that Harley wasn't.
"That'll show her," he muttered sourly before knocking back the rest of his drink and sinking down into his chair to sulk. "Humph."
"What was that, Joker old boy?" The Penguin, taking an uncharacteristic interest in one of his patrons as he passed the Joker's table, squawked and settled himself across from the man in purple.
The Joker only had a momentary flash of anger at the intrusion before he decided that if there was someone who could prove useful in this endeavor, it was the Penguin.
"I find myself in need of something," he said in a bored tone, shaking his glass in front of Cobblepot, the ice cubes clinking together against the crystal. "And not just another drink."
The Penguin motioned to one of the cocktail waitresses before turning back to his companion. "And what might that be?"
"I don't suppose you'd know, birdbrain," Joker said nonchalantly, pretending to study his fingernails, heedless of the fact they weren't visible through his gloves as his glass was replaced with a fresh one.
"I know a great many things," Cobblepot said conspiratorially, leaning in a little closer. "What is it? Weapons? Explosives? Exotic chemicals, perhaps? You have but to ask."
"And pay through the nose," Joker tacked on smartly.
Cobblepot raised his own glass. "Man cannot live on bread alone."
"Too true…and you know all about that, don't you, my portly friend?" Joker reached out and gave Penguin's rotund belly a pat. "When are you due, anyway?"
The Penguin's smile grew slightly less genuine and his eyes narrowed as he swatted the Joker's hand away. "Let us dispense with the…pleasantries. What is it you're after, Joker?"
"A woman," Joker stated bluntly.
"Feeling a bit like a plug without an outlet since Harley's demise?" The Penguin asked, knowing he was treading dangerous ground but not caring after the fat joke.
The Joker let the dig slide. After all, it's not like Harley meant anything to him.
He just grinned, "Something like that. But not just any woman will do, you understand. No, I need something special."
"How special?" Cobblepot asked, head filling with all the possible sexual scenarios that the Joker had surely been involved with at one time or another. He barely suppressed a shudder at a few of the images that floated to the front of his consciousness.
"Nothing too drastic," Joker replied, grin becoming more ruthless by the second as he reveled in the Penguin's obvious discomfort. "But I would like something on a…permanent basis."
Penguin sat back in his chair. "A replacement for your missing paramour, hm?"
"Replacement? Yes, yes…I suppose that fits. I'd prefer to think of it as trading up."
"I might have just the thing for you, my friend," Cobblepot said, clearly pleased with himself. "It just so happens, there's a lovely young thing working here…I let her sing once a week or so. Brings in a rather diverse crowd. Quite an enchanting little nightingale. And as a matter of fact, I've heard she's quite enamored with you."
The Joker tried not to look too pleased. "Is that so?"
"Indeed it is," Penguin sipped his drink casually. "She should be working the main room tonight, actually…if you'd like a look at her."
"Right now?"
Penguin nodded before setting his drink down and standing, motioning for the Joker to follow him out into the central part of the lounge.
Once they were out of the private room the Joker had spent most of the evening sulking in, his eyes were filled with a vision on the main stage in black satin.
Dark hair and even darker eyes surveyed the room as bright sea foam colored gloves caressed the microphone stand in front of what was quite possibly one of the most attractive women the Joker had ever seen.
"Columbine Jones," Penguin said quietly. "Popped on the scene a little while back…small town girl, best I can tell."
The Joker ignored the squat man at his side, too caught up in the spell of the songbird onstage, deep voice rolling over every syllable of 'Since I Don't Have You' like liquid night.
"Columbine," Joker said, turning the word over in his mouth and finding that he didn't mind the sound of it all that much.
She was exquisite. She simply oozed sex as she drifted off the stage and into the crowd, crooning in that deep, velvet voice of hers. She cast looks over her shoulder at every male in the room as she passed, and he wasn't neglected on her little circuit of the area.
He caught the slight widening of her eyes and the tiny waver in her voice when their gaze locked and held.
She was spellbound to him for a few precious seconds and in those moments, the Joker knew everything he needed to about Columbine Jones.
He had to have her. Like a man had to have air to breathe, the Joker had to have Columbine. Had to.
He would not take no for an answer.