"Well this is cozy," Harley remarked wryly, scanning the moderate sized room. There was a large bed in front of the TV with a phone on the nightstand, a side door leading into the bathroom, a miniscule kitchenette with a list of phone numbers for local restaurants laminated onto counter. There was a distinct lack of closet, but there was a clothes rack visible from inside the bathroom door, so there was that.
Kicking off her jester shoes, Harley gleefully scooted across the carpet towards the bed, finding rapture in the material against her bare feet. Eventually having her fill in that, she lept onto the bed let loose a drawn out sigh of contentment. Ever since the Joker had gone missing she hadn't had a good night's rest in weeks, let alone on a cushy bed.
Looking back, she saw that her temporary roommate was scanning the walls and decorations with what was probably a bug-detector. He was all business, like usual and that was just boring. Snatching up one of the two beige pillows, Harley chucked it at the caped crusader with accuracy born from wielding an excessive hammer.
As she had suspected he might, he ducked under the projectile and came up with three batarangs in his free hand. She couldn't hold in the snort of laughter at the spectacle and rolled across the sheets until she fell off the opposite side, Batman glowering at her before returning to his sweep.
As Harley got back to her feet, or rather her knees as she had bound back onto the bed, she decided that first shower was hers. Nabbing her PJs from her ever present knap sack (under the exploding pie and right next to the hyena collar) she skipped happily into the bathroom, closing the door with a precise kick. Humming to herself, she pulled the middle towel from the neat stack above the toilet, effectively rumpling the others and destroying the any semblance of order.
The shower came alive with a hiss, steam already rising from the hot water. Quickly stripping out of her one piece suit and discarding it towards the door, she eased into the stream, basking in the warmth previously lacking in her form. Taking a few minutes to simply enjoy the water, she reflected on what had happened so far tonight.
She had actually resorted to contacting the Batman in order to find her lover, an act that the Joker was sure to find very un-humorous when they at last found him. But she was desperate, and she knew all too well that if anyone could find the mysteriously vanished Joker, it was Batman. Bunking up with the man was definitely unexpected, but nothing she couldn't handle.
Shaking those thoughts, Harley scrubbed her face with a washcloth, taking away the white and black make up she had applied that morning. Watching as the Rorschach of color slipped down the drain, she retrieved the generously supplied hotel shampoo bottle and squirted a good-sized dollop into her palm. With that palm full she thoroughly washed her bright blonde hair, singing out loud while she did so. Spice Girls hadn't been her thing in a while, but the knowledge that Batman had to endure it was well worth the vocal work out.
Eventually the water stopped and she stepped out of the shower glistening, clean and mercifully warm. Draping the towel around herself, she got a smaller one from the already disheveled patch and dried her hair with it before discarding it behind the door. Next she took a brush to her hair, straightening out the shoulder length locks that she had had in twin ponytails for the last couple of days. A grimace played across her face at the pain it caused, but took solace in knowing that at least she was actually taking care of herself. Her personal image wasn't something she had been worrying about since she had decided that the Joker was well and truly missing even after one of the more sympathetic goons told her that she looked wrecked (god rest his soul).
Finally, her grooming was finished and she slipped into her waiting pajamas; a single piece zip-up with pink 'fur' and dozens of little hearts scattered across the body. Snug in her "lovey-dovey armor", she exited the bathroom to find Batman standing by the window, apparently engrossed in another comm-link chat. Ignoring him, Harley plopped down on the bed, snatching up the TV remote as she went.
"Western…infomercial…infomercial…commercial…Simpsons…infomercial…sure are a lot of infomercials tonight…Friends rerun…static…(I wonder if they blocked off the pervy stations?)…ah, here we go!"
Batman turned to see what she had shouted about, only to see her at the foot of the bed, clutching a pillow to her chest as a surrogate teddy bear and positively glued to the glowing screen. Looking there, he almost winced as he discovered that she had discovered a showing of "Some like It Hot", now only just a few minutes in. He had seen a bit of the movie a few years back when he had been invited to an informal party thrown by an extravagantly wealthy actor. He had gone to track down the whereabouts of Penguin and the night had soon offered him a chance to lip off.
But tonight he was trapped. He couldn't leave Quinn unattended for longer than a second for fear of what she might do. Allowing her to take that shower had bred many uncertainties, but his intuition had told him to allow her the shower, especially after witnessing the state she had been in during the ride over. He recalled that this was a common event whenever the Joker left her for any prolonged period of time.
"Hey Bats, c'mere an watch this part, I love it! Y'see, these two lounge players witnessed some gangster offin' another and now they need to hide, so they join an all girly band, dressed up as 'dames.'" Harley bounced in spot, giggling as the two men struggled in their heels. Batman turned away and spoke some more words in a low voice, though he needn't have bothered as Harley had eyes and ears only for the flick.
Signing off, or whatever, the caped crusader seemingly glided to the lone chair of the hotel room and repositioned it in the darkest corner between the bed and the window so as to watch both his roomie and both possible means of entrance or escape. Harley merely snickered at his paranoia. They watched the movie for several long minutes, one giddy and one reluctant, before the night was disturbed by a low growling sound. Harley, taken aback by the intrusion, looked around quickly for the source, only to realize with shock that it had been her stomach.
Grinning sheepishly at the bemused Batman (hey, there was another title for him) she admitted, "I guess I kinda forgot to get a lunch today…or breakfast…or yesterdays…heh?" It was an odd quirk, which only she had, to chuckle and make it sound like a question. Sighing grumpily, the masked avenger extracted a sheaf of small bills from one of the many compartments on his utility belt.
"Go order some take-out," he ordered handing her the money. Looking at it distrustfully, though unwilling to pass up on food that someone else was buying, Harley scampered into the kitchenette to peruse the provided list of numbers.
"D'ya like pizza?"…"I'll take that silence as a yes." Quickly memorizing one of the numbers she ran back over to the bed, reaching across it for the phone, inputting the number into the oldy spin-wheel. Laying on her stomach, she played with her hair while she waited out the ring tone, legs raised and crossed behind her like a little kid. "Heya," she eventually announced as a tired sounding employee answered, "y'a guys still open for a bit?" The employee gave her the hours, apparently pleasing her enough to give her order and the address for it to be delivered to.
Twenty minutes of cross dressing hijinks later, a knock came at the door. Harley answered it, and paid the acne-scarred teenager quickly before he either ogled her, recognized her, or spotted the notable pointy eared shadow lurking in the corner. The pizza box went onto the bed, never mind the stains it would cause, and the included 2-liter of soda was positioned close to hand by the bed. Reaching into her bag yet again, she rummaged for a second before pulling out two cups that looked like parts of a trench kit, and a stack of paper plates, the first several spoiled by what looked like stale acid.
"Here ya go B-Man," she declared jovially, brandishing a plate of crust, cheese, tomato sauce, pepperoni and mushrooms towards the superhero. Apparently failing to find reason to refuse the food, Batman took the plate, but noticeably waited for Harley to take a bite from her own piece before beginning to eat.
"Figured since ya bought it an all, that you should at least have a slice, even if you're a big ol' meanie." Batman remained quiet.
They watched the movie in what could never be referred to as amicable silence, but it was at least not hostile. The movie ended and Harley decided to call it quits for the night, knowing that the next day was sure to be long, arduous and more than likely filled with violence. Spreading out beneath the thin sheets, she tried to ignore the fact that her mortal enemy was watching her every move and would continue to do so well after she fell asleep.
It had been a tiring day.
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
Bruce wasn't even slightly tired when Quinn finally dropped off, snoring a painfully loud indication. He remained in the room for another hour to make sure that she wasn't just faking before exiting out through the window and effortlessly scaling the side of the building to alight atop the roof.
"Alfred?" the billionaire started up another communication over his earpiece. It was late, but he knew that his butler would always wait by the bat-computer until he received word on Bruce when he stayed out all night.
"Here for you, Master Bruce," the calm and even British voice came back to him immediately.
"Something's turned up; several of the big name criminals have vanished, including the Joker. Quinn contacted me and asked for my help." There was no immediate questioning, as Bruce had suspected. Alfred was great at holding his inquiries until all of the information had been laid down. "She claims that we'll be able to find information from an underground network that they use to keep track of me and each other. She calls it the Bird Watch."
"That seems like a very good place for her to lay a trap for you sir. Do you actually trust for her to uphold her end of whatever deal you have going?"
"So far I've been in eyesight of her all night. I rented her a hotel room and right now she's sleeping so I don't think there's any chance of her slipping of. Even so, I'm going to have to watch her closely; no telling when she thinks to betray me,"
"Very well sir," Alfred tried to stifle a yawn but it was hopeless. "Be sure to get some sleep tonight."
"You too old friend." He signed off, but didn't move from his perch for quite some time, pondering over this latest case. Who would have the motive, or even resources, to kidnap several of the biggest criminals in Gotham, if that was what really had happened. Ras al' Ghul for one, Joker himself, the Black Glove if they were still around. All three of the kidnapped were male, so Poison Ivy was definitely an suspect, though Croc had proven resistant to numerous chemical agents in the past and wouldn't be easily controlled by her pheromone powder. Only two of them were schemers, the other one being an up front brute. There were glaring inconsistencies leaving no one option apparent.
He heard her approach before she even spoke a word, and that was because she let him. If she wanted to, Catwoman could sneak right up to him without being detected until the last possible moment.
"Didn't expect to see you here so soon," her low, sultry voice drifted through the air like a tropical breeze.
"Selina, do I even need a schedule to come see you?" he teased, a rare event indeed while still in the suit. "Can't I drop by and comment on the weather or your hair?" he turned to address her, finding her lounging easily on the ledge to his right, one leg dangling over the edge like it was nothing but the side of her bed. A lazy, care free smile was clearly visible and her bull-whip was being coiled around her finger.
"Come now Bruce, we both know that you never visit on Mondays unless there's a crime going on. Otherwise you just let me have my neighborhood to myself."
Moving leisurely, he strode over to her and found a seat by her feet, looking out over the quiet but never asleep city. It was hard to say which one allured him the most.
"Actually, there is a crime, but I wasn't going to get you involved unless I needed to," he extrapolated, good mood dimming.
"You don't know how to ask for help," she scoffed, inspecting the claws on her suit's fingers.
"Perhaps, but you always seem to know when I need it without my asking."
"Alright, I concede you that point. So what was that crime you were talking about?" She hoisted herself and sat up straight, giving him her full attention. So, for the fourth time that night, Bruce explained the case so far and about his unorthodox traveling partner. She thought about it for several minutes, clicking her claws against the worn stone in a slow metronome.
"So Harley's that desperate? I've know her awhile and these moods don't usually end well for anyone, least of all her. I don't like to say it, but shouldn't she just be admitted into Arkham? That's the only place the Joker won't actually beat her bloody in; usually because of the restraints and all."
"She has information that I need pertaining to the investigation and won't give it up unless I oblige her requests. Having those three disappear is not something I can ignore for any period of time."
"This might not be related, though it probably is, but I've heard tell that both Flash and Superman having been missing a couple of their usual rouges. And I can't be too certain but I do recall J'onn stating that the JLA's activity has been decreasing as of late, allowing for more free time for the members." He gave her a sidelong look.
"When would you have the chance to talk to J'onn?"
"He does come down from the Watchtower occasionally," she quipped. "But if all of these are actually connected, then you could have a Justice League sized problem on your hands before you know it." He stood up and took a few steps back onto the roof, feeling stiff muscles stretching and joints popping.
"For now, it's something my family can handle." He looked back at her. "Though you should probably be ready all the same."
"You know me Bruce," she winked as she pulled the whip free from her belt. Sliding off of the ledge, she fell for a dozen feet before her whip came out with a crack and wrapped around a protruding flagpole, allowing for her to swing away lightly into the night. Bruce took a deep breath, savoring the chill of the nighttime air. He expected tomorrow to be filled with tedium, frustration and a good helping of broken bones.
It had been an interesting day.