A/N: Hrrmm, yeaaaah, it's been a while and I'm like the worst author ever. Sorry gaiz. :/

3. Phoney Smiles and Fake Hellos

Seth Jones looked down at the young woman he allowed through the door. He didn't know what he expected when the boss informed him that the Joker's henchgirl would be staying with them for a month, but he felt his expectations betrayed. Seth expected someone utterly outrageous, just as every bit as colorful and dangerous as the Joker. Harley Quinn looked like a glorified mime. But orders were orders and Seth showed her into the apartment and hoped Two-Face knew what he was doing.

Which was paradoxical thinking, because, according to everyone else, Two-Face always knew what he was doing.

"Well," Seth said, rubbing the back of his neck, "guess I better figure out where to put you."

"Where to put me?" Harley asked, frowning with a very pretty pout. "What d'ya mean? Don'tcha have a room or somethin'?"

"Probably," Seth shrugged, "but I don't know where."

He ignored her barely audible hmph and smoothly moved down the long, narrow hall which led from front door to living room. Well, foyer, he supposed, since the building itself was built in the traditional hotel/apartment style: the entire first floor used to be the reception area, and the desk where receptionists sat still stood, though it had long since been converted into a modern wet bar. Several leather couches framed a large glass coffee table, which, in turn, preceded an enormous HD flatscreen.

"Ooohhhh!' Harley cooed, the moment the flatscreen came into view. Seth grinned at her enthusiasm and couldn't help but gush.

"Yeah," he said, "that little baby was my idea. Fifty-six inches of pure, glorious, unadulterated HD, with 1080pi capacity. You have no idea how amazing football season looks in fifty-six inches. Or video games."

He had lost Harley at fifty-six inches, but she was too engrossed to care. Saturday morning cartoons were on her mind, not boring football or video games.

"Can I use it?" she asked, turning to her, ugh, babysitter with startling large blue eyes.

"Uh," Seth said.

"Pleeeeaaassseeee?" Harley whined, clasping her hands in front of her and falling down on her knees. "I promise to never, ever, ever, ever, ever touch it 'less you're around, and I swear I won't throw the remote!"

"Shit, fine, whatever," Seth said, looking alarmed, "just get off the goddamn floor."

Harley bounced back up and jumped for joy, all but throwing her arms around Seth's neck.

"Whoopeeeee!" she squealed, and Seth rubbed the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger.

"Vat's vith all the fuckin' racket?"

Boris Klauss stormed into the room, wearing boxer shorts and a white undershirt, a cigar stuck between his clenched teeth. His brow furrowed the moment he saw Harley, and he immediately drew himself up.

"Who the fuck is this?" he asked, taking the cigar out of his mouth and snubbing it in one of the many ashtrays littering the room.

"The Joker's girl," Seth said, crossing his arms over his chest and narrowing his eyes. "Why?"

"Take her to her fucking room and shut the hell up," Boris growled.

"Like I know where that is," Seth sneered, though he obediently turned around to do as he was told.

"If you take your ass out of your head, schwuler, then maybe you'd haff a good idea of vat goes on around here!"

"It's 'take your head outta your ass,' you dumb Nazi shit."

Harley followed Seth as he lumbered out of the room and toward an elevator shaft that looked…not safe. In fact, the stairs would have been perfectly fine for her, but her erstwhile guide pressed the button for the upper floor (three or four, she didn't see which) and she had no time to complain. Once again clutching her bag to her chest and keeping her trap shut, Harley swayed back and forth to the cheesy elevator music while Seth tapped his foot.

So far, she felt spectacularly out of place. No one seemed to be expecting her, no one knew where to put her, and she hadn't heard one peep from either Seth or the German guy about whether or not she'd be meeting Two-Face. Not that she wanted to meet him; he was practically her jailer! She just felt that, as her host (blegh!), ol' Twofie should show a little more hospitality than his men were showing, acting like they didn't even want her there.

Swell service, she thought to herself. The elevator dinged (fourth floor) and Seth led her out onto a long, posh hall. And by posh, Harley meant swanky. The hall walls were made out of a deep mahogany, as were the polished floors. A long, richly patterned carpet, black and white, flowed both ways, and gorgeous paintings lined the walls. Some of the paintings Harley recognized from the Gotham Museum, others had to be either commissioned or were by foreign artists. They were beautiful.

"Whoa," Harley gulped, feeling slightly intimidated by the finery. Yeah, sure, okay, life wasn't always grand with Mistah J, and they didn't always have nice things, but she was happy and that's what counted, right? Right? She didn't need priceless ol' paintings, or plush rugs to make her day. That's what she kept telling herself as Seth led her down the hall past many doors to one singular door. They must've all been hotel rooms at one time, she realized. But she didn't need a house full of rooms, or mahogany floors, or flatscreens, or, or, or…oooohhhh.

The room was beautiful. No, scratch that, it was luxurious. It was…like some kind of fairy-tale princess dream! A four poster bed with the gauzy hangings, a walk-in closet, a four piece vanity with a full length mirror, and…

Oh…my…god, Harley thought as she dropped her bag on the floor. She all but pounced past Seth and yanked the bathroom door open, hoping against hope that it wasn't what she thought it…yes…yes it was. She screamed loud enough to wake the neighborhood and Seth ran over, his hand on the holster of his gun before he even knew what the problem was. Maybe she just saw a really fuckin' huge rat.

"What is it?" he asked, looking over her shoulder into the pristine bathroom. Nothing wrong as far as he could see.

"It's…it's…," Harley gaped, pointing.

"It's what?"

"It's beautiful!"

"It's just a bathroom, like all the others!"

It was not like all the other bathrooms Harley had ever been in, with their drab white tile floors, their boring white, scratchy, stiff towels, the tiny shower stall that felt more like a coffin than anything, and the wiggly toilet. This was paradise. The king-sized Jacuzzi tub dominated the room, complete with three steps to get in the thing, and there were several faucets for fancy things like bubbles and perfume and body wash. The towels matched the rustic décor and were a burnt orange; the tiles a pleasing off-white, the shower stall anything but a coffin, and the sink gilded with gold and ivory. Harley felt herself dying a little bit on the inside as she took everything in.

"I get to live here?" she asked weakly, turning to look at Seth. He nodded and clipped his gun back into place.

"Boss usually uses it himself when he's in one of his moods, but I don't see no reason why you can't stay here for now. It's not like the other rooms are furnished, and…well, guess if it were me, I'd put the Joker's girl in a nice place. Don't want him mad at me."

Harley bounced once and squealed again, running back over to the bed and jumping on it. She promptly sank deep down into the mattress and sighed happily. She didn't mind being away from Mistah J for a whole month…she could probably live for the whole six months, as a matter of fact! Her Puddin' had been right as rain! He always was, right down the very last thing! He knew she'd be taken care of, he just knew! Harley kicked herself for ever doubting him in the first place and snuggled a plush pillow.

"Yeeeeah," Seth drawled, not sure how to take this change of direction, "the boss ain't home now, so you better stay out of fuckin' trouble. I don't wanna have to explain to him why somethin's broke or whatever. Dinner'll be at eight, it usually is, unless we're all busy. Umm, yeah, don't go to the third or second floor unless you're called, and watch for the dogs, because they bite."

"Huh? Dogs? What?" Harley asked, rolling across the bed and giving Seth a silly grin. She wasn't even paying fucking attention anymore. Seth sighed and rolled his eyes, running his hand through his hair. He was done caring. If she wanted to prowl around, that was on her. He had done his work for the day. The only thing worrying him was whether or not the boss would care for it.