Disclaimer: Still don't own anyone. Boo.

"This is your station under no control,
broadcasting for you to let go."
-No Control by Pepper

It was mid-afternoon when they finally got around to the Iceberg Lounge; they had had a heated debate as to whether they should have a henchman drive or if Harley should. After several minutes of raised voices and a couple of slaps, the Joker ended up driving. When they weren't going on a heist, he drove quite well; he obeyed every rule of the road, including three second stops at stop signs. When they arrived, the Joker began to put his paint on as Harley stepped out of the white van. She stared at him through the windshield as she leaned on the hood with her hammer slung over her shoulder.

The Joker felt Harley's stare, but he didn't acknowledge it; he had gotten used to how frequently she observed him. He looked at her while he reached for the pot of red paint and noticed what she was wearing for the first time that day. She donned pants made of jean-like material; one leg red, one leg black. Her top was covered by a black corset with red ribbons that met at the back; underneath was a short-sleeved, white oxford shirt that was unbuttoned at the top, showing quite a bit of cleavage. He could see the creamy white skin that he had looked at and touched so many times before; where he knew his initial, J, was carved into her skin.

He shook his head of the thought, applying the red paint to his ragged scars. He threw the plastic pot into the back if the van carelessly and kicked open the door. Harley smiled widely as he met up with her in the front of the vehicle. He scanned her up and down; starting with her blonde curls and ending at her black sneakers. He laughed as he saw that the laces were untied.

"That," he said, pointing at the laces, "is a recipe for trouble." He was very familiar with her clumsiness, and how silly little things like shoe laces could be her downfall (quite literally). She just laughed at the comment and grabbed his hand, heading for the back door of the Iceberg. She rapped on the steel door incessantly until it opened a crack and a face appeared.

"Care to let us in, sweet cakes?" she said sarcastically to the man. His eyes widened in recognition and the door swung open completely. The Joker strolled in, guiding Harley down the long hallway that was painted a deep blue. They passed several different doors; ones of different shapes and sizes. They came to the end of the corridor and stopped directly in front of a large golden door that obviously belonged to the boss of the lounge.

Bingo, thought Harley as she watched the Joker, who seemed to be internally debating on whether to knock before entering. He obviously decided to knock as he did so once, before opening the door.

The room before them was painted a shade lighter than the hallway that they had just exited and had a crystal chandelier hanging above a large silver desk. Behind the desk was the stout man who Harley assumed to be Oswald Cobblepot; she had never met the man in person, only seen him in pictures. He stood from his black leather chair and tipped his hat to the pair.

"Well, Joker," he said, his voice a guttural sound that grated on Harley's ears, "what a lovely surprise. Please, take a seat," he continued. His eyes moved over to Harley and his eyebrows raised slightly. "And you must be the famous Harley Quinn," he waddled over to her and extended his hand. "Oswald Cobblepot,"

"It's a pleasure," she said sweetly, and she heard J chuckle, knowing she was uncomfortable with the small man.

"Now enough with the introductions," the Joker interrupted, "we've got something to discuss, Ozzy." He took a seat in one of the suede chairs opposite the Penguin's leather one. "We've been staying at your hotel, just though I should, uh, be polite and tell ya so."

"Ah," was all the other man said in reply as he sat back down in his chair. "I heard through the grapevine that the hotel seemed to be occupied by a few people." He regarded the Joker who was playing with a stack of coins on the desk. It reminded Harley of a time back in Arkham when she and the Joker had played Jenga in her office.

"You know," he said, chewing his scars, "you can really judge a person's character by this game."

She pulled a block on the outer edge, the tower wobbling slightly as she removed it from its firm placement.

"How so?" she asked, steadying the tower with her fingers. He regarded her silently for a few moments, then continued.

"Well," he used his hands to gesture the move she had just made, "the entire tower is life. The individual blocks are the decisions that we make in it. Some people will take the risky moves, like the one you just made. Some people will take the boring ones, like these," he pulled a block that was in the middle of two others, and the tower stayed completely stable. "While the uh, the boring moves are safer, the risky ones make the game more fun."

"So," she made her move, "you're saying that without the 'risky' moves in life, it's boring. Too safe, no adventure." He nodded, his eyes scanning the tower for another block to pull.

"You, doc," he said, his eyes locking on a piece near the bottom, "seem to pull all the risky moves. There have been several turns where you could have just picked the middle block, no problem. But you're determined to pick the ones that make the tower go uh, topsy-turvy. Like me." He pulled the block swiftly, and the tower seemed to lean on its side for a second. "I think that it's reflecting the true Harleen Quinzel."

She remained silent, looking for another block. He watched her as she went for another outer block. The tower wobbled and finally fell completely; blocks fell off of her desk and onto the carpeted floor of the room. He rose his eyebrows, his eyes saying so much without him uttering a word.

Since that day, she had understood exactly what he had meant; so many people (Joan Leland, Jeremiah Arkham, Gordon) seemed to pick the moves that weren't fun at all. While J made the risky moves regardless of the consequence, the Penguin seemed to only pull them if they benefitted him winning the game at the end. She didn't like that.

She was pulled from her thoughts as she heard the Joker's laughter. She turned to the door and saw Cobblepot walking out.

"What's happening?" she asked, and the Joker laughed again.

"In another world, Harl?" she just stared at him. He rolled his eyes and pulled her into his lap. "Ozzy had something to tend to. He'll be back in a bit. What were you thinking about?" she shrugged, swinging her legs back and forth.

"Nothing really, just judgment of character." He looked at her curiously.

"You don't like Penguin," it wasn't a question. She shrugged again and he laughed. "That's okay, neither do I." She giggled and shoved his shoulder weakly. He cackled and nibbled on her neck, trailing up to meet her lips. She smiled against him as he tried to bite her lips, and broke apart to laugh. He captured her mouth again, and they kissed happily until they heard Penguin clear his throat politely.

"Sorry, Ozzy," the Joker said, "young love and all that." The Penguin twittered at the statement.

"Love isn't a word I ever thought would come out of your mouth," he explained. The Joker pushed his knee upward into Harley's legs, signaling for her to stand.

"Well, I suppose that we are done here, Pengy," he said while sliding his purple jacket on over his shoulders. Cobblepot nodded, standing up once again.

"Indeed, it does seem that way. Pay us another visit soon," Harley could detect the slight undertone of sarcasm in the statement, so she figured J could too. He seemed to ignore it, however, as he just nodded as they exited the room. They walked back to the van, and the Joker deliberately stepped on Harley's untied shoelaces, making her trip and nearly fall.

"See," he stated, "recipe for trouble."

A/N: Yeah, not really sure how I feel about this one. I've been meaning to get it down for a while, but with exams for the past week, I haven't really done much of anything other than study. I'm done now, though, so I should probably (hopefully) get some more things in. I wanted to put this chapter mostly from Harley's view, because looking back on everything I've written I almost never do it from her view. The little Jenga bit, believe it or not, was actually something that my dad said while we were playing the other week (yes, we play Jenga very frequently together. DON'T JUDGE). With all that said, I would like to thank everyone that has reviewed this story (and the people who have read it, but not said a thing). I like you a lot more when you review, though. So make me happy and do just that. Happy-Whatever-Holiday-You-Celebrate!