It wasn't until the next day that Harley was made aware that being slammed into concrete walls isn't a favorable pass time. Waking to the drone of her alarm she went to get out of bed with all the usual grumbling but confident in her success at in fact getting up. Only her limbs had a different idea. Her jolting action, normally resulting in standing to stretch, resulted instead in a sort of half assed seizure and loud groan.

"Whyyyeeeeee" she announced to no one in particular, clasping various joints in turn. The next moment or two was spent in the usual reprimand to her body... why are you so sore and useless, I didn't do anything to you!... Oh wait maybe I did. She listed excuses as she convinced her body to function. Woke up too early yesterday, hunching over paperwork, lengthy walking tour in heels, slamming into concrete wall, then concrete floor, then furniture moving-scrubbing-cleaning-overhead mopping fit... crappy leftovers dinner... Ok, fair point feet and shoulders, but rest of you, shut up.

Showered and dressed, she gathered things from a list she made yesterday. Somewhere between spider eviction and wall mopping she had the forethought to record all of the thoughts of this would be so much better if I had BLANK with me. Unfortunately "had my ID accessible with full hands" wasn't one of the blanks.

Juggling two armfuls of bags between car and Asylum entrance, not so bad. Bear hug them and rest the weighty bits on your hips. Piece of cake. Now reach into your pocket. Damn. The guards at the entrance waited seemingly patiently as she struggled, almost losing grip on several things.

"Aha!" she shouted in triumph catching the edge of her ID between index and middle fingers and brandishing it only to drop almost everything. On top of it. As she muttered and shuffled things back into order a pair of doctors walked past, flicking their IDs in practiced movements and completely ignoring her as they entered.

"I'm FINE thanks for askin'!" she called after them, sacrificing a handful of bag handles to flip them off. The leftmost guard cleared his throat.

"Its my second day" she smiled and cringed, offering her rescued ID. The right hand guard spontaneously developed manners and passed the final bag to her already laden arms before holding the door open for her.

She didn't know how she made it to her door without further incident. Close enough to her goal she dropped her bags to the floor and unlocked her office. The faint smell of lingering floor cleaner greets her but it only serves to remind her of how much worse it smelt yesterday. By the time Dr Leland strode in with today's paperwork several small touches were laid out expertly to take advantage of the space. Some posters for colour, some stationary musts, a small selection of books for either personal reference or showing the patients. Leland raises a well manicured brow at the pile of assorted cushions that have taken over an area beneath the window but Harley simply beams back as she reaches for her new patient files with glee and ignores her until she leaves. Getting stuck into reading up on patients notes, Harley uses the faded guides glued into the front cover of each folder to look over what each patients schedule currently looks like. Two have free time this morning, one free in the afternoon. Itching to meet them all she submits session requests for those who are free and decides to pop in on patient meal times in order to meet the other three folder occupants and draws herself a schedule of her own.

Cheri Barker - Breakfast
Krystal Foley - 10am
Dirk Buckner - 11am
Greg Wells - Lunch
Jerome Gates - 2pm
Stefanie Lang - Dinner

Harley lingers in the cafeteria as the patients begin to file in, frequently glancing between the small picture paper clipped to her personal schedule and those who enter. Eventually she spots her first patient (My very first patient eeeeee!). Harley looks on from afar as the middle aged woman collects her tray, her pills, a bowl of porridge, a sliced orange, and a cup of diluted apple juice and falls into the nearest empty table to the end of the line. After a moment of staring at the table, face hidden by a mop of tight brown curls, she pokes at her food with the only cutlery present. The rubbery coated spoon is akin to those given to toddlers, and bounces off the surface of the equally rubbery oats. Harley approaches her table and pauses until the woman looks up at her blearily.

"Hi!"

"Hello..." the woman rasps. "I took them already" she dismisses waving a hand at the empty paper cup that had contained pills moments ago and turning her head back to her food.

"Well, no, ya didn't..." the woman snaps her head up at this "But that's not why I'm here. Harley." she extends a hand "Well, Doctor Quinzel, but you can call me Harley"

The woman takes the extended hand gingerly and gives it the briefest of shakes before dropping it. Harley just smiles and slides into one of the seats.

"Cheri Dunham" She offers, attempting to spoon through the skin that has settled over her breakfast in record time.

"Nice to meet ya-you" Harley self corrects "...Cheri. Ill be your Doctor while you're here with us at Arkham. Ill try not to take up much of your time I just wanted to meet everyone today and get an idea of how I can help."

Cheri grunts in acknowledgement.

"Sorry, but I had Barker on your files here?," Harley asks softly "I assume I've got the right person though from the picture."

"DUNHAM. Cheri DUNHAM." Snaps the woman, jabbing a finger at her yellow wristband.

"Of course, I'll make sure its corrected in the files." she reassures to Cheri's clear relief.

"See that you do." she states firmly, shakily raising her juice to her lips.

"Ok then, well it was great to meet you, Ill be setting up our sessions a few times a week for when you're free so Ill see you again real soon." Harley stood to leave with a practiced smile.

"Wait..."

"Yes hun?"

"Aren't you going to... tell. My pills I mean." she seemed flustered by the thought.

"What pills." Harley winks, and strides away.

Krystal was almost as old as Harley herself, but her slight figure, stature and demeanor made her appear no older than 12. She slid immediately into the hard plastic chair on the far side of the table and didn't say anything to Harley or the orderly that had guided her inside before leaving. Harley stood from her desk chair and was going to take her "doctor seat" opposite when she changed her mind.

"I don't want to sit there." she sighed.

"You have to sit there. You have to sit. You have to talk. You have to sit and be talked at. You have to be still at the table." the girl... woman really... but to Harley it seemed a girl, rambled.

"Well my butt hurts from that chair" she jerks a finger behind her "and that one looks worse. I'm sitting... here" she announces as she flops down on the pile of cushions. Krystal, head lowered, couldn't help but still be able to see Harley, splayed on the cushions.

"You're not a doctor."

"Sure I am, Dr Quinzel. See my ID?"

"No"

"Right here" she holds it out for inspection where its clipped to her pocket.

"I cant see from here."

"You can come down here you know"

This was met by silence for quite some time. Then adamant disbelief.

"No. You have to sit at the table. You cant sit on the floor. On the chair. I sit on the right-hand chair. Doctors sit in left hand chairs." she muttered staring at the table again.

"Well I don't want to."

"Then you're not a Doctor" The girl states firmly.

"How can you tell if you don't come see my ID?" Harley gambles. The girl flicks her eyes toward Harley, clearly annoyed by the lack of closure on proving her point. Harley waits patiently. Smiling blandly. The girl fidgets, starting small and then stone still again. Twisting her shirt and then still. Reaching for her hair and then still. She doesn't get up so much as pour herself onto the floor under the table and then sit with her legs tucked under her, hands on her knees. I win.

Harley holds out her ID a little further but doesn't detach it until the girl shuffles close enough to unclip it and stare at it.

"You can't be a doctor" she whispers in disbelief.

"Says who. You?" Harley jokes taking it back and returning it to her coat. "You also said you can't sit on the floor and you are so I don't believe you"

Shocked by this the silence returns for a while.

"The floor is even colder than the chair." she announces after several minutes.

"That's what the cushions are for"