She must have drifted off to sleep at last, because she awoke to feel the sun on her face, and the waves lapping against the side of the boat. She sat up slowly to see the Joker leaning back, sipping from a bottle of rum.
"Why aren't you rowing?" she demanded.
"I been rowing all night," he snapped. "So I'm taking a well-deserved break. You're welcome to take over, Miss Quinzel," he sneered. "I'm sure a spoiled little rich girl like you has a lotta arm muscles."
She said nothing, glaring at him as he sipped his rum. Her own throat was parched, and she began looking around for some water.
"What are you looking for?" he asked.
"Water," she retorted. "I'm thirsty."
He offered her the bottle of rum. "No, thank you," she snapped, finding a canteen under the seat. "Anyway, alcohol dehydrates you, and frankly that's the last thing we need to be at sea."
"It also cheers you up," retorted Joker. "Which is something I need after last night's disaster, and something you appear to need constantly."
"And what event over the past few days would you like me to be cheerful about?" demanded Harleen.
Joker shrugged. "You got to catch-up with your old pal Harvey," he said. "And you stole some nice, new clothes."
"Yes, that's quite the silver lining," she retorted, sarcastically. "Forgive me, I'm wrong to be upset."
Joker sighed, sipping more rum. "Kinda wish I'd thrown some more treasure into the boat instead of you," he muttered. "It wouldn't be worth as much, but at least it would be silent, which is frankly worth more than money to me right now."
Harleen ignored him, sipping the water carefully. "What supplies have we got?" she demanded.
He gestured under the seat. "See for yourself. Food, water, rum…what more does anyone need?"
"Do we have blankets for when it gets cold tonight?" she asked. "We don't want to freeze to death."
He nodded, gesturing to a pile of sheets. "We might be able to fashion them into some sails if the wind picks up," he said. "Use the oars as masts. I certainly hope it does – my arms are already aching," he sighed, flexing them. "I'm not looking forward to a week of this, but it's better than being hanged."
Secretly Harleen wished for nothing else than for him to be hanged, but she kept these thoughts to herself. "Did you…see the Batman last night?" she asked, tentatively.
He nodded. "Yep. Nearly crossed swords with him, but then I thought discretion was the better part of valor."
Like the coward you are thought Harleen, but again, kept these thoughts to herself. "What was he like?" she asked. "I mean…how would you describe him?"
He shrugged. "Kinda hard to describe a guy who wears a mask. But he wears a mask."
"I know that!" snapped Harleen. "Everyone knows that! What else?"
He sipped his rum again. "I dunno. He had a cape."
Harleen sighed heavily. This man was the worst storyteller in the world – she would have to prompt him. "Was he tall? Dark? Rugged? Strong and muscular? They say he has steely blue eyes that glint like jewels, and his jaw is strong and solid. Is it true?"
Joker stared at her. "You think I noticed any of that?! It was dark, for one, and for another, I don't tend to focus on if my opponent's eyes glint or if he has a solid jaw! Mostly I'm just looking for a way to kill him!"
"Fine, you're no help!" she snapped, folding her arms across her chest.
"Yeah, sorry I can't give you details for your erotic fantasy," snapped Joker, draining the rum bottle.
"How…dare you?!" she demanded. "I merely admire the Batman, as anyone would admire a hero!"
"Yeah, right," he snorted. "I bet you were hoping he'd take the ship and then take you in the cabin…"
She slapped him hard across the face. "How dare you?!" she repeated. "I would never…give my honor to any man who is not my husband!"
"Well, the Batman ain't gonna make you a good husband, toots," he retorted. "So I'd drop that idea right now. He's gonna be too busy poking his nose into other people's business and making a giant nuisance of himself!"
"You're just jealous because he bested you and took your ship…" began Harleen.
He smashed the bottle suddenly, and then lunged forward, knocking her back against the prow and holding the broken glass inches from her face. "I wouldn't remind me of that if I were you!" he hissed. "For your own good!"
Harleen stared back at him, her heart racing in terror at the look in his eyes. It was wild and dangerous and…and his body was pressed against hers, his heart pounding in fury, echoing hers…and she began to feel very strange as a tingling warmth flowed through her body…
He drew away from her, getting himself under control with colossal effort. He hurled the broken bottle out into the ocean as far as he could throw it, which was an impressive distance. And then he sat down, picking up the oars again and beginning to row.
Harleen sat up slowly, feeling her own body calming. She dipped her hand out of the boat and then bathed the cool water over her cheeks, which were burning up. She wondered if she might be getting ill, or heatstroke, out in this burning sun all day…
But she longed for the warmth of the burning sun the moment it set, and the temperature dropped steeply. The wind had arrived, and the Joker used the oars to fashion a mast, taking a break from the rowing and letting the wind do the work. He leaned against the mast, drinking again, as the wind pushed them steadily along.
Harleen was trying to keep herself warm – the air was icy and she shivered uncontrollably, curled up in the prow of the boat. She would have given anything for a spare sheet, but they were needed on the sails. She tried to hold back tears, but she had never been so cold or miserable in her life, and she began to sniffle…
And then she felt something draped over her, something soft and heavy. It was the Joker's coat, she realized, still warm from his body heat. She sat up and saw him returning to stand against the mast, just dressed in his shirt.
"Aren't you cold?" she whispered.
"Nah," he retorted. "Rum keeps me warm. One of the many benefits of alcohol. And since you refuse to drink it, you need the coat more than me. Besides, I can't stand your sniffling."
She nodded. "Thank you," she whispered.
He said nothing in response, taking another swig of rum. Harleen studied him for a few more moments, and then curled up in his coat. She felt safe in its warmth, shutting her eyes and drifting off to sleep with strange visions of the Joker.