"Tim, sit up straight, "Bruce Wayne barked from behind his newspaper. A now cold cup of untouched coffee and a hardened piece of toast lay in front of him. Tim put his spoon down in his chocolate poof cereal and tucked his chair into the table grudgingly, fixing his posture. Tim grabbed his spoon and munched a large bite of cereal. Sometimes he wondered how Bruce could tell every little detail, but then rolled his eyes in answer. He was Batman, he knew everything. Tim grumbled and wished sometimes that over active Bat radar of Bruce's would short circuit…at least this early in the morning during breakfast.

Bruce turned the page, ignoring his young portage's annoyance. He kept reading and talking much to Tim's dismay. Why couldn't he have a normal Saturday morning breakfast of super sugar cereal, cartoons, and perhaps a video game or two.

"Tim! Are you listening to me?" Bruce asked with mild emotion.

Tim choked on cereal, "Yes sir."

"I was reminding you about Harley. What we can and can't do."

"Oh lord," Tim groaned in his head, "Here comes the lecture from hell….."

"We can not allow her memory to be triggered by anything from her past with the Joker," Bruce rambled as he read the paper, "That means no red, no purple, no green, no jokes, no jack-in-the-boxes, no clowns, no mardi-gras, no hyenas which means no zoo trips, no hand buzzers, no fish…..," Bruce's voice trailed off in a ramble.

Tim interrupted him with a sly smirk, pointing to the front page of the newspaper, "Oh, you mean things like that right?" Bruce flipped the paper over to be face to face with a grotesque photo of the Joker. Bruce gave Tim a short glare and stood, going over to the cabinets to find some scissors. Tim pondered a laugh, but he knew that would mean extra training later.

Bruce began to cut and shred the picture of the Joker, "We will, however, be a little more…eh…relaxed around here."

Tim's ears perked up, "Say what?"

Now it was Bruce's turn to hold back a smile, "We will still be in crime-fighter mode, that will not change. She is a dangerous criminal and we need to be on our toes. We just need to act more like…..real people."

Tim almost spit out his chocolate cereal milk. What did Bruce think they were? Some type of humanoids? Wait, strike that…..

Bruce sat back down and continued, "We will be more casual. You get to act like a kid more and I will be more…er…friendly."

Oh how Tim wished he had a camcorder to get this fine moment on tape. He knew Batgirl would pay a fine penny to see it and Nightwing would probably either pass out from disbelief or wet his crime-fighting suit. Tim shot Bruce a wicked glance. Throwing his chair out from its tight confines of the table, Tim slouched over his cereal bowl, allowing a long line of chocolate milk drool pour from his mouth into the bowl. Bruce looked at him shocked.

"Tim, what are you doing?"

"Acting more like a casual kid," he bubbled out.

Before Bruce could scold him a deep throat clearing from the entrance to the kitchen caught their attention. Alfred stood there, and behind him hid Harley, like a little girl hiding from a grandmother who was about to pinch her cheeks.

Bruce stood and led her to her chair next to Tim, "Welcome Miss Quinzelle, I'm Bruce Wayne and this is Tim Drake, who I am a guardian of."

Harley sat and nodded to the drooling lad and the handsome Wayne, "Please, call me Harley…..everybody does!"

Bruce walked around to his seat followed by Alfred who picked up his uneaten breakfast plates on his way to the kitchen.

"I hope you slept well," Bruce said, trying his hardest to make friendly conversation.

"Oh yea, like a moldy log," Harley gushed, "The jammies were nice and broken in already so I didn't even feel itchy in em!" Bruce looked at her confused.

Tim laughed and whispered to Bruce, "I'll explain it to you later."

"Soooo, this is a pretty nice, large, dark place you got her," she continued, "Lots of secret hiding places for…well…you know."

Bruce and Tim eyed eachother nervously.

Harley laughed, "Like moonshine rooms! Sheesh…." The tension was cut and all relaxed.

Bruce cleared his throat, "Well Miss Quinzelle…..um…..Harleen."

"It's a start," Harley smiled at him, winking.

"Yes, well. I was thinking that since you do not have any of your own clothes here that you would like to go on a little shopping trip today, all expenses paid…. accompanied by Tim and Alfred that is. How would you like that?"

"YIIIIIIIPY!!!!" Harley screeched, jumping up and knocking over her chair. She composed herself and sat back down, "I mean, thank you very much Mr. Wayne."

"Please, call me Bruce."

"Ooookay, Brucie baby!" Harley giggled.

Alfred entered the dining area and set a large plate of food in front of Harley. Two over-easy eggs, smoldering bacon, and a bagel filled the plate.

"I hope the food is to your liking Miss," Alfred said. Harley took in a large delighted whiff of the aroma of breakfast. Suddenly, her face turned green with disgust as she bolted from the room, hand holding her mouth tightly. A loud sound like a cat spitting up a hairball came from the next room.

"What was that all about?" Tim asked looking in the rooms direction.

"Morning sickness," Alfred explained mater-of-factly, "in the Ming vase, I'm afraid….." He trailed into the next room to check on the sick girl.

Bruce leaned in to Tim. It was his turn to smirk, "Have fun today, Tim….."