The music drawled and crackled from a scrap-heap gramophone, a crude but recognisable crooning echoed throughout the warehouse, no other choice than that of good old Frank Sinatra, the only vinyl they owned. Harleen was tap-and-kicking to the big band, dressed in an oversized velvet dinner suit, upon her head a jester's hat she'd raided from his henchmen's costume box of many disguises.
Her bottle in hand and swigging, Joker wondered if and when she'd notice it was empty. The adrenaline and drink coursed through his veins, and the grin on his face only widened at her antics. She was drunk. They were both drunk - though the former certainly moreso. She had cried, and laughed, and often both at the same time, having danced with his boys until taking the spotlight all for herself. And like this, he didn't half mind her having it.
Joker sat in his chair, dazed and blurry eyed. "I have to give it to you kid, you're pretty good!" And at his comment she had stumbled and Joker had laughed.
"Quit puttin' me off would ya'!"
She was a jester in the king's court, parading around without a single care in the world. You wouldn't have known, from watching her then, that her life had been dragged into turmoil, that she'd been barked at, threatened, been at knife and gunpoint. The alcohol had dulled their senses, but not enough for her to stop dancing, and not enough for Joker to not appreciate it.
He wouldn't half mind either, if she were to stay like this. Joker was actually rather impressed by her talent and he could see, plain as day, why the citizens of Gotham loved her. She was sweet and infectious, when she wasn't crying or begging or tucking her way into expensive take-away. Her smile could light up even the darkest of hearts, but therein was the problem. The citizens of Gotham had turned their ever-wandering eyes to this glittering angel, and had been so foolish to ignore the devil lurking in shadow.
"You really missed an opportunity with your stage name," he said, pointing a wavering finger at his jingling hostage. "You should of gone with Harley Quinn - you know like a -"
"H-arlequin," she hiccupped, nodding. "I know." She caught his eyes upon her, and her cheeks flushed with pink. Was that the wine?
"It suits you better," Joker told her. "You're a natural entertainer. You're lucky-"
"Lucky?" She'd stopped dancing, and now instead, stood staring at him, an eyebrow raised. "What about my situation gives ya' the idea that I'm lucky?"
Joker shrugged, non-chalant. "Well, you know," he suddenly couldn't bring his eyes up to meet with hers. "You're effortless," he said, "you don't have to do much of anything to get the people watching."
Harleen's eyes rolled and she scoffed. Not the reaction he'd expected from a compliment. "You have no idea what I've had ta' go through -"
"Oh, but I do." He leant forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees. "Trust me."
She didn't seem convinced, and taking another swig from the bottle, finally noticed the wine was gone. "Sure ya' do."
"Why do you think I've got you here?" Joker asked, and the question piqued her interest.
"I figured you bein' a ragin' loon was reason enough," it was Harleen's turn to shrug.
"You're half way there," he smiled, all teeth. "But not quite. The reason I stole you off your stage was to get back my own. You're too much of a distraction to my fellow audience. I was left with little choice but to take out the competition. Nothing personal."
Her brow furrowed, and Joker realised his explanation had not been taken as well as he'd hoped. Apparently, not even the flowing wine could douse the insult.
"Nothin' personal?!" Harleen waved the bottle in her temper, and it's base shattered away against a steel support. It was accidental, and she didn't even notice.
"Easy-"
"Ya' mean to tell me, you stole me away because I took you're attention?!" She was suddenly waving the broken bottle at his face, still oblivious. "You ruined my chance at my dream 'cause they were lookin' at me and not you?" She laughed, it was loud, harsh and unlike her. "You are mad."
Joker's hands were up in a tiny surrender, backed up against the chair and away from the ragged shards. "That is the general consensus. From where I'm sitting, you don't look all that sound of mind yourself-"
"It's a bad angle!" She shot back aggressively, and inched closer in her fury. Watch it, watch it, watch it-
"You're telling me!"
Harleen lunged, but in her clumsy and enebriated state, Joker was quick to evade her. He ducked away from the incoming glass and out from underneath, squeezing the neck of the bottle from her grip and onto the floor, where it smashed into thousands of sparkling needles.
The noise of it shattering seemed to awaken her senses, and he watched as she put two-and-two together, from the mess on the floor, to his hands tightly wound around her wrists. The anger in her features subsided, and Harleen wilted beneath him. "I didn't mean ta'-" She was frightened.
"Forget about it," he flashed her a smile and wound his hands into hers. Her eyes roved his expression, wary of his closeness. "You better start dancing with me or they'll be calling you mannequin next."
Though unsure at first, Harleen did indeed sway with him - and a small and gradual smile came back to her tender features as he led her in a gentle circle.
"You're real funny Mister J, ya' know that?"
"So I've been told."
CLUNK. CLUNK. CLANG. CLUNK. CLANK. CLUNK. CLANG.
"Jesus, boys would you give it a fucking rest?!"
Harleen cringed at the sound of the Joker's voice. Not because she had come to be fearful of it, but because her head felt as though it was being split into two. The Joker too, appeared to be feeling the agony, as her eyes fluttered open to spot him, half-asleep and crookedly perched upon the chair she'd once been strapped to.
Somehow, she'd made it onto her mattress last night, and had fallen into an empty and dreamless sleep. It seemed as though the Joker had been much less fortunate, and spent a night, all gangly limbs array on a tiny wooden pedestal. How they'd ended up this way around was nothing short of a mystery, as was the way with many of the events from the previous evening. And Harleen could tell by his tone, that the Joker had not slept well.
His men stopped whatever destructive activity they had been up to, and the Joker groaned aloud from his seat. She propped herself up with her elbows, and watched as he roused to true consciousness. His hands roved through his hair and he sighed aloud before catching her glancing his way. Her heart stilled.
"How are you feeling, Harls?" he asked, and his genuine inquiry took her off guard.
"I've felt better-" she answered, and he smiled at her. In the same way he'd smiled as they'd danced through the night. With an almost sincere gentleness. Her heart remained still in her chest. Had they danced? The shattered glass that littered the floor told her so, and the tightness in her ribs told her yes, they had. How his hands had been careful, considerate. How he'd guided her quietly through the night.
"Claus, get us some eggs!" the Joker then barked another order, and Harleen flinched at the loudness - pulling her unpleasantly from her wandering thoughts. The Joker must have noticed, because then followed, in a much, much quieter voice, "and some coffee, some water - some aspirin."
And so, the hulking giant she now knew as Claus, hurried away and off to wherever he were to find this list of the Joker's demands.
They ate and drank coffee together, to much less soothing sounds than the night before. They ate to the CLUNK. CLUNK. CLANG. CLUNK. as the Joker's cronies got back to work, attempting to crack a safe in the backdrop of their morning breakfast. They feasted, however, in silence, though she glanced at the Joker over the edge of her mug, or from behind a spoonful of yolk. She couldn't help but watch the man go about a regular life. Sipping coffee, eating breakfast and - they'd danced. He'd pointed a gun at her face, he'd cut her but yet, they'd danced. And it had been nice somehow. Real nice.
Finally, when she could no longer resist the urge, Harleen spoke, "Mister- UM - J, you know what you said last night - about your audience?"
His eyes pierced her then, and she stalled.
"Yes?"
"I think I kinda get it -" she said, eyes downward and taking to scrambling her egg with her fork.
He smiled, and continued on with his meal. "That's grand kid." Was he avoiding it now?
"You really shouldn't feel like that ya' know," she continued, with her focus on her plate in front of her she found she could get the words out. "You shouldn't feel like no one's payin' you any mind."
Harleen could feel him watching her, the hairs on her arms stood on end. "You're as famous as they come," she carried on, determined. "Like, really famous. They even sell t-shirts down by the subway that spell I SURVIVED THE JOKER for all the tourists to get a load of!" She exaggerated where the print would show on her top, had she been wearing one.
He laughed, "they do? Well that ain't exactly accurate..."
"And figures, and books, and plushies-"
"Plushies?"
Harleen nodded eagerly at him, "once you've killed me, you can go raid my apartment, you'll find one of your plushies there! I've set it up next to a lil' toy of Batman, though you don't really match, your head is way too big. My ex won it for me at the carnival! Batman's a McDonald's freebie, I got him in a happy meal, would ya' believe it!"
"I'm not gonna kill you," The Joker replied having listened intently to her enthusiasm, and she couldn't hide the surprise that flitted onto her features. "Yet- I mean." He coughed roughly into his cup of coffee.
"How's it coming along boys?!" he called abruptly turning away from her. And Harleen's heart took a dip that his attention was, so quickly, elsewhere. Was it something she had said? And he got up from his seat, just as abruptly, and away from his barely-touched breakfast, leaving Harleen to finish her food, alone with her thoughts.
