The dingy club sprung to life the moment Harleen placed the first few coins into the jukebox machine, and though her eyes were fixed upon the bright light-up musical box before her, she could feel their stares from across the room. But it didn't matter. The gift had wilted away her fears from before, and Harleen selected the first song that caught her eye, pushing buttons excitedly. Something from none other than Dean Martin.Push . Harleen had noted how all the songs were either big band or musical based and for a jukebox it had a very unique selection of tunes. She couldn't help but wonder if this had been a deliberate choice on the Joker's part. So he was psychotic - but thoughtful . She shrugged her thoughts aside, the happiest she'd been in weeks, or had it been months ? This wasn't topping the moment she'd been showered with flowers upon her stage, but it was certainly up there . No one had ever given her a present like this, one that matched her personality - one that had clearly been so carefully considered. With a hand pressed at her mouth - the music, the smooth voice crackling from the speakers - Harleen hid a wavering smile.

"You like it?" The Joker bumped her shoulder roughly and a few coins tinkled onto the hardwood dancefloor.

"I love it -" Harleen whispered, confused - flattered - overwhelmed. What did all of this mean? The Joker she knew, from the television and the newspapers, was a chaos causing clown, inexplicably cold, callous and cruel. Whose laugh was high and manic, smile wide and wicked. And sure, she'd been introduced to that side of The Joker the moment he'd chosen to target her. But what was this - buttering up? Harley Quinn, let's call this your audition, J "Audition for what?" she asked him eyes squinting as she held the tag and tapped it. As much as Harleen appreciated the gesture (truly) what was his intention? For a heart fluttering moment - she had some idea.

A thin finger pulled at the loose collar of his t-shirt, to scratch at his jutting collarbone. "I'm glad you asked," he didn't look glad - he lookednervous . "I've got a proposition for you Miss Quinn." The Joker took one of the last remaining coins from her palm and changed the song (but not the artist.) Harleen's heart stammered as The Joker then took her arm and pulled her towards an old and broken booth to the side.

"A proposition f-for me ?!" her voice high and hitched with surprise.

She stared unblinking at his face, at how close The Joker stood. With the gentle strumming of guitars - the silky voice that sounded from the jukebox - did she lean in further? Her heart beat aggressively within her chest. Was this going where it felt like it was? She'd spent some of her late teens, much longer ago than she'd ever admit, squished into booths and kissed with fervour. The Joker's hot breath was at her ear as he weaved her in against the table. She didn't have time to think much of what was happening, how or why. Just that it was and that she didn't mind. She didn't even mind the thick layer of dust on the table, the sticky patches of spilt alcohol. The men lingering in the shadows of their dark and deteriorated backdrop. She reached for the zipper of his purple tracksuit, and opened her mouth a little for him, an invitation. The way she knew best to handle auditions.

It was then, that she was tossed unceremoniously into the seat opposite the Joker, and any heady thoughts were jolted from her mind. Oh! Worst of all, the Joker hadn't even noticed . And he slid into his seat completely unperturbed. "Since you're going to be with us for a while, kid," he started, hands clasped, grin wide - completely oblivious as he sat conducting his interview. "I figured I could use your help."

Harleen sank back into the seat, this hadn't been what she was expecting. Not at all. "What kind of help?" What could The Joker want with budding actress Harleen Quinzel? What could she possibly offer him that he didn't already have, and couldn't already steal ? He'd stolen her shot from her, what else could she do for him now ? Especially since he wasn't interested - or even realised - what else she was good to offer. Rude!

"Well, there's a few things," his grin turned into a sheepish smile. "But before you cry, yell or scream again could I just -"

"Hey!" How dare he describe her so accurately!

The Joker raised his hand to silence her protest and Harleen slumped even further into the booth, sullen, arms folded tight against her chest.

"I like what you've been doing with the warehouse," he said, eyes wandering out towards the bar and beyond, avoiding her glare. "And I was wondering, just an idea , how you'd feel about helping us get this placed spruced up and open for business?" He shrugged it off. "You'll be rewarded, of course -"

"Freedom?" it was the first word out of Harleen's mouth, and a pang of guilt twanged her heart as the Joker's smile faltered.

"Not that ," he said, and it took a moment but his grin returned. False . Leaning over the table between them, the Joker pressed the tip of his finger to her nose. "I've got better plans in mind for you ."

The nightclub was derelict. Bought on the cheap and left to rot. Harleen could see where the Joker had attempted to add his flair and had failed. There were old, creepy vintage circus posters now peeling from the walls, all smudged and stained by smoke. All manner of odd toys, props and costumes were either pinned to the wall, or dotted amongst the shelves and spaces, peeking out from behind bottles and glasses. The ceilings were low but the potential was high. And with some elbow grease, Harleen could definitely see this place working out for the Joker. It was a small, inclusive and intimate setting, all it needed was a fresh lick of style. The jukebox alone had already helped with the atmosphere tenfold.

"Do I even have a choice?"


Good, good, good , good, good question. Did she have a choice? That she did not . "I already told you," he chuckled, propped up on his bony arms. "I'm not letting you go." Though he had in a way, his way , given her a choice. Live out as his hostage, miserable and moping, or move on and make something of herself among him and his men. "Well, what d'ya say Harls?" He'd never once extended a hand like this and he wondered, briefly, why she wasn't happier about it. It surprised even Joker how long she'd lasted in his company thus far, with her constant mood swings, crying, and challenging his patience. There was just something about Harleen Quinzel that he wanted to keep, despite all of her misgivings.

"Fine."

She wasn't fine, that was certain. Her arms crossed, her legs crossed, her eyes cast downward, not even a hint of a smile . Joker might not be an expert on women (he'd never tell her that) but he wasn't stupid. His harlequin was pissed indeed. He had hoped the jukebox would have quelled the attitude. Apparently not! "Come on, Harls, I thought you'd want to add some flavour to the place?"

"Oh, yeah ," she laughed now, loudly, drawing attention from his guys to their booth, and Harleen, just as loudly, announced, "ya' know what? Ever since I was little, all I could ever dream about - all I ever wanted , was to wind up in this dump , as Mista' J's slave ! HA HA HA!"

Jesus! Joker raised his hands, laughing along awkwardly, "hey, hey, HEY! Let's not give 'em t he wrong impression here -" he could see his lackeys, shaking their heads, hear them clicking their tongues. What must they think of him?! " Now, that's not what I said!"

"Sure it ain't," she huffed, "kinda convenient ain't it, how you stole me away and now want me clean - do ya' get your guy prisoners doin' this I wonder?!"

"I don't have any guy prisoners! What are you - wait - no -" He wasn't going to go there. Nope. No way. That hadn't been what he'd meant. Atall . He'd wanted to help her feel part of the show, but what was the point? He'd hoped she'd been flattered by it - not offended! With the way her eyes sparkled when she'd seen the ruby. The way they'd glistened at the sight of the jukebox. Why did she have to be so difficult ? "I thought you'd want to throw in your piece!" he exclaimed, confused, annoyed, bewildered.

"What I want is to -"

Splayed hands slammed against their table, knocking both Joker and Harleen back from their awkward confrontation. And Floyd stood before them, mask-raised and perched upon his head to reveal the sweating, black haired, black-eyed man beneath. "Jay," he heaved, rasping for breath. "Things are bad , man. I came as quick as I could."

Joker frowned. What now? With a scorned woman opposite, and a frantic thug at his side, what else could possibly be going wrong for him? "Hit me," he said, the lack of enthusiasm offered was award-winning.

"It's Cobblepot," Floyd replied, "he wants you fuckin' dead man - dead dead - he's put some seriously pretty price on your head for what you've taken. Fuck, even I was tempted boss," he raised his hands, "just sayin', no offence, ya' know I love ya'."

Joker caught Harleen's expression, fright had replaced her frustration, and her lip trembled, looking back from Floyd to Joker, Joker to Floyd. He wanted to tell her, kid, don't worry, everyone wants to kill me, all of the time , but he didn't think somehow, it would help calm her nerves. Joker sighed, pulling hands through his hair and gripping tight on the ends. Damn Oswald and his bottomless bank account. All of Gotham's finest fuck-ups would be fighting for him now and like he had time for that!

"Everyone's talkin' about it, everyone's interested , hell, Jay you gotta lotta enemies, an' half of 'em are broke ass bitches too!"

Well, this had gone swimmingly . "Wonderful!" Joker clapped his hands and stood abruptly. Both Harleen and Floyd flinched. "Take her to get an icecream or somethin' I'll have to speak to the boys," and he clicked his fingers, dismissing them both.

Before Floyd could take Harleen's arm and lead her from the club, Joker grabbed her instead and growled at them both. "You lose her Floyd, I kill you." His eyes met with Harleen's, who flitted his features fearfully. "You let him lose you, I kill him. We good?" She nodded frantically, and slipped from his grip. He let her go. Something knotted in his stomach to watch them leave together, but he couldn't have her sitting pretty here, not now .

It had been a while since Joker had dabbled in any kind of turf war in the city - he had, for a time, focused his efforts on garnering solely the attention of the Batman instead. That bothering other kingpins (who was he kidding, there was only one king ) only complicated matters between himself and the big, black Bat. That he'd stepped aside for the most part, causing chaos in Gotham city for chaos' sake, over reigning in his criminal empire. It showed . Just looking at his torn-up club, it showed. At his near-on empty warehouse - his bare reserves and battered wardrobe. Perhaps going head to head with Penguin was the next big thing Joker needed, to reinstate himself as top dog. If the city had fallen for his Harley Quinn over the clown prince himself, he really had let himself go… Maybe she hadn't been solely to blame for their lack of interest… Well, fuck.

Addressing the men came with mixed reviews. Some were eager and antsy to get back to the streets and squash the nearing competition. Others sighed and complained. They'd grown so complacent, so cocky . How had this happened right under his nose? The smaller circle were still good-as-gold, but the rest? Useless. He wasn't going to die by Penguin's hand ( good joke! ) or any of the other numbskulls tempted by the hefty bounty. Joker was clear that their corpses would litter the streets if they'd be stupid enough, that he'd climb their cadavers all the way to the top, where only one belonged. Any guesses?

Plans took hours to discuss and Joker didn't leave Grin N' Bare It until the early hours of the morning, where his car and Claus waited patiently outside for him. Harleen had been placed in the back seat, and was shivering in her sleep against the cold leather. The night had been ruined, and not just for her . Clambering in himself, Harleen was quick to latch onto whatever was warmest - and in her sleeping state took up all but the tiniest sliver of space, where Joker was seated, crushed up at the window. Her head nuzzled his shoulder, and she snored loudly in his ear. Just when he'd been certain she couldn't get any more annoying, she never ceased to disappoint. But as disgruntled as Joker was, he saw the humour in it.

"Get us home," he told Claus quietly, and the ignition started and sped them into the night.