VIII

"Tell me who you are," said The Joker.

"Well... I'm a doctor, and I'm interested in learning about you." Harley leaned back in her chair, surveying her patient. She had gotten him to lie down on the chaise lounge at least, but he didn't look relaxed. His muscles were all tense against the steel.

"We have plenty of time to talk about me. I want to know about you, Harlequin."

"...That doesn't seem very professional."

He let out one sharp, high-pitched bark of laughter, "And that's something you would have to think about constantly. Isn't it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oaf." He shivered, "Sooo defensive."

"I-I'm sorry..."

"Did I hit the right cord?"

"For what?"

"For—to compel you to uh... talk to me. Like a real person."

"...Alright. I can be real."

"I'm glad." His grin widened.

"You did strike a cord."

"Oh good—what key?"

"C flat minor."

"Excellent."

"People always treat me like this bimbo... it's hard to get the other students, or my professors... or now, my colleagues, to take me seriously." She admitted. She glanced at the tape recorder and wondered if she should turn it off. She didn't want anyone but him to hear this.

"Because of the face and uh... everything. Below. Above. Sometimes, all around it."

"So... I try to act like a professional.

"Shed the accent, pull up the hair."

"My… accent?"

"It's still there. Subtle."

"They never told me… but I could always tell… my teachers found it jarring."

"I like it. It's a part of you. A part of your mouth. You don't have to hide it from me."

"That's good to know." She laughed and felt a blossom of warmth over her cheekbones.

"…What else? Tell me about your family."

"Well, it's… just me and my parents. I don't really have an excellent relationship with them right now."

"Why's that?" He licked his lips.

"Plenty of reasons. All kinds of dull. They had me in gymnastics for way too long and… I sort of felt like it took too much out of me. I didn't really get the chance to… do, anything else. I was always practicing. I guess I sort of resent them, because I didn't have like… a proper childhood, when they could have given it to me."

"So… why not have fun now?"

Harley felt her smile vanish entirely, "I'm a doctor now."

"So you've told me… do you have any other words for yourself?" The Joker sat up, and was looking at her sideways through a half-closed curtain of greasy hair.

"What kind of words?"

"Gymnast?"

"Not anymore…"

"How about… dreamer? Believer? Schemer?"

"No. Not really."

"Philosopher?"

"No."

"Student? Teacher? Guide?"

Harley shook her head.

"…How about… woman?"

She smiled, "Alright. Yes."

"Well. That's a start."

"A start to what?"

"We'll see."

"…Let's talk about you, some more."

"What can I say?" his tongue darted out of his mouth, curious on the swollen, mutilated scars over his lips and cheeks. "Wanna know how I got these scars?"

Harley didn't speak, solidified into her chair by confusion. She waited for an explanation.

"I worked as a pimp on the East Side, for a while… one of the girls had this problem in the form of a boyfriend. So. I. Took care of him. She got mad… she convinced the other girls to get me drunk out of my mind and then… I woke up, half buried in the land-fill and slashed all to hell. I never saw any of them again."

Harley swallowed, "Interesting." She had watched him carefully. Those black eyes stayed on her. Intense…. And sincere. Just like the day before. She had never seen anyone lie this way before. Everyone had a twitch… some quirk that gave them away. Except The Joker. His mannerisms stayed the same. That passionate, violent gleam in his dark eyes was always on. With a flutter below her ribcage, she realised that whenever he spoke to her, he was always looking directly into her eyes. She wasn't used to that kind of genuine connection. How could he lie to her? With those eyes; starring at her, just above the only real evidence that The Joker had of a past.

Fun Fact: It you layer your coats of mascara with baby powder, it makes your eyelashes looked especially long and thick.

Song of the Chapter: Bowling for Soup, "Girl all the Bad Guys Want". Another silly-song for Harley.