He took a slice of the orange and chewed it himself, ignoring the stinging the citrus embedded in his busted and scarred lips. He turned around and slipped up onto the counter, putting his hands between his knees casually.
He was in a fantastic mood, and it showed as he swung his legs lightly. Harley couldn't help but smile. Even though he was hurt and in hiding, he was still just happy to be free. She leaned against the counter and looked up at him. "I guess I haven't seen that one," she remarked. Her mind wandered to the dancing comment, unable to resist the novel idea of dancing with Joker.
"I wouldn't have really pegged you as a dancer," she remarked, watching his reflection in the blade, which is what she assumed he was doing; just looking at himself. His eyes met hers and held them in metal reflection.
"Everyone dances," he remarked enigmatically, letting his eyes wander as he lost interest in the gleaming blade. Before Arkham he would have left by now, been onto the next big thing. But this was after Arkham, and he understood that he could do so, so much more by just waiting…Just a little.
"I'll need to leave tomorrow morning, you know," he told her, licking his lips, tasting blood and citrus all over again. "They'll come knocking on your door when a connection is made."
She would have dared him to prove his points about dancing, but he was too quick to change the subject to something she didn't really want to hear. Of course they would come to her, even if the situation was any different they would do it; she was his doctor. The only difference is that in any other situation she wouldn't have to lie. This of course, assuming that they wouldn't connect her to his disappearance. But she was just as sure they would and there was no way she could go back to Arkham… Unless they decided to lock her up as well.
Harley was silent for a while and the Joker couldn't help but to wonder what she was thinking of now. Her look wasn't dreamy, in fact, she seemed a bit serious. But she eventually gave a nod in agreement and spoke.
"I'll go with you. We can find somewhere else to stay."
He sort of wanted to laugh. 'I'll go with you', she had said, like she was in any place to give orders with the Joker. He really did want to laugh and he would have for sure, but at the moment he did acknowledge that she was right - and he certainly didn't want her to be taken away by the police or the Arkham staff if she stayed behind; no, it would put an end to his plans.
"Are you willing to give up on everything you've worked for your entire life?"
The female frowned. She hadn't expected such a question, it seemed almost unnatural that he would ask it. But she had her answer. "I gave up on it when I promised to help you. I don't regret it one bit." She smiled. "It was all too… Artificial, anyway."
His brow raised slightly in a show of genuine surprise. He wasn't really expecting such blatant acceptance. She had already thrown everything but him away. And all it took was a little pouting. The more he considered it, and truthfully he hadn't considered it much, the more he realized that Miss Quin was probably the sick puppy she was seeing in him. How quaint.
"Fantastic," he answered with a grin.
She returned his smile gladly.
"Help yourself to anything in the kitchen," she said. "I can pack whatever you think we'll need for in the morning," she said quietly, drumming her fingers on the counter. She was too excited to sleep, really. Despite the insanity of the evening, she couldn't remember when she'd enjoyed it so much.
Even though their luck was laced with tragedy.
Joker shrugged lightly, he wasn't much for necessities. Though, he would need those other knives. He had already slid the one he'd cut the orange with up into his sleeve when she was talking. He clasped his hands together in thought.
"Pack lightly. .Take anything you don't want them to take," he said. "You can bet they'll have their noses in everything you own by noon." He grimaced, another false memory flitting by… Well, maybe this one wasn't. Hard to tell.
Harley looked around to room and at the doorway for a bit as if she was looking for something, but soon looked back at him. "Perhaps… A few clothes and the first-aid kit would suffice. The rest would be useless."
Joker was sort of staring at the ceiling – though he wasn't looking at anything in particular, he was losing himself in thoughts again. He was still paying enough attention to the world around him, though, and her comment didn't go by unnoticed. So his ideas were put on hold and he glances over at her, slightly tilting his head to the side. "You should get rid of your personal identification." It wasn't a suggested as much as an order but she was still new to this and wouldn't get the difference. "Private journals too. They can find out a lot from it." He licked his lips. "Don't put your wardrobe above your own safety. Get some, uh… Some sort of weapon to defend yourself." And kill your enemies while you're at it, he added to himself. She wouldn't be very useful if she couldn't defend herself.
"Right." Harley made a note to remember that. But what sort of "weapon" could she use? She didn't have firearms in the house and she was afraid of having an accident with a kitchen knife. It really made her think and she had quite a few ideas when it really hit her – she was sure she had brought that sledgehammer from her childhood home. Why, exactly, she couldn't remember but she always sort of liked that old tool. But maybe it was too heavy for her. Ah well, it was worth looking for it.
She stood up and headed towards the living room where she had a small closet with several items she had never found space for. Perhaps she'd find what she was looking for in there. "If you're tired you can go to sleep wherever you'd like." She would probably for a long time during the night so if he wanted to sleep in, say, her bed, it wouldn't bother her – not that it would bother her if she was that tired, of course.
He slipped off the counter, looking her way for a long moment as she dug through old belongings. He took this opportunity to pocket and stow several other knives in his coat. He let out a comfortable little sigh as the familiar weight of weaponry made him relax a bit. He drummed his fingers on the counter a little more, humming along. He still felt rather jittery…Impatient. About Bats, mostly.
Tonight had been much too fun. How was he supposed to sleep? Especially since it would be with someone else in the apartment. He didn't like the idea of sleeping around others, despite that he managed to remain remarkably alert. He walked into the living room and leaned against the couch, watching her.
Eventually, under a luggage bag and some clothing, Harley found the implement. She pulled it out, surprised she was strong enough to lift it so easily.
"I've got this…" she said, spinning around with the weapon gripped in her fingers.
Joke smiled, showing his teeth. Was she really suggesting using a sledgehammer? Oh, she was a lucky catch indeed. He could tell by the way she was holding it that she'd know how to use it too.
"That'll do fine," he agreed with a dark giggle. So much more style than bullets. A devastating and powerful instrument…Exactly what she was becoming to him.
Harley smiled brightly; a part of her was expecting him to tell her no for this or that reason but he hadn't and it made her feel so much better to have done something he liked. It should have been the other way, really: she should be happy that he was progressing; she was supposed to be his doctor, after all. But no, she wasn't even thinking of that. Things were starting to change, though she wasn't quite aware of it.
She put the tool against the wall and after finding a good messenger bag (she was actually about to pick a large purse, but decided against it) she nearly ran towards the bedroom. It was all the excitement getting to her. Once there she opened her closet and started looking through her clothes. Only now did she realize how most of the clothes consisted of suits she usually wore for work. She shook her head at those and went for the more casual. She took out a few clothes she thought would be practical – and coincidentally were in similar colours to the ones she wore now - and put them inside the bag. She looked around for a few more things and the whole process might have taken her over half an hour. In the end, Harley decided against taking some of the things she had previously chosen and in the end the bag was surprisingly light though she insisted that she had everything she thought was necessary.
Some time after she had first entered the room, Joker had followed, watching her as he leaned against the wall. He didn't say a thing, he simply watched – and had she not been so busy, she might have even found his stare somewhat uncomfortable. When she was done – and he had to admit, she was a surprisingly practical woman; he was afraid she might have wanted to bring half her household along - and ready to leave the bag in the other room next to the sledgehammer, he finally reminded her.
"Burn your identification and personal information."
Harley stopped moving and looked over at him. "Everything?"
He frowned. "Well, unless you want them to know everything about you and get as clue as to where we may be… They really know how to work, you know, especially if Bats is helping them."
Oh, right. She had almost forgotten about that detail. Batman really seemed to know how to do his job. "Okay, consider it done puddin'." Her eyes widened considerably and she quickly covered her mouth after speaking. What had she just called him? It wasn't intentional - and it made her feel a bit embarrassed. "Sorry…"
His slightly amused look fell considerably at the nickname. He didn't like the idea of pet names, not like that. He quickly made up the ground between them with his swaying steps, and with scarcely another thought, his hand was brought up.
And quickly brought down again, backhanding Harley across the cheek. Before she even knew what was going on, she was reeling backwards.
"Don't call me…." he barked. Calm down, Joke. She did, after all, apologize for it after. And he couldn't hurt her too badly. His other hand, which was gripping a knife inside his jacket, slowly let it go and let his hands rest. They would need to leave soon; he couldn't have her injured. Her hand moved up, lightly touching her swelling cheek.
She hadn't really expected him to like being called that. Someone who had been through what he had would certainly have a problem accepting affection. He cracked a smile and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. But look, he was calming down. And it hadn't hurt her really.. Just stung and surprised her a little.
"Well. Now that's sorted out. Burn everything.. Birth certificates, licenses, photographs." He said. Photos always burned so well. He walked over and stepped over the back of the sofa, landing on his back on the cushions. He wasn't sleepy, per se. He folded his arms behind his head and stared intently at the ceiling, thinking of things to come in an idle fashion.
Harley peered over the back of the couch at him.
"I'll get you a pillow and blanket… But you can sleep in my room if you'd prefer," she told him.
He didn't answer right away and she didn't dare repeat herself or ask if he was listening to her – a pet name had been enough to make him lose it, if she pushed it, who knows how he might feel… She cringed at the memory of being told the story behind his scars earlier that night. It made her insides turn upside-down.
He never did answer her. Perhaps he was starting to fall asleep and the couch was fine? That's what Harley thought – not that it was necessarily the whole truth. She went to her room and got a nice pillow and a warm blanket with which she returned. She handed him the pillow and again, it took him a while to react to that though when he did, he had to hold back the sudden urge to asphyxiate her with it. In turn, she only smiled slightly and covered him with the blanket like he was just a little boy. "Get some rest."
"You get some rest." He told her, his eyes still set on the ceiling. He made sure to emphasize the 'you'. He was far too used to sleepless nights and even if he did fall asleep, he would be up early without the need of an alarm clock. She, however, he was not so sure of. Then again he didn't know if her sleeping patterns were healthy or not.
Harley just nodded and turned back towards her room. "Well… Good night."
He didn't speak. She didn't really mind anyway.