Dawn was painting the skies over the city of Gotham an eerie blue-grey, and early risers were stirring out of warm beds to begin their pointless nine-to-five jobs. Joker was already awake. He looked in the mirror, smiling at the reflection. He found the make-up, his own mask, tucked safely away in a pocket of his purple jacket. His face was ghostly, eyes blackened shadows…and his smile was a bright red.
He giggled at his reflection for another moment before he left the washroom. He had managed to catch a bit of sleep, though he felt too restless to get much. He had snooped around through her things, tossing anything of relevance into the sink and lighting them on fire. No paper trail, that took the mystery out.
He hadn't found any family pictures or anything. Which made it all the easier for him, granted. But it piqued his curiosity about the strange girl. Before she'd got involved with him, she had been all school and work, that much had shown through her home. She was boring… But she, she had so much potential! She could be greater than those normal blind civilians. He got worked up at the possibilities with her, a hand running lightly along his new favorite knife as he stalked over to her door.
"Har..ley…" he called, smacking his lips as he slapped his hand against the door.
Harley woke up with a start once the sound reached her ears. She sat up on the bed, sheets pushed aside almost immediately, and looked at him wide-eyed while trying to catch her breath. She had not expected to sleep this much; in fact, the girl had not expected to sleep at all but she had fallen asleep almost instantly after going to bed. For a moment she had barely recognized him with that make-up and terror crept up her spine – and even when she was finally ware of her surroundings, that face was still somewhat… frightening. She had seen photos, but it wasn't the same as seeing him standing there. And she kind of wanted to be like him, now.
It took her a while to finally stand up manage to say something half coherent; a mumbled "morning". She was wearing the same clothes she had worn the previous night, far too busy with her own thoughts to even bother to change into something else. Joker did not care; it only bought them more time.
"When are we leaving?" Her voice was still low and drowsy and it was almost certain that she would enjoy a few more hours of sleep.
He was well awake by now and only wanted to get the hell out of there before the Arkham staff decided to pay Miss Quinzel a visit.
"As soon as you're ready to go;" He grinned pleasantly, an expression turned twisted with that make up on. His voiced deepened. "Make it quick."
She nodded, giving him a little salute and a giggle. It was nice having someone around, especially someone like him. It made her feel upbeat. "Got it!" She stretched a little, forcing herself to wake up before she dashed passed the other man. She looked the living room over, noting the smell of burnt paper. She could guess fairly easily what it was.
"Thanks.." she told him with a smile as she headed to the hall closet. He nodded and folded his arms, waiting for her to finish checking. "We can't use your car, you know…" he remarked, his head cocked sideways as he watched her dig around in the closet. They would need to acquire a different mode of transportation.
Something with personality. Going through the closet, Harley had remembered why most of her clothing ran red and black. They were her school colors, and somewhere in here she had- Ah. She pulled the tight gymnast uniform down from a hanger and folded it up. "…Yes, I think they would catch on pretty quickly if we didn't."
She figured he didn't want to walk up to a car dealer and buy a new vehicle, whatever he had in mind wasn't legal. But it was what had to be done to keep him… and now her… hidden and safe. She put the uniform in her bag and hoisted it onto her shoulder, easily taking up the sledgehammer as well. "Ready," she said brightly.
Joker was already waiting by the entrance when she said it and opened the door to leave. He didn't care to look around once more before he stepped out of the house, it wasn't his and he had everything he needed; Harley, however, did look back once more before exiting and closing the door one last time. He wondered if she was sad about leaving – and honestly he wouldn't put it past her to feel that way – but quickly dismissed the idea. Her mind was changing at an alarming rate, she'd forget about this place sooner than what anyone could expect.
The walk out of the building was quick and no one seemed to have noticed it. For such a big city, Gotham was still somewhat asleep, the streets were mostly empty and no one who was going to work could be bothered to look twice to figure out whom the heck were the two freaks walking down the street at such a fast pace and disappearing down an alley. From there, it was a maze but it was like the Joker new every single corner and when they finally reached the area he had been moving towards all along, she realized two things. One, it was a parking lot. Two, it was a parking lot used on a daily basis and it was completely deserted.
She smiled like an idiot. He smirked as he pulled her along rows of vehicles and eventually settled for one that seemed to be used commonly nowadays. But he didn't try to get into the car and instead stood silent. Harley watched him curiously until his gaze shifted to a figure walking towards them. Fancy businessman, young and probably still single, holding his fancy suitcase and car keys, ready to go to work. Next minute she knew, the businessman had gotten a bit too close to their personal space and was falling flat on the ground with a very big smile on his face. And she was stopped in time, in her own little world until she felt someone grabbing her by the forearm and there she was, sitting in the passenger's seat with the Joker starting the car. And a body in the trunk.
"You shouldn't have." She told him, frowning. But it wasn't nearly as gruesome as it should have been.
"I'm sorry, Harley." He licked his lips. No, he wasn't sorry at all, not that she would know any better. "I won't do it again." And of course he would, plenty of times. Some more social experiments would be nice… But killing off the kind that isn't worth it could be just as good for the time being.
He was remorseful, even apologizing. How could she possibly condemn him for that. As they drove down the rode, at a normal pace, she leaned over and gave him a quick hug. She wouldn't abandon him for that like the others. He was sick, and she would help.
Besides. They absolutely had to have the car. He would have just called the police if he'd have seen them. It was a necessary act. His eyes darted to look at her as she gave him an embrace across the car. His hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel.
"Thanks," he murmured, stretching a smile and staring back at the road ahead. It had felt too good.
Killing again; not the hug. The feel of a blade slipping through flesh. Skin, muscle…touching bone. It was more familiar than anything else. But the best part would have to wait. The part where some other boring person found the body. They panic, and call the police. The police would panic, try not to get the media involved, which the media would see a reason to be more involved.
Then details about the crime would leak and send the city into a little panic. Instead of typesetting in his cubicle all day all of his life, the nameless businessman would be making a difference in Gotham. It felt lovely making useless people worth something. Harley had set back in her seat to stare at the road ahead again, trying not to over think the body in the trunk, when he reached over and patted her on the shoulder. She grinned and moved a bit closer to him in her seat.
"You're welcome, Joke….." Well, that wouldn't do. Calling him 'Joker' all the time. "Mr. J." She finished, hoping he wouldn't mind.
The Clown Prince frowned but she couldn't have possibly noticed. 'Mr. J', was it? That was a rather interesting nickname, to say the least. Not the best, but at least she wouldn't have to refer to him as 'you' or 'Joker' all of the time. Not that there was any problem with the latter, it was what he preferred. But in a way Harley did deserve to call him something which she might consider – heavens forbid – more personal. In the end, he just cracked a big smile at her and kept driving in silence.