It was White's turn at watch again and he began to set out his game of solitaire. It had been a still night when he first arrived. White was never sure if he preferred it quiet or not when he was on watch. Quiet and the boss didn't really go together and it was rather unnerving.
Around three in the morning, White felt himself starting to nod off. He had tried to shake the feeling away several times when he suddenly began to hear noises coming from the back. Whatever argument that had started grew loud quickly and was apparently becoming violent. Nothin' like a little domestic violence to wake a guy up… and it's a lot better than what I could be hearin', he thought with a shudder.
Shortly thereafter White heard a door open and Harley emerged from the back, clad in a skimpy sort of nightgown with a matching robe over it. Her face was puffy and pink with tears as she made her way past White to the stove. A peculiar and unpleasant smell accompanied her.
"You smell like shit," White commented bluntly. He no longer feared her after their last encounter. She came across as meek and knew that she didn't want to appear naïve to him again.
Harley scowled. "Well that's what happens when an iron is taken to your skin." She lifted the sleeve of her robe and revealed several places on her arm that were obviously burns from a clothing iron. "You don't like it? Take it up with him." She nodded in the direction of the back room and then began digging through a cupboard for a frying pan.
"No need for the attitude, princess," he smiled. White always loved getting a rise out of people. It was the bully in him, dating all the way back in grade school. "Any particular reason the boss is in such a pleasant mood or just the usual crap?"
"Not that it's any of your business," Harley began while still trying to fight back her tears, "but apparently I suck at ironing…and everything else. I singed some of his clothes." She would never admit it but she appreciated the opportunity to vent her frustration to somebody, even if it was a jerk like White.
"Who the hell can't iron? It's easy. How dumb do you have to be to…burn clothes…" White had intended to degrade her further, but his train of thought quickly took him down another track. "…What are you doing?"
"What's it look like I'm doing? I'm cooking. Mistah J wants bacon. It's after three in the morning…and he wants bacon," she said in disbelief and suddenly sat down in a chair adjacent to White and broke down. It was the last thing she wanted to do in front of him.
To her surprise though, White stood up and took over the stove. "I got it. Don't worry," he said gently. "You just…try to calm down."
"But-but why?" Harley asked as she choked on her sobs. "What happened to 'I'm not a nice guy'?"
"Want me to change my mind?" he snapped irritably. Harley fell silent and let him work. After a few tense minutes of hearing nothing but Harley sniffling and the sizzle of bacon, White felt like explaining himself.
"Remember when I told you about my sister? She couldn't iron, or cook, or keep house, or do anything for that asshole she hooked up with. The thing was, I knew she could do those things. She did them for me growin' up all the time."
"What happened?" Harley asked, thoroughly engaged.
"Well, when you got a bastard like that always harpin' on ya, always puttin' ya down, always sayin' it's not good enough, it rattles you. You start to get jumpy. You start to mess up. It's not your fault…just so y'know…" he faded off, his back the only thing facing her.
White's sad story somehow made Harley feel warm all over. She had been trying to tell herself something like that must have been the problem; she didn't remember always being such a screw up. But the more time she spent with Mistah J, the more she doubted herself and the more she waited for the next mistake she'd make. Harley wanted to thank the man that gave her back a little of herself so quickly. She wanted to hug him and tell him how much it meant, but she didn't think it proper nor did she have the opportunity.
"What the hell is taking so long?" the Joker bellowed from the other room.
White quickly dumped the bacon onto a plate and handed it to Harley, who tried to give him a look that said everything she was feeling but sure he wouldn't receive it. Surprisingly to her, he seemed to, but it wasn't a surprise to him at all; he had seen that look many times before. As she scurried off with the plate, White reflected on his impressions of the woman. First she was a mystery, then a threat, then a naïve little girl, and now…now she'd forever remind him of his sister and that was not a good thing at all.