Authors Note: See? I told you I'd be updating this one faster.
Hope you guys are enjoying the story so far! As always thank you to everyone reading, much love to you all 3
Warnings from the first chapter still apply here.
Harley- May 6th, 6:24 pm
I don't think I've ever regretted anything more than this stupid date.
I was just going to throw on some old jeans and a sweatshirt and go, but Ivy said that even though she thinks makeup is a mechanism of patriarchal control, she knows I would have put some on if I was meeting 'that rat-faced bastard'. So here I am, curling my hair. She woke me up this morning with some sort of abominable health shake, and she had me in the bath with an aloe mask on my face an hour later. When I got out she was waiting for me with nail polish and a stack of my favorite rom coms- all of which she loathes, but she doesn't say anything. Sure, there might have been a few grumbles here and there but she's trying so hard that I almost feel bad. Definitely not bad enough though, this is hilarious; she bought biodegradable nail polish but she's still wearing a surgical mask, and when I offer to paint my own toes she tells me very forcefully that she's going to support me no matter what.
Support apparently means neuroticism.
She babbles on about what I should and shouldn't let this Devin do; I should pull out my own chair and pay my half of the check but he should at least offer- just not in a condescending way, because we don't want me to date someone who allows themselves to be governed by hetero-normative gender roles. He can offer to walk me home but he absolutely must not look for an invitation inside. He needs check his privilege and avoid toxic masculinity at all costs, and if he doesn't he'll have an angry gardener to answer to. Well, her and her army of floral fiends- I almost want to badmouth the guy just to watch her rip him apart.
I'd start right now if I wasn't worried about her having a breakdown- the attempt to balance her own cynicism with enough positivity to get me excited is obviously taking a toll. She'll express awe that a white, straight man would take an interest in feminist issues and then she'll remind me that he doesn't deserve an award for attempting to treat his fellow humans with basic dignity. She tells me that he's a professor of history- and I gotta admit I got a little thing for that, but it ain't like this shmuck can pull it off like He did… god, there was this one time with a meter stick- But I'm not going to think about that right now, thoughts like that will either make me cry or… something else. Either way I'll be wet.
Anyway- Ivy says the historian thing would be a red flag if he were one of those fuckboys with a hard-on for Columbus, but he's decided to focus on the cultural mysogniny of medieval Europe and its relation to the advent of privatized agriculture instead, and apparently that's acceptable. Don't worry; I don't know what it means either- just smile and nod.
I've got bigger things to worry about, because Devin isn't the only one who has to live up to Ivy's expectations. Apparently I have some inappropriately lax boundaries, and she really doesn't endorse victim blaming but I she thinks I should be conscious of the fact that my aesthetic choices do make a certain impression. That means I'm not allowed to wear my pigtails- she thinks they're cute, but she doesn't want him to see me as juvenile. I don't think she's ever recovered from finding out about the daddy thing- for a lady who walks around in her birthday suit most of the time she can be a real prude.
So I leave my hair down in loose ringlets and I pin back the bits around my face to keep them from being dragged through my food- I may not be taking this seriously but I'd rather not come off as a total slob. I try on a few dresses and Ivy fusses relentlessly until I put on a light pink number I picked up in a vintage shop- ok I stole it, sue me. My basket case bestie has chewed her nails to stubs by the time she deems me ready, and I find myself looking at my reflection with a strange sense of apathy. I look pretty, but I don't really look like myself.
Then again, I guess I'm not- I'm Hailey Gwynn.
Ivy walks me to the door and hands me my heart-shaped purse packed with pepper spray, ammo, and my favorite glock- the nine-millimeter with the hello kitty stickers. She clutches my hand and wishes me luck, which is my cue to get out because I think she might start taking pictures like a proud Midwestern mom on prom night.
I've decided to walk- it's a nice night and the restaurant Devin picked isn't too far away. Unfortunately it's a bit too close, and before I know it I'm standing outside- I wouldn't hesitate to keep walking if I didn't think I might have a sneaky green chaperone hiding somewhere, but she'll murder me and Puddin' if I blow this off.
Just go inside, sit there for an hour, eat a plate of ribs, and get home in time for Mob Wives. He won't be terrible, will he? He'll probably be nice and normal. And boring.
But who wouldn't be in comparison to-
"Hailey?"
The voice is deep, steady, and sudden, and I whip around to find myself face-to-face with… a tweed blazer? I look up, and then I keep looking up. I guess Ivy got one thing right, he's gotta' be almost as tall as- "Devin Delguissi." He offers an unscarred hand with trim nails and long fingers, and I take it without really feeling it- he's… handsome.
"It's a pleasure to meet you." He means it, but his smile doesn't show any teeth and his eyes flick away quickly like he's not sure how long he's allowed to look at me.
His features are strong but not sharp, his face pale but not pasty, with a dusting of freckles that suggest a summer to be spent indoors. His hair is an ambiguous shade of red-brown like it can't decide, and the cut is fresh, short on the sides and long on top but un-styled so that it curls and sways in the breeze. He fidgets, shoves his hands into the pockets of his dark brown trousers. His whole outfit is in shades of brown and white- he could be sepia if it weren't for his bow tie- and his eyes; they're green. Not that green- just an ordinary shade of clover. They are pretty though… but just a normal kind of pretty, nothing astounding or jaw dropping, nothing that could ever rival Him.
"…Hi?" My voice is too quiet and my cheeks flush as I clear my throat. "Um, should we…" I nod my head at the door and his eyes go wide for a second.
"Oh! Right, sorry, I'm-" He shakes his left hand next to his head before apparently taking stock of the idiosyncratic gesture and dropping it as he steps forward to hold the door open for me. "Brains before beauty." He says it a bit too fast for proper comedic delivery, but it startles a smile out of me just the same- someone else said that to me once, and I almost expect the door to swing back and smack me in the face as I step through.
It doesn't.
Once inside, I remember Red's lecture about pulling seats out, so I rush to the nearest available table, and I plop my ass down before he has the chance to offer. I'm pretty sure that's not what she wanted me to do, but she made such a big deal that I panicked! I take a peek at Devin to see if he thinks I'm crazy, and I'm pretty sure he was laughing but the expression disappeared the moment I turned.
He pulls out his own chair and sits at a considerably slower pace than I did, and after a moment he looks up to catch my gaze.
"So…was there any particular reason you felt such a passionate attraction to this specific table?" The question is so deadpan that I honestly can't tell if he's teasing, but I decide to act like he is.
"Easy access to an exit-" I shrug. "Y'know, in case you're creepy."
He chuckles, turning his eyes down, and I crack a half smile.
"And yet," He presses the tip of his index finger to the table. "in doing so, you've blocked my exit- what does that say about you?"
Funny guy, huh?
"Ya' caught me Mister, I'm a real bruiser." I make a muscle arm to show off an underwhelming bicep. I mean yeah, Ivy's booster juice gave me the strength of a heavy weight, but he doesn't know that.
"Whoa now, there's no need for guns, I'll give you anything you want!"
Ok, so this isn't as boring as I thought it would be. Yes it is, stop having fun.
Fuck, this is weird, I feel weird, I shouldn't be here- thankfully the waiter appears to save me from my anxious spiral. I order the ribs, he order's steak- rare, and we fall silent waiting for the wine. I play with the corner of my fancy cloth napkin and he picks at the sleeve of his jacket, and oh god, I made it awkward. He takes a breath like he's about to say something, but he lets go of it when I look up hopefully, averting his gaze again.
Shit, shit, ok, I need to save this.
"So…um, you teach a gender and women's studies class?"
"Oh, yes," Its almost an exclamation and he seems grateful for the talking point. "I do- a history of the witch hunts from the Middle Ages to the early modern period. Technically I teach it through the history department but the course is cross listed- obviously the content is relevant."
"Oh wow!" I'm surprise by my genuine enthusiasm and it feels a bit illicit- it is, its cheating you tramp, even if he doesn't want you- Oh god don't think about that, think about witchcraft, witchcraft is cool. And remember to breath. "That's um, pretty cool-" I sound a little strangled but he doesn't seem to notice, so I go on. "Did they actually burn people?"
This earns me a smile, the first big smile I've seen all night and its… I just didn't expect a guy like him to have a smile like that.
"They did-" there's a conspiratorial glint in his eye when he speaks. "Although unfortunately not as many as most people think." Unfortunately? "In reality only about sixty-thousand people were executed from 1450 to 1750." His cadence is still stiff but there's a new zeal hiding just under the surface and I've got an urge to pull it out- unfortunately the waiter chooses this moment to butt in with our food, but I spit out my question the moment he walks away.
"Did they always just burn them?" Its a gamble for sure- I don't keep the most delicate company, so I'm not really sure what counts as appropriate dinner conversation anymore.
"No," There's a small pause as he adjusts his grip on the steak knife, but then that smile stretches into a grin. "They did all sorts of horrible things- and they often tortured them first."
"… what kinda torture?" I can't keep the question in because shit, this is interesting! I'm interested. No I'm not.
I'm only in it for the ancient torture wisdom.
"Well, first they'd prick you all over with pins to find a witches mark," He lifts his fork, and presses a tine to the back of my hand to illustrate. A giggle pops out of me.
"-Which was supposedly some sort of blemish that symbolized your pact with the devil. Whether or not they found something they'd still interrogate you- the mark was a good piece of physical evidence, but what they really needed to convict was a confession. So if you didn't come up with a good story in time, they'd up the stakes with thumbscrews or a flogger. If that wasn't enough they'd move on to holding you underwater and pulling you out just before you pass out, and they'd do it again and again until you either confessed or died. Oh, god, and the Judas chair!" His brows pull together, and he coughs, shaking his head. "Actually, I probably shouldn't explain that one in a nice restaurant."
If I'm not mistaken he looks just a little bit flustered and its… god it's honestly kind of cute. I'm blushing, I'm not supposed to be blushing. Maybe you could tell me later- No, do not say that under any circumstance.
Harley, no. Bad.
"Wow…" It's not the best response in the world but it's definitely better than a thinly veiled invitation to my bed. Fuck. I'm a terrible person.
"Shit." He mutters, wiping a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, I sound like a serial killer don't I?" Well it wouldn't be the worst thing you could sound like. "What kind of person talks about torture on a first date? I swear to god I'm just a history nerd-"
"Its ok!" I feel something warm under my palm and I look down to find that I've reached out to put my hand on his. For a moment I can't breath because it feels familiar- I pull back, and I can't bring myself to look at him, so I stare at my meal instead. "Um, I think it's really interesting, actually."
I'm interested- shut up, say something else, look at him. My gaze flicks up to find him looking back with what appears to be a split second of calculation- but then there's a furrow to his brow as he pulls his lower lip between his teeth and again he becomes the picture self-conscious apprehension.
"And I'd know if you were a serial killer."
"Would you?" His brows arch. He has nice eyebrows- I've always had a thing for that. Godamn it.
"I used to work at Arkham- serial killers are kind of my thing." God Harley, why the hell would you say that, that was weird.
"That's fascinating," he leans in and I instantly feel better but I shouldn't- "Did you treat anyone…notable?"
Fuck- I knew that question was coming but it still hits my stomach like a brick, and I have to look down because my eyes are starting to sting. I blink hard, and I take a breath.
"The Riddler… he was interesting, very obsessive- massive inferiority complex. And then- well, I never treated her, but I did get to spend some time with Poison Ivy."
"I always thought she seemed a bit misunderstood- is it really so bad to want to protect the environment?"
"Exactly! I mean she definitely has some kind of empathy disorder, but she's no psychopath, nothing like-" Say it Harley, you can say his name. "I worked with the Joker as well."
Devin's brows push up.
"What was he like?"
"He was…" Amazing, perfect, the most attractive person on the planet, the love of my life- "Interesting."
"Interesting?"
"You ever meet someone who… he's like the sun- you want to look at him, you want to figure him out, but you know that if you try you'll go blind. You try anyways."
"Is that your professional opinion?" There's something odd in his tone that makes me meet his eyes, and for a second there's a flicker of…I don't know.
"My report was heavier on DSM terminology, but yes."
"The way you describe him… you make him sound omnipotent, but he seems more like the devil- destructive but limited by some larger force that allows his existence with only a sprinkle of reprimand; that force being God. Or Batman if we want to continue the metaphor, and by that logic, Harley Quinn is a witch- you would consider what they have to be a pact, wouldn't you?"
Very much so, and it's a pact that I'm disrespecting by being here, on a date, with you- take a deep breath.
"I would."
Joker- May 6th, 8:47 pm
"Fascinating."
Harley's a hot mess- oh that bit about the pact was genius. And she could barely say my name! Devin is killing it- metaphorically speaking, of course.
This is so much better than I thought it would be.
She was conflicted the moment she saw me, but at this point she's a fucking warzone, and I can just tell that she hasn't once questioned Devin's verity. Oh Harley, you naïve little degenerate- I'm not sure if it's a testament to my theatrical prowess or a demonstration of her ignorance. Although I suppose I am fairly unexpected in this get-up. She looks pale too, and there are bags under her eyes- I bet she's still mourning me. Still having to force herself up in the morning, continuing to breathe solely for the hope that I might come back- I doubt she trusts her own judgment much these days.
No, she doesn't have a clue.
She does know that she likes me, but she thinks she likes Devin and she hates it. She'll lean in and her pupils will dilate as Devin talks, but then he'll do something to remind her of me, and she deflates. It's like I finally found her off button and I just want to keep pushing it. I want to see how low she can go- its like emotional limbo! Fun aside, something tells me she's a bit too close to hysterics for the restaurant setting, and I would prefer to enjoy that later… so it's time to distract.
"Ok, here's the really tough question; who's the antagonist- Tweety or Sylvester?" The change of topic seems to take her by surprise and her face clears before she beams.
"Tweety, obviously. He's always got these mean traps for poor Sylvester, and he's only doing what cats do- they're natural hunters!"
"Doesn't Tweety have the right to defend himself?"
"Sure, but not like that, he's downright vindictive!" She slams a small fist against the table and I have to laugh at that.
"I see, you're a cat person."
"Nah, I got two beautiful baby puppies"-full grown hyenas- "I just think animals should be allowed to be animals, y'know? Its not fair to vilify em' for killing their prey."
"That's a strong statement- does it extend to human animals?" I make my eyebrows bounce like it's a joke but it will unsettle her either way.
"Oh- no, of course not! Humans are different- I should have been more clear when I said that, obviously humans are animals, I'm a doctor, I know that-"
"Hailey," This time I'm the one to reach across the table, and she stills under my hand. "Hailey, I was joking, it's ok."
"I know, I just… I'm sorry, I'm not used to this. It's been… a really long time since I've been on a first date."
I pull my hand back and she watches it go.
"I know how you feel." I give her my sad-sackiest smile, and it seems to comfort her enough for me to excuse myself to the men's.
Instead, I find the waiter and I pay the bill because I'm almost entirely sure that Ivy would have told Harley to pay her part. She confirms the suspicion by squirming when I make it back to the table to tell her that I've settled our tab- it's a struggle to act like I don't notice how flustered she gets, letting out half an aborted protest and then stuttering a thank you. I ask to walk her home and she does that teetering thing for a while before she says yes, and the guilt is immediate- oh this is lovely. She likes Devin but she knows she shouldn't- she shows it by repeatedly gravitating closer as we walk, only noticing and correcting herself when our sleeves brush. I don't make an attempt to close the distance- I asked to walk her home but she needs to feel responsible, so the next move is hers.
That doesn't mean I can't speed it along though- I just need something to disorient her, I need adrenaline. Fear, excitement, anger- whatever- if it lights up her amygdala, it turns her into a creature of urge. Oh sure, the average bear will get flighty or fighty after a nice dose of terror, but that's not what Harley does, no she gets bold. Bludgeon a man to death in front of her and she'll tell you she loves you, dangle her over the side of a building and she'll start trying to strip when you pull her back up- usually its insufferable, but today it's incredibly convenient. So I need something...
"Hands up! Both of you!"
I…holy shit.
I almost don't believe my eyes- I'm being mugged. Someone is mugging me- me! Oh, I just want to laugh but that would be so out of character- damn you, Devin- you dapper dullard! Apparently wishes do come true- Harley is watching me closely, almost with a manic intensity. She wants Devin to fight this man as much as she wants Devin to back down, because if Devin fights him, he'll be more attractive and she'll feel even worse about me. Don't you just love it when the gas pedal pops up right under your foot?
Obviously I do as the man asked! Come on- he's got a gun, I'm not crazy.
"Whoa now, there's no need for violence," I put a little quiver in Devin's voice, just for the hell of it. Harley- oh, ha, she looks so disappointed! "You want our money? Hailey, get out your wallet-" She actually sighs- Oh she's going to kill me with this. I'm just trying not to crack up as I take a step towards our would-be mugger, reaching into my jacket.
"Hey!" he barks and the gun jumps up a bit- amateur.
"I'm sorry!" I freeze, but I'm close enough. "Look, I was just trying to give you my wallet-" I slowly draw that wallet- Devin's not mine- from my pocket. "Ok?"
"Just hurry up, man, " He growls, waving the gun in Hailey's direction- "her's too."
"Ok! Ok, here-" I hold out Devin's wallet, and the guy goes for it- of course he does. Takes his eyes off me and pins them to the leather in my palm- which means he isn't watching my other hand as I bring it up to smack the (cheap) gun out of his grip.
Yes, I could have taken the gun- it would have been easy and over in about five seconds, and he would have had a nice new lead implant in his frontal lobe. But this isn't about easy, it's about showmanship. So I let him land the first punch, its only fair after all- I even let out a little groan like it hurt. I give him time to recoil and pitch another hit, but I duck under this one, coming up close to deliver a jab to the solar plexus. He stumbles back, breathing hard and struggling to tug a switchblade from his pocket. I let him get it open, and then I step away from the first wild swipe he makes.
I want to take it, I want to push it between his ribs and into his heart, I want to shove it into an open eye and wiggle it around in the socket- but Devin would never do that.
So instead I grab the hand holding the knife and I twist it away from my body, using the leverage to pull him down as I drive my knee up into his stomach. He goes down and I could easily pull out of grip, but I decide to go down with him instead. We grapple on the dirty concrete, and I let him punch me across the jaw because I'm pretty sure that it won't mess up the prosthetics, and then its time. I pin him, and I start punching, aiming for the nose and mouth to make him bleed- at some point he stops resisting so I force myself to drop him, pushing up to my feet and stumbling back.
"Fuck." Whispers Devin as I wipe my bloody hand across my mouth. Then I turn to watch Harley's pupils dilate- it's amazing how predictable she is.
In the darkness of the alley the color of Devin's skin and hair won't stand out so much, but the blood on his mouth will be a beacon to her, and for a moment he'll turn into me- that's all it will take. She's already closing the gap between us, reaching up to my neck with shaking hands and pulling me down to crush her mouth against mine.
So, I let her lead the kiss for a few seconds before the me comes out- and don't project your ignominious romantic fantasies onto me, I'm not desperate with need. Kissing isn't independently rewarding, but it can be mildly entertaining if you make it a fight, and it gets you somewhere- no, I'm not talking about Harley's unmentionables. The thing I'm doing right now, with my tongue? That taps straight into her limbic system; I can feel her falling apart. She's making all the right (horrifying) sounds, she's got her hands in my hair- she's like putty right now. I shove her against the wall at her back and surprise, surprise, she likes that, digs her claws into the back of my neck like I'm a godamn scratching post.
So I bite!
She likes that too but it's more me than Devin, and she's starting to think. She's wondering if she's projecting me onto this poor, innocent man, if she's reading me between the lines when I'm nowhere to be found- if she's really that desperate... Oh this is good.
I haven't had this much fun since Batsy accidentally punched me in the dick- actually no, that was definitely better. But still, this is pretty great.
Her noises are changing, taking a turn for the mournful as she remembers that she's cheating and she's about five seconds from pushing Devin away, but I can't give her that. Nope, I'm the one who pulls away first- she can't even tell herself that she stopped it! She knows too, knows its all her fault- oh god I wish I could take a picture of her face right now. She just looks so betrayed- she can't deny what she's done anymore; her hands are bloody fucking red- literally! It's not my blood but it may as well be.
"I'm so sorry-" I say, hiding my face splitting-grin with a regretfully apologetic frown. "I don't usually attack people in alleyways," I run a hand back through my wig- which is starting to get itchy- and I cringe. "I didn't- I wasn't planning on doing that, I swear. I don't want you to think that I thought you-"
"Please." Her voice shakes, and she's got her arms wrapped around her chest, making her even smaller. "It's my fault, I started it." Oh yes you did. "You just, um, you saved me from that mugger, and I just-" She does something that looks like jazz hands, as if that explains anything, and yahtzee, she's doing that thing where she scrunches up her face like it will make her tear ducts smaller. She's going to start crying!
"I'm tired, can you- I need to go home." She really had to force that one out- she sounds like I'm choking her.
"Of course," She's got her eyes pinned to the ground, a hand covering her mouth as we start to walk again. "I'm really sorry, Hailey." She shivers on Devin's second apology because she knows he's not the one who should be apologizing, but he's a considerate guy- "Are you cold? Here-" I shrug off the blazer and drape it over her shoulders before she can decline, just to make it that much worse. Now she's wearing him, but him smells like me, and she thinks her conscience might have learned some newer, more sadistic tricks. I wonder if she's thought about what I'll do if I find out. Maybe she's planning a cover up- ah…no, she's going to tell me, she's planning to come to me like I'm a fucking priest in a confessional booth. Oh yes, she wants penance- she won't look at Devin again, keeping quiet and obviously stewing, so he follows her lead.
Fucking flawless.
She walks fast, so it doesn't take long to make it to the apartment she's apparently been sharing with the plant, and I'm trying to figure out how I want to play this. I could make the reveal on the steps but somehow that seems lackluster- ooh I could leave her clueless, and then I could contact her as me, and accuse her of cheating before she has a chance to come clean… That kind of play demands will-power though, and I'm not known for that.
We're there, Hailey is turning around to apologize again and brush me off so she can go curl up in a hate-hole, so fuck it! I'm gonna-
"Hailey?"
Yes. Yes a million times, this is perfect- this couldn't be going better if I'd written it myself! Why, you ask? Because a concerned friend is walking toward us. Ivy has traded her usual shade of Oscar-the-grouch-green for something that makes her look halfway human. I mean she still looks like a hippie- I can't tell if she's wearing a skirt or a pair of exceedingly voluminous pants, but either way I don't see why I should be subjected to that kind of eyesore. She's trying to act like she's surprised to see us, even though its obvious that she's been waiting like some sort of over grown trap-spider. Harley slaps on a strained grin faster than I can say phoney.
"Oh hey Izzy, I didn't realize you'd be home so early!"
Itchy forces a laugh.
"Well you know me, such a homebody- aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" She gives a fairly directive nod in my direction, grinning like a pageant queen. Harley has the audacity to roll her eyes at that, but Pammy's eyebrows jump and she seems to reconsider her attitude
"Sure!" Overly chipper. "Devin, this is my best friend Izzy, Izzy this is Devin."
"Devin, so nice to meet you!" Friendliness isn't a flattering tack for Ivy, that's for sure- she looks like she might start twitching but I play along, making a little "O" with my mouth like I've just figured out which friend Izzy is.
"Likewise." I give her a very safe smile as I reach out to shake her hand, and she returns something significantly more disturbing.
"Ok, goodnight Devin!" Aw Harleykins- you can really tell the tyke is running on her last teaspoon of restraint.
"Oh, there's no need for that-" Interjects the increasingly forceful Ivy. "Why don't you come up for tea, Devin?"
I'd love to.
"I couldn't possibly-"
"Nonsense!" She exclaims, and then she actually grabs my arm to drag me inside. I want to punch her, but Devin allows the man-handling, peeking over my shoulder to give Harley an awkwardly apologetic smile. She's staring bullets and gritting her teeth, looking just about ready to attack someone, and I really hope it's me-
"How was dinner?" If I'm not mistaken, there's a hint of suggestion there- although if I'm being honest, Harley does look frazzled enough to have just been fucked.
"Fine!" Barks the fiend in question.
"Very enjoyable." Says Devin.
"Seems like an understatement." Mutters Nosy-Rosie, all but shoving me into the elevator. Harley follows, shoulders hiked up and bright red- I need to match that but don't worry, I can blush on command. Its really simple, you just clench your stomach and you don't breath until all the blood rushes to your head-it only takes a few seconds and its very convincing if you've got a decent poker face.
"Devin- did you get a nose bleed or something?" Ha! I'm having so much fun that I almost forgot about the assault.
"No-" I pinch my eyebrows together, wiping at the blood on my mouth and chin. "We um- almost got mugged?"
"Good Gaia-" The poor thing can't even swear properly. "Hailey, didn't you use the mace?" Like Harley needs mace- her smile alone is more noxious.
"Didn't have to- Devin sorta…had it covered." If possible, Harley's gotten even redder and she's glaring at the floor like she wants to fight it.
"Got bullied in high school." Mumbles Devin, turning his eyes down in suite. "Took some Jujitsu."
"Good for you, Devin, it's important to be able to defend yourself in a city like Gotham." Lovely, she patronizes everyone- not just me. Devin smiles politely.
The elevator dings at the sixth floor and we collectively unload, filing all the way down the hall to the last unit on the west side. Ivy pushes Harley out of the way to unlock the door, so Devin waves her ahead and she stomps in before me. The moment I step across the hearth I'm smacked with the stench of nature- its like I'm in a rainforest, there are vines all over the godamn walls.
"Wow-" I can't help it. I'm not sure how long I'm going to last before I break character- come on, this is too much! There is no way she's getting her damage deposit back.
"Do you like my décor, Devin?" The venom in hippie-dippy's voice is thinly veiled as she leads us into a possibly greener living room. She's just waiting for a reason to come down on me, so of course I'm highly motivated to be a perfect gentleman, waiting for them to choose seats before taking on of my own next to Harley on an overstuffed red-velvet couch.
"Yes, actually, its spectacular-" I but on my best expression of awe as I take in the 'décor'- it's like one of those apocalypse movies where civilization's been abandoned and the buildings are all mossy. "I was just about to say, you must have tremendous air quality." Harley grumbles unintelligibly- awww, jealous? Meanwhile, Pammy's eye's bulge, making it obvious that Devin's response was unexpected. There's a moment of silence as she blinks and then-
"Yes- thank you." Her words are starch-stiff but I can't laugh now, oh no, this is not laughing time. "I have a bit of green thumb."
"I'd say- do you own an indoor landscaping business?"
"No, just a hobby."
What follows is what most would call an awkward silence as Harley (who clearly just wants to go cry) continues to fume, and Ivy (who has obviously abandoned her promise of tea in attempt to salvage the situation) becomes increasingly sour in the face. Funnily enough, Devin is no good at awkward silences, so get to I sit back and watch the three of them flounder. Ivy's foot starts to tap, and her eyes dart around the room, apparently trying to come up with something to say. Harley makes a little grunting sound in her throat, which is what she does when she's trying to swallow something impudent but then her mouth opens- oh yeah, its go time!
"I'm going to bed." The assertion comes out a little whiny, and the stomp she makes as she stands doesn't help much. She turns to me, evidently having tried to soften her expression but its no use, she has crazy eyes right now. "Thanks for taking me out, Devin."
Her roommate cuts in before I even have a chance to open my mouth, but I'm happy to let this play out for a while- this is good stuff.
"Really, Hailey?" Ooh, itchy is pissy, and I'm quite sure the mini-tree thing at the end of the couch just twitched.
"Uh-huh. I'm exhausted; I just need to go to bed."
"That's awfully rude considering we have a guest." Ooh, that's me!
"Ha- no, we don't have a guest Pamela-"
"I thought her name was Izzy-" Nobody listens to Devin.
"As far as I'm concerned, he's your guest." Harley goes on, her voice getting squeaky, which means she's about to bring out the pointer finger- yup, right on schedule. "You picked him, you brought him up here-"
"For you!" The forest fire-crotch is standing now too, and I'm really craving popcorn all of a sudden. "Do you think I wanted to spend months talking to this meat-bag? No!" That's professor meat-bag to you. "I did it because I care about you- Gaia knows why, but apparently I'm the only one who does-"
"Are you fricken' KIDDING me?" The chipmunk is screaming now- I'm ready for the windows to shatter as she marches across the room up on tip toes to try and get in Ivy's face.
"If this is what care feels like, you can shove it where the sun don't shine, and while you're down there you might wanna pull your stupid head outta storage!" Sick burn, Harls.
"Oh, of all the ungrateful-"
"Ungrateful?"
"Yes, Harley! Ungrateful! You- no, you know what? I'm going to explain this, because you clearly don't understand; I value my time alone. I don't need you to keep me company, especially because I'm at least half as effective when you're around-" Preach it sister. " I don't need you, Harley, but I still take you in, every time he-"
"It's only happened TWO times!"
"Two times is ENOUGH! Do you have any idea how much work you are?" Well, that is not going to go down well-
"Friends ain't supposed to be work, Pam."
"You're not my friend Harley. You're a fucking toddler I have to babysit when he decides he's bored with you." That's actually a very apt description, maybe I should have asked ring-worm around the rosy to write my bio for the faculty page. Harley- ha, she looks less impressed.
Actually she looks like she's been paused, I'm not actually sure she's breathing and Pammy ooooh- Pammy looks nervous.
"Why do you try so hard?" Her voice is quieter than I thought it would be, but its fucking lifeless and cold, and I'm almost proud- or at least I will be if she pulls off the bit she's got going. Almost proud, that is.
"What are you talking about?"
"Why do you try so hard to take care of me, miss Isley? I'm calling you that because apparently, we're not friends. And you know what? If I'm really that much of a burden but you just keep me around, lying to my face then I don't want to be your friend. I don't like wasting my time on backstabbing bitches."
Ivy backhands Harley immediately, like its and instinct, and my girl lets out an indignant squawk before she slaps her right back. Then, to top it off, she grabs a nice handful of that backstabber's hair- I'd be willing to bet that there's a fair number of unsavory little films on the internet that start a lot like this. But jokes aside, I'm going to be really disappointed if Harley cheats on me twice in one night- what, do I have cuck-hold tattooed on my forehead or something? Oopsies, She's talking again- I'm missing the show!
Now back to our regularly scheduled programming:
"…can't believe this, after all the time we've spent together- I thought you were having fun, but apparently I'm a fucking punishment for you!"
"Harley-"
"No! Let me talk! Why do you let me stay in your apartment, why do you force me to drink disgusting smoothies, why the fuck did you make me go on this date? Cause I don't do that shit with people I don't like, Ivy!"
"OK! I'm sorry-" Sigh. Kumbaya, apparently- how anti-climactic. "I was angry- I take back what I said about you being work, you're my best friend." For some reason, Ginger O'Keefe finds it necessary to touch Harley's face- but Harley swats it away. "You were right, Ok? I was being a bitch- but I am not going to apologize for what I tried to do tonight. I pushed you to go out because I want you to get better! If you had just given Devin a chance, it might have worked out! Maybe you would have learned that it can be better than it is with him-"
"HA!"
Well folks, I guess the jig is up
