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Description
The order of get your old clothes cleaned left Harley confused, but it was followed to the letter and the old skirt and blouse no longer was riddled and addled with stains, some blood, some dirt and other things. She'd worn them only a few times since she had officially became Harley Quinn, mostly when she was doing foot work for him, since spandex and a corset would get her noticed. Back in the old heels that corrected what genes couldn't in making her taller, but still she remained much shorter then Joker. She looked different then she had the night the two had broken out of Arkham. It wasn't even the face that he insisted she wear, which she was more then happy to keep, it was how she wore the clothes. Skirt seemed to cling in all the right places now, hugging those hips she how embraced and stopped right at mid thigh level and the blouse left just the right amounts of flesh to the imagination. Blonde hair pinned back and up, but it was ready to fall into her own wild style. The nights, the five nights, Harley had no clue what they would doing or what would happen after they where over, Harley still convinced this was a learning experience for her. Out she came from the ice cream truck, careful but not as she jumped from the truck. Smoothing out her skirt and blouse, she took a deep breath as she stared at the surroundings he'd not so much dropped her in, she knew that parking lot so well. She knew the spot that used to be hers, for her old car before it was destroyed. She stayed close to him, the devious smile on his face was caught but she said nothing. She was more or less taking in all of the surroundings, eyes now narrowing on the building with contempt.

Jawing abit, he'd look around briefly before he'd give a heavy sigh and start up those stairs in a brisk pace. He moved fluidly, almost seeming to stride two stairs at once before the brief incline reached the top. With that he'd turn to look at her as she came up, and realized he needed to focus on what he was currently doing. A leathered hand moving out to reach for her hand as she made her way up, and that should have been the first hint that something was amiss. When she came in range, he'd clasp that delicate hand in his and help her finish reaching the top, before turning to the door and moving to slam his foot into the item and send it flying open. That wasn't the only quick motion either, for she was jerked over quickly and moved to stand infront of him. A quick snatch of that messy hair that seemed to sink claws into her scalp, before she was being hauled into the main room for the asylum. The orderly and attendee at the desk would react in complete shock behind the thick glass wall and door, blocking entry into the deeper recesses of the mental ward. Harley felt a heavy shove that sent her to the floor infront of him, and he moved to stand over her while reaching into his belt loop. Gun was again unholstered, the same gun that minutes ago had taken a life seemingly at random. Digging it into the back of that blonde hair with complete maliciousness, he'd almost snarl as he stared at the men behind the safety of the glass. "Evening gentlemen. I'm here to see some old friends, I know it's late but I trust you'll understand if I insist on you opening that door." And a click was heard, the trigger being winded back by his thumb as he'd offer what could be considered a charming smile, emotions running from anger to complete cool. "That or you're going to need to get the janitor down here for a spill."

Always a few steps behind him, she was thinking to herself about how Arkham Asylum shouldn't have been on the list of places to visit. Loathing the place wasn't the right word, no. She didn't hate it, it brought her her new life, her Puddin', but it also housed her old one and her past misdeeds. She didn't notice or even think about why he was offering her his hand, maybe because she was back in the heels and couldn't move as fast as she did in the flats that came when her old outfit. Reaching for his gloved one, her tiny hand wrapping around his making it to the top much faster then she would have unassisted. She gasped as he grabbed her, curves and thickness pushing up against his lanky build she cried out in shock and pain when he tugged at her hair. She couldn't even ask why he was doing this, she was speechless, but the emotions where real. Balance lost she fell to the floor and she couldn't stand the sight of him. She felt the muzzle of the gun against her skull and her eyes snapped shut, body even trembling, visibly when she heard the click. The Guards stood in shock, it took them a few seconds to realize that was Dr. Quinzel with them. The guards where cowards, she knew this, afraid of Joker they'd always rough him up, almost like a circus animal, beat them and maybe they'll be weak. Or maybe, they'll snap and rampage. He was rampage and Harley looked up at them through painted face, blue eyes pledging and black lips trembling. "Just, open. the door." She said close to tears.

"5" Began the count, as he'd stare dead set at the men. He remained poised to shoot as he waited again, tongue lashing at his lips violently. "4" And she was nudged with the gun, moving around so that he stood directly over top of her now, his hand moving to slid under her chin and give a rather soothing stroke of that chin, a single filtering of that leather hand running up the side of her head and softly petting her hair. To them, it probably was as disturbing as his shove of her, but his gentle stroke was given as a silent sign to her. Before that next number could be heard, the buzz of the door was heard, and one of the guards moved to jar the door open and quickly back away. Using that hair again as a leash, Harley was forced to rise up and pin close to him. His arm going around that thin waist as he'd attempt to almost meld with her in that closeness. Gun's tip dragging down to the side of that pretty head. And so they marched, him keeping her in front of him like some shield, as he'd move into the main room that housed the many monitors and the next door that led on into the cells and office area. His jaw rested in her hair before he'd bring his head down and openly speak now, his facade melting away as he spoke in a voice rich with attention back to his clown girl. "Harley. Dead or alive. Tonight, you're filling up Death's coffers. But I'm keeping the main prize. The circus is in town boys. And she's picking who walks out of here and who's getting carted out on a gurney in the morning.." Gun's aim fell to them instead of her, aimed directly, and he spoke again, as though she was the only one in the room. "Play God, tonight.. it's your night.."

Harley still trembled, she had learned over the months being with him that he was unpredictable, and didn't doubt that he'd shoot her if they didn't let him in. Suddenly she was calm, soothed and brought down from that state of panic as he stroked at her chin, blue eyes focusing in on him the panic and fear was soon replace with her normal look of adoration and love. No hint of anger at him, no she knew he had to do it, he had to not tell her because she couldn't act that well. She couldn't play on the emotions of good men, good men that she soon realized didn't exist. He used to her hair as a leash in other situations, so she was used to it, body pushed into him and feeling him, contact still making her racing heart. The arm that was wrapped around her waist was soon met with her delicate little fingers stroking at the available skin she could get it, but it was made to look like she was scratching at him. She felt his jaw and had to fight not to turn into him. Voice echoing in her brain, the guards stared at her as he spoke. She was going to be death incarnate tonight. Those blue blues of hers staring out at them, speaking without words that Dr. Quinzel the doctor they made their catcalls to was dead. As the gun's aim moved to them she could tell they where stared, and they should have been. Her own devious grin move acrossed delicate little features it mirrored his almost perfectly. She pointed almost like she was picking colors to paint the wall. Moving her hand from his arm she outstretched the thin limb and started to speak, it was almost haunting the way she did this. "Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead." Blood red manicured nail point to the guards who did nothing, who would have allowed Harley to die. But she pointed to the one who had moved and opened the door. "He lives."

And Harley might as well have pulled the trigger herself, only his finger was the one squeezing. The click of metal triggering against the point of impact fired home the first bullet. Now people would be aware something was wrong. Now there would be panic. Now there would be.. chaos. The first red splashing against the wall would cause the others to lose their minds, funny considering the surrondings. One began to cry, the other begging, but each of them received a bullet for their efforts. The bodies slumped and fell where they were, and at last the man whom had shown a sense of compassion was left. Joker would move away from her, slipping reluctantly from and giving a swift brush of the back of his hand to her cheek. He moved to the door, opening it and swinging it wide. A single stare, and the man would seem to balk at this. Untrusting, and he had all the reason to, he would slowly move forward. Joker did little to move out of the way, causing them to brush against one another before the clown stopped him. "You didn't say thank you.." A anger in his voice, before the man stammered quickly and praised the young doctor, Joker would let him go, keeping his word to her again and moving to step amongst the puddles of blood filling the floor as if they were acidic.

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Artist Note: Happy Valentine's Day! Obviously I was trying to recreate that famous comic book picture of Joker and Harl.

Old log from Arch One. But I felt it was beautiful and perfect, and it's one of my favorites.

Description
The order of get your old clothes cleaned left Harley confused, but it was followed to the letter and the old skirt and blouse no longer was riddled and addled with stains, some blood, some dirt and other things. She'd worn them only a few times since she had officially became Harley Quinn, mostly when she was doing foot work for him, since spandex and a corset would get her noticed. Back in the old heels that corrected what genes couldn't in making her taller, but still she remained much shorter then Joker. She looked different then she had the night the two had broken out of Arkham. It wasn't even the face that he insisted she wear, which she was more then happy to keep, it was how she wore the clothes. Skirt seemed to cling in all the right places now, hugging those hips she how embraced and stopped right at mid thigh level and the blouse left just the right amounts of flesh to the imagination. Blonde hair pinned back and up, but it was ready to fall into her own wild style. The nights, the five nights, Harley had no clue what they would doing or what would happen after they where over, Harley still convinced this was a learning experience for her. Out she came from the ice cream truck, careful but not as she jumped from the truck. Smoothing out her skirt and blouse, she took a deep breath as she stared at the surroundings he'd not so much dropped her in, she knew that parking lot so well. She knew the spot that used to be hers, for her old car before it was destroyed. She stayed close to him, the devious smile on his face was caught but she said nothing. She was more or less taking in all of the surroundings, eyes now narrowing on the building with contempt.

Jawing abit, he'd look around briefly before he'd give a heavy sigh and start up those stairs in a brisk pace. He moved fluidly, almost seeming to stride two stairs at once before the brief incline reached the top. With that he'd turn to look at her as she came up, and realized he needed to focus on what he was currently doing. A leathered hand moving out to reach for her hand as she made her way up, and that should have been the first hint that something was amiss. When she came in range, he'd clasp that delicate hand in his and help her finish reaching the top, before turning to the door and moving to slam his foot into the item and send it flying open. That wasn't the only quick motion either, for she was jerked over quickly and moved to stand infront of him. A quick snatch of that messy hair that seemed to sink claws into her scalp, before she was being hauled into the main room for the asylum. The orderly and attendee at the desk would react in complete shock behind the thick glass wall and door, blocking entry into the deeper recesses of the mental ward. Harley felt a heavy shove that sent her to the floor infront of him, and he moved to stand over her while reaching into his belt loop. Gun was again unholstered, the same gun that minutes ago had taken a life seemingly at random. Digging it into the back of that blonde hair with complete maliciousness, he'd almost snarl as he stared at the men behind the safety of the glass. "Evening gentlemen. I'm here to see some old friends, I know it's late but I trust you'll understand if I insist on you opening that door." And a click was heard, the trigger being winded back by his thumb as he'd offer what could be considered a charming smile, emotions running from anger to complete cool. "That or you're going to need to get the janitor down here for a spill."

Always a few steps behind him, she was thinking to herself about how Arkham Asylum shouldn't have been on the list of places to visit. Loathing the place wasn't the right word, no. She didn't hate it, it brought her her new life, her Puddin', but it also housed her old one and her past misdeeds. She didn't notice or even think about why he was offering her his hand, maybe because she was back in the heels and couldn't move as fast as she did in the flats that came when her old outfit. Reaching for his gloved one, her tiny hand wrapping around his making it to the top much faster then she would have unassisted. She gasped as he grabbed her, curves and thickness pushing up against his lanky build she cried out in shock and pain when he tugged at her hair. She couldn't even ask why he was doing this, she was speechless, but the emotions where real. Balance lost she fell to the floor and she couldn't stand the sight of him. She felt the muzzle of the gun against her skull and her eyes snapped shut, body even trembling, visibly when she heard the click. The Guards stood in shock, it took them a few seconds to realize that was Dr. Quinzel with them. The guards where cowards, she knew this, afraid of Joker they'd always rough him up, almost like a circus animal, beat them and maybe they'll be weak. Or maybe, they'll snap and rampage. He was rampage and Harley looked up at them through painted face, blue eyes pledging and black lips trembling. "Just, open. the door." She said close to tears.

"5" Began the count, as he'd stare dead set at the men. He remained poised to shoot as he waited again, tongue lashing at his lips violently. "4" And she was nudged with the gun, moving around so that he stood directly over top of her now, his hand moving to slid under her chin and give a rather soothing stroke of that chin, a single filtering of that leather hand running up the side of her head and softly petting her hair. To them, it probably was as disturbing as his shove of her, but his gentle stroke was given as a silent sign to her. Before that next number could be heard, the buzz of the door was heard, and one of the guards moved to jar the door open and quickly back away. Using that hair again as a leash, Harley was forced to rise up and pin close to him. His arm going around that thin waist as he'd attempt to almost meld with her in that closeness. Gun's tip dragging down to the side of that pretty head. And so they marched, him keeping her in front of him like some shield, as he'd move into the main room that housed the many monitors and the next door that led on into the cells and office area. His jaw rested in her hair before he'd bring his head down and openly speak now, his facade melting away as he spoke in a voice rich with attention back to his clown girl. "Harley. Dead or alive. Tonight, you're filling up Death's coffers. But I'm keeping the main prize. The circus is in town boys. And she's picking who walks out of here and who's getting carted out on a gurney in the morning.." Gun's aim fell to them instead of her, aimed directly, and he spoke again, as though she was the only one in the room. "Play God, tonight.. it's your night.."

Harley still trembled, she had learned over the months being with him that he was unpredictable, and didn't doubt that he'd shoot her if they didn't let him in. Suddenly she was calm, soothed and brought down from that state of panic as he stroked at her chin, blue eyes focusing in on him the panic and fear was soon replace with her normal look of adoration and love. No hint of anger at him, no she knew he had to do it, he had to not tell her because she couldn't act that well. She couldn't play on the emotions of good men, good men that she soon realized didn't exist. He used to her hair as a leash in other situations, so she was used to it, body pushed into him and feeling him, contact still making her racing heart. The arm that was wrapped around her waist was soon met with her delicate little fingers stroking at the available skin she could get it, but it was made to look like she was scratching at him. She felt his jaw and had to fight not to turn into him. Voice echoing in her brain, the guards stared at her as he spoke. She was going to be death incarnate tonight. Those blue blues of hers staring out at them, speaking without words that Dr. Quinzel the doctor they made their catcalls to was dead. As the gun's aim moved to them she could tell they where stared, and they should have been. Her own devious grin move acrossed delicate little features it mirrored his almost perfectly. She pointed almost like she was picking colors to paint the wall. Moving her hand from his arm she outstretched the thin limb and started to speak, it was almost haunting the way she did this. "Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead." Blood red manicured nail point to the guards who did nothing, who would have allowed Harley to die. But she pointed to the one who had moved and opened the door. "He lives."

And Harley might as well have pulled the trigger herself, only his finger was the one squeezing. The click of metal triggering against the point of impact fired home the first bullet. Now people would be aware something was wrong. Now there would be panic. Now there would be.. chaos. The first red splashing against the wall would cause the others to lose their minds, funny considering the surrondings. One began to cry, the other begging, but each of them received a bullet for their efforts. The bodies slumped and fell where they were, and at last the man whom had shown a sense of compassion was left. Joker would move away from her, slipping reluctantly from and giving a swift brush of the back of his hand to her cheek. He moved to the door, opening it and swinging it wide. A single stare, and the man would seem to balk at this. Untrusting, and he had all the reason to, he would slowly move forward. Joker did little to move out of the way, causing them to brush against one another before the clown stopped him. "You didn't say thank you.." A anger in his voice, before the man stammered quickly and praised the young doctor, Joker would let him go, keeping his word to her again and moving to step amongst the puddles of blood filling the floor as if they were acidic.

---

Artist Note: Happy Valentine's Day! Obviously I was trying to recreate that famous comic book picture of Joker and Harl.

Old log from Arch One. But I felt it was beautiful and perfect, and it's one of my favorites.