Reserved at Ataraxion

[like_a_leper]

Hrm...

You want to send me into outer space, in a confined space with a bunch of other people because you happened to come across a persuasive "god" of chaos?

OK, the chaos thing I like, but everything else is questionable. I mean, I won't even have my favorite knife on me - there's a line that should never be crossed and you're toeing it. My ability to improvise can only be relied on so much.







Nah, scratch all of that. This is going to be a hoot and a half if only because I'll get to be creative.

Comments

[hesmypuddin]

Mmmhmm!

[Yeah, the talking thing... her own Joker has a problem with this from time to time and it leads to her being physically shoved or kicked out of the way. Oddly enough, a size ten to the gut is a pretty effective way of silencing someone.

The Mallet, though... it's her baby at the end of the day, and certainly her preferred weapon in nearly any situation.

She lets out a soft sound of delight as he not only gets it, but shows pleasure in it. Nothing made Harley happier than making her Puddin' happy... and even if this wasn't technically her Puddin', he was close enough that it mattered.

His giggle, his twitchiness... it's all new and it's fascinating. She studies him from their scant distance apart, smile never fully slipping from her painted lips. There is a brief moment, his hand sliding from her chin and down her throat, that she doesn't know what is about to happen; and it excites her. When that hand finally drops away, she lets out a soft sigh.

She then tilts her head slightly, blinking to refocus on his own explanation. Her mouth falls open in a slight 'o' and she lets out a breathy 'ooo' in response.]

Ain't never considered a potata peelah before... Ya even played with a chainsaw? Ain't everyone's thing, but it's downright impressive...

[A a soft breathy sound when he mentions the simplicity of gasoline and matches.]

An' their screams can sing ya ta sleep at night just like a lullaby... Ya got class, Mistah J...

[Sprung? Harley? Oh, terribly.]

[like_a_leper]

[There is something far more severe and cruel about this woman that he had not anticipated at first glance. Sure, the makeup and outfit spoke leagues of how far removed she is from normal society, but that could have just been a casual break with reality in the way that some girls like to dress up just for fun/attention. It was clear that Harley liked attention, but it wasn't quite so superficial.

Joker was drawn in by her enthusiasm, even if she was a bit loud. There was nothing more enticing than her experience with various weapons and his face, though scarred and painted up, displayed his emotions and curiosity plainly.]

I do try to symbolize a better class of criminals - what's the point in not making a statement? Random violence is all well and good, yes, don't get me wrong... But there's a quiet sort of beauty in making a very poignant statement with a well timed car bomb and gasoline fueled fire.

[He reaches out to touch her again, but aborts the motion and he looks just a little bit too twitchy for his own good. That's what happens when he's confronted with something new and particularly enthralling. It takes him a moment to make up his mind before he's reaching for her again and wraps his leather clad hand around the side of her throat, his fingers curling almost reverently around the back of her neck the touch gentle.]

You're something special, aren't you? Hrm. Yes, Harley, I can feel it already. Chain saws and mallets and just. Special.

[hesmypuddin]

[It's not even a matter of severity or cruelty, so much as insanity. You wouldn't know, looking and listening to her now, that this young woman used to be a fairly talented psychiatrist. Well, you might if you sat down and talked with her long enough, but she would have to be having a 'good' day to allow you past the child-like innocence that was Harley Quinn.

Does she enjoy the attention that her madness brings her? In truth, she doesn't care so much that people pay attention to the madness itself, but to her. Being ignored isn't something Harley is particularly used to, having spent many of the past years in the company of the Joker. Being ignored, or bored, usually led to the Cupid of Crime getting into more trouble than those around her might prefer... buildings exploded and people died and generally a rather large fuss ensued.

This man isn't the Joker she has known the past many years, but he is the Joker. It's fascinating and confusing and enough to make her stomach tighten and twist with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. She knew her Joker and how he'd react to certain things... certain triggers. This man she doesn't know and that very factor is what makes it so wonderful.

Chaos.]

Ya've always been a better class'a criminal, Mistah J. Others folks would be lucky ta even come close ta ya, but there ain't a one'a 'em anywhere in Gotham that'll ever match ya.

[She watches him, taking in each jerk and twitch and actually stops breathing for a beat when he reaches for her again. She very nearly reaches for him, but stops herself... Her Joker would only put up with that on the best of days... this Joker... she doesn't dare even try.

She falls still again, her pulse beating heavily along the length of her throat beneath his fingers as they settle again, but never does she pull away. The threat, the danger... but in the end, it's a soft sigh that slips past those painted lips. Her eyes are hooded and her smiles warms substantially at the praise.]

Awww, Mistah J... ya know just the things ta say ta a gal.