Thread: Barbara and Harley

[madlove]

Who: Harley Quinn and Barbara Gordon
When: After this
Where: The Snooty Fox, a burlesque/cabaret club and bar
What: Drinking, discussing their AU memories, maybe finding some common ground. IDK.
WARNINGS: Language (definitely at least on Harley’s end). CW for child loss.

Harley’s true to her word. She’s called for the ImPort equivalent to an Uber and shows to pick Barbara up in that instead of a stolen car. On top of that, she doesn’t look a bit like Harley. She’d told Babs to wear her cheapest outfit — as in: put on whatever you own that’s trashy — but Harley herself, who typically paints her face within an inch of its life, doesn’t seem to have bothered with a single smear of makeup. Her hair, normally perky blonde pigtails when they’re not stuffed into a harlequin cap, is loose and tangled like maybe she didn’t bother brushing it after getting out of the shower. And her clothes, a typical carnival of sparkles and sequins and spangles, and often leaving little to the imagination, have been traded in for what looks like a tracksuit with a zip-up hoodie. It’s made of her traditional red and black material, but that’s only because she doesn’t own anything else. Harley’s unusually quiet for the ride there other than to figure out what help (if any) Barbara needs or wants to get into the club. And from the way they almost immediately get a table near the front of the stage and how the hostess greets Harley by name it’s pretty apparent she’s been spending a lot of time there. It had started as a way to pass the time maybe once a week after the Apocalypse shit hit the fan. Now she’s there most nights, drinking her weight in tequila or vodka or whatever else sounds good. The first thing she does that’s vaguely Harley-esque is put her fingers in her mouth to whistle loudly to her the waitress’ attention. Though what would, at first glance, seem ridiculously rude is obviously also routine when the waitress looks up, waves, and mouths gimmie a minute. “What do you want?” she says, slipping the drink menu to Barbara. “The Cement Mixer’s shit.” And was actually vaguely reminiscent of drinking cement. “But the rest are pretty good.”

Comments

[bodilesswarrior]

Her head dips, because Harley is right; it may seem like the most logical conclusion, but she doesn't know.

That would mean that Lucy is all alone. That the Resistance has been gutted. (The Cass and Jason aren't the government's weapons - but so many other people are.)

"You'll need to trust me." She says it softly, but sternly, as she raises her head again. "Trust that I know what I'm doing. That I want this as much as you do."

[madlove]

The thing is that trusting Barbara isn’t really a choice. Harley would normally be wary of someone like Barbara, simply because licking people like her up is what people like Barbara do. But the standard rules don’t seem to apply here. And the chance that the other woman might turn on her is negligible compared to the idea of doing nothing to ensure Lucy’s safety.

Who else would she go to, anyway? With Joker gone Harley feels lost and adrift.

And, if nothing else, she believes Barbara wants this as much as she does. It’s the only thing she feels like she truly does know at this point.

“Whatever you need me to do. I’ll do it.” Including the things a so-called hero might not want to get their hands dirty with.

She wants to ask Barbara to trust her too, but with her track record she can’t help but feel like it would come across as comical or insincere. Never mind the fact that Harley’s not even sure if she can trust herself.

“And you can trust I’ll do whatever’s necessary to get to Lucy.” That, at least, was a safe enough promise.

And one of those things was that she was going to need to start laying off the alcohol, because she’s useless if she’s going to be in the range of half-drunk to fully blitzed all the time.