I got the time and the place and the rhythm | closed

[criminallysane]

WHO: Kenzi and Joker
WHERE: Louie’s (an Italian place in De Chima)
WHEN: A cold night in mid-February, 8:00 pm
WHAT: A date
WARNINGS: NSFW. Clown romance (with a much younger woman) and bad choices being made all around. Probably language, possibly violence, and definitely some adult thoughts.

The snow begins around 7:40 in the evening, coming down in big, fluffy flakes that clearly intend to stick. Inside Louie’s, however, everything is warm and cozy, intimate and welcoming in the way that only a small family-run restaurant can be. Rat Pack classics play over the sound system, Frank Sinatra and Perry Como and Dean Martin. The hum of conversation from various tables layers over the muffled sound of chatter and work from the kitchen, creating an atmosphere of casual energy and life, and the whole place smells of fresh-baked bread, spicy meats, and rich marinara. At his favorite table in the back, the Joker chats with the owner (whose name isn’t Louie at all, but Percy) while he waits for his date to arrive. Percy’s bought weapons and a little cocaine off him in the past — nothing too exciting, but a client is a client — and the two men make easy conversation about business and the weather, with Joker smoking a cigarette and Percy puffing on a cigar and the both of them just oozing camaraderie. The clown looks perfectly at home and relaxed here, like he hasn’t a care in the world. Under the table, however, his foot can’t stop tapping, and it’s all he can do not to keep checking his watch. He hasn’t been on a proper date in years. He remembers the script, of course, and surely he can play this role in his sleep. Even so, the idea of being out romantically with anyone except Harley feels completely unnatural, and when the hell did that change happen? That very sense of unease, he reminds himself, is precisely why this is so important for him to do. He’s allowed himself to care too much about that woman, and he’s seen now where that path leads: retirement, babies, obscurity, and weakness. No, if he ever hopes to establish himself as a true source of terror in this world, he has no choice: Harley, and the life she represents, must go. The fact that this is difficult is just further proof that it’s essential. And who better to wipe her from his memory banks than Kenzi? The perky, ridiculous little beauty who put out a network-wide booty call. Whom he tried to win at auction months ago! She’s just the ticket, Joker thinks: pretty, gullible, flashy, and easy, the kind of woman he can show off in public but not have to think too much about in private. As far as rebounds go, she should be a fucking cakewalk. He just needs to charm her, use her for a while, and dispose of her. Easy, breezy. Then the bell above the restaurant’s front door clangs, and he looks up and sees her for the first time in person. His foot stops tapping. And for perhaps two or three seconds, all he can do is look at her. She’s beautiful. Stunning, actually, in a tiny evil doll sort of way. And oh, this was a very bad idea… He stubs out his cigarette and rises to his feet, giving his crisp purple suit an automatic smoothing with one gloved hand as he stands. He offers Percy a distracted “Excuse me,” but his gaze is still trained on Kenzi. When their eyes meet, he smiles. “You made it.” Leaving Percy behind, Joker strolls toward her, like this is his home and he’s welcoming her into it. “With the weather, I was worried you might change your mind.” Up close, the height difference between them is even more pronounced; he has well over a foot on her. “Here— let me help you with your coat.”