I have a feeling someone's looking

[restingstitchface]

WHO: Scarecrow and Harley Quinn.
WHERE: De Chima.
WHEN: Wednesday 5th August, 10:25pm.
WHAT: Rogue business.
WARNINGS: Crane. Violence. Fire and murder. Harley, no.

[Crane wanted to test his new strain of toxin. It had taken some months, ever since his arrival, to collect enough information to reach today's study - and a contract with the Devil to collect required resources, financial and material. He scratched under his neck, slipping a finger under the burlap flesh, curious enough to wonder about the look on his Granny's face about that hellish deal, as he skulked closer to the subject's downstairs window. He had a particularly intense need to satisfy his curiosity this evening.

The second man he'd chosen from Harleen's list was a firefighter. One of those cadres who claimed to make humanity safe by defending them against a bright, hot energy that humans had once feared instinctively. But they now believed they held it in their power. That there was nothing to be frightened of anymore. It was ignorant. It was offensive. He would help them see that fire was always something to be fearful of. He would burn it into their eyes.

Now. It was often the course that when he led his subjects deeper into his web, he occasionally required the use of force. Restraints. He had a straitjacket in his bag, along with a gas regulator and other devices used in his work. Of course, there was also his new pyrophobic strain in a canister. Regardless, he wasn't going to waste his efforts on physical labour. That was why he had dragged somebody else along.]

Tell me, Miss Quinn. When is a firefighter frightened by flame?

Comments

[itistolaugh]

[ Harley practically skipped along behind him, as much as one can skip in heavy boots with an oversized mallet slung over a shoulder. Scarecrow's MO, all fear and loathing and yadda yadda, is practically the opposite of her own. At least on the surface. But they are both doctors, after all, and she can see the value in his research.

And, alright, so what if she has a weakness for extreme personalities. Crane's personality is distasteful, but it's about as far on the opposite end of the spectrum from hers as it gets. And, yeah, and he's got a pretty face, even when she wants to tear it to shreds. So she kind of sucks at being a good girl. Sue her.

Besides, this guy she gave him is, like, a total dick. They're practically being heroes here, getting rid of someone like that. ]

When he's met his match.

[ She pops her gum. ]

[restingstitchface]

[She pops her gum. He pops his lid.

He is full of loathing and contempt and malicious whimsy; the wicked, sinful thoughts they beat out of you. Spare the rod, spoil the child. Honestly, he didn't want a medal for killing his Granny. It had been necessary. For survival, yes. And now all he wanted were the deeds to the manor. And lots of money for antique books and research funds. It aggrieved him to resort to pretty crime. Too simple. Too wasteful. Though there was something fascinating about the fear that settled in the hearts of victims of home invasion.]

I must say, your inability to answer a serious question without a punchline doesn't surprise me. The answer is when he is attracted to light yet scared by heat.

[He creeps to the condenser, underneath and left of the window, and drops his bag to uncouple the panel. One disapproving tut, which one would think was aimed at Harley's intelligence till he throws out an off-handed comment about the dust.]

Really. Even Granny could do a better job.

[He switches the refrigerant for his concoction and fixes everything to normal.]

[itistolaugh]

[ Harley rolls a shoulder in a half shrug, swinging the mallet off her shoulder and aiming it at him like a rifle. ]

My answer's better.

[ She tosses the mallet to her other hand and rests it on the ground, leaning on the handle like a cane. ]

Izzat it?

[ She figured his plan would involve a lot more breaking and entering, emphasis on the breaking. Otherwise, why ask her to come along? ]

[restingstitchface]

[Crane climbs to his feet, dusting his knees and wiping them clean of soil and sediment. He stares at the sleeping man for a short moment. The anticipation was quite a pleasant experience.]

I need you to break in and hold him down, my lackadaisical associate. Don't break anything in the house. Just his arms will do. Maybe even his legs.

[itistolaugh]

[ Harley peers in at the future patient, taking in the room as well. So Crane doesn't want a mess. That's doable. Boring, but doable. She starts to pace and toss her hammer in the air like a child would toss a ball, thinking over her options. ]

Mm. Just to clarify. When you say "don't break anything in the house" does that include him?

[restingstitchface]

[There's another pause as Crane continues staring. Harley's impatient. Suggestable, but impatient. He clasps his hands at his back and leans forward on the balls of his feet. She wants a show. He wants results.

And he wants to see what will happen.]

No. But you will exercise that imagination of yours only when I say so. Is that clear?