"Ahh, Professa, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways."
He’s always been there for her, even before he was the Scarecrow, and before she was Harley Quinn. Before they’d really understood who they were and what they were built for.
"Yer th’ only person who actually likes t’ celebrate Halloween with me. An’ yer like, th’ coolest teacher I’ve ever known.”
He made her think. That was how it all began— he challenged her, he made her think. For the first time in her life, he made her want to make someone proud of her. More than that, he had supported her in her endeavors to do so. He had cheered her on. Moreso than her family had, at least— her mother, ill-suited to motherhood; her brother, shallow and self-serving; and her father. Ah, yes, her father. The convict, the felon, the man who charmed her into believing that this time, this time he would stay out of prison for good. The man who missed every one of her graduations except for preschool and eighth grade. The man who undoubtedly fashioned a lifetime of failed relationships for his daughter in his absence. The man who seemed to fear nothing and no one, and paid the price each time.
"Yer nothin’ like my dad."
"An’ I’m really happy about that."