A Kick In The Teeth Is Good For Some || Joker and Harley
He hadn’t brought any of her things. If she wanted her possessions back so badly, she’d just have to get in his car and hope for the best. It had unnerved him slightly to discover just how many things she’d snuck into their little hidey-hole. It wasn’t enough for her to simply take up space, no, no…she had to encroach on everything that was his with everything that was hers. His things didn’t take up much space, when it came down to it the items he owned were primarily knives and garish pieces of clothing. But he liked open space, the product of being caged his whole life, need space to roam and prowl. She was wise enough not to intrude unless invited, most of the time. He wasn’t even sure he wanted this.
The constant nattering about things that weren’t interesting, as if he was some sort of treasure chest in which she could store her anecdotes concerning trivial encounters with trivial people, general gossip. The only thing that interested him were the secrets she still dropped, let shatter like plates at his feet, rather than spilled. She seemed to be running low on them though, and had grown increasingly reluctant to hide information from him. He didn’t take well to being mislead.
But for some reason, here he was, standing at the foot of the same goddamn warehouse waiting on the same goddamn person. He wasn’t even entirely sure why he’d done what he’d done. He couldn’t remember what they’d been fighting about, only that he’d had a headache that day, wanted her to shut up. He might have hit her, she might have hit him back. He’d certainly had a good grip on her as he started pulling her towards the window, while she clawed and kicked and screamed. But she’d had no leverage, nothing to hold onto. He was the only counterweight available and it had been so easy to scoop her up, a little rag-doll in his arms and throw her out the window. There had been a gaping hole in the window too, he hadn’t even had to open it. He remembered the shriek, higher and more filled with more girlish terror than he’d ever heard her make before and then the thud that made his shoulder’s hunch in a most pleasant way. He’d walked down the stairs, out the door, walked right past her broken body as he departed. He hadn’t noticed she was still alive.
Yet here she was, swinging back towards him like a pendulum. She just couldn’t stop her momentum. You’d think she’d get bored—though, he wasn’t exactly prone to mundane patterns. But she was hardly the central priority in his life, she was constantly shunted to the side, neglected for long periods until he remembered that she was fun to string along like a kite that kept getting stuck in trees. He wasn’t particularly interested in a lot of the things she wanted him to be—sometimes they had sex, most times they didn’t, sometimes he’d tolerate her conversation, sometimes he’d slam the door in her face. He spent a lot of time cooped up with newspapers, reading voraciously, everything from stocks to sports to gossip columns. He found inspiration in the oddest places, and sometimes he would just pen notes to himself all over the paper he was reading. Sometimes they were to-do lists, sometimes random thoughts or hastily scribbled—so fast and pressed that the spidery writing almost ripped the page in places—notes to himself, flashes of genius that were often so illegible he couldn’t even read them later. Sometimes he just wrote one word over and over again: Ha ha ha ha…
He stamped his feet against the wind, grinding his heel into a cigarette butt left on the road. He looked up, the sound of boot soles on gravel pulling him from his reverie. She’d come, and she’d come on time. There was no pretense of keeping him waiting. He watched as she walked closer, she looked thin, frail, a waif—the Arkham crash diet was still in effect—let his eyes settle on her, his arrogant gaze travelling from feet to head with the single thought of possession. He was perfectly content to wait her out, make her say the first word. He wondered if she was ready for the second round, they’d been out, apart for a while, but he always slipped so easily back into the game.