How Does That Make You Feel? [Harley]

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Hugo Strange was a patient man. It was a requirement in the profession he had chosen. If you rushed into an operation, you were apt to get someone killed....not that that was exactly a BAD thing, but still. But for all the patience in the world could not stop him feeling a twinge of annoyance at his guests lateness. It was over a half-hour past the time he had put on his invitation. How could he get anything done? Goodness....

He gazed out the window, straightening his tie and cuffs for the umpteenth time. He removed his glasses and began to polish them, waiting. He had been in Gotham for just over 36 hours, and his machinations to control the city were already in motion. But to do this, he needed allies. Could one man be expected to run one of the largest cities in the United States all on his own? I think not. Much as he hated to admit it, he needed help from the underside of Gotham. Detestable as they were, who better than to take care of his little problem? Namely, a problem that loved to dress up as a flying rat and put most everyone he encountered into a coma. Get rid of the Bat, and he could bring down the infrastructure of Gotham one little bit at a time.

Strange had had a good long time to think in his 17 year exile from Gotham. Before, it had just been about the money, keeping his head nicely above water, not attracting the attention of any persons who could do him harm. But now, it was not about just that. During his travels, he had thought long and hard about it. Gotham was his right. Without him, where would Gotham be? It's elite would be dead, leaderless, in anarchy. These ants CRAVED leadership, CRAVED to be subjugated. And so, he would step forth. He certainly didn't want to, but of course, they needed him. The only thing that had stood in his way was the meddling Thomas Wayne. But Wayne was long in his grave. Who could stand in his way now?

But he couldn't do this by himself. First, the Batman; then Gotham. And once in charge, he would turn on those whose allegiance he had secured, putting the freaks on Death Row, and doing a better job at controlling crime than the Batman could ever hope to do. Soon, very soon, his birthright would be hers.

His ears perked up. Could that be a vehicle coming up the drive? Certainly his guest was late. But who could expect punctuality from THAT riff-raff? Making sure his clothing was in order once again, he checked his pistol in the hidden holster under the coffee table, he sat in his great leather armchair and steepled his fingers. Showtime...

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Pop music can be heard a mile away as it drowns out all other sound in the city upon it’s approach. A shrill voice sings along with the popular song as a 1937 Ford 2-door, purple Sedan convertible screeched to a halt just in front of Strange. The car was put into park a blond haired woman wearing a cute pink dress and barefoot sandal shoe enhancers where they decorate her legs just above the ankles by having a flexible cord wrap around in a chain-like pattern. She reached in to remove her purse from the inside of the car, closed the door and immediately cried out when she tried to move away from the vehicle, only to discover that part of her pig tail was caught in the door. She dropped her keys in surprise and tried to open the door, but the car had already automatically locked itself. “Hey! Let go!” She kicked at the door and grabbed end roots of her hair in an attempt to pull her hair out from the crack of the door but to no avail. She then spotted the keys on the ground and tried to bend down to pick them up. The car refused to let go and she uttered an “ow!” as she realized she was still caught.

Her foot reached out and drew the keys in toward her. She tried to reach for them but it was no use. She decided it best to scoop the keys up close to her foot, trail them up her leg and then grab them with her hand, all while sticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth to concentrate. “Uuuuungh! Ha!“ After a few attempts, she succeeded and unlocked the car. She stuck her tongue out at the car after she had freed herself, swung her hip into the door and closed the car. “Hmph!“ She pulled her purse over her shoulder and skipped merrily toward the doctor. The chains on the purse bounced and rattled against the black and red leather sides. Within the purse was an assortment of weapons as well as a case for makeup.

Harley made her way up to the door and wrapped upon it with her knuckles. “Knock, knock, doc! Open up and let me in.” She smiled broadly while chomping down on some bubble gum flavored chewing gum, and tried to peek through the peep hole.

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Hugo watched the preceding with as close to amusement as he would let himself feel. The girls antics were entertaining to say the least. He thought of going out to help, but decided that she was doing fine on her own. When she managed to free herself (leaving a decent amount of hair behind, Strange noted), Strange positioned himself at the door, ever the gracious host.

"Please, please come in, Ms. Quinzel. I do hope you shall forgive me of relieving you of your purse? I daresay that your...Jokey-poo...will have taught you that leaving the house without some sort of weaponry is courting death." He spoke with no inflection whatsoever, his voice flat and dead.

Ensuring her purse was secured on the table next to the door, he guided her into the sitting room. The name was misleading, as the only two pieces of furniture was Strange's great armchair and a classic leather psychiatrists couch.

Taking his place and putting his fingers together (something no self-respecting shrink fails to practice in the mirror), he cast his gaze upon Harley, drinking her in. She was decidedly odd. Most people found this gaze to be unnerving, but she seemed totally unperturbed.

Noticing that she had faild to take the proffered couch, he gave a half-grin. "You know, it is rather rude to decline a host when he asks you to take a seat."

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Harley wasn’t too happy over the idea of leaving her purse behind, but then again she didn’t keep all weapons in it either. And she was fairly certain that Hugo most likely had a gun on him or near him too. She kept the purse in her vision mostly because she loved that purse. She got it at a Woman’s Expo in the mall and kept it ever since. It not only had her flashy colors on it but cute skulls that adored the walls as well.

Harley’s eyes moved away from the purse and onto the couch where she was expected to sit. Was he serious? She didn’t come here for a shrink session, nor was she going to be taken advantage of in case he tried anything. The couch was not an option for her to sit. Instead, she gingerly stepped around the his chair, playfully sliding her hand along the top, then kneed the chair forward, causing the good doctor to spill out of it. She tilt the chair back into place and leaped over the side of it, landing sideways in the chair with her legs draped over the side. “Do tell.” She grinned and held her hand out to look over her nails.

If that couch of his was booby-trapped, let him deal with the triggers. She had been with the Joker long enough to expect the unexpected and she never trusted any of her surroundings unless it was back at the hideout or within her cell at Arkham Asylum.

It was amusing to watch the man gather himself up again and took the opportunity to watch and see if a gun had slid out of place from his person. So far no. Only his glasses seemed to have moved a little during the fall but there was no gun strapped to his calves, hidden under his business suit, and certainly none up his sleeves. She pulled the wad of gum out of her mouth and placed it under the coffee table, barely missing the gun. Luckily, Hugo didn’t see her do this action and she pulled out a new piece which she had tucked behind her ear. It was flat and still within the wrapper until she tossed the wrapper and tossed the piece into her mouth.

“What’s on your mind, doc?” She asked, finding it funny that he was now her patient. She wasn’t just a screwball working alongside the Joker. Oh no. She used to be a clinical psychoanalyst. Behind her blond façade she actually had some smarts to her. Playing dumb was just part of the game, and Hugo Strange was nothing more to her than a game piece she could control until the game became boring.

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Hugo gathered himself up off the ground. Humiliating, certainly, but not crippling. He straightened his glasses and met Harley's eyes. They were carefully examining him. He gave his best reassuring smile. "I spy mistrust in those eyes, Ms. Quinzel. Certainly someone as young and fit as YOU could have nothing to fear from me. And if you do not believe it, I shall prove it." He sat deliberately on the edge of the couch and reached forward and under the coffee table, removing his ivory-gripped, nickel plated M1911A1. He slowly, and without pointing it anywhere close to Harley, unloaded the magazine and cycled the slide, expelling the cartridge in the chamber. After placing both the disarmed pistol and the magazine on the table, Hugo crossed his legs and looked again at Harley.

"As you can see, Ms. Quinzel, I did not lead you here to kill you. That is not my style, as you would say. I brought you here to ask your assistance...namely, the assistance of your boss and his followers." Hugo stood up and walked over to the window, looking out of it, hands folded behind him. She couldn't see from her angle, but he had her square in his sights in the reflection of the window, in case she tried anything. "You see, I can relate to you. I know exactly what you want, I know your secrets, I know your deepest, darkest desire."

Noting her mildly skeptical look, he crossed around behind her, leaning in over the chair to whisper, "You want to be loved, Harley Quinn. You wan't nothing more than to be noticed and loved by the man who holds your undying devotion. And I want what you want. I want to be praised, adored, held high by the throngs as they cheer my name."

He turned quickly back to the window. "But this is impossible without your help, Ms. Quinzel. I know you too are a master of the human mind, and all its tells and secret gestures. If you have found one ounce of untruth in the words I have spoken, please tell me."

Hugo looked long and hard into the window, waiting to gauge her reaction. However much he dislike having to admit it, he really needed Harley and her boss, the Joker. Without them, Gotham would never be rid of the Dark Knight.

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Harley thought that he did see where she had stashed her gum and felt momentary panic until he had withdrawn a gun instead. “Phew!”-She thought and became more relaxed. She studied the weapon then grinned at the idea of a man owning a gun with shiny ivory on it. It seemed more like a girly gun to her and it was odd for a man like Strange to have more simple tastes in firearms, for she pictured him liking something more simple such as a regular, plain revolver. But whatever, to each his own.

“If ya wanted the Joker’s help, ya should’ve called him instead of me.” She leaned her head back in the chair to see where he had walked over to, then rolled her eyes when he talked about her secrets. What a bluff. Everyone who has heard of Harley knows she has a thing for Mistah J. And if that was some sort of threat, it failed, for Strange was no one she truly feared. She expressed her lack of interest by feigning a yawn and fanned her mouth in the process. She casually looked over at him as he drew closer. Just as she had suspected, he began to recite what was already on her mind. It was only when he said that he wanted what she wanted, did she raise a brow. He wanted the Joker to love him? The more she listened, the more he made it clear that he was after popularity. Now that made more sense than trying to get the Joker’s attention.

“You’re too much of a geek to play the popularity game. Maybe if you did well in politics but other than that I don’t see you as being the one guy everyone loves.” She put it plainly then looked at him from behind. “Maybe if you wore a tie-dye shirt and donated to charity people might consider you as someone to glance at. But I am the queen of popularity. I have a natural magnetism with others.” -She believed this to some degree, without wanting to believe that the Joker would go after anyone who would mess with Harley whether it be out of possession, jealousy or if they upset her. It hardly had anything to do with Harley’s personality but she did not need to know that as long as the other villains put up with her antics.

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Hugo smiled. "Precisely, Ms. Quinzel. You have a natural popularity with the underground of Gotham." Hugo walked over to the small table in the corner which contained a brandy decanter. Hugo poured out two glasses and put one on the coffee table in front of Harley, the other he kept for himself.

"It is not politics that in want, but rather my opinion to be carried through. There are big things brewing in Gotham City, Ms Quinzel. You just have to ask yourself which side you would like to be on."

Hugo turned to Harley and looks deep into her eyes. "All I require from you is your support. I will go and see the Joker and talk to him, but i will need your help. If you seem eager to help, perhaps I may be inclined to give you what you most truly desire."

Hugo paused fro dramatic effect. "I will give you the key to the Jokers heart...the key to his undying affection."

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“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were hittin’ on me.” Harley said bluntly but with a hint of amusement. Whether or not if it was true, she didn’t care. Nor was she interested in taking a drink without seeing him drink first. Such is the life of a bad guy, never knowing what cards the other players are holding. “But you already know that I am one-hundred percent sided with Mistah J. I always will be. And he already loves me. Do you know how I know?”

She sat up to face him, looking him squarely in the eye. “Because he has shown me a side of him he never shows anyone else. He has come to me on fallen knees with tears streaming down his cheeks. I’ve held him in his most vulnerable times when he trusts no one else. That’s how I know he loves me, and that let’s me know that one day he’ll come around to me on his own without the help of you or any other doctor. So keep your psychobabble to yourself, I know how that game goes.”

She picked up the drink and looked at the liquid closely. So far it didn’t seem like anything had been placed inside of it. “Ya know, Lar once poured salt into my drink and I thought I was seein’ bubbles floating down instead of up. It was a good gag but salt doesn’t change the way the drink tastes until you get a whole lot of it at the very bottom and when you’re close to finishing.”

Let Hugo think he was in control but play it dumb just to annoy him further. She liked this game of control for it usually lead to other games such as who can find their weapon faster or how much praise and laughter she can get from the Joker once she returned to him and told him what the other crooks were planning.