Harley Quinn

Damn Jokerland fun bucks. 

Groaning and rolling her eyes, Selina looked back at the counter to make sure the staff were all busy —- making a mental note never to come back to this place again. At least she’d paid most of the bill at the counter —- how they’d feel about the tips were another thing. Pushing the chair out of the way and moving towards the door, she opened it quickly and followed Harley out onto the sidewalk, catching up with her just as she began to shout at the unfortunate idiot who was eyeing up the bike. 

“Harley ———” she followed, struggling to see the point in holding her back —- Aside from the audience that had started to form on the other side of the street, eyes watching her with a mix of interest and sheer enjoyment. Moving up behind her carefully and giving the cheeseball in question a withering look, Selina leant in to her shoulder and flickered her eyebrows. 

By now, the confused would-be thief-- who is clearly more than halfway down the tracks towards the railroad station of Complete Intoxication-- is holding both hands up apologetically,

    [ C R A C K. ]

... at least until one of those hands is sent falling quickly to his side, as Harley sends a vicious whack across the knuckles with her handheld wooden hammer. Judging by the weird angles his fingers now point at-- and the screams of pain, can't forget the screams of pain-- he's probably well on his way to learning a lesson.

"Ya don't steal a girl's motorcycle! Her money, sure. Her shiny stuff, a'course. But her bike? That ain't cool an' you know it, Bozo. Jeez Louise-- criminals these days. Ya know," as she puts the hammer away into her jacket and watches the would be thief stumble away, feeling her lesson sufficiently taught. She whacks the back of her palm lightly against Selina's chest, nodding.

   “Dis woman," he mutters angrily under his breath to the pups as he stalks out of the building. "Cette femme, elle me rend fous." The topmost ones in his arms lick at the stubble on his face. Sensing his anger, the coat full of puppies keeps relatively quiet as he makes his way to the car. Unfortunately, the trench coat is smelling worse by the minute. While none of them have had accidents yet, their wriggling and sweating stinks it up and it’s only a matter of time until they do. 

   Breathing an audible sigh of relief when he gets to his car, Remy puts down the ones in his arms, ushering them inside, and shrugs off the trench coat on top of the seat. Fortunately, he manages to close the door before any of them can escape. They wander around the inside of the car as he gets in the driver’s seat and gets settled. Some of them whine when he starts the car and while he does his best to drive slowly, it sets about half of them to barking up a storm. Shoulders up around his ears, with no other choices at hand, he pulls up behind the shelter and waits.

"There ya go, babies... C'mon. Almost there. We'll get ya a nice big van to curl up in for a while. Howzat sound, huh? Yeah, nice, ri--..." She blinks, tilts her head to one side, and then blinks several more times in rapid succession once she fully takes in what Remy is actually driving.

"Yo, Napoleon! What gives!? I thought ya said ya had one'a them huge vans for this junk!" Sheesh. Can't find good help anywhere. "Eh, nevermind. This thing's probably all the rage in Pa-ree, or wherevah. I guess ya got European sensibilities. Just open up," as she whacks one palm against the trunk so she has a place to toss the dog food sack while unloading her compliment of puppies into the back seat.