#hisjoke

“Harley, for the last time, no I do not want to go get a milkshake with you. I’m very busy!” 

Harley, He thought. He finally had  his hooks in her. “Well, in that  case, Harley, you can call me, Jack.” He looked up, eyes shaded by dark, greasy hair. He flashed a  dashing grin, eyes lighting up but not in a head-over-heels type of way. But  in the way an animal’s might when they finally get their prey.

Jonathan tips his head down, and a nod and a murmured, “Harleen,” is his given greeting. He doesn’t believe in a god, but if he did, he’d ask it to please not let Harley be here after being thrown out by the Joker. Again. There’s only so much of Harley’s ill placed heartbreak that Jonathan can tolerate.

“Pardon my slight ‘French’ darling, but that little stunt of yours let my target get away. So yes, I think I’m entitled to some irritation AND some of the damn cash.”

“I spy with my little eye...”

-----------“That’s funny, I almost forgot to laugh.                       You didn’t have it ‘under control’ .                If you did, we wouldn’t be having this     conversation, now would we.”              

------------"Harley out to cause trouble?                             Whatever you and the Joker are planning, it won’t work."