#notevenafacecard

During her time in Westchester, Harley had exuded amazing self restraint when it came to seeing the Joker. Up until now. He should know better than anyone that it doesn’t take much to push someone over the edge. In their case, however, he mostly dangled her over the edge, keeping her tethered to him and his toxic ways no matter how hard she tried to block him out, tried to scrub him from her skin. He was always there, and at this point she was beginning to fear that she’d never be able to get rid of him. His words have her anger explosive, the sight of him barely registering as all Harley saw was red. “I ruined everything??!” she questions, attempting to close the gap between their frames long enough to grab a fistful of the shirt he donned. “I didn’t ruin shit, you sad excuse for a human being.” It felt wrong, describing him as a human. Not even the scum of the scum went as low as he did. “You ruined everything! You ruined me! And you don’t give a fuck, do you? You took away my future, my livelihood. I’ll never be normal, and it’s all your fault.” As angry as she was, Harley learned the hard way that speaking to the Joker was like talking to a wall. There are a few tiny jabs against the surface of his chest as her anger bubbles beneath her flesh, as if she’s going to beat the sense into him.