#shedontgetnormal

Send me “Notes Between Bars” for our muses to trade letters between their cells in a high security prison. | @shedontgetnormal​

Ah yes. T’would seem another specimen was dragged by the horns right into Arkham’s clutches---and rooming right across the alien, no less. Oh stars, how long had it been since she was allowed a neighbor? Or maybe they forgot the reason why she wasn’t allowed contact with another? 

                                                     How precious.

With some ‘special’ ink she’d smuggled, she begins a short, but sweet, letter to the female adjacent. And if her suspicions were correct, the woman would be keen enough to hold the letter up to the light in order to see the engravings withheld in the note.

When all was clear, the alien slides the folded paper underneath the cracks of the door, watching the small slip of paper disappearing into the other’s cell.

Frustration bled into the Kingpin’s expression at the teenager’s words, at the refusal to listen. That was what he liked about his common run of the mill thug; hired muscle did as the hired muscle was paid to do.

They didn’t argue, so long as cash was waved in their face. They could be fired, with no strings attached, and out of his life with a simple gesture. Of course he couldn’t do that for Harleen; or he could...if he hadn’t allowed himself to become so sentimental. If he hadn’t allowed himself to become attached, treating her like a member of his own family. 

He was getting antsy; anyone would be considering the circumstances. The GCPD had raided several of Cobblepot’s warehouses on the docks on Sophia Falcone’s orders and the Lounge wasn’t its usual safe haven. Orders had been given to grab what he could and lay low in one of the safehouses until Oswald said otherwise. 

What he hadn’t known was Harleen would have been at the Lounge. That he would have had to make the decision to either ask her to go home and risk being tailed or make her bunker down with him in the safehouse.