Apartment Above Needful Things; Tuesday Late Morning

[totalwildcard]

It had taken a while, and a lot of hopping back and forth between the island and the mainland to work off some restless energy (to say nothing of all the times Harley had poked at various means of getting back to Gotham), but things had eventually settled down again for the proprietess of Needful Things. Hell, eventually there'd even been a text from Flag. Okay yeah, but srsly where did you get this number? maybe might not've been a win in many other eyes, but it definitely had been in Harley's!

Also no, she hadn't told him where she'd got his deeply personal phone number from. Always better to leave 'em guessing! Yearning for more, and all that.

So, business as usual!

In a sense, anyway, 'cause Harley wasn't down in the store but instead up at her place, enjoying her breakfast (leftovers from the previous night's dinner). Bruce had been walked, so it was time to chill for a bit before seeing what the day might bring.

(Unfortunately, she had not listened to the radio.)

(expecting one!)

Comments

[gotthatphd]

Harley hadn't been lying when she told Red she was going home. She was! She was just makin' one tinyyyy little detour.

People might've made fun of her attention span. She didn't care. She listened when it mattered. Like whe Pammy talked.

She let herself into the store quietly, squeezed herself nimbly between all the stuff (and she wasn't gonna touch any of it, neither), and then, seeing nobody else there, headed up the stairs.

And knocked. (Should she have picked the lock instead? Eh, too late now.)

[totalwildcard]

The door wasn't locked. The fact it was even closed was surprising enough - and directly related to Harley's reaction when she heard the knock.

She groaned and rolled her eyes, and called, "Frenchie, you know you got no business bein' up here! Shoo!"

... It was Tuesday, wasn't it?

[gotthatphd]

Shoo? She wasn't a puppy. Let alone a French bulldog or somethin'.

Harley tried the doorknob. "... Huh," she muttered. "Musta been outta Gotham for too long. Oh well!"

She pushed the door open with her foot. "Hey! I'm not a puppy!"

[totalwildcard]

Harley's preferred eating spot was the couch, and the couch was directly next to the door, which explained why her startled screech of both "What the fuck!" and "You're not Frenchie!" held absolutely no note of recognition. But as they were coming out of her mouth, she also bounced onto her feet and towards the door and the strange, nasal woman there --

"... Whaaaat the fuuuuck." Yeah, there was the recognition.

And here was the processing. "Get out! Get! Out!"

Which came with a side of Harley trying to shove the other Harley right back out the door.

[gotthatphd]

Oh, holy deja-vu!

"Nope!" Harley said, shoving her right back, further into the apartment. "I'm not gettin' clobbered by another AU-me again! Sit yer ass down, baby me!"

[totalwildcard]

"I'm thirty-four!" Harley objected, shrill, as she stumbled back.

Sure, that was the part to get hung up on, why not!

[gotthatphd]

"I dunno, you look young to me!"

Good argument, Harls!

[totalwildcard]

"Well ya don't look that old to me," Harley retorted, and stabbed her finger in the direction of the door. "Now get the fuck outta my house! You're not invited! These are -- single Harley premises!"

Bruce poked his head out the bedroom door.

His brief growl turned into a confused hyena noise.

[gotthatphd]

"I talked to Pammy. She's real upset about what happened with you," Harley told her. Clearly, not particularly intimidated by that finger. "And I know me so I figure I know you an' yer hidin' and in desperate need of a Harley-to-Harley!"

Finger-jab at other Harley's chest!

[totalwildcard]

"You don't know me!" Harley squeaked in continued offended protest. (Also, yes she did.) "You're just some bullshit doppelganger who thinks she's got insight! And I don't care if she's upset!" Yes she did. "Bruce, get 'er!"

Bruce was looking from one Harley to the other. And this Harley was looking back at him with the hurt of betrayal.

"Are you kiddin' me?! Baby, for the love of Jesus and all his carpenter friends, will ya just make a move? That's not me!"

[gotthatphd]

"Thanks for having my back, Brucey," Harley sniffed, squatting down to Bruce's level, hand outstretched. "You wanna come for scritches? I had two boys just like you! You're so cute!"

[totalwildcard]

Bruce hesitated - but not for long. He padded closer to Wrong Harley to sniff at her hands.

Harley made a wounded noise.

Then she abruptly turned on her heel. The couch and the coffee table and TV setup near the door made up the living room type area, while there was an open kitchen area further back - which was where she stomped towards.

[gotthatphd]

"That's a good boy!" Harley got a good, respectable grip on Bruce as soon as he let her. Scritching the sides of his neck and his face. "Who's a handsome boy? You're a handsome boy! How many baddies have you mauled, huh, Brucey?"

She'd remember why she was here in a second.

[totalwildcard]

Would it help with the focus that Harley stomped back, now brandishing a baseball bat with the word JACKPOT carved into it?

"Right!" she announced, much too bright in her tone. "I'm gonna count to three, and then I'm knockin' all the teeth right outta your pretty mouth!"

And then maybe figure out afterwards what that shade of lipstick was, 'cause it looked good on them. (What, you never held more than one thought in your head at the same time?)

"One."

[gotthatphd]

"Not again," Harley sighed.

Where had she kept that baseball bat all this time? Did it matter? She drew it. "I get it. Lashing out feels a lot better than confrontin' your feelings. But it ain't gonna fix anything, is it? Yer just gonna go right back to being lonely and miserable."

[totalwildcard]

"Two," Harley replied, pointing the bat at her, "and shut up! The last person I want doin' some shitty psychoanalysis on me is me!"

[gotthatphd]

"That's real healthy," Harley said, giving her own bath a twirl.

[totalwildcard]

Harley scowled.

"Oh, what do you know?"

And then she came swinging directly at Wrong Harley's head. No 'three' and no one was likely to be a all surprised by that, either.

[gotthatphd]

Did you know there was such a thing as a baseball bat parry? Well. Now you would. 'Cause Harley caught that bat with her own bat and shoved it right to the side.

"I'm like five years older than you! Minimum! So lots!"

She kicked out at Harley's stomach while she spoke. Multitasking!

[totalwildcard]

Harley made an 'oof' noise as the kick connected a little more than she would've liked it to. "Oh, you and I both know age doesn't mean shit!" she hissed, bouncing back. Taking another swing, meant more to keep any further kicks at bay than anything else. "That's just a lie parents that actually talk to their kids tell their kids!"

Bruce had backed away from this whole thing, but he was watching.

[gotthatphd]

"Oh, so you know me but I can't know you?! That doesn't seem fair to ME!"

You didn't need to shout that, Harls. Or be so aggressive about trying to smack that baseball bat out of other-Harley's hands with your own.

[totalwildcard]

Once again, it was good that Harley had no neighbors.

"If that upsets ya you can leave!"

Also Harley was holding onto her bat with both hands and swung it right into Wrong Harley's smack.

[gotthatphd]

It was Fandom. You'd think that even if Harley did have neighbors, they'd be understanding about the age-old tradition of superhero v. superhero (or in this case, retired supervillain v. retired supervillain) first-meeting combat!

"Nope!"

And now she was holding on to that baseball bat with all her might!

"I'm not leavin' till you talk to me!"

[totalwildcard]

Were the bats going to survive this? Time would tell! Possibly soon!

Harley took another swing.

"Why?!"

[gotthatphd]

"Because you need to talk to somebody!"

Harley ducked under the swing abruptly, spinning to the other side of Harley, bat firmly in hand.

"And because I don't want Pammy addin' to the mountain of guilt she's already carryin' on her pretty shoulders!"