[ God, he can't think when she's yapping like that. Harley's not even saying anything of value here, and as she cops an attitude with him, Joker asks himself yet again why he hasn't killed her yet.
Sure, he's tried, but usually in interesting, special ways. The rocket, the giant fish. Half a dozen others. All of which were wonderful in terms of showmanship, but they failed to actually get the job done. Now here he is, with Little Miss Saucebox mouthing off at him, and whose fault is that, if not his own?
He's put style over substance with her, and it's cost him. Joker knows what he needs to do, if he intends to stay sane in this hellplace. He has to shut this henchwench up, now, by any means necessary. She doesn't need a grand performance. There's no audience here, anyway, except for the hyenas. So why not just take a knife to her throat, very quickly, and be done with it? He can make like he's going to hold her, perhaps offer some bullshit apology to placate her and her fuzzy bodyguards, and then slice her open like an autumn hog before she even knows what's coming. Then he'll be free to return, distraction-free, to the business of figuring out how he got here and how best to escape. And he'll never have to endure listening to her prattle on again.
Yes, that's definitely what he should do. It's the only course of action that makes any sense. What good are her enhanced abilities, after all, if she makes it impossible for him to plan anything that would require them? All things considered, he'll be much better off without her.
He looks down at her, mentally saying goodbye. Goodbye, Obnoxious Pain in the Ass. Goodbye, Derivatively-Costumed Sycophant. Joker's gaze moves over her features, to remind himself of how much he despises her. He looks at her eyes, expecting to see nothing but stupid belligerence or fear in them, and is annoyed to find that, at the moment, they appear unnervingly alert and not even the slightest bit afraid. They're lovely, actually. Much more like Dr. Quinzel's had been. Focused. Fiery. Smart, even.
He looks at her mouth, which has always been pretty, and which looks even better with her makeup smeared. The normally crisp lines of black and white paint are a Franz Kline mess now, thanks to the combination of his slap and her own efforts, and Joker can see glimpses of her skin underneath. It's like the clown-makeup version of bedroom hair, like someone's just held her down and played rough with her. And damn, but it's oddly attractive. He wouldn't mind smearing her up a bit more, really...
His own eyes are still narrowed, but the look in them is changing from purely homicidal to something more complicated. He's not entirely sure if he wants to slit her throat or kiss it, and the struggle to decide registers briefly but visibly in his expression.
His gaze flicks to Bud, then to Lou. They certainly don't seem to think he should hurt her.
And perhaps they're right; perhaps he should hold off on killing her. Just for a minute. Hear her out, at the very least. Who knows? Maybe she has some ideas that might be useful. It's unlikely, but... Leave no stone unturned, right?
Just for survival's sake, of course.
He graces Harley with a condescending frown. ]
I don't suppose you have any theories to contribute?
no subject
Sure, he's tried, but usually in interesting, special ways. The rocket, the giant fish. Half a dozen others. All of which were wonderful in terms of showmanship, but they failed to actually get the job done. Now here he is, with Little Miss Saucebox mouthing off at him, and whose fault is that, if not his own?
He's put style over substance with her, and it's cost him. Joker knows what he needs to do, if he intends to stay sane in this hellplace. He has to shut this henchwench up, now, by any means necessary. She doesn't need a grand performance. There's no audience here, anyway, except for the hyenas. So why not just take a knife to her throat, very quickly, and be done with it? He can make like he's going to hold her, perhaps offer some bullshit apology to placate her and her fuzzy bodyguards, and then slice her open like an autumn hog before she even knows what's coming. Then he'll be free to return, distraction-free, to the business of figuring out how he got here and how best to escape. And he'll never have to endure listening to her prattle on again.
Yes, that's definitely what he should do. It's the only course of action that makes any sense. What good are her enhanced abilities, after all, if she makes it impossible for him to plan anything that would require them? All things considered, he'll be much better off without her.
He looks down at her, mentally saying goodbye. Goodbye, Obnoxious Pain in the Ass. Goodbye, Derivatively-Costumed Sycophant. Joker's gaze moves over her features, to remind himself of how much he despises her. He looks at her eyes, expecting to see nothing but stupid belligerence or fear in them, and is annoyed to find that, at the moment, they appear unnervingly alert and not even the slightest bit afraid. They're lovely, actually. Much more like Dr. Quinzel's had been. Focused. Fiery. Smart, even.
He looks at her mouth, which has always been pretty, and which looks even better with her makeup smeared. The normally crisp lines of black and white paint are a Franz Kline mess now, thanks to the combination of his slap and her own efforts, and Joker can see glimpses of her skin underneath. It's like the clown-makeup version of bedroom hair, like someone's just held her down and played rough with her. And damn, but it's oddly attractive. He wouldn't mind smearing her up a bit more, really...
His own eyes are still narrowed, but the look in them is changing from purely homicidal to something more complicated. He's not entirely sure if he wants to slit her throat or kiss it, and the struggle to decide registers briefly but visibly in his expression.
His gaze flicks to Bud, then to Lou. They certainly don't seem to think he should hurt her.
And perhaps they're right; perhaps he should hold off on killing her. Just for a minute. Hear her out, at the very least. Who knows? Maybe she has some ideas that might be useful. It's unlikely, but... Leave no stone unturned, right?
Just for survival's sake, of course.
He graces Harley with a condescending frown. ]
I don't suppose you have any theories to contribute?