If fear was humanity's lifeblood, then guilt was its appendix - of questionable use and prone to leaving one sprawled in pain across the floor. At least that was if Jonathan Crane's philosophy held true - and, as far as Harley was concerned, it did, if only for the next forty-five minutes. No matter who her client might be - from Chuck Schmuck to the big, bad Scarecrow himself - she had long since found that the best way to try and understand her patients' problems was to try and see things through their eyes.
Jonathan rubbed his temples. "Am I really the unreasonable party here?"
Harley tapped her chin with her pen. "Would you prefer my personal or professional opinion?"
Jonathan smirked. "The latter can't count for much now that your license is revoked."
"Consider it a compliment, dear. There's not many others I'd seek it from."
"Aw, Prof, quit trying to make me blush." Harley leaned back in her plush armchair. Like most everything in her hideout, it followed no prevailing theme. Porcelain dolls decorated the shelves set into the surrounding walls, while the bookcase near the worn couch Jonathan was sitting atop was filled with yellowed paperbacks, the majority of which she'd had yet to get around to reading. A few potted plants filled what was left of the otherwise empty space. Ivy wasn't much of an interior designer herself, but they gave a breath of life to the otherwise dingy space.
"You seem to be in quite the conundrum."
Considering their professions, that was a given. Problems were constant. It was only their sizes that varied.
Jonathan snorted. "Just listening to myself, it all sounds so preposterous."
"This is Jervis we're talking about here." Harley lowered her voice. "He is a bit odd."
Jonathan chuckled. "I second your diagnosis."
"And I can certainly see why you'd get annoyed. Truthfully, I've always preferred coffee." Harley looked down to her notebook. "But I can also see where he's coming from, too."
Jonathan groaned. "Then why don't you join his little tea party so that I can get some breathing space?"
"I'm serious. Until last week, the poor guy had been in Arkham for almost a year. The stuff they give us there is many things, but I'd hesitate to call it food. It's no wonder he's gone a little hog wild since you two got out."
She certainly couldn't fault the guy. After one of her first Arkham escapes, she'd made a beeline for the nearest doughnut shop, GCPD be damned. There was nothing crueller than life without crullers.
"Well, I'd much prefer it if he kept that excitement to himself. He doesn't even bother knocking anymore, just comes racing into my lab - my lab! - with the latest cup." Jonathan's frown deepened. "At first, I'd just pour it down the sink once he left. Now, I'm sick of wasting both our times. Surely he has something more productive that he could be doing."
"Did you try saying no?"
"Do you know how to say no to a bucktoothed puppy?"
Harley shook her head. "Have you at least tried hinting at it?"
"I don't think I've been too subtle. Not that that's stopped him. No doubt he'll have a whole new pot ready for me when I get back. I wonder if he'll want to see me try it."
"Then I guess there really is only one solution here."
Jonathan's eyes gleamed. "Throwing him out?"
Harley's gaze narrowed. "Don't even think about it!"
"Fine," he huffed. "Then what do you suggest?"
"Here's my prescription: Give him some of his own medicine. There's got to be something you missed while in Arkham, right?" She pointed straight at Jonathan with a cherry red nail. "I say go and enjoy it while you can. Let Jervis join in on the festivities. Don't take no for an answer. Sooner or later, he'll understand what it's like to be in your straw-filled shoes."
"Do you really think that will work?"
"It can't hurt to try." Harley batted her eyelashes. "And if it doesn't, I'd always be willing to bat off other ideas with you."
Jonathan stood and stretched out his twiggy arms. "I'll hold you to that." The right side of his lips curved upwards. "Before I leave, how about I throw a drink together?"
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timeasmymeasure
Fill: DC - Harleen Quinzel & Jonathan Crane
Date: 2022-05-06 02:40 am (UTC)Jonathan rubbed his temples. "Am I really the unreasonable party here?"
Harley tapped her chin with her pen. "Would you prefer my personal or professional opinion?"
Jonathan smirked. "The latter can't count for much now that your license is revoked."
"Touché," Harley replied. "Still, you're the one who came here looking for advice."
"Consider it a compliment, dear. There's not many others I'd seek it from."
"Aw, Prof, quit trying to make me blush." Harley leaned back in her plush armchair. Like most everything in her hideout, it followed no prevailing theme. Porcelain dolls decorated the shelves set into the surrounding walls, while the bookcase near the worn couch Jonathan was sitting atop was filled with yellowed paperbacks, the majority of which she'd had yet to get around to reading. A few potted plants filled what was left of the otherwise empty space. Ivy wasn't much of an interior designer herself, but they gave a breath of life to the otherwise dingy space.
"You seem to be in quite the conundrum."
Considering their professions, that was a given. Problems were constant. It was only their sizes that varied.
Jonathan snorted. "Just listening to myself, it all sounds so preposterous."
"This is Jervis we're talking about here." Harley lowered her voice. "He is a bit odd."
Jonathan chuckled. "I second your diagnosis."
"And I can certainly see why you'd get annoyed. Truthfully, I've always preferred coffee." Harley looked down to her notebook. "But I can also see where he's coming from, too."
Jonathan groaned. "Then why don't you join his little tea party so that I can get some breathing space?"
"I'm serious. Until last week, the poor guy had been in Arkham for almost a year. The stuff they give us there is many things, but I'd hesitate to call it food. It's no wonder he's gone a little hog wild since you two got out."
She certainly couldn't fault the guy. After one of her first Arkham escapes, she'd made a beeline for the nearest doughnut shop, GCPD be damned. There was nothing crueller than life without crullers.
"Well, I'd much prefer it if he kept that excitement to himself. He doesn't even bother knocking anymore, just comes racing into my lab - my lab! - with the latest cup." Jonathan's frown deepened. "At first, I'd just pour it down the sink once he left. Now, I'm sick of wasting both our times. Surely he has something more productive that he could be doing."
"Did you try saying no?"
"Do you know how to say no to a bucktoothed puppy?"
Harley shook her head. "Have you at least tried hinting at it?"
"I don't think I've been too subtle. Not that that's stopped him. No doubt he'll have a whole new pot ready for me when I get back. I wonder if he'll want to see me try it."
"Then I guess there really is only one solution here."
Jonathan's eyes gleamed. "Throwing him out?"
Harley's gaze narrowed. "Don't even think about it!"
"Fine," he huffed. "Then what do you suggest?"
"Here's my prescription: Give him some of his own medicine. There's got to be something you missed while in Arkham, right?" She pointed straight at Jonathan with a cherry red nail. "I say go and enjoy it while you can. Let Jervis join in on the festivities. Don't take no for an answer. Sooner or later, he'll understand what it's like to be in your straw-filled shoes."
"Do you really think that will work?"
"It can't hurt to try." Harley batted her eyelashes. "And if it doesn't, I'd always be willing to bat off other ideas with you."
Jonathan stood and stretched out his twiggy arms. "I'll hold you to that." The right side of his lips curved upwards. "Before I leave, how about I throw a drink together?"