[ some people might call her ink tacky, but some people also might call a lot of what harley quinn is tacky just by looking at her. bright colors, unapologetically stark makeup (even if she hasn't had a chance to fully touch herself up since she got here and that crimson lip is looking a tad smudged), clothes that look like she took a bedazzler to them herself. but beneath the woman with the face tattoos and rings on almost every single one of her fingers is someone who pays close attention to most things — even if she gives off the impression that her attention span is as flighty as a hummingbird's. (sometimes it is, but sometimes her mind is as dangerous as a steel beartrap.)
the sliding descent of his hand prompts a quiet hum from her, and clearly she's not that bothered by where it ends up if the way she stays put is any indication. it takes a lot to get her to stay still this long, and the fact that she hasn't budged is a sign all on its own, watching him intently as he speaks. maybe she just likes what she sees.
and when he poses the idea of a game she gasps, mouth dropping open slightly, and there's no hint of it being insincere or mocking to any degree. she's just that excited to play, nodding her head a few times with an accompanying sway of her ponytails. ]
Yeah, I like that. And we just keep goin'? Sounds like a fun way to get to know each other a little better, Sam-Samuel Drake. [ yes, she knows that's not actually his name, but she can have a little fun teasing him too, running an index finger along the front buttons of his shirt. ] 'Least until we get too distracted to talk.
( there are a lot of things he missed in prison — trashy television, ball games, traveling the world in search of treasure — but one of the things he missed most is these casual, indulgent moments of physical intimacy with total strangers. (he's fallen into bed with women all over the world, in different languages, but always just for one night; even if he can't remember all their names, he remembers how they felt, the taste of their lips, the scent of their hair, and every one of them was unique.) having been denied it so long, it's something he craves even more now, and he can't help but feel a warm twist of satisfaction when harley hums her approval.
hell, he practically laughs when her face lights up at his proposition. it's been a long time since he's been around anyone this enthusiastic (his brother doesn't count, for obvious reasons, but even if he did, they didn't see each other fifteen years, either). her energy feeds into his and his face cracks open a little wider, a little more boyish, a little less smarmy.
his tongue darts out to wet his lips when her finger drags down his chest. )
That's the idea. ( he slides his hand a little higher up her thigh, giving it an encouraging squeeze. ) Ladies first.
[ it's been more than a minute since she did her own time, but even that wasn't pretty — max-security prisons are no joke, and belle reve wasn't exactly five-star accommodations on top of that. still, she'd found her fun where she could, fucking around with the guards and finding ways to amuse herself even from behind bars that had an electric current running through them after a while. being busted out by her now-ex had been one of the last romantic things he'd ever really done for her, and since their break-up, she's been drifting along by herself, not necessarily looking to tie herself down to anybody else any time soon.
but that doesn't mean she can't have fun while she can, with someone who seems just as into her as she is into him — at least for tonight. she's got no expectations that this is going to really go anywhere, but why let that stop her? ]
And they say chivalry is dead. [ she tilts her head, looking over him, and considers leaning in to steal a kiss from him then and there at that brief glimpse of tongue that leaves his mouth shining, practically inviting her to leave some of her lipstick behind. she wonders what would happen if she did, if they'd just skip the game altogether and find a darker corner to take each other's clothes off. ]
Hmmm. [ she makes a show of thinking about it, though, before adjusting her weight in his lap with another wriggle of hips. ] Wait, okay, I got it. [ she ticks them off on her fingers, one at a time. ] I got my PhD in psychiatry from GCU. I almost went to the Olympics for gymnastics. And, um... my favorite thing to eat for breakfast is pancakes. [ she straightens up, looking down at him with a close-lipped grin. ] Okay. Now you gotta guess.
( he was raised by catholic nuns for a good portion of his childhood so chivalry was practically beaten into him. running with mobsters maybe beat it out of him, and the whole stint in prison certainly didn't do him any favors in the "respect women" department, but he's a gentleman in all the ways one might expect from a man with an ego the size of mount rushmore — he'll hold open doors or say ladies first and he would never hit a lady unless she hit him first, but he has been known to underestimate women simply because he thinks he's always got the advantage.
so when harley lists off her three facts, he takes his time to carefully consider which one she's lying about — and which one might throw him into the most hot water if he's wrong. the last thing he wants to do is offend her and kill the mood, especially considering that last little hip wiggle of hers went straight to his dick. (so his intentions in not insulting her might be a little selfish, so sue him.)
he's also a decade and a half behind the times, so who's to say she doesn't have a phd? women are perfectly capable of getting phds, even if she doesn't look the academic type. but phds are also time consuming, so assuming she put in the effort, he can't imagine she'd have time to do that and train for the olympics, which is another heavily time consuming investment on its own.
and who doesn't love pancakes? )
Alright. ( here goes nothing. ) Gonna say ... you never almost made it to the Olympics.
[ if she knew a thing or two about his background they'd be one more thing they'd have in common; she wound up on the business end of a paddle way too many times at st. bernadette's, but not always because she was an unintentional troublemaker. no, sometimes she really did something knowing she'd get caught and punished for it. and maybe it gave her more of an appreciation for a good hard spanking, but only when it's more consensual. one of many takeaways from her last relationship? she needs somebody who will respect her boundaries.
honestly, there's nothing that he could guess that would really offend her in any way. she's learned to let a lot of things slide off her back, as the type of girl who's rubbed elbows with a lot of gotham's criminal element — which means ending up having all kinds of insults leveraged at her, from the unoriginal to the really very creative. so somebody underestimating her, or maybe not thinking she's earned a phd in her life? that's not something she's necessarily gonna hold against them — not when there are so many better things she could hold in its place against him.
so she looks at him expectantly, but before he can even finish making his guess she shakes her head, pressing her lips together through a smile that tries to fight its way through anyway. ]
Nuh uh. What I like for breakfast's a nice, big, hot... bacon egg and cheese sandwich. [ she beams triumphantly, leaning into him as one hand trails an index finger down the front of his body. ] So wait, does that mean I win? You gotta take somethin' off for me now?
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001—
[ some people might call her ink tacky, but some people also might call a lot of what harley quinn is tacky just by looking at her. bright colors, unapologetically stark makeup (even if she hasn't had a chance to fully touch herself up since she got here and that crimson lip is looking a tad smudged), clothes that look like she took a bedazzler to them herself. but beneath the woman with the face tattoos and rings on almost every single one of her fingers is someone who pays close attention to most things — even if she gives off the impression that her attention span is as flighty as a hummingbird's. (sometimes it is, but sometimes her mind is as dangerous as a steel beartrap.)
the sliding descent of his hand prompts a quiet hum from her, and clearly she's not that bothered by where it ends up if the way she stays put is any indication. it takes a lot to get her to stay still this long, and the fact that she hasn't budged is a sign all on its own, watching him intently as he speaks. maybe she just likes what she sees.
and when he poses the idea of a game she gasps, mouth dropping open slightly, and there's no hint of it being insincere or mocking to any degree. she's just that excited to play, nodding her head a few times with an accompanying sway of her ponytails. ]
Yeah, I like that. And we just keep goin'? Sounds like a fun way to get to know each other a little better, Sam-Samuel Drake. [ yes, she knows that's not actually his name, but she can have a little fun teasing him too, running an index finger along the front buttons of his shirt. ] 'Least until we get too distracted to talk.
no subject
hell, he practically laughs when her face lights up at his proposition. it's been a long time since he's been around anyone this enthusiastic (his brother doesn't count, for obvious reasons, but even if he did, they didn't see each other fifteen years, either). her energy feeds into his and his face cracks open a little wider, a little more boyish, a little less smarmy.
his tongue darts out to wet his lips when her finger drags down his chest. )
That's the idea. ( he slides his hand a little higher up her thigh, giving it an encouraging squeeze. ) Ladies first.
no subject
but that doesn't mean she can't have fun while she can, with someone who seems just as into her as she is into him — at least for tonight. she's got no expectations that this is going to really go anywhere, but why let that stop her? ]
And they say chivalry is dead. [ she tilts her head, looking over him, and considers leaning in to steal a kiss from him then and there at that brief glimpse of tongue that leaves his mouth shining, practically inviting her to leave some of her lipstick behind. she wonders what would happen if she did, if they'd just skip the game altogether and find a darker corner to take each other's clothes off. ]
Hmmm. [ she makes a show of thinking about it, though, before adjusting her weight in his lap with another wriggle of hips. ] Wait, okay, I got it. [ she ticks them off on her fingers, one at a time. ] I got my PhD in psychiatry from GCU. I almost went to the Olympics for gymnastics. And, um... my favorite thing to eat for breakfast is pancakes. [ she straightens up, looking down at him with a close-lipped grin. ] Okay. Now you gotta guess.
no subject
so when harley lists off her three facts, he takes his time to carefully consider which one she's lying about — and which one might throw him into the most hot water if he's wrong. the last thing he wants to do is offend her and kill the mood, especially considering that last little hip wiggle of hers went straight to his dick. (so his intentions in not insulting her might be a little selfish, so sue him.)
he's also a decade and a half behind the times, so who's to say she doesn't have a phd? women are perfectly capable of getting phds, even if she doesn't look the academic type. but phds are also time consuming, so assuming she put in the effort, he can't imagine she'd have time to do that and train for the olympics, which is another heavily time consuming investment on its own.
and who doesn't love pancakes? )
Alright. ( here goes nothing. ) Gonna say ... you never almost made it to the Olympics.
no subject
honestly, there's nothing that he could guess that would really offend her in any way. she's learned to let a lot of things slide off her back, as the type of girl who's rubbed elbows with a lot of gotham's criminal element — which means ending up having all kinds of insults leveraged at her, from the unoriginal to the really very creative. so somebody underestimating her, or maybe not thinking she's earned a phd in her life? that's not something she's necessarily gonna hold against them — not when there are so many better things she could hold in its place against him.
so she looks at him expectantly, but before he can even finish making his guess she shakes her head, pressing her lips together through a smile that tries to fight its way through anyway. ]
Nuh uh. What I like for breakfast's a nice, big, hot... bacon egg and cheese sandwich. [ she beams triumphantly, leaning into him as one hand trails an index finger down the front of his body. ] So wait, does that mean I win? You gotta take somethin' off for me now?