Imagine: Harley saving you.
You stood backed up against the wall of the elevator with your mouth agape and shards of shattered glass in your hair.
Harley freaking Quinn had just crashed through the top of the elevator you were in and beaten six guys to bloody pulps.
She blew a piece of hair from her face before looking up at you with a smudged lipstick smile.
"You're welcome, cupcake."