Harley stood outside of a diner downtown. Across the street the Wayne building towers over the rest of the city. She looks down at a card in her hand that read: "Banty" Private Investigators. She found the card laying on the ground outside of the GCPD. She's had this card for a long time. She's not sure what initially possessed her to stop and pick it up. Maybe it was the picture of the antique scales of justice on it? Maybe she had thought it would make a nice tattoo for her puddin?
But she never thought she'd actually need to hire a private investigator. Yet, here she stood, about to meet with one. She was pretty sure that the Joker was cheating on her. The signs were definitely there. But even though her gut knew it was true, she still had to know for sure.
When she called the number on the card some woman answered. She told Harley to meet her here at this diner. She told her she'd be in the booth in the very back. So she draws in a breath and walks into the diner. It's quite crowded. Too crowded to make out if the woman had made it yet. As Harley works her way through the crowded diner she sees the back of a woman's head. Her hair was long, dark, and arrow straight.
Harley turns on a smile and plops down across from the woman. She was small in stature. She was what any man would consider attractive. Her large expressive eyes meet with Harley's. Her lips slightly part in surprise because she knows exactly who Harley Quinn is.
Harley's eyes slightly narrow, "I can see by tha look on yer face that ya know who I am. I assume yer also wonderin' if ya wanna do this now."
"You're half right," she says, her amber eyes unblinking. "I do know who you are. But what I was wondering, is if you're going to actually pay me for my services, or manipulate them out of me?"
Harley smiles, "Yer probably smart ta wonder that." Harley reaches into her purse and pulls out an envelope stuffed with money. "I don't know whut yer normal fee is," she tosses the envelope onto the table, "but that oughta cover it."
The woman's eyes fall onto the envelope. She hesitates for a moment and reaches across the table and picks it up.
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She thumbs through the cash. There had to be at least ten thousand dollars there. The woman reaches into her own purse and pulls out a marker. She starts putting lines on random bills.
"Whut are ya doin?" Harley asks her.
"I'm making sure they aren't counterfeit," the woman says, fully concentrated on the money.
"Trust issues?" Harley smirks.
"Call it whatever you like," the woman sighs. When she finishes what she's doing she puts the envelope in her purse. She draws in a breath as she stares at Harley. She wondered what the job would be. Would it be legal? She extends her hand out to Harley. "Julia Paradise. I'm the owner of "Banty" Private Investigators."
Harley takes her hand, "Harley Quinn, pleased ta meet ya. So whut's with tha "Banty"? Why not Paradise Private Investigators? That has a nicer ring ta it."
