Dr. Quinzel

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"Huh? Where am I?" I sit up and look around at the mess surrounding me. I brush my hair over my head and tie it into a bun, then standing and straightening my attire. I squint my eyes and notice the container for my contact lenses sitting on the coffee table, then walking to it and putting my contacts in. I blink as my eye sight adjusts.

I feel my face cringe as I get a whiff of the sour stench in the room. "Uck." I groan, heading for the kitchen and under the sink, taking the air freshener and spraying over half of the bottle to hide the odor. After, I begin throwing old pizza boxes into a trash bag, along with empty soda cans and other useless trash.

After vacuuming, washing clothes and dishes, and finally cleaning the stains from the couch, the small apartment is pretty much spotless. I placed my hands on my hips and smile in satisfaction.

I head for the bathroom to piss, but am stopped by my reflection in the mirror. I stare in perturbation, completely appalled by my own face. I stroke my fingers across my bleach-white skin. It was surprisingly smooth. I then noticed my hair. Even to the root, it grew even lighter than bleach blonde—it was almost faded to a white. I sigh and shake my head at the damage, but finally peel my attention from the mirror and do my business.

Once finished, I head to the bedroom, ferreting about in the cluttered closet, mostly my clothes, very few of Wades. I pick out a red button up shirt, surprised I'd pick something so fancy, but can't find a bottom to match, so I slide into half red, half black custom made leggings and grab Wade's extra cash from the top drawer and head to New York & Company, a store I used to shop in for all my head-shrinking professional clothes.

I buy a few outfits and get a gift card, changing in the bathroom and making my way back 'home'.

Once I jitter the keys in the door and open it, across from me stands Wade, his back facing me as he looks around the room. He takes his mask off and turns to me, a bit surprised at my professional appearance but still packing that perverted grin.

"You cleaned up. This you saying sorry?"

"No..." I reply as I place the keys on the table and head to the bedroom with my bags. "Your place is filthy. No normal human being can live like that... but then again..." I turn my head over my shoulder. "You're no normal human, are you, Wade Wilson?" I smile and walk into the bedroom, placing the bags on the bed, digging in them and neatly hanging the clothes up.

In walks Wade, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pajama pants, nothing else covering him but a dirty marine corps shirt. He watches me as I hang the clothes, carefully taking the tags and stickers off.
"I like the new look. Whatcha call it, headshrinker?" He laughs.

"For your information... yes, actually... I guess I do."

"Ooh... lets play doctor. I'll be the patient, c'mon." He jumps on the bed and lays down. "Diagnose me, Doc. Gimme the news." He says in fake distress.

I turn and walk next to him, a sexy smirk on my face as I look his body up and down. I then slide myself next to him on the bed and cross my legs, folding my hands over my knees.
"I can see clear signs of a mental disorder, delusional disorder, dissociative disorder, manic syndrome, sexual fetishism... sociopathy, and oh so much more... but that's just from a personal point of view. I had my psychiatric license suspended." I stood and walked out to the kitchen to prepare a small meal. Wade followed.

"Jeez, Harley—"

"It's Harleen."

"Harleen? Since when?"

"Since now and always. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to make a sandwich before heading out to see if I can find some way out of this god forsaken universe."

"Woah, woah, woah, Harls... don't you wanna... fool around? Feel like I left with a lot of sexual tension. That's what I was aiming for, anyways. So, did it work? Did I leave you all hot and ready? I know a kiss from me might feel like you're kissing a dead guys shriveled up sack, but—"

"No, Wade, enough talking. Now I have those visuals stuck in my head... And for the record, your kiss was... at bare minimum, hardly adequate."

"Ouch, mama! Who shit in your cornflakes?"

"No one has shit in my cornflakes. I just finally have control over myself now, and I'd like to maintain a healthy lifestyle."

"Yum. What am I on that health pyramid of yours?"

"You're like empty carbs and sugar, you cause health and heart problems. I'd say I should cut you out of my diet."

"Yeah sure I can cause a heart attack or two, but ya can't let me go, can you?" He hugs me from behind. "I'm too sweet." He whispers.

"Let go of me you disgusting man." I push him away, turning back to my bread and meat, slapping the ham onto the bread slice and then the cheese.

"What the fuck, Harley? What happened to the you who begged me to let you stay? The Harley who didn't shower for a week straight?"

"Harley is gone."

"What?" He said softly as he walked next to me.

"I said, Harley is gone. My name is Harleen Quinzel. Harley is just a personality taken over created by the Joker. She was never meant to exist. She's asleep now, and will remain that way."

"Hmm... I diagnose you with bullshit. You're fucking with me, right? C'mon." He poked my side.

"If you were to properly diagnose me, I'd say I have a low level of multiple personality disorder and sociopathy."

Wade stared. "Wait you're serious?"

"Yes, Wade, I'm very serious." I placed both halves of the sandwich together and picked it up, taking a large bite out of it. "Mm. Delicious. I'll be on my way now." I push passed him and walked through the front door.

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