<| Jarley OneShots |>

Gotham (1930)//61.

Info:If the Joker was a Crime Boss in 1930's Gotham and he meets Harleen Quinzel.-

<<<Harley's P.O.V>>>

I was fixing my hair and makeup as I was preparing to put on a show with the rest of the girls to finish off the night. Our large dresses were fit tightly around our torsos but flowed out from the waist. I was adjusting the suspenders on my stockings when we were called on stage.

We all plastered on grins, holding each other's hands, gripping them tightly to try and reassure the other that it was finally the last dance of the night. We lined up as practiced and once the music played and the cheers from the hungry men died down, we began our routine. Kicking our legs up as high as possible, trying to stay in sync.

But half way through the routine a sudden chillness filled the air and I couldn't help but look to the door. A strange man had entered, along with an entourage of black pin-stripe suited men, each looking as mean as the one beside them. He sat down at the back of the restaurant, not paying too much attention to our dance.

I paid little attention to him after that, and proceeded to wow the crowd with the rest of the girls. Soon the show drew to a close, and we were allowed to go back into the dressing rooms to change. The bar was still open till later, but the show ended early, before any drunks would become unmanageable.

I picked up my small bag and slung it around my shoulder. My very light blonde curls bounced on my shoulders as I blew a kiss to the girls who were on waitress duty tonight. I grabbed my beige trench coat off the coat rack and smiled. I was a free bird.

I strutted out the door and back into the large room facing the stage. Some men stared but others were rude enough to whistle and catcall, forcing me to give polite smiles and lower my head.

I was close to leaving until one man decided to grab my forearm, holding it tightly in his grip. He leaned forward and I could smell the whiskey off his breath, "Why don't you do another show for me at my hotel?" He asked, his crooked yellow teeth staring at me as his hairline was near invisible.

Before I could answer him back, another man's voice broke out from the crowd. "Why dont'cha leave the gal alone?" His voice was sharp and assertive, and had power or authority laced into his tone. He stepped beside me and that's when I took in his features. He had unusual green hair, an extremely pale face, and a small tattoo of a 'J' under his eye.

It was definitely the man I had seen when the show was on. I stayed silent, and turned back to the other man, who looked deeply offended. "Who the hell do you think you are?" He asked, taking a step forward threateningly.

As soon as he did so, the rest of the mysterious man's entourage stood up, taking their places behind him, like hounds obeying their owner. "Now, why don't you just turn around, or my friend over here will have to deal with you outside?" He questioned the drunk, pointing to a large man who began to crack his knuckles in his palm.

The guy gave up, and waved his hand with a huff. "You alright darlin'?" My saviour asked me.

I turned to him, and couldn't help but stare into his icy blue orbs, which seemed almost unreal. At that moment I cursed myself because no words were being formed and I was left with my mouth agape, staring stupidly at him.

"If you keep doin' that I'll have to start counting the flies that go in there." He joked, causing me to close my teeth together, my cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

"Y-Yes I'm fine, thank you for that, Mistah...?" I asked politely, smiling sweetly up at him.

"Just call me J, doll." He answered, sending me a cheeky wink.