Femme Fatale.

Chapter Four.

Before leaving the bar, Harley grabbed a tray of margaritas off the counter. Since she was already drunk, you were insisting that she give them to you. "Hey Harley? I think it's best if you give those to me." She swatted your hand away. "Hands off the drinks lady, I'm not sharing." You knew better than to mess with her. She was already pretty intimidating sober let alone drunk, so you just shrugged it off and continued to walk as Harley staggered in front of you.

Just as you were about to turn the corner, Harley extended her arm to keep you from walking. "What are you doing?" She put a finger to her lip. "I wanna see something." She peeked her head out from behind the wall and being the nosy person you are, you did the same. You saw a group of women sitting at a table. Why did she want to stop for this?

"Come on, she said that they are really broken up this time" "Sure they are Shell, That's why she's still wearing that tacky J necklace. She is going to be running back right into his arms the minute he snaps his fingers. If not him, then the next psycho alpha male with a pulse. Some people just aren't born to stand on their own." "Oh girl, let's drink!" 

You looked at Harley and your heart sank. She was clutching her J necklace while looking down. You weren't really sure what to do in a situation like this, so you offered her an awkward placed hand on her shoulder and a few words that would hopefully make her feel better. "Hey, it's okay. Don't listen to--" Before you could finish your thought, the tray of drinks that Harley was holding ended up on the ground in sheer frustration.

The sound caused the group of girls at the table to turn around. When they realized what had just happened, one of them called out to Harley, but Harley didn't give her the time of day. She just charged on and pretended not to hear.

It was time to show Gotham that Harley Quinn can stand on her own two feet.