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"That was fun." Harley slings her bat over her shoulder and steps over the unconscious donut-munchers she has piled in the dirt. Did they really think they'd have a chance against her? Probably not, but it's their job to try. Kinda cute, really.

Her unlaced boots barely make a sound, cushioned by weeds sprouting through the cracks in the floor. Vines wave to her and hungry-mouthed plants open and close, waiting for a taste of something human. Harley grins and caresses the greenery she passes.

"Love what you've done with the place, Red." Unlocking the cell door, she holds it open for her chlorophyll-blooded friend, who's had a minor change of style since their last meeting. "And with your hair."

Pammy smiles and pats the red wisps at her nape. "Thank you, Harley. This dump was in desperate need of a woman's touch. All that gray and brown. Atrocious."

She shakes her head and the petals in her hair quiver. Pammy looks so refined with her hair done up and adorned with flowers. Could've adopted that style sooner. It's just... a little at odds with her choice of dress. Harley stares down Ivy's sinfully long and sinfully bare legs. What does she need pheromones with a body like that?

Beautiful and exotic. Like one of Gauguin's Tahitian girls, her better half supplies. Are you calling me an old letch, Harleen? she thinks back.

"Speaking of woman's touch," Harley says, grinning triumphantly. "I clobbered the Batbrat real good, didn't I?"

"Impressively."

*

"Scaredycrow sent me," Harley explains on their way out of the police station. Guards litter the floor, bruised and bloodied. "I would've sent myself if I'd known you'd gotten yourself locked up again."

"I'll send you a homing pigeon next time," Ivy says drily. She's getting tired of prisons. "How come you're working with Crane all of a sudden?"

Harley's cheerful face twists into a mask of hatred. "Payback," she growls, rage quivering in every line of her body. "We're taking him down. This time for good."

Do these people never grow tired of these games? Their grudges are pointless if they don't exact their revenge. Batman is nothing to Ivy. Unless he stands in her way. But Harley doesn't need to hear that now.

"Cute dress, by the way."

Harley starts, then beams again. "Ain't it?" When she twirls, her skirts flutter and sway about her hips, almost like a caress. "Wanna see what I'm wearing underneath?"

Ivy smirks. "It can wait until we've left this godforsaken city."

"Okie-dokie. Look forward to it," she winks. "What d'ya say to my new ride?"

A mess of chrome and steel. "A... Harley, Harley?"

"Oh, you get it! I knew you would," Harley cheers. "Hop on."

"Absolutely not." Ivy crosses her arms.

"What? Why?"

"Do you have any idea how the exhaust fumes affect the environment?"

"Lalala, I can't fly us to Gotham," Harley in turn crosses her arms, pouting. "And here I was hopin' for some gropin' from the back seat."