Eddie flinches even before his yellow-green lava lamp cracks against his skull, spilling its contents over his head and shoulders. He'd assumed her fascination with the item to be mindless rather than murderous, yet he must have underestimated her. A grave mistake.
Perhaps he should have tied her up with the measuring tape first before attempting to apply it.
"Ick," she complains as warm, colored water splashes her.
"Why did you hit me?" he asks indignantly, although he should have asked if she plans on replacing the lamp.
"Your advances flatter me, Eddie," she says, "and while I appreciate your enthusiasm for kink, I don't think we're at this stage in our relationship yet." She twirls the measuring tape around a finger, her gaze as heated as the wax dribbling from Eddie's hair. He clears his throat, settling back to clean his splotchy glasses. "You know Mister J was my one and only. He wouldn't like me foolin' around with ya. Sorry to get your hopes up."
"What are you--oh, I get it. You think my attention to you is about romantic interest. I should have known a brainless dummy such as you--"
"--wouldn't understand the genius behind my actions. Alas, nobody understands it."
Harley sighs dramatically. "Enlighten me then. Before you go all self-pity on me."
"I need to measure you in order to calculate the best--"
"You want my measurements?"
Eddie rolls his eyes. This kid really is as dense as they say. "I want your height and weight."
"No way I'm tellin' you my weight. What d'ya need it for, anyway?"
"So I can cook us a nutritionally perfect meal, of course. I can prepare one for myself, naturally, but in order to cook one for you I'll first need to establish--"
"You want to cook for me?" The girl perks up.
"Well..." He doesn't really want to, but watching her eat out of a packet of potato chips is revolting and his mind's already compiling the menu. All he needs is data. "Yes."
She beams. "Can't you just double the amount of whatever you're making for yourself?"
"No! It wouldn't be perfectly calculated to your nutritional needs."
"I'd eat it."
"...Of course you would."
He doesn't even know why he bothers. Except that he does. He requires an intellectual challenge, since Batman is ignoring him and his ingenious riddles again. Instead, Eddie is faced with the intellectually challenged. As usual.
Eddie doesn't need Batman or Harley. He doesn't need anyone. Humans. They're all beneath him anyway. Nobody ever quite matches his intellect.
It's not arrogance, it's fact. A fact that isolates him once in a while. Which is fine. He's perfectly capable of holding stimulating conversations with himself.
Yet... sometimes it's nice not to have to. Sometimes it's nice to be distracted. Even if his companion lacks both in social grace and brainpower. Then again, so does everyone else.
A pity about his lava lamp, though. Its soothing effect would have been welcome now.