nexus_crossings | Enjoying the Feeling of Freedom

Enjoying the Feeling of Freedom

For the past couple of weeks or so, Harley Quinn has been exploring the vastness of the Nexus. She has not really returned to her door (and might have forgotten where she had left it). Instead, she has been enjoying the freedom of being able to go anywhere, and just living her life to the fullest. It is a nice break from reality... and perhaps the main reason why she has not tried to go back home.

And she has been surviving on her pure wits. It is nice to fend for herself.

Right now, she is leaned on a bench, watching people come and go. Inspiration hits and she gets an idea for a question. "Okay! You are stuck in the Nexus, and can only have three objects with you. What would you want to have?"

Does the question have to do the fact that she only has three objects on her person right now (besides her clothing)? Possibly...

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He’d been kidding about the superhero thing, because she doesn’t seem the type. You know, since super heroes don’t normally do armed robbery.

What she describes is so sad, though. How she can be upbeat about it makes it worse. He can’t imagine someone sending a pretty young woman on a suicide mission. That’s just cold. And Harley seems nice enough, how can no one care what happens to her? But she doesn’t seem like she’s lying about it.

“Sounds shitty,” he says simply in response, not being in the habit of asking invasive follow-up questions.

In regard to his own unfortunate demise, he waves a hand dismissively. “It’s in the past. Don’t worry about it, Cowgirl.” Smirk. Why yes that is some retaliation for calling him ‘sweetheart,’ which isn’t cool but can slide for now because he feels sorry for her.

Now Freddy has asked for it. Him calling her 'cowgirl' gets the biggest smile from Harley. And she approaches to fling her arms around his neck.

He does have time to avoid the physical contact (if he doesn't want to be embraced by the pretty young woman).

"You know what you need? Drinks!"

Hey, he’s not complaining. Just blushing faintly.

Mostly he’s happy he made someone else happy. And he brightens at the suggestion of drinks.

“Let’s go find us a saloon then. What type of place you in the mood for?” Alien punk rock bar? Prohibition era speakeasy? A literal Old West style cantina? The Nexus has so much weird shit, the possibilities are endless. Being unemployed, Freddy’s not had much to do besides wander around checking it out. Unless Harley’s got somewhere specific in mind, he can lead the way.

"If it has drinks, I am game for anything..." Harley will let Freddy choose their destination. She can literally handle anything he throws at her.

Well, all right then. Budget's going to have to be a factor though.

Freddy likes music, so they’re off to a grungy little bar with a horror theme that’s usually got a live band on weekends. It’s run by zombies, which might also be why Freddy likes it, even though he knows he’s not really considered one of them. It’s located in a cellar and is, predictably, called Six Feet Under.

It takes a little while to find on account of how often stuff’s moving around in the Nexus, but a black flag with a dancing skeleton makes it easy to recognize.

Harley might be like a shiny beacon in this bar. She is so colorful, compared to the grungy setting. But she does enjoy the setting.

She finds them a table. And smiles, as she looks around. She loves the horror theme of the bar. And at least there is no 'creepy clowns' around.

"Great place!"

No creepy clowns, thankfully. Maybe Freddy’s got a warped sense of humor to still enjoy a macabre horror theme after dying in a pool of his own blood, but he’s no Joker. Quite the opposite, since he’s a superhero wanna-be.

“Booze is cheap too. What would you like?” he asks, lighting a cigarette. That they allow indoor smoking is also very important to this chain-smoker, who can’t understand what happened to make the habit so frowned upon.

"Just a beer would be great." Harley is not picky when it comes to alcohol. It takes a lot to get her drunk, due to her enhanced abilities, but she still enjoys the taste of it.

He heads off to the bar, returning a couple minutes later. There’s a beer for Harley, and a rum and coke for himself.

“You got something we can toast to?”

If he seems cheerful, it’s because Harley’s a breath of fresh air. The Nexus has a lot of intense, serious types that he's not sure how to approach. It’s nice to have met someone with a lightness to them.

Harley smiles, and noting that Freddy decided on a rum and coke, decides to be a little playful for her toast.

"Here's to our good old dear whiskey,
So amber and so clear, though bit risky;
'Tis not so sweet as a pretty woman's lips,
But certainly more beckoning than those hips."

And she raises her beer bottle at the end of the toast.

"If beer were an ocean, and I was a duck,
I’d swim to the bottom and drink my way up.
But the ocean's not beer, and I’m not a duck,
So here’s to us, now let’s get fucked up.”

Cheers, Harley Quinn.

Again, he makes her laugh. Harley is definitely enjoying her time tonight.

"So tell me, are you still sleeping on benches, or have you found a place to settle down for a little?"

“Nah, I got a hotel right now. It ain’t the Four Seasons, but it’s better than a bench.” Basically, he bullshitted the owner into giving him until the end of the month to pay. It’s kind of a shit hole, and Freddy’s a good talker, so it's what they worked out.

“How about you? Still sleeping rough?”

"Oh sweetheart, when you are used to sleeping on a prison cot... a bench is not sleeping rough." Harley twirls her hair slightly.

He taps some ash into the ashtray, watching the embers glow at the end of his cigarette.

"I've never slept on a prison cot, but I used to be a cop."

He mentions it as casually as he can, and looks up to gauge her reaction. He doesn’t like mentioning his job too much, or former job rather, but he’s also learned some valuable lessons about lying about your identity to friends. Since lies of omission count as lies, he figures he should tell her now that she’s brought up prison.

"Were you one of those cops that are on the take... or one who actually tried to do good for their community?" Harley continues to twirl her hair.

"Does it make any difference?"

He was one who tried...

"I could never stand the attitudes of the ones who were on the take. They acted all high and mighty, even though they were breaking the rules themselves..."

"I did time for breaking rules. I never got why they didn't..."

"Yeah, I know, it's fucked up. It's super fucked up."

Cops can be assholes. He knows that very well.

"I wasn't on the take," he admits after a moment of heavy silence. He was an insufferable do-gooder, who was not down for those type of shenanigans.

"Good." Harley claps her hands for a moment. "'Cause I would like to be your friend. And I ain't going to be friends with a corrupted cop."

Aw, she’s so cute. He can't help but smile.

“Well, you’re in luck then because I ain’t a crooked cop, and I would like to be your friend too.”

He holds out his hand for her to shake.

Cute, but deadly.

Harley gladly shakes his offered hand. "Deal!"

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Enjoying the Feeling of Freedom

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