snowblindrpg | [log] Event: Breaking Down [open]

[He doesn't answer the first question. The last thing he needs if Harley knowing what he looks like. There's a reason House has a preference for text.]

Shared. It's happened before. There're monsters, so watch out, kid. Find somewhere to hide and run from anything not human.

[she shivers. the air seems much, much colder; and maybe the switch is sudden. maybe it isn't. frowning, she edges closer.

harley is almost overtaken by a loneliness, a feeling that she doesn't belong and isn't good enough, but it's easy enough to ignore. she isn't here. this isn't real. shared hallucinations are a rare enough phenomenon, but maybe this is some kind of folie à deux.]

If there're monsters, we'd probably better stick together, then. I'm Harley; ya've probably seen me on the network. I talk with Steph an' Maggie a lot!

Royce. Royce Melborn. [He has enough sense not to tell her who he actually is after some of their conversations. And Royce is more anti-social than he is, especially on the network. Hopefully, Harley hasn't bothered with him.] I'm @duster on the network.

Not looking to travel with anyone. Unless you're looking to throw yourself on the sword if we run into one of them.

Nice ta meetcha, Dusty!

[he's lying, but she isn't going to let that stop her. even more reason to get to know him, find out what's going on. she sticks out her hand, offering a friendly grin. no need to call him out so soon.]

Lucky for you, we ain't travelin'! We're talkin'. I'm Harley Quinn, but my pals jus' call me Harley! So, what's your story?

[She is way too bubbly in-person. What is it about chicks from Steph's world? Granted, this is... the second chick. But still. He just looks at her hand and doesn't take it. Instead, he lets his tone and expression flatten to something deadpan.]

I'm an assassin. That's my story.

Edited 2017-03-25 00:22 (UTC)

Uh-huh. An assassin. What weapon do ya favor, Dusty?

[she grabs for his hand and shakes it, seemingly ignorant of his attempts to avoid contact. if he doesn't get away in time, she has a firm handshake, though her fingers are moving just a bit too much. trying to see if callouses will tell his story, even if he won't.]

Me, I'm partial to big ol' mallets, but I haven't been able ta find anythin' of the sort here! That, and I'm not an assassin!

[The most prominent callouses on his right hand are on the tips of his thumb and index finger from strumming his guitar. There's really nothing else more than some light callouses on his palm, just below the base of his fingers where he's spent a lifetime gripping things. A lack of callouses may be just as telling as an abundance of them, though. These are not the hands of a manual laborer.

House just continues to give her a flat look as he yanks his hand away.]

Knives. Knives from here to Rivendell and back. [He doesn't remember if Royce ever told him where he was from.] I like pinning people like bugs before I carve 'em up. [There's a little more emotion in House's tone that he can't quite keep at bay, but it might be difficult to discern as fear.]

[huh. she files that info away for later, still grinning as sweetly as possible. not that he seems like the kind of guy to be charmed by a cutie like harley, but hey. it's worth a shot.]

Huh. That's real funny, Dusty. Most of the assassins I know try ta be all quiet and subtle and whatnot. Yanno, so they don't get caught.

[she glances around, suddenly very certain that someone must be out there--watching them, maybe. they should keep moving. but this guy is lying to her, and she wants to know why.

that, and she hates being alone.]

Whaddaya pin the vics with? More knives?

Not much point here. No one punishes you for murder around here apart from putting your name on a big, scary list.

[House's own attention turns to the 'street' beyond the alleyway as Harley looks around. In spite of her being the Joker's girl, she's not nearly as high on the list of 'threats' as other things. There's nothing there for the moment, but his voice is a little tighter with tension.]

Yep. Knives. Knives for days, babe. Or shivs. The admin doesn't put out nearly enough knives. Scalpels work, too.

[she was referring to the modus operandi of pinning victims to the wall and chopping them up with knives, but sure, not-dusty. that's a reasonable thing, that actual assassins would totally do.]

Babe, huh? Yanno, I ain't exactly spoken for, but you also ain't exactly my type, as far as I can tell.

[she swallows, noticing how scared he seems to be. and she feels it too--there's this overwhelming fear that permeates absolutely everything. she shifts from foot to foot, before glancing at his face again.]

You seem ta have one hell of a sense of humor, huh?

What can I say? I love to leave 'em laughing. It's much less annoying than crying.

[They're making each other nervous, building on the tension, and it's really not helping. At all.]

Yeah, you're real funny, all right.

[definitely not an assassin. definitely not royce. and in terms of temperament alone, he's significantly different from almost everyone she's spoken to. and that's a pretty big almost.]

Ya gonna move with me, or do I hafta drag ya? It's definitely better ta not be alone in this freakazoid place.

I was fine before you came along, clownette. [He should probably be more careful about his choice of words, but being so on edge has him reverting to a more natural accent and lexicon.] Keep walking and find your own alleyway to hide in.

"Clownette." "Babe." Ridiculous amount of sarcasm, and a massive misunderstandin' of how assassins usually function.

[she checks each thing off on a gloved hand, folding down four fingers by the end of her sentence. when harley grins, this time, it's more smirk than nervousness, unlike before.]

Not ta mention an intense distaste for socializin' with perfectly nice young ladies, and a refusal to compromise your pride by admittin' how scared ya are.

[without warning, she jumps him. within seconds, house will find himself with a beaming clown girl's arms wrapped around him. it's entirely possible that the force of her hug throws them both to the ground, but that depends on how capable house is of fending off the attack.]

Studly!! Time ta fill your prescription!!

[House startles at the jump, too keyed up not to. But he only gets his arms up before they're toppling over, Harley wrapped around him like a limpet.]

Get the hell off of me! [It's snapped, but he doesn't actually try to shove her. Yet.]

[she snickers on top of him, planting a big ol smooch on his cheek, before getting up and dusting herself off. house will have a dark maroon lipstick stain on his cheek that will prove pretty difficult to get off. sorry.]

Well, it's about time I met ya in person! I sure didn't expect a grumpy old guy to have pretty baby blues!

[she grins, twirling a pigtail around her finger.]

So, tell me, why'd ya lie ta me, Housey? That ain't very nice.

[House doesn't grin back. If anything, his scowl deepens as he pushes himself up and moves away from her. He rubs briskly at his cheek, only smearing the lipstick.]

You tackle me, and you wanna know why I lied to you about who I was?

Actually, I hugged ya. You should be flattered.

[her tone is airy, and she can't keep the grin off her face. terrifying hellscape be damned. this is hilarious.]

See, now we can start off on the right foot! Just you an' me, studly! Two certified physicians against the nightmare hellscape world! Ain'tcha so glad we ran into each other?

You tackled me. And no. I'm not.

[He doesn't really want to turn his back on her, thoughts of the Joker swirling in his head--especially after that kiss--but he starts edging further into the dark alleyway.]

Also, I'm pretty sure you're not certified anymore. Bye.

I hugged ya!

[lucky for house, his back won't be turned on her for long. her pigtails bob as she skips up to walk alongside him, grinning brilliantly, as though this is perfectly normal.

god, she's lonely. don't leave her alone.]

Nope, the board took away my certification after the first time I let Puddin' out!

[ah, the sacrifices you make for love.]

[The fear of being abandoned creeps into House by degrees, itching under his skin. He glances over at her in irritation.]

Don't you have somewhere better to be? Like anywhere that's not next to me? I don't like you. Go away.

[Allow him to be blunt, 'cute' clown girl.]

Nope!

[she continues skipping beside him, seemingly undeterred by his harsh words. aren't you so thrilled with your new bff, gregory?

she can't stand being alone.

that, and she's pretty sure that she could run faster than him, if it came down to it.]

That's a shame. I think you're a real funny guy! No wonder Puddin' seems ta like ya so much, from how ya tell it. But I don't wanna talk about the clown.

[she really, really doesn't.]

[His eyes narrow on her.]

Really? 'Cause I was thinking we could talk all about him. Me'n old Jokey go back since he arrived. I outted him as a psychopath. He got kinda mad about that. First time he killed. Knife to the heart. Talk about on the nose, right? Or on the aorta.

I ain't responsible for the Joker's actions.

[her voice is curt, frosty, and missing most of her usual humor. she doesn't want to think about him. not here, not now. and not with house--she's already overshared way too much at him. after a moment, she wipes her remaining greasepaint off on her sleeve and peels her domino mask off. her eyes are blue, and someone observant could tell from the pale blue rings around her irises that she's got contacts. probably has left them in for far too long, too.

for some reason, it feels much better not to be a clown here.

she twists her pigtail around her finger as she keeps time with house's steps, narrowing her eyes at him. her voice grows a little more towards playful.]

Sounds like he likes ya, though.

Nope. We're sworn enemies. At least I declared my sworn enemy-ness last month.

[House tries to walk faster, outpacing Harley with his longer stride.]

You look like you're about twelve with those pigtails, by the way. And you need eyedrops or you're gonna give yourself an infection wearing those contacts constantly. Nobody likes a girl with a cornea ulcer.

Edited 2017-03-27 03:51 (UTC)

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