[log] Can't sleep, clown will... [closed]

[clowngirl]

Characters: Flynn Carsen, Nicole Noone, & Harley Quinn.
Location: Building 330
Date: Night 324
Summary: Harley tries to avoid the Joker and his anger after her death and resurrection. Flynn and Nicole offer to meet up with her to help.
Warnings: Mentions of abusive relationship likely.


[This building looks like it was constructed out of the remains of other houses, made of bare metal and a rough wooden door that doesn't keep out the wind as well at it might. All things considered, though, it's not bad for something made in this place in these sorts of conditions. The floor is metal as well, making it cold, and there are no windows, but it's better than being outside.

It's easy to say that Harley regrets picking this cold, dark sort of shack to meet up in. Especially since it feels like it takes forever for Flynn and Nicole to get there. Harley's mania has kept her awake almost the entire night and stretched out all her hours considerably. She's re-read her favorite of Norfinbury's dirty books, played some of Steph's homemade Sudoku, and now is currently attempting a game of marbles by tablet-light. Bent over with the tablet propped up on it's side, she tries to line up her next shot with the rest of the marbles spread out on the hard metal floor. Where were those two, she wonders?]

Comments

[cahooted]

[Flynn knows he's slowing them down.

He feels bad about it with Harley waiting and everything but there's not much he can do about it; the two days of digging in the snow and ice have him spent and exhausted. His muscles are sore, his gear feels like it's dragging him deeper and deeper into the snow with each tired step and he still feels a wave of nausea then and again when the memories of the exhumed body return to haunt him.

But even slugging along at half their usual speed they eventually reach their destination and Flynn heaves a sigh of relief. He pushes the door open with his shoulder and almost stumbles, then frowns at the metal floor and dark interior, squinting at the faint light inside and waiting for his eyes to adjust.]

Harley? Are you there?

[clowngirl]

[Harley pops up immediately, abandoning her game and fumbling around her person until she has a flashlight out and pointed at them.]

Flynn! Girl-Flynn! 'Zat really you?

I mean, it's gotta be you! 'Cause anomalies don't talk and Mr. J's good at disguises sometimes but he's not that good so it's you!

[She squeaks and launches herself at them to give them a half-hug each. As exhausted as poor Flynn may appear, Harley is just as much a pile of half-nervous energy, with no signs that she's coming down from the mania anytime soon.]

You made it!

[cahooted]

[Annnd that's a flashlight to his face. Suddenly blinded, Flynn squeezes his eyes shut and brings a hand up to shield it but smiles when he hears Harley's voice.]

Last I checked! Though if one wants to contest the point...

[He is about to make a (potentially bad) quip about reality and general Norfinbury existential dread but then he has an armful of Harley to deal with. Flynn heartily returns the hug with a relieved chuckle, then pulls back to search her face in the penumbra.]

Hi. Are you okay? Sorry we're late, it was, um, you know. The weather. The gear. The lack of muscles.

[clowngirl]

I'm great! [She certainly looks okay, outwardly. Ressurection does wonders for that. But then:] I mean, if you take away the whole fearin' for my life part. I think Mr. J might kill me for dyin' on him if he gets the chance. [Joker logic is always to be feared in such situations. She frowns.] He thinks I'm a real dummy for that.

[cahooted]

[Flynn immediately sobers at the news and her admission and his hand briefly squeezes her shoulder.]

Well, not on our watch.

[Not that he wants to put that to the test (at all) if they can help it in any way but Harley looks like she needs all the support and reassurance right now.]

It's okay, we'll be extra careful. Now there's three of us, right? So we can scout ahead, have watches, all those things, it's gonna be okay. And you're not a dummy.

[clowngirl]

Thanks, Flynny. [She doesn't sound like she's entirely sure of that last part, but she appreciates it all the same. It's comforting having the two of them here, even though she isn't sure what they'll do if they actually do run into the Joker.] I feel better havin' other folks around.

[A thought, as she glances over to her pile of marbles.] I forgot how boring it is by myself, too. [Of course, her lack of a sense of humor isn't helping that.] Hope you guys like games.

[cahooted]

[Flynn sincerely hopes they will never have to find out but it feels good to at least be able to give some emotional support.]

I can imagine. I'd feel a lot better, too, having people around.

[His eyes follow her gaze and then his face brightens.]

Oh wow. Are those marbels? Man, I haven't played marbles since I was... [He pauses ever so briefly, running his hand through his hair.] Well, since I was very little. It's been a long time. Did you find them here?

[clowngirl]

[Harley makes a mental note to help out in case a crazy ex of Flynn's ever shows up. He doesn't seem like the sort to have dated a mass-murderer, but you never know. College can be a crazy time.

She smiles and goes back to crouching over her marbles.] I traded for 'em. Totally worth it. Wanna play? Helps take your mind off some of the bad stuff.

[cahooted]

Yeah, sure. [He moves over to join her, if only because sitting sounds amazing.]

Hang on, actually, this might make it better... [He detaches his fake fur carpet from his gear, rolling it out on the cold metal floor to sit on and give them at least a little comfort and insulation.]

Every day while traveling I want to leave this thing behind and then I remember how wonderful it is once we get somewhere. Wish it wasn't so heavy.

Oh hey, have you eaten? Did you find any food after you, uh. You woke up?

[clowngirl]

Ooh, comfy... [Harley resettles herself on the faux fur rug. Heavy or not, it sure is handy. Her tush thanks him.]

I woke up with some water and food rations but nothin' to write home about. Tell me you got somethin' good?

[cahooted]

Yep, definitely better. Who designed this floor? That's just screaming bladder infection...

[Which might not be the best subject right now. Or ever.

Moving on to the food.]

Some vending machine leftovers. Nothing to write home about but it's sugar? [He digs through his pockets, eager to share a little treat after the horrible thing she went through.] I'm sure I've got it here somewhere... ah! There we go.

[clowngirl]

[Harley shifts uncomfortably at the mention of bladder infections. Suddenly that was the last thing she needed right now.

But yeah, food.]

Sugar, sugar, sugar!

[She bounces a little in place and hold out her hands, like a hyperactive child.]

Please no sugar allergy death price please no sugar allergy death price please no sugar allergy death price...

[cahooted]

So you haven't found out what your loss is yet?

[He looks a bit apprehensive all of sudden.] You don't actually think this candy could put you into anaphylactic shock, do you?

[clowngirl]

Nooo, no. It's gotta be bigger than that, right? [Plus she wants that damn sugar.] I mean, Doc Watson couldn't even emote after he got back.

Maybe you can help me figure it out?

[cahooted]

Sure.

[Alright, he'll let you have it.]

Maybe it's your love for make-up? Because I couldn't help but notice that... [He makes a small hand gesture towards her face.]

[clowngirl]

Oh? Oh! Yeah, the whole clown gig just wasn't workin' for me anymore. [She waves it off.] The make-up, the jester cowl, the entire shtick.

[cahooted]

Oookay.

[His eyebrows shoot up into his forehead at that.]

I think we're on to something here because that doesn't sound like you at all.

[clowngirl]

Really? It made perfect sense at the time. It just wasn't... funny no more.

[cahooted]

... That doesn't really sound like you either. How do you mean?

[clowngirl]

It just seemed dumb. Bein' a clown. I mean, we're fightin' for our lives out here, it's serious.

[cahooted]

[Flynn... really can't argue with that because hey, he agrees 100% there. But somehow it doesn't feel right to nod along emphatically.]

Maybe you lost being... a clown?

[clowngirl]

That's... Is that bad? I feel like that should be bad. That's kind of a big deal, right? I don't feel very clowny right now at all.

[cahooted]

I don't know.

[He rubs the back of his neck.] I think it's... okay? You didn't lose a sense or what you can eat or your memories and... I guess you can just go back to being a clown when or if it comes back?