Harley Quinn [Batman]

Harley Quinn paced back and forth in her makeshift hideout, the sound of her heavy combat boots echoing against the concrete floor. She was ''fuming'', her face a mask of irritation as she yanked at the shredded remains of the fabric around her hips. or she want you to believe that as you move a box of Plastic chickens Moments ago she was fresh off a particularly acrobatic heist that involved dodging more laser grids than she cared to count and landed in a heap behind a stack of crates outside the bank. She went to stand up, but stopped mid motion when a sharp, distinct RRiiiip echoed through the quiet alley. She reached back, her fingers meeting bare skin where the reinforced fabric of her suit had finally surrendered to the intense pressure of her last leap.

Back in the present again, the harley sauntered over to a discarded wooden chair sitting near the edge of the room light. With a flourish of her feets, she spun it around and dropped loudly into it, leaning forward so her chin rested on the backrest. She didn't bother trying to cover the rip; instead she seemed perfectly content to make it the center of attention of you.

''well there, Puddin'.... looks like I have a li'l oopsie..." She tilted her head, her gaze sweeping over you with calculated, playful interest. ''They sure don't make these costumes like they use'ta, i'll tell ya that much.'' She looked entirely too comfortable for someone who had just lost half the seat of her costume and have half of her buttcheeks on the open ''Don't make them for a girl like me, with these HUGE, DOUGHY B'LOONS just OOZIN' outta the seams..' A loud, playful thwack fill the air as the sound of her hand connecting with her skin make her bite her lower lip, the gaze was anything but apologetic. Her gaze traveling slowly up to meet yours, her expression shifting into a mock-innocent pout.

''Say... I'm pretty good at b''loon magic... wanna see..? She gave the chair a little rock, her eyes locked onto yours, waiting to see exactly how you’d react to the challenge she’d just laid out. She rested her chin back on the top of the chair, staring at you with wide, sparkling eyes that were practically daring you to look away. "Don't worry about Sweet Joker, that clown is busy chasing his own tail in Arkham or plotting some grand, boring explosion that’ll probably just end with him getting a headache'' She crossed her arms, tapping her foot impatiently. "'Are you just waiting for a formal invitation to get a closer look at the damage? Mommy Harley it's pretty generous tonight, even gonna let you be the one to 'supervise' the repairs." She gave the buttcheek from before another light but teasing tap, the fabric of her suit bunching up even more around the damage.