Amazing and Without Equal
Roleplaying Log: Amazing and Without Equal
Participants
IC Details
Synopsis:

Harley Quinn and Emery Papsworth go out for a night on the town because someone has to make certain the butler has fun. Who else but the QUEEN of fun?

Other Characters Referenced: Joker
IC Date: December 01, 2018
IC Location: Gotham
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 17 Jan 2019 19:13
Rating & Warnings: PG-13
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

Call me! Debbie Harry sang into Emery’s voicemail, On the liiine~ Call me, call me anytime! Call me! (Call me!) I’ll arrive… When you’re ready we can share the wine…

Pulling her burner phone away from her CD player, Harley Quinn put the phone up to her ear as she continued to paint her toenails.

“So,” her voice, Brooklyn-thick, cut in. The song continues in the background, but she’s more than loud enough to call over it, especially as it seems she had the phone right up to the speaker to let it crackle into the phone intelligibly. “I know yer probably busy as a business savvy escort at a boys’ school reunion right now, but I’d love ta get together! It’s been ages, and I need ta get a present t’ ya. So. CALL ME. Lemme know yer available to swing by somewhere after yer done doin’ whatever ya do durin’ respectable people hours so us unrespectable people get a shot atcha.”

She hung up. And waited for a call back.

…They always call back.

Okay, fine, they call back ten percent of the time. If you round up. No need to get all snooty about it.


The call back doesn’t happen right away, it is a few minutes. Well, that is, about half an hour before the phone rings and if answered the family Irish lilt comes over the receiver with a sof taking sound. “I wouldn’t say business savvy, but when I am going to any boys school reunion and aye, tings get real busy after that.” A warm chuckle and the soft sound of an Engine running, traffic passing.

Emery is dressed simply, a pair of comfortable black jeans, long sleeved cashmere hoodie and his hair left down for the day as he cruises along in his new black Charger.

“What’s up darlin’?”


“I tol’ you,” Harley sings back into the phone when she picks up, her voice bright and teasing as she tucks the burner phone into a place to pin it between her shoulder and ear. “I have a gift fer ya! But you need to be present ta get it! HA!”

What he can’t see is the way she bites her lower lip as her voice drops low. “C’moooon. You know yer curious. Here, one sec.”

A pause in her speaking gives way to the sound of the whirr of some small appliance. A vacuum? A blender? A sewing machine? It’s hard to tell, but it’s probably dangerous for somebody. She comes back once it stops, though.

Her voice sounds vacant as she asks, “What was I saying?”


“I get it.” Emery graces the young woman with a throaty chuckle, letting more of his lilt seep into his words and purring his rrr sounds. “Curious as cat blindfolded in a dairy, luv.”

His head cocked to the side at the sound of machinery and then just patiently offers. “You were about to give me the address where I can bring ye your present and you give me my own and we ‘ave a naughty spot of opening gifts before Christmas.”


“Ooh, right,” Harley retorts playfully, laughing right back in the proper timbre for the conversation. “I like the sound of that.” There’s another fit of giggling, and then the harlequin is back on track. “You got a pen?”

And what she gives is an address that will put Emery in a commercial district not far from the edge of the Narrows. And not just any address. A bar.

“I’ll be there in about an hour and can hang out as looong as you need me toooooo.” She clucks her tongue in such a way that it’s a fairly safe bet that she’s throwing a fair bit of innuendo into the meaning.


The off-duty Butler just has to laugh softly again as he commits the address to his memory and adjusts his GPS to head in the appropriate direction. Emery hmmm softly. “I’ll see ye then, luv.” He exhales softly.

There’s a click of the phone call ending on his end.


Harley hangs up the phone and then hums her way through getting dressed. Through getting her hyenas set up for a few hours alone. And then she’s off to her bike, cutting down the familiar streets of Gotham.

It’s not a far distance, really, from her present residence—a rundown apartment that she’s been squatting in for a couple of days while she tries to figure out what to do next—to the gentlemen’s club whose address she provided. It’s not the most upscale venue in town by any means, but it’s nice enough a place that they serve their drinks in clean cups and the women who are part of the scenery are about as well taken care of as one could hope for.

She gets in without trouble; they know her puddin’ even if this was never really his sort of place, and they don’t realize how oft their relationship has an ‘ex’ to preface it. No one really knows, anyway, whether they’re off or on, and they really would rather not end up on the angry side of a psychopathic clown.

It works for her, and she takes the admission. Tells the bouncer to keep an eye out for her friend coming behind and to let him in, too.

She’s dressed for a party with a couple of gift bags dangling from hands, sparkly bags of blue that shine silver. She sways in with her strapless red dress and black heels, hair up in a high ponytail, cosmetics particularly dramatic, and a huge pair of black chandelier earrings hanging against her alabaster-pale cheeks and neck.

And then she claims a round booth that faces the stage, sliding the bags in behind her. And then she waits.


Emery takes his time to actually look up the address to get a better idea where…the hell he is going to meet with Harley. There’s a long pause as he registers the location and by himself in that car he tilts his head back against the headrest to laugh to himself.

Then the Butler takes his time, by the time he arrives though he’s taken the time to replace the blue cashmere hoodie with a dark blue button down top, tucked into a pair of fitted black jeans, dark blue boots worn and he runs his fingers through his longish hair, leaving it down.. Last but not least he unbuttons the first couple buttons at his chests so the silver chain can show, that matches the tiny silver hoop in his left ear.

He saunters into the club, carrying a small gift bag that’s sparkly and rainbow colored and scans until he sees who he is looking for, making his way over with a quirk of an eyebrow. “It's like you know me all too well.”


“It’s like I went ta school fer learnin’ to read people or somethin’,” Quinn quips back, her smile a bright Cheshire grin as she slides over to make room in the C-curve of the booth. “But really. I mean, how often d’ya get to get out fer you?” Even as her shoulders squeeze in and she stretches her arms bare arms skywards. The still-red scar on her left shoulder stretches with the motion, but she bears it little mind. L

“It’s no good fer ya!” she continues loudly. “Ya gotta get out to do all the fun things in life before the whole thing passes ya by.” She pulls her hands in and then leans in across the table. “Anyway. Dim lights. Distracting scenery. Ain’t no one gonna notice yer here with me. Even if they should. I’m pretty damned distracting when I wanna be.” And they’re probably going to notice, her assurances to the contrary

Her next words come in a stage whisper, her heavily painted eyelids opening wide as she concludes: “Because I’m amazing and without equ—” Her eyes drop down to the bag, and her eyes open with pure, childish glee. “ISSAT MY PRESENT?!”

…People are definitely going to notice them.


There is another soft laugh as he slides into the booth and offers a one armed hug and a smirk. “Everybody has been asking and telling me the same thing lately.” Emery drawls with a shake of his head and a cheek kiss if allowed. He does look around though at the scenery and he takes it in with quiet appreciation.

“Look like ye thought it all out, darlin’.” And the Irish man sets the gift on the table and pushes it towards Harley with a small nod. “Aye, I wasn’t sure if I’d see ye before Christmas so I wanted to make sure ye got it. Even though I still tink Mercer should bring ye by to eat with the family.”

The bag is sparkly and colorful and such and inside, wrapped in sparkly silver, red and blue paper with elegantly curled ribbons are a few individual packages. One has a sleek silver and black eyeshadow pallet with sparkly and glittery colors of all sorts and it is in the shape of a unicorn with a small box of old fashioned lip colors…with ceramic pots with lids and elegant brushes.. The second has a box of glittery nail polish in different shades. The third has a set of 4 rhinestone encrusted hair pins, razor sharp at the ends but with little hanging star and hammer charms. Both hair accessories and weapons.


Harley does indeed allow the kiss to be set upon her cheek. As a matter of fact, as soon as she realizes its incoming, she happily offers the be-rouged thing up with a wide grin on her face. She is rarely one to turn away affection.

And as the gift is set out, the blonde bites her lower lip in giddiness. She waits until the count of two before she’s ripping apart the bag to reveal the contents with savage abandon. Cue shrieking, much to the chagrin of some of the nearby patrons who find that Quinn is very much disturbing their evening.

She really doesn’t care, although she does use her painted lips to exaggeratedly mouth an apology to the woman presently on stage who’s fighting to keep a straight face for Harley’s antics.

These are terrific,” Harley hisses loudly to Emery, already working on twisting her thick and fluffy blonde hair up into a bun in order to give the deadly pins a place to rest. She pauses in her work just long enough to flap a hand in the server’s direction to get her to come this way. Drinks are in order! Once that’s done, she nudges the few bags the she brought back in Emery’s direction. “Not everyone celebrates Christmahanukkah, so I’ll just say I appreciate the timing!”

She goes back to working her hair. “I gotcha a few things, too. Open ‘em now, huh?”

In the bags, Emery will find a collection of things. A bottle of Bailey’s. A mason jar filled with chocolate powder and tied up with rustic twine. A half dozen cube-shaped homemade marshmallows, but each one stamped with what would be recognized, if one is very good at puzzles, one of the silhouetted shapes from Lucky Charms. And then, in a bag unto itself, a bag of jumbo commercial marshmallows, graham crackers, Hershey bars, a bag of tea lights, and a tiny ceramic contraption that fancies itself an indoor S’more roaster by virtue of a label on the box.

As Emery goes along his path of discovery, she continues. “And it’s okay that Mercer doesn’t. He has his thing, yanno? I don’t need ta crowd in on it, yanno? If he wanted me there, he’d say somethin’. He hasn’t said somethin’, sooooo…” A bare shoulder shrugs. “I get tired of it, he’ll know. Doncha worry about that.” Blonde eyebrows waggle as she leans in and grins. “I don’t do so great when I get bored of somethin’.”


Something strong and in the form of hard liquor is requested of the server, a couple of hundreds held up between two fingers towards the server. “Jest bring the bottles, luv.” He drawls softly.

Then Emery is watching Harley’s reaction to the gifts with a small smile and quirk of an eyebrow and he has softly as he looks through the bags. Each new item discovered draws a soft chuckle or a snort from the Irishman as he murmurs a soft ‘thank you’ with each thing. Then he just finally cracks a dimpled grin and bows his head politely to Harley. “Well if ye aren’t the most thoughtful, I don’t know what ye are. Thank you ever so much…”

Then on to the topic of Mercer he just purses his lips and tilts his head to the side. “Well. If I do pack ye up a good holiday dinner and ‘ave it delivered to you, I don’t want to hear any complaints. Ye do what is comfortable for you.”


Each thank you that Emery offers her is drunk up, Harley looking like she’s ready to burst with pride by the final compliment that he pays her. And why shouldn’t she? She spends so much time being called insufficient and selfish that the uncommon sound is a precious elixir. More precious than the ones that Emery is ordering.

There’s a look that the server gives to Harley when Emery offers up the cash, and the blonde shrugs with a crooked smile as though to say, ‘Sure. Whatcha gonna do?’ And it’s only then that the other woman moves to take the money and go collect his bottles.

“Good luck on findin’ where ta deliver it,” Harley says of a delivered dinner, slumping forward like a satisfied rag doll to grin as she props her chin up on a fist. “But I’m a champ at carryout, so ya just lemme know if ya decide ta do that. I’ll never in my life turn down yer cookin’, I don’t think.”

There’s a long pause, and then Quinn crinkles her nose. “But if you’d ever be up fer other delivery services, lemme know. Might have a run I’d appreciate ya doin’ before the holidays.”

Suddenly uncomfortable, the clown leans back against the booth and—despite her smaller stature—stretches herself up to lay her hands along the cushioned back edge and watch the stage. “Yanno what? Nevermind,” she says in a rush, moving on. “Anyway. Life ain’t really ever about comfort. Ya getcher kicks where ya can. Ya getcher self up after the other kicks when ya gotta. Long as yer managin’ that, yer doin’ okay.”

She draws her eyes back briefly to Emery. “If anyone deserved better’n that, though… It’d be you, Bailey’s, I think.” Back to the stage her gaze goes to watch the latest pole trick there, her head going nearly forty-five degrees to one side in consideration.


The Irishman just taps his nose knowingly when Harley challenges his ability on figure out where to deliver things. “Ye forget, me magic ability is to find a way to feed people.” He winks and his eyes drift towards the entertainment appreciatively. He pulls out a wad of cash, secured with a rubber band and sets it on the table in preparation.

Emery did, however, catch that offer the woman tries to bulldoze past and his eyebrow just raises a fraction. “It depends on what the delivery is, Miss Harley.” He let rounds his vowels just a bit more, teasingly.

His head tilts back that comfortably, eyes drifting back towards the stage when she mentions that he deserves better and he gives a small shake of his head. “I’ve humbled meself years ago that it's best that I stay in a position to serve, and take care of other people.” He chuckles softly. “I’ve been alive for a long time luv. Kicking and being kicked is somethin’ I’ve never been able to avoid but…meetin’ people like yourself make it all worth it.”


There’s a deep pang of guilt that strikes at Harley. Because it feels like she maybe cares about him, too. And that means nothing but misery, because she’s not supposed to have friends.

But, when she’s most afraid that the thought might surface upon her features, she boisterously laughs to cover it. It’s the sound that so many equate to her madness, and it is of a kind. It draws more than one irritated eye in their direction, and it only makes the bisque-pale clown bolder for it as she leans forward just a tad to chomp threateningly at the air with her beautiful, perfect, pearly teeth on full display.

Unsurprisingly, no one really comes to say anything to her about it. This pleases her, and she has all the satisfaction of a cat with a canary in its belly as she settles back against the booth.

“I got family in Brooklyn,” she says, suddenly quiet and the sound nearly gets lost under the primal bass beat that pounds out of the sound system’s subwoofers. “And I got a few things for ‘em for Chistmahanukkah. But I… I need someone who can just run it there. Don’t even need to make eye contact. Jes’ leave it on the porch on Christmas Eve or somethin’.”

The clown rolls a hand without lifting her forearm more than is absolutely necessary for the movement. “Yanno how it goes. Reign as the height of terror in Gotham as a pasty faced schmuck’s right hand fer a bit and suddenly the holidays jes’ get so awkward.”

And it’s more awkward than that still, but Quinn doesn’t give voice to that.

“An’ I understand if ya don’t wanna.” She looks back in Emery’s direction, her gaze feral and sly as she leans in until she’s nearly upon him and he can maybe smell the sugary sweet of her breath and lip gloss. “I think crossin’ into Brooklyn is a bridge too far for most. Ha!”


The laughter and such that Harley displays only draws a gentle smile that flickers across his lips but shows more in his eyes. Emery just scratches his cheek and then picks up his glass of overly expensive whiskey to take a swig and give a small nod. “Just get me their address, luv, and I’ll make sure it gets delivered.”

Then he tilts his head to the side, stretching out his arm over his head as Harley leans in closer. Then he rolls his eyes and nods towards the stage. “I dun tink this one actually has a spinal column, look at that back bend…”

Then on the topic at hand. “I’ve crossed over oceans for far less darling. I’m sure I can handle the crossing into Brooklyn.”


As Emery commends the performer’s exquisite control and flexibility, Harley does indeed obediently turn her head to appreciate it. Her head again cocks hard to one side as her entire face contorts into an emphatic expression of ‘ooh’ with shiny pursed lips, but it means that her ear is turned towards him and can’t miss the sound of his agreement.

It brings her face sharply back in his direction, and her lower lids lift a beat later.

“Really?” she asks with a note of unmitigated surprise.


“Really.” Emery replies smoothly before quirking an eyebrow and taking another sip of his drink, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. “Cheese, Sex, Dinner, to piss on someone’s roses…” He laughs softly. “I tink a call to deliver somethin’ to family, is far more worth a short drive.”

Then he puts two fingers to his lips and whistles sharply at whoever is performing, glancing over to Harley for a moment and then back. “Did ye be wantin’ a lap dance, luv, or another bottle?”


Harley doesn’t give much in the way of notice or choice before she hurls herself in Emery’s direction to throw her bare arms around him. Unless he’s of a mind to physically shove and redirect her, he’ll find her face buried into his neck as she deals with the overwhelming rush of emotion that comes from the granting of a request that means more to her than he’ll ever know.

She doesn’t care that he’s holding a glass or that it could spill.

She doesn’t care that people may be watching.

Her voice is a quiet squeak. “Thank you.”

And then? She’s restoring to Emery his personal space, as she erupts in a sudden explosion of uncontainable energy. “But tonight’s supposed to be about spoiling you! I mean, if it’s all awkward with me here because I’m just too hot to have next to you while you enjoy the attentions of the nearly-as-bendy-as-me hottie up there, I can… You know. Find an elsewhere to be for fifteen minutes.”

There’s a soft ‘off’ and then a low chuckle at the reaction as he raises an arm reflexively to hold his drink out of the way before he wraps his other arm around Harley’s shoulders and giving her her squeeze and a dimpled grin before whispering softly. “You are welcome, mo leanbh.”

Then Emery throws his head back and lets out a louder laugh and rolls his eyes. “‘Nearly as bendy hunh?” He tusks softly before shaking his head and nodding towards the stage. “Then this will do, good company, good drink, and a helluva good show.”

As he settles in to appreciate the company, enjoy the drink, and feast his eyes on the show.

Nearly as bendy? Harley defiantly stands her ground on that point by way of a waggle of her eyebrows and a comically large and wolfish grin. Yes, nearly as bendy. She’s not gonna be shown up by anyone for nothin’.

As she’s given permission to stay, the mistress of mayhem curls her mouth up into something more evenly satisfied, and she nestles down into the too-large-for-a-party-of-two to simply watch, too.

…For now.

It’ll be a good and lively night, she can guarantee.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License