Difference between revisions of "2019-11-03 - Observational Skills"

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Latest revision as of 00:16, 4 November 2019


Observational Skills

Summary: Harleen shows off her skills and nearly sucks the UR into oblivion.



Who: Constantine, Harley Quinn, Liyara Skutters
When: November 3rd, 2019
Where: The Usual Restaurant


Constantine-icon.gifHarley Quinn-icon.gifLiyara-icon.gifSkutters-icon.gif

The information contained within this log is to be considered information gained Out of Character (OOC).
This information may not be used as In Character (IC) knowledge or in roleplay unless it has been learned in-game or permission has been granted by the parties involved.

Questions should be directed to staff.


The Usual Restaurant(#1836RV)
You walk into a very large restaurant with high ceilings that leave the rafters exposed. Fluorescent lamps hang from the ceiling, adding light to the floor and tables. Windows adorn the sides of the place, looking out onto the chaos that is Twisted. On some of the walls are paintings, photographs, and holograms of different movies, and a number of people who tend to visit the UR - caught as they're singing karaoke. The hardwood bar rests at the back of the restaurant, surface polished and shiny and all-together spotless (most of the time). Behind the bar are the various beverages that are serveed, and a giant mirror. There seem to be an inordinate amount of different drinks. A large stage rests in one of the corners of the restaurant, with an amazing sound system and a few microphones strung around it. Multiple round wooden tables are in the room, and a swing door leads into the kitchen. Another door leads to the dance club, and another to the gym. And of course, there's an exit. A large fireplace nestles in one of the walls, with a beautiful stone chimney that flows up and out. A long spiral staircase rests near the entrance to the kitchen, leading to a second-floor balcony that overlooks the UR itself. The lights up there are a bit dimmer than those down below.


After the last time she showed her face in the Usual, Liyara has been avoiding the restaurant. One might think she would be wandering around in a depressive funk after she discovered how many realities were adjacent to the restaurant, but she was over that after less than an hour. Truthfully, she'd been avoiding the place because she didn't think leaning on it as a crutch would advance her aptitude with or understanding of the arts. The real challenge was getting things to work in spite of the distance to the Usual on the outside. It took a while. And yes, there was that unfortunate incident with the clown. But she figured it out. She got actual working images of adjacent universes. This should be her victory lap.

And yet, Liyara doesn't look particularly excited when she calmly strides into the Usual Restaurant. She looks calm and collected, and is pointedly not doing the fist pump that one might expect of her. And why should she? Celebrating over something a first-day sorcerer can accomplish with no more than a half an hour's practice? That's not an accomplishment. The headmaster of the Tolarian academy holds herself to a higher standard.

Glancing around to make sure noone is glaring at her from when she almost-but-totally-did-not blow them up, Liyara will move to take a seat and order some beef.

You may have read that and pictured a hamburger or a steak, or perhaps some ribs. Try again. This time imagine the entire cow.


Several minutes later the front door is shoved open by Twisted's favorite out-of-work psychiatrist, Harleen Quinzel. Bits of her jester costume are hanging out of the purse slung over her shoulder and she's looking particularly frazzled. "BARKEEP?!" she demands of no one in particular. "GIMMIE A DRINK." With a huff she grabs the nearest stool and plops down, her head going immediately down on the bar in defeat and a fairly loud thud.


Liyara is quite proud of the amount of food she puts away; she has never lost an eating contest to any humanoid in her life, and as a result, she has decided it is one of her main skills. If you're good at something, own it. If you're great at something, flaunt it. If you're the best? Make sure everyone knows it.

It shouldn't be possible for someone to order a full cow's worth of meat and receive it right away, and yet, somehow, Liyara's food arrives in less than a minute. This is probably a coincidence. There probably aren't a crack team of black-ops scutters watching the area for her approach and giving the cooks advance warning. Probably.

When she hears Harley Quinn enter the usual, Liyara glances over, and then leans in the psychiatrist's direction. " Rough day, dear?"


Harleen slowly sits up, pulling off her glasses in the process. "No one wants a shrink. Nobody's willing to pay me enough to make sticking around worth it." She lifts her other hand to show the tiniest amount she can, "I'm this close ta goin' back ta my old ways." Her hand flops onto the bartop again. "If I can't keep straight here, then maybe it's time ta let ol' Harleen go back in the closet." Her eyes start to water as she tilts her head back to look at the ceiling. "I went through so much work ta get heeeeere." Welp, she's openly sobbing. Good job, world.


"A shrink?" Liyara furrows her brows at that, then her eyes glass over, searching through the many books she's archived since her arrival only to find... nothing. Colloquialisms were by and large not present in the dictionaries and encyclopedias she read. "...Dreadful sorry dear, but what is a 'shrink'?" She honestly doesn't know, and the young lady seems so sad. Maybe she just needs an ear to listen.

But just because she's listening, doesn't mean Liyara ignores that cow for long. She glances back at it, her lips parting just a bit. Noone would mistake it for a sexy come hither look, however. There's the tiniest bit of fire-drool in the corner of her lips. Teeny tiny flames licking at it and everything. Yeah. She's hungry. But images to upkeep and all that.


Harley wipes her eyes on her arm, sitting up straight again and offering Liyara a dismissive wave. "Yeah, of course... I'm a psychiatrist. I fix people's mental problems by listening and offering medical advice." She puts a hand to her chest, modestly. "An' I'm very good at it, thank you." Pausing to finally take her purse off, she drops it on the bar and sweatdrops realizing her costume is hanging out. After a moment's consideration she decides to leave it so. "But ya fall in love with your patient and become his psychopathic partner in crime and suddenly no one wants ta give you a fair chance when you spend years rehabilitatin' an' goin' straight." She crosses her arms defiantly. "Stupid Bats. Stupid capes. Stupid..." She kicks the bar. "Stupid everyone!!" There's only going to be more of this if you keep asking questions. Eat your dinner.


John Constantine comes sauntering into the Usual. "I'd buy a round if the booze wasn't already free." Oh, a happy wizard. Well, a *satisifed* wizard anyway. Constantine does not seem to be the type to be actually happy.


"Fascinating!" Liyara proclaims, her eyes lidding a bit. "...And you say noone is interested in this service? How strange. Between you and me..." Liyara glances around conspiratorially. "...I think a lot of the people around here have problems that need addressing." You don't say.

Liyara straightens up and turns her attention to her cow. "...What's your going rate?" She glances down at her fork and knife, looking at them like they are wholly foreign to her, then shakes her head and reaches for the cow, licking her lips. Fire-spittle flicks off her tongue and onto the cow, which roasts significantly further than it has already been cooked. And then she begins eating. She doesn't even notice John enter the Usual. Sometimes she gets a little absorbed in her meals.

There aren't actually words for the violence done to the dead cow. Truthfully, noone has ever invented a word in any language for the way fire-breath and liquid-fire excoriate food down to the bone whilst completely cleaning the meat from it. And when Liyara sets her hands down again, while the bones of almost an entire cow remain, they are charred and blackened. The meat is gone. All of it. She licks her lips after, fire cleansing any little bits that might remain around her mouth. Who needs napkins?


Harleen smacks her palm on the bar after Liyara lowers her voice, defeating the purpose entirely. "THAT'S WHAT I SAID!! This place ABSOLUTELY needs someone of my services." Then she sighs heavily, "But my goin' rate doesn't matter much when literally no one is willing to give me a chance since Luna packed up and took my last job with her." Of course Constantine walks in, distracting her from the conversation and giving her reason to push her costume the rest of the way into her purse. "Heya Blondie! You back to give me another shot?" This could very well brighten her day. Of course this is also a public place so there's no reason he'd be here specifically because she was. A sideglance is given to Liyara before he can answer though, causing Harleen to comment, "Wow. I'd say you could give Crock a run for his money, but he eats the bones too."


Liyara takes a deep breath, and then waves a skutter down, asking to see a list of the Usual's other entrees. Apparently the cow wasn't sufficient. Somehow. As Constantine notices, this doesn't make a whole lot of sense, as the cow was actually larger than Liyara. She's a buck twenty five, soaking wet. Best not to think about it. Down that path lies madness.

"Well, if you won't tell me, it can't be helped, but..." Liyara fishes into her pouch, pulling out ten gold coins. That's a month's rent where she's from, or a week's if the inn is particularly classy. She tosses them through the air towards Harley... and then...

SHINY!

Liyara's other hand snakes out and catches the last coin out of the air, almost on instinct, leaving the other nine to land on the bar in front of Harleen. She looks surprised for the briefest of seconds, before suppressing the look and quietly slipping the last coin back into her pouch. She meant to do that. Clearly she had simply overpaid. It wasn't an instinctive reflex. You're all crazy. She's not.

"...Why not give me a demonstration of your craft?" What? On whom?

And then she glances over to Constantine. It's probably unrelated. Probably.

"...You seem chipper, Mister Trenchcoat." She's just going to start addressing him by his coat now? Alright.


Harleen's face falls when Constantine declines her offer yet again, making her wish she'd continued getting him drunk so she could have stolen his wallet last time. Her annoyance is short-lived when suddenly she's involved in a drive by golden shower. (Not that kind, ya creeps!) The part time clown doesn't know how to react to someone randomly throwing money at her. She tries not to reenact the coin snatching herself but doesn't hesitate to start grabbing the coins and stacking them neatly. "You... want a demonstration?" She shrugs and puts her glasses back on, smoothing her hair back and crossing her legs. "Okay." Well this should be interesting. "You're obviously new to Twisted, probably unwilling to realize there was no cosmic force at work bringing you here but simple dumb luck. You've got an air about you of someone who is used to being in charge, or at least feared by those around you - commanding respect through your actions, your gestures, and the grandiose way you feast on an abundant amount of food meaning either you have the constitution of a larger beast or you simply enjoy the way it strikes fears in the minds of those you view as lesser beings around you." She looks Liyara down from top to bottom. "Your clothing also suggests nobility, but not in a showy way, but one that seems practical and functional. Implying further that you are of some important rank or status from the world you come from, which also supports the idea that you're used to being in power. Probably feel pangs of isolation and hopelessness due to being pulled out of your element." She points at the slight drops of drools on her face, "Yet your arrogance and lack of manners when it comes to eating suggests that either your sloppy, which doesn't become you, or you've recently decided you've had a bit of a victory. Probably relating to the nature of your current situation, meaning you've ended up figuring out something about this place that will either elevate your rank or find you returning home." Harley pauses and smiles wide at this point, "How's that?"


John Constantine nods a bit as Harleen cold reads Liyara. It's a skill, he's got a bit of it himself, but he has nothing on a true expert. Which she is, like most trained shrinks. He seems satisfied with the demo, even if it wasn't aimed at *him*.


Liyara blinks at Harleen's read of her. Twice. Then her eyes light up, and she applauds quietly, in that sort of dignified way that is totally at odds with her eating mannerisms. "Exquisite! So close! Are you sure you're not a psychic?" She ... actually looks delighted. "That was worth the full platinum, surely!" She fishes the tenth gold coin back out of her pouch and tosses it Harleen's way.

SHINY!

Liyara's left hand twitches, but she manages to keep it under control. She can only undermine herself so many times per minute. "...Why wouldn't people want your services? They're delightful!" ... Most people aren't quite as proud of their socially-unacceptable traits as you are, Liyara.


This coin is caught out of the air and proudly added to the stack. "If I was psychic I wouldn't be trying so hard to find work. I think most people are scared of what they'll hear, not realizing the benefit of an outside observer who can point out where and how people can improve themselves." She casts a sideglance at Constantine. "Either that or they're just too wound up in themselves to let someone else in not realizing how little those secrets would phase someone who's gone down the rabbit hole herself enough to come out the other side better than she went into it." With a sigh she takes off her glasses again, sitting down a little more carefully. "Besides, I've gotta find a way to get enough coin to get my babies back from the Gotham Zoo and that's not been going very well. If I can't work out how to do it without turning back ta... my old habits, then maybe I wasn't ever worthy of being a psychiatrist in the first place."


John Constantine grins. "It's called cold reading," John says. "Practiced by detectives, counselors and shrinks, and people who want to convince people they're psychic. And often by actual psychics too, 'cause sometimes it's just plain easier."


Liyara listens to Harleen explain her situation, and raises an eyebrow when the blonde seems to throw shade at Constantine. "That last one seems oddly specific..." Well, everyone has their hangups. And their one-sided loves. Human dramas. Liyara does so enjoy them, as long as she controls when and how she guest-stars. "...Well, being self-aware is definitely key to self-improvement. But I've noticed that some people..." Humans, mostly. "...prefer to avoid introspection, and plow forward without a second thought. It really is quite impressive." That's one word for it.

The dragon-woman looks to Constantine with lidded eyes, once again, and runs a finger along her lower lip for a moment. When the digit comes in contact with the bit of fire still lingering on her lips, she looks mildly surprised as a small halo erupts around her finger. Tiny flames flicker int he air before evaporating. She blinks, then settles in on a slightly predatory-looking smile.

"So now I understand her attitude. But what's got you looking so..." Don't say smug. Don't say upbeat. Definitely don't say normal! "...content?" Nice. That's a good word. No negative connnations there. Good job, brain!


"Oh, solved a minor mystery." John leans against the bar. "Gaining an understanding of how the occult works around here."


Harleen mockingly mouths John's words after he dismisses her skills as simply a cold reading. She says nothing though. Childish, maybe, but this was a conversation about her professional situation at least before it turned focus towards Columbo. Oh, what does she care if she insults him. He's already dismissed her twice. "Scruff MacGruff's found out about the occult? Did ya go down ta Ray's and start reading comic books or somethin'?" See! She could have saved him the effort if he'd talked to her! Her arms are again crossed. "Did it reveal some big secret, or did you just send in the coupon for instructions on how to draw?" Yeah, she's being mean to him on purpose. He should be more impressed with her skills.


"Oh, you too?" Liyara does her level best to make her comment sound casual and flippant, as if it was only natural that they'd both figure the place out. She's practiced delivering casual one-liners so often, it almost softens the memory of her nearly blowing up the restaurant last week. Almost.

"As it so happens..." Liyara begins, looking from Harleen to John. "...I did have something of a victory today, myself. But you first." She arches a slender finger Constantine's way. "I'm always in one of my good moods. Yours seem..." Few and far between? Rare? Nonexistent? "...less constant."

As she leans back to wait for Constantine's response, there's a jingle from her pouch. She's definitely got more coins where Harley's came from. One wonders how hard it would be to convince her to part with more coins.


John Constantine snorts a bit. "Oh, I found Ray's forever ago. Quite the interesting establishment." He's not bothered. Apparently she doesn't like the cold reading term, but perhaps it's not as dismissive as she thinks. "I think I scared the clerk."


Somewhere, entirely off scene, Kylie Griffin just broke the pencil she was writing with angrily. Harley meanwhile is starting to wonder why Constantine seems to be dodging Liyara's questions and it's making her eye him more suspiciously. It's almost like he's trying to ignore her. "Look, don't get me in between you two unless you want to pay someone to be a mediator. I'm done butting into lovers quarrels." THAT should get them talking, or yelling defensively at her. Same thing in the long run, really.


"Lover's quarrel?" Liyara raises an eyebrow at Harley's question, then glances at Constantine, and then puts a hand to her chest, miming a realization as to Harley's meaning. She adopts a look of wide-eyed and innocent surprise for a moment, before laughing raucously. "Oh, my, no. I don't..." Like humans? Get romantically involved? Want to risk the demonic wrath of his enemies? "...even know him!" Oh. That works, too.

She does look happy, now, though. Inwardly, though, she's a little offended. Constantine seems like one of the 'impressive' humans, and even one of the handsome ones from what she can tell but it's not entirely about individual merit. Sometimes it's the principle of the thing.


John Constantine laughs ringingly. "I mean, you're kind of hot, but not *quite* my usual type," John quips. "But no, most of the mystery was something I got hired to do, and it wouldn't be right to spread it about. People don't like that, ya know.



Nobles don't date peasants, headmasters don't date students, and dragons don't date humans. That's just common sense, isn't it? Harley isn't the first person who doesn't seem to understand, either. Just the other day a young man asked Liyarar out on a date, too. Perhaps it's not common sense around here; all the more reason for Liyara to make it clear now. "I am hot, aren't I?" She fans herself in a clear attempt to play off the compliment, making it clear that she's hardly humble. Inwardly? She knows perfectly well that she's everyone's type. Given that obvious 'fact', Liyara is very impressed at how smoothly Constantine played it off. Game recognizes game, or so she read on the internet.

"Well, if John isn't going to go, then I will." Liyara leans against the bar on one arm, glancing between John and Harleen with lidded eyes. She seems to think everyone is hanging on her words, which makes sense if all that Harley said was true, but may be an overestimation of her natural charisma. "...I've managed to record visuals from adjacent planes." She tries to play up the casualness once again, because it's hardly an impressive arcane feat under normal circumstances. But she spent an entire week on just this, so the pride is still audible in her voice, despite her efforts.


John Constantine arches an eyebrow. "Advanced scrying spell, then?" Now he's intrigued. He's laying bets Liyara will try to tell him humans aren't strong enough to cast it, mind.


Harleen rolls her eyes at Constantine. If he's not going to compliment the lady, "Well, I think you're hot, even if Columbo here don't." She smiles a little devilishly but doesn't say much to the rest of it. Scrying. Adjacent planes. The jester in disguise lets out a sigh, "I just use the passage way under the chessboard back in Arkham. I mean ya could do this the hard way, but there's passages everywhere." Wait, what is she implying?


"Somewhat." Liyara effortlessly avoids admitting it is the lowest-possible tier arcane sensor, by keeping in mind that she had to make an incredible, mind-boggling amount of modification to the rituals to get them to work. So if she says it's somewhat advanced, she's technically not lying. Nevermind that she learned Inquisitive's Eyes and Arcane Sensor literally decades ago. "...The hardest part was figuring out how things worked outside of the Usual." She did say something about Math last time.

"I could even show you, but..." The dragon woman pauses, glancing to Harley. Anyone else would likely dismiss Harley as crazy, but Liyara hasn't yet had the pleasure of seeing Harley's other side. So she genuinely asks. "...The chessboard? In..." Her eyes glass over for a moment, before she comes back. "...The asylum?" She knows what Arkham is! ... There were old comics in the library. Not to mention the internet. "...I'm not sure I understand."

Oh, and she was just going to spill the beans, too.


John Constantine frowns a bit. "Because of *course* there's a dimensional tunnel in a looneybin." There's nothing sarcastic. it's like it makes perfect sense to him.


Harleen gets only slightly defensive about it being called a looneybin. "Dimensional tunnel. Pshaw." She sits back, crossing her arms, "Look, I ain't takin' credit for it, but there's passages all over the connected worlds connecting to all the other ones. Someone went through a lot of trouble, I'm just observant is all." She glances around the room suspiciously and ah's as her eyes stop on the wall near the kitchen. "Well, like the Employees Only Door." She points over to the weirdly easy to miss door next to the uniform closet. "Ya don't see it unless you're looking directly at it." She hops up and strolls over to it, pushing a table out of the way to keep it from being obstructed. "It's a portal ta Neo Tokyo." She grabs the door and opens it wide, expecting to see a mirror of the UR inside. Instead an infinite void opens wide pulling her, the chairs she hadn't moved, and anything else nearby through the threshold. Harley lets out a scream as she holds onto the doorknob for dear life!


John Constantine grabs onto the bar, which is firmly secured to the floor and thus one of the few things *not* moving. Thus secured, he starts to chant something in a harsh language not particularly familiar to either although Harley, who is at least from Earth, *might* know it's Sanskrit. Maybe.


It seems that Harley has Liyara's attention when she mentions that the door, and the dragon tilts her head when the woman mentions that there's a portal through the door. That she didn't notice. Huh. She's actually starting to stand when a hole to the void opens up and starts pulling things through. She blinks, and finds herself pulled halfway across the usual before she reacts. But she DOES react.

[Liyara used 1 AP]

Time seems to simply pause, with everything suspended in the air. It's only for about six seconds, but in that time, Liyara flits through the air, grabs Harleen, and then ducks around and behind the bar, securing herself and Harleen by wrapping her tail around the indestructible furniture. She's actually quite strong, it turns out. There's just enough time to realize that, before the vacuum of the void starts up again. She raises her voice above the din. "...Is that normal?" She's breathing heavily; whatever that was took it out of her.


It takes Harley a moment to come to grips at her sudden reality transplant and she kicks her feet helplessly. "NO IT AIN'T NORMAL!! SHUT THE DANG DOOR!!" There's not much else she can do at this time so she'll just leave it at that.


Just shutting the door? He wouldn't think of that. John shouts something...and vanishes. Not into the portal, at least. Just, well. Gone. Leaving a kind of vaguely John-shaped silhouette for a moment.


It's been a long time since Liyara saw a naked singularity. A really long time. Bad memories run through her head, but somehow, in the middle of what for a human would be a crippling PTSD flashback, Liyara powers through and hears what Harleen says. "...Shut the door?" ... That's incredibly simple. But if it started when the door opened, that does follow. "...Alright." Liyara stashes Harleen in the crevice behind the bar where all the booze is, figuring the bar will stop the pull.

Then Liyara dashes out, letting herself get pulled right towards the event horizon. At the last second, she digs her feet into the ground, and her entire body suddenly coats itself in gold dragon scales and she just...

Stops.

Right in front of the door, cold, with absolutely all momentum halted, Liyara stands. Her eyes blaze green, and she calmly reaches over and closes the door tight. She waits, to see if the door will implode, or if everything will be fine. This was not her greatest judgement call, but then, one must sometimes act a hero if one wants people to think they're a hero.


One the door is shut, Liyara will find herself shunted out of the way as three Skutters roll over to the door, taping it shut with caution tape. Once the door is neatly covered, a fourth Skutter rolls forward only to hang a large sign which read: "OUT OF ORDER."


And despite everything, it works. Nothing happens. The door is shut and reality returns to what passes for normal. In fact one would have to squint to even realize the door is still there as quickly as it seems to fade into obscurity once more even with the out of order sign hanging on it now. From behind the bar Harley coughs a few times as she starts to pull herself to her feet once more. "Well. Lesson learned." She runs a hand through her hair as she walks behind Liyara and stares at the wall. "I swear that didn't happen last time." There was a last time? "Maybe that's why there's been more people showin' up lately."


Liyara watches the skutters seal the door, and takes slow, heavy breaths. The golden dragon scale slowly begins receding from her body, scales fading back into her flesh one by one. It's going to take a while. She looks back towards Harley, and her eyes are blazing green. Her teeth are gritted, and they look... sharper. Her incisors are particularly more pronounced, and there's something about the look in her eyes that Harley will recognize. If game recognizes game, crazy recognizes crazy.

"..." Liyara actually flat out doesn't respond to the blonde woman, just breathing heavily. Every time she exhales, smoke drifts out from between her teeth, and if Harley is being particularly observant, her fingertips are sharp golden claws.


Harleen takes a step back as she calms down herself enough to take in Liyara's current appearance. "I-I'm sorry. I swear that should have been another UR through that door." She gulps and takes yet another step back, going in front of the bar instead of back behind it. "Y-you did good, Red. Real good. Thank you for grabbin' me." Another step. "I don't think I've seen someone move that fast in... a really long time." She looks around the room and sweatdrops realizing that, "Hey, where's Blondie?" She looks around for Constantine and then gazes back at the doorway. "You don't think-"


There's a slow pause as Liyara finishes taking one more breath, and then her teeth crack open. The voice that comes out has a reverberation under it that is decidedly not subtle. "Fountain..." Her normal, perfectly feminine voice is replaced by something that sounds like granite cracking in the shape of words. Sparks pass from her mouth, and a plume of smoke drifts up to the rafters as she exhales in a shudder. The scales recede further, and she closes her eyes, taking in another breath.

When she opens them again, the crazed look in her eyes has diminished, and the claws and scales recede from her hands. When she speaks again, it's her normal voice, but the reverb is still in effect. "...He's at the fountain." Right, sure. Who's going to argue with the dragon?


Harley ain't gonna comment on the transformation. She's seen enough of them to know not to bring attention to it until it's passed. Knowing Constantine is safe is enough for her for now and she starts looking for her belongings and taking inventory of them before she dares to sit back down. "Y'know, I wish I could introduce you to my friend Ivy. I think you two would have a lot in common all things considered." She doesn't elaborate on this. In fact she probably never will. "So where'd you pick up that whole Killer Crockette trick? I bet that wasn't something that happened voluntarily."


There's another breath and a slow blink before Liyara's eyes look like their normal, still-too-green selves. They always had the vertical-slit style pupils, but they're less pronounced than a moment ago. The scales are mostly gone, just a few around the nape of her neck, still receding. She lifts a hand to cover her mouth as she clears her throat, and the sharp-eyed might notice that she was keep a shower of sparks from flying out. When she's done, she speaks in her normal voice again.

"Very little of my life happened by choice, but I was born with this." She takes a deep breath to regain her composure, and then moves to join Harley back at the seated area of the establishment. "My mother was a dragon, and heavy exertion brings that side of me closer to the surface." She brushes her seat off, and then curls her tail around it and re-seats herself. She attempts to change the subject.

"...Ivy, the botanist who fancies herself some sort of fey queen?" ... Damn, those were REALLY old comics. Twisted's Library sure is in need of fresh donations.


Harleen lets out a joyous "HA!" and points before smacking the bar. "Yes! That's her! Pamela Isley. She's fun. We go waaay back." She smiles happily filling that itch to pull her costume out of her bag now that she's found it finally. "You seem ta mostly eat meat, so you'd be okay in her book. Just don't talk shop with her unless you want ta get into it for a few hours." She finally takes a seat as well, wishing she still had that can of Coke Bob threw at her. "Shoot. Bob's gonna need more than just a bribe after tonight." She crosses her arms and thinks but comes up with nothing. "I'm sorry this night got outta control." She offers her hand to shake, "I don't remember if I introduced myself. Doctor Harleen Quinzel, sometimes known as Harley Quinn."


It surprises Liyara that Harleen says she'd get along with Ivy. From what Liyara saw, the woman was delusional, entirely too fond of human males, and probably wouldn't be friends with anyone who'd accidentally burnt down a forest trying to kill one man. Who she did kill. For the record. But hey, it's a piece of fiction. The real person is probably much more level-headed and chemically balanced.

"I'm Liyara." The dragon-lady takes Harley's hand tentatively, glancing down first to make sure she's not going to shake it with claws that will carve the poor woman up. Once sure her hand is fully delicate and normal again, she gives a firm and vigorous shake and offers a smile with very pronounced incisors. It's quite radiant. Too radiant, really. Harley might get nostalgic.

Harley... Quinn... Harlequin? She's starting to get it. "...Do you do clown work on the side?"


Once Harleen gets her hand back she chuckles at the question, digging into her purse and pulling out a playing card. Turning it face up she slides it along the bar towards Liyara. It's a Joker of course. A custom one that resembles the Mad Clown himself. "Let's just say I have lousy taste in boyfriends and leave it at that least I actually do find serious work on this side of the multiverse." Something clicks and the girl painfully winces. Those gold coins had been stacked up on the bar. "Ahhh, shoot. Easy come, easy go..."


A raised eyebrow is Harleen's reward for the playing card. Liyara doesn't quite seem to get it, but she takes it if it's offered, and examines it before pocketing it. "Well, if you're ever interested in making some more money, I'm sure I could think of ways to use a..." She tests the word out; she's read it, and heard it, but this is literally the first time she's said it. "...Psychiatrist." Oh, she can. She can think of several already, actually. Virtually none of them for the actual medical benefit of the profession, but hey, a job's a job. If it's legal, anyway.

"Just need to figure out what passes for currency around here, and what the conversion rate is for platinum." Why, does she just carry platinum on her?



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