Hutchinson's Law
Who: Two-Face, Harley Quinn
What: Any occurrence requiring undivided attention will be accompanied by a compelling distraction. Also, havoc.
Where: Metropolis
Prior to taking the bus ride in, Harley had gotten herself a nice leather belt that would comfortably hold her sledgehammer close enough to her hip and leg that it would go unnoticed under lazy inspection. She wore fingerless gloves and oil-stained jeans, and a bike jacket that successfully shielded the blunt head of the hammer if she didn't move too much. The haft swung against her thigh, providing a simple rhythm she could walk to.
She’d chosen the calmest part of Metropolis to meet up with Two-Face: its heart, the park, where dogs were walked and couples milled around in blissful adoration of their surroundings, all green and blue and bits of yellow-pink in the trees and sidewalk gardens. Harley was desensitized to Gotham's constant smog, even during the daylight hours, but Metropolis was as smooth and clean as Gotham was dark. Happy, busy people weaving through city blocks, in cars, and buying their coffees with pleasant smiles. Waving. Existing. Peacefully.
Harley checked her watch. She didn’t know how, exactly, he would arrive, but Two-Face should be there at any minute to rendezvous. Her last encounter with Two-Face hung suspended in the back of her head and she touched the faint scars on either side of her mouth, covered with make-up, that he’d left, and grinned quickly. She'd missed that man. This would be bundles of fun.
What: Any occurrence requiring undivided attention will be accompanied by a compelling distraction. Also, havoc.
Where: Metropolis
Prior to taking the bus ride in, Harley had gotten herself a nice leather belt that would comfortably hold her sledgehammer close enough to her hip and leg that it would go unnoticed under lazy inspection. She wore fingerless gloves and oil-stained jeans, and a bike jacket that successfully shielded the blunt head of the hammer if she didn't move too much. The haft swung against her thigh, providing a simple rhythm she could walk to.
She’d chosen the calmest part of Metropolis to meet up with Two-Face: its heart, the park, where dogs were walked and couples milled around in blissful adoration of their surroundings, all green and blue and bits of yellow-pink in the trees and sidewalk gardens. Harley was desensitized to Gotham's constant smog, even during the daylight hours, but Metropolis was as smooth and clean as Gotham was dark. Happy, busy people weaving through city blocks, in cars, and buying their coffees with pleasant smiles. Waving. Existing. Peacefully.
Harley checked her watch. She didn’t know how, exactly, he would arrive, but Two-Face should be there at any minute to rendezvous. Her last encounter with Two-Face hung suspended in the back of her head and she touched the faint scars on either side of her mouth, covered with make-up, that he’d left, and grinned quickly. She'd missed that man. This would be bundles of fun.