Seems like nothing has changed since yesterday…Paperwork is sounding really appealing right now.
Why is sleep so hard to achieve these days?
Bed awaits. I bid you all goodnight.
ooc: Not even sure if that last reply was coherent because I wrote it after taking a melatonin tablet and I am pmuch about ready to pass out rn. Anyway I’d like to start some new threads so if anyone is up for plotting shoot me a message! Goodnight friends! <33
"…Geez, I figured ya would’ve lasted longer than that!” she griped, adding a note of bawdiness to the double entendre - even though he was unconscious, and unable to appreciate her fine sense of comedy. Graciously deciding to give her plaything a rest, she spent the next forty-five minutes in search of sustenance, eventually returning to the lair with a half-dozen Krispy Kremes. Powdered sugar clung to her lips until she languidly licked it off, tapping her foot and watching the sleeping President. She idly considered doing something to jolt him awake, but that would be risky. He could have a heart attack! And that’d be no fun.
Instead, Harley nibbled gaily on her box of donuts, and prepared her next act while she waited for him to stir. The hair straightener had done its job in stemming the blood flow - and he’d been right, the stink was gross. Musing over his damaged form, she had a brainwave, and began scuttling around for the required supplies as he slowly roused from his blackout.
She mussed his hair as his eyelids shuttered upward, glancing between him and the mirror. “Y’know, you’re real attractive,” she told him lazily, as if he didn’t already realize. “But you’re a little… clean-cut for my taste. The gals in Gotham? They like a guy who’s rough around th’ edges.” In one hand, she held a lighter. In the other, a spare needle. A large, thick needle. “Piercings are hot. Believe me. Chicks’ll be all over you.” The flame was set to the needle point, searing it just slightly, and she tugged at his left earlobe before shoving the length through the tab of flesh. “Now, I don’t got any jewellery,” she explained, wiggling the needle, creating a hole much wider than warranted. “So we’ll make it bigger. Just to be sure it ain’t gonna close up before ya get a hold of some.”
Once satisfied, she left the ‘piercing’ as it was - trickling with blood - and gleefully snapped the lighter. On, off, on, off. “Where next, huh? Eyebrow? Tongue? Somewhere else?”
Disheartened that it hadn’t been a bad dream he groaned as his consciousness returned. The room still reeked of burnt flesh; a reminder of what he had just endured. Another reminder—one much worse than the stench—was the ache that had since returned. He did his best to refrain from looking at the damaged done to his arm, but it was hard to miss. The reflection in the mirror was impossible to ignore. A cringe. Surely it’d become infected if not treated soon. The pain from the initial ‘procedure’ was the least of his worries. Many more painful operations were to come in order to fix it…if it was even fixable.
And then his eyes flicked towards the needle that she was so graciously sterilizing with fire. With the slight shake of his head he closed his eyes and waited. There was no stopping what she was about to do. As the needle passed through the soft flesh of his earlobe he clenched his teeth. It hurt, but paled in comparison to her other actions.
Somewhere else…the last thing he wanted was her or any of her foul instruments in the ‘somewhere else’ region.
"One piercing is fine." the signature smirk returned to his face. "I think I’d like my bill now, doctor."
Now he was just getting snarky. Cranky and snarky. For the sake of the rest of his self-coveted body he hoped that the Turks would hurry it up a little.
It is rather quiet tonight. I don’t know whether to be grateful or suspicious…
Ah the wonders of naturopathic sleeping aids. Slumber awaits.