[She's no stranger to her head feeling all kinds'a funny, and while she's very much not sure about what's going or why she's here... The festive atmosphere is real contagious, and there's no broody bats in sight to stop her from having fun, which means she's joining in. Weird fake memories and all that mumbo jumbo can be dealt with at a later date, thank you.
So what if she technically ain't allowed to be runnin' any booths or nothin' without the proper type of permissions? Harley has a bad streak of not listening to authority anyway, which means them fancy rules and regulations don't mean squat when she really wants to put her mind to it. Which is precisely why she's stolen a table. It wasn't exactly like she'd bothered to be all stealthy-like about it either; she dragged the thing scraping and banging all the way down from the second floor to the first, setting up right in front of the library and claiming the spot for herself.
There's glitter... Everywhere. Various hues of pinks, reds, and blues that have been haphazardly dumped around the area, both on the table itself and the surrounding floorspace. It's going to be hell to clean up afterwards, but later problems are for a later Harley to deal with. There's a construction paper sign hanging on the wall behind the table that reads, "hOROSCOPESandtRAuMA THERAPY!" The letters themselves cut out from various sources and glued onto the paper itself like some sort of love letter to the serial killer trope.
She herself has modified the school uniform to fit her needs; the white uniform shirt has been cut and tied to be more fashionable and show off her middriff, the waistband of the skirt rolled up a few times so that the hem rests higher up at the mid-thigh. She has on a pair of knee high platform boots, a mismatched pair of thigh high stockings - the left being pink and the right one black, and her two cross ties have been repurposed into accessories for her twin ponytails. She is also covered in glitter, though this is less of a fashion choice and more of a side effect from her "decorating."
She's sitting behind her table, visibly bored and waiting for someone to walk up and talk to her. This doesn't seem to be occurring naturally, and after clearly getting fed up with the lack of customers she pulls a bean bag - totally not stolen from another game booth - out of her stocking and chucks it at the nearest loitering person.]
Hey! You! Get ov'a here, I'm givin' ya a readin'.
⬙ Two Of Hearts ⬗
[Later in the week she can also be found up in the fourth floor rest area, sprawled out on her back one of the rugs with her legs propped up perpendicular on the wall. She's got the white cat on her chest, and she's just idly petting the kitty and feeding it treats while she babbles on to the animal itself.]
An' then he says to me, "You always take shots from folks who just don't get the joke!" [Her normally high pitched voice turns all low and grumpy as she quotes the sentence, clearly doing an impression.] An' then he tosses me out the window! Can ya believe it? Men. They have no respect for us broads who know how to do things bett'a than they ev'a could.
'Course, we stayed togeth'a for a while longer afterward. Mist'a J always did know how to sweet talk a lady into stayin' loyal. Ya put up with more than ya should when you're in love, ya know? [One finger comes up to poke the cat right on the nose as she talks. They're bonding.]
Harleen Quinzel | DC Comics | Just here to cause a bit of chaos <3
[She's no stranger to her head feeling all kinds'a funny, and while she's very much not sure about what's going or why she's here... The festive atmosphere is real contagious, and there's no broody bats in sight to stop her from having fun, which means she's joining in. Weird fake memories and all that mumbo jumbo can be dealt with at a later date, thank you.
So what if she technically ain't allowed to be runnin' any booths or nothin' without the proper type of permissions? Harley has a bad streak of not listening to authority anyway, which means them fancy rules and regulations don't mean squat when she really wants to put her mind to it. Which is precisely why she's stolen a table. It wasn't exactly like she'd bothered to be all stealthy-like about it either; she dragged the thing scraping and banging all the way down from the second floor to the first, setting up right in front of the library and claiming the spot for herself.
There's glitter... Everywhere. Various hues of pinks, reds, and blues that have been haphazardly dumped around the area, both on the table itself and the surrounding floorspace. It's going to be hell to clean up afterwards, but later problems are for a later Harley to deal with. There's a construction paper sign hanging on the wall behind the table that reads, "hOROSCOPES and tRAuMA THERAPY!" The letters themselves cut out from various sources and glued onto the paper itself like some sort of love letter to the serial killer trope.
She herself has modified the school uniform to fit her needs; the white uniform shirt has been cut and tied to be more fashionable and show off her middriff, the waistband of the skirt rolled up a few times so that the hem rests higher up at the mid-thigh. She has on a pair of knee high platform boots, a mismatched pair of thigh high stockings - the left being pink and the right one black, and her two cross ties have been repurposed into accessories for her twin ponytails. She is also covered in glitter, though this is less of a fashion choice and more of a side effect from her "decorating."
She's sitting behind her table, visibly bored and waiting for someone to walk up and talk to her. This doesn't seem to be occurring naturally, and after clearly getting fed up with the lack of customers she pulls a bean bag - totally not stolen from another game booth - out of her stocking and chucks it at the nearest loitering person.]
Hey! You! Get ov'a here, I'm givin' ya a readin'.
⬙ Two Of Hearts ⬗
[Later in the week she can also be found up in the fourth floor rest area, sprawled out on her back one of the rugs with her legs propped up perpendicular on the wall. She's got the white cat on her chest, and she's just idly petting the kitty and feeding it treats while she babbles on to the animal itself.]
An' then he says to me, "You always take shots from folks who just don't get the joke!" [Her normally high pitched voice turns all low and grumpy as she quotes the sentence, clearly doing an impression.] An' then he tosses me out the window! Can ya believe it? Men. They have no respect for us broads who know how to do things bett'a than they ev'a could.
'Course, we stayed togeth'a for a while longer afterward. Mist'a J always did know how to sweet talk a lady into stayin' loyal. Ya put up with more than ya should when you're in love, ya know? [One finger comes up to poke the cat right on the nose as she talks. They're bonding.]