Fic for Gift Giving at Womenverse
Fandom: Scorpion, Batman
Words: 679
Note: for kat_leept, from her prompt “Scorpion + Batman: Happy Quinn + Harley Quinn--What's the connection?”
Happy wheeled out from under the van and rolled to her feet, staggering slightly. With a grimace, she pulled off her glove and wiped her face with her fairly-clean hand, and slumped back against the van’s grill.
“Hey, is that safe?” Toby strolled over from the workbench and gestured between the van’s suspended wheels and her resting place.
“Yeah, no worries, it’s secure.” Happy stretched her neck and unbuttoned the top of the coverall, peeling it off her shoulders. “Frickin’ hot in here, but that job’s done.”She straightened and moved to grab a water bottle off the bench while simultaneously tying the coverall sleeves around her waist. Taking a swig, she noticed that Toby was staring, in the vicinity of her bared shoulder. Suddenly conscious that she was clad only in a thin tank on the upper and the now drooping coveralls on the lower, she wrapped her arms around her middle and stared defensively. “What?!”
Toby stepped back with his hands up in the air. “Nothing untoward, I swear. Just that I never knew…” -nearing her, and reaching out tentatively toward her upper left arm- “about this.” Her eyes flicked toward his, then to where he was pointing. “Oh yeah, that, well. Doesn’t everyone?”
“Doesn’t everyone place an indelible indicator of an aspect of their psyche like a neon sign on their physical person? Yes, it’s increasingly common, which certainly makes my job a lot easier.” Toby’s eyes drifted but he decided not to launch into any of the stories from his arsenal of poker triumphs over ink-covered contenders. This opportunity to get under Happy’s shell was too good to pass up. He stroked his chin.
“So let’s see. Traditionally, the harlequin represents a trickster, even a devil, but not an evil one-more one who uses humor and physical stunts in the role of social critic and caricaturist. But this one is female, not surprising, since you are female, and women more typically choose female avatars. However, why in this case a female harlequin-“
“What!? Are you stupid? You don’t know who this is?” Happy’s shout and vehement gesture drew the attention of Sylvester, passing through with a sandwich in one hand and a book in the other. He lowered both as he veered toward them to peer at Happy’s upper arm. “Ah, Harley Quinn, from Batman, of course!” he said with pleasure. He gazed upward as if accessing his data-bank, which, indeed he was. “Dr. Harleen Quinzell, an Arkham Asylum psychiatrist, who becomes fascinated with the Joker and volunteers to analyze him. She falls hopelessly in love with him during their sessions. When the Joker is returned to Arkham after a battle with Batman, the sight of his terrible injuries drives Harleen insane, leading her to quit her psychiatrist job and don a jester costume to become Harley Quinn, the Joker's sidekick. She later becomes fast friends with Poison Ivy, who injects her with an antitoxin which gives her super-human strength, agility, and immunity to toxins.” He nodded with satisfaction, raised his sandwich in salute, and continued on his way.
Toby watched him go, then turned back to Happy. “Yeah, so. There it is,” she said challengingly. “What do you make of that, Mr. Shrink Rap?”
He looked appraisingly at the tattoo. “Well, there is the whole name pairing, Happy Quinn, Harley Quinn, but that’s a little too easy, your motivations tend to be more complex than that. A brilliant woman, perhaps under-appreciated or even ostracized due to her intellect. A healer who can’t heal so goes rogue, maybe some connection to deep-seated regrets about your mo-” He raised his gaze to her face and saw a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes, instead of the more brazen expression he’d expected. At once, he gestured openly with his hands and shrugged, smiling. “Aw, what do I know. Why don’t you tell me?”
She stared for a moment, then drank the last of her water and gestured with her shoulder. “C’mon, then. Help me get the van off the blocks, we can grab a burger, and I’ll tell you the long sad story of me at 15.” Toby, eyes alight, hustled to follow her.
Words: 679
Note: for kat_leept, from her prompt “Scorpion + Batman: Happy Quinn + Harley Quinn--What's the connection?”
Happy wheeled out from under the van and rolled to her feet, staggering slightly. With a grimace, she pulled off her glove and wiped her face with her fairly-clean hand, and slumped back against the van’s grill.
“Hey, is that safe?” Toby strolled over from the workbench and gestured between the van’s suspended wheels and her resting place.
“Yeah, no worries, it’s secure.” Happy stretched her neck and unbuttoned the top of the coverall, peeling it off her shoulders. “Frickin’ hot in here, but that job’s done.”She straightened and moved to grab a water bottle off the bench while simultaneously tying the coverall sleeves around her waist. Taking a swig, she noticed that Toby was staring, in the vicinity of her bared shoulder. Suddenly conscious that she was clad only in a thin tank on the upper and the now drooping coveralls on the lower, she wrapped her arms around her middle and stared defensively. “What?!”
Toby stepped back with his hands up in the air. “Nothing untoward, I swear. Just that I never knew…” -nearing her, and reaching out tentatively toward her upper left arm- “about this.” Her eyes flicked toward his, then to where he was pointing. “Oh yeah, that, well. Doesn’t everyone?”
“Doesn’t everyone place an indelible indicator of an aspect of their psyche like a neon sign on their physical person? Yes, it’s increasingly common, which certainly makes my job a lot easier.” Toby’s eyes drifted but he decided not to launch into any of the stories from his arsenal of poker triumphs over ink-covered contenders. This opportunity to get under Happy’s shell was too good to pass up. He stroked his chin.
“So let’s see. Traditionally, the harlequin represents a trickster, even a devil, but not an evil one-more one who uses humor and physical stunts in the role of social critic and caricaturist. But this one is female, not surprising, since you are female, and women more typically choose female avatars. However, why in this case a female harlequin-“
“What!? Are you stupid? You don’t know who this is?” Happy’s shout and vehement gesture drew the attention of Sylvester, passing through with a sandwich in one hand and a book in the other. He lowered both as he veered toward them to peer at Happy’s upper arm. “Ah, Harley Quinn, from Batman, of course!” he said with pleasure. He gazed upward as if accessing his data-bank, which, indeed he was. “Dr. Harleen Quinzell, an Arkham Asylum psychiatrist, who becomes fascinated with the Joker and volunteers to analyze him. She falls hopelessly in love with him during their sessions. When the Joker is returned to Arkham after a battle with Batman, the sight of his terrible injuries drives Harleen insane, leading her to quit her psychiatrist job and don a jester costume to become Harley Quinn, the Joker's sidekick. She later becomes fast friends with Poison Ivy, who injects her with an antitoxin which gives her super-human strength, agility, and immunity to toxins.” He nodded with satisfaction, raised his sandwich in salute, and continued on his way.
Toby watched him go, then turned back to Happy. “Yeah, so. There it is,” she said challengingly. “What do you make of that, Mr. Shrink Rap?”
He looked appraisingly at the tattoo. “Well, there is the whole name pairing, Happy Quinn, Harley Quinn, but that’s a little too easy, your motivations tend to be more complex than that. A brilliant woman, perhaps under-appreciated or even ostracized due to her intellect. A healer who can’t heal so goes rogue, maybe some connection to deep-seated regrets about your mo-” He raised his gaze to her face and saw a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes, instead of the more brazen expression he’d expected. At once, he gestured openly with his hands and shrugged, smiling. “Aw, what do I know. Why don’t you tell me?”
She stared for a moment, then drank the last of her water and gestured with her shoulder. “C’mon, then. Help me get the van off the blocks, we can grab a burger, and I’ll tell you the long sad story of me at 15.” Toby, eyes alight, hustled to follow her.