(Untitled)

[paintfromlife]

So it's been a while since Pickman last visited Harley. It's not his fault he's been busy. At least, even though they're holding his messenger bag 'til he's done, he gets to keep his sketchbook with him, with the drawing he did for her. And at least he was able to slip the orderly bringing him to Harls a little something, so that he can visit

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[icd10f60pt7]

Harley has spent her time, since his last visit, wavering between extreme fits of glee and amazingly bad moods. Some of this may, of course, be because of the guy across the hall from her now. His various foibles and new guarding-accessories.

Some of this may, of course, be her starting to get Arkham-antsy. She would very much like out of this place now, ok? She'd like out out out out out out.

But hey. Hey. Hey. She's got a visitor. And it's her friend. She's really glad to see you, Pickman. "Hiiii."

[goshdarnniteowl]

Daniel frowns a little, as his fellow-orderly-fellow ushes Pickman into the maximum security hall. There really shouldn't be visitors here, considering... who else is locked up here, right now.

But I-44's been... relatively well behaved, all things considered, and the chances of the visitor getting caught up in anything are low... and, well, honestly, Dan really doesn't want to make a fuss about the whole thing.

He will be watching, though.

[ha_in_havoc]

I-44 has been very good. Remarkably good for a bored man with no privacy and a liquid diet. Amazingly good for an unpainted clown with no one to entertain but Harley and Dan and few ways to entertain them with his busted arm and hand.

A visitor --even one for someone else-- is a nice change.
"Ooooh. What do we got here?" He notes Harley's reactions and the boy's path. Here for her is he? Does she have eyes for another man? He tilts his head a moment before laughing, tapping his feet on the floor. It's a very private joke.

[paintfromlife]

He grins like a particularly grimy little puppy, when Harley comes into view. "Eh, pretty lady!" Have some spastic waving.

When her hallmate pipes up, he naturally turns to see who it is. And, well. Sure, the good people of Gotham City, natices and immigrants alike, know him better with his face on, but the extra guard, those scars... it's not hard. The eye-widening, the oh shit, is that... expression comes and goes in just a second or two, though, then Pickman's back to that wide yellow grin. Somewhere between Spider and Judah and Jimmy, he got pretty good at that.

"Ah --" He fiddles with his jacket sleeve. A very particular place on it. "Art-o-gram."