Harley Quinn was the strangest person you had met in your entire life. So naturally, when she'd sent you an address and a time, you showed up. Who were you to say no?
Whatever you were expecting, it was nothing like what you got.
You started to hear the music about a mile away from the address. The faintest sounds of too loud, too fast boosted bass were all you needed to identify that you were headed to a party. Why Harley was going to a party in an abandoned warehouse at the docks? You had no clue.
The uber dropped you off a little down the road, afraid to be in the area. You didn't blame them, everyone in Gotham knew not to come to the docks. So much shit happens in the warehouses at the docks.
But you had nothing if not the audacity. And boy did you have the audacity.
You strolled right into the warehouse corresponding with the address you were given, and almost immediately regretted it. Within five seconds of entering the building, you spotted a way too high number of Gotham's finest criminals. The Riddler, Poison Ivy, Punchline, even about three different Red Hood copies (who knew where the real one was). The worst thing was that Quinn was nowhere to be seen.
Now that you'd realized your situation, it wasn't like you could just casually ask around. You may be in a situationship with a villain, but you weren't a criminal in any way (besides maybe as an accessory). What exactly had you gotten yourself into with this?
You were saved when someone (who you definitely didn't recognize) approached and grabbed your arm. Over the music, you thought you heard them say something about Harley, so you obediently followed their lead.
He brought you to a separate room, away from the rest of the party, where Harley sat at what looked to be her own private bar. She turned at the sound of the door opening, eyes lighting up when she saw it was you walking in.
"Hey Babes, like the party?" She crossed the room to pull you over to where she'd made herself comfortable, wordlessly telling the bartender to make you a drink once you'd sat down. Apparently, she'd briefed them on your tastes, because they somehow knew exactly what you wanted without you saying a word.
"I have to admit I'm a little scared for my life," you breathed out a laugh, glad to be out of the crowd of supervillains. You loved a warehouse party as much as the next guy, but you typically preferred yours to be murderer free. Besides your murderer of course, Harley is always invited to your hypothetical warehouse parties.
"Don't be! This is a celebration," Harley beamed at you, holding her glass out and lightly clinking against yours in a celebratory manner. "We've gotta one night only treaty, for a very special occasion."
"And that would be...?" You allowed a smile to appear on your face, her infectious energy finally breaking you our of your nervousness.
"They finally got J locked up! They threw him right into supermax, and the grapevine is thinkin' it'll last this time." She continued to beam at you before turning to slam a shot.
Of course this was a good riddance party. This is the exact level of petty you'd expect from her, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't love her for it.