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It had almost been a punch to the stomach for Selina to hear the news - not from Floyd himself, but from a mutual acquaintance. For the most part, she was surprised at the almost delirious joy that bubbled up in her chest, however the latter part of her was almost disgusted by her attachment to this simple man. Then again, he'd been her closest childhood friend, and even the years apart could not have wrenched her very rare bouts of happiness away from her. Every good memory that she could recall had been with him. The times she'd been thrown out by Brian, the times she'd showed up at his doorstep bloodied and bruised -- the times he'd either sneaked in her window to stay with her in the early hours of the morning, or spent hours on the phone with her when her foster parents neglected her. In Selina's mind, those counted already as happy times - even if some were better than others.

In short, Floyd had probably been the only one she could remember in the history of ever that had ever cared about whether she lived or died. Her parents had left only a legacy of pain & trauma, and her foster parents had liked to pretend she was merely another piece of unwanted furniture in their halls. She was a mistake that had been left festering too long -- and Floyd had been the only one who bothered with her. She'd missed him in the several years he'd been gone, definitely more than she cared to admit.

But yet... Floyd probably hadn't thought of her upon his return at all, had he? From what her contact had deigned to tell her, he'd been back for a couple days. No phone call, no casual text, no contact at all. He might as well have been back for ages -- and she would have still thought him in the military. Selina wondered if she was presuming too much. Had she been the only one to think of the years they'd shared? It was almost tentative and without her usual snark that she sent him two simple messages. The forced casualty made her wince. She didn't have many friends, and certainly none that she cared for as much as she cared for Floyd. She was too used to the pretense, the laughter and the forced smiles that came with every other relationship she had. How did one learn to love a friend? How did one learn to unlove them? Better she simply revert to casualty instead.

[ text ] Heard you're back in town. You didn't text me like you promised, asshole. [ text ] Chinese at my place - 8pm, after I get home from work?

Immediately after the text messages sent, Selina regretted it. She was being too assuming, provided he even showed up. Two nerve-wracking hours ticked by at an almost agonizing pace, her feet finding a familiar trail through the living room to her bedroom and back again. As it was, her foster mother had complained that Selina had paced too much in her childhood and driven a rut in the floor. Selina honestly didn't give a shit. Her foster family showed her no affection, and she showed them no respect. Moving out had been such a blessing, letting Floyd come over whenever he deigned to - talking into the wee hours of morning without fear of reprimand or a belt coming down to leave a red slash on her skin.

Floyd. Where was he? She checked the clock for the nth time, chewing on a nail. The doorbell rang and Selina fairly ran for the door, relieved for a distraction. She threw the door open, expecting the delivery man, a smile pasted on her face -- oh. And all of a sudden, her anxieties took a turn for the opposite. Okay, okay. Floyd's eyes anchored to her, her low-cut blouse and pants from work (she'd forgotten to change) too damn formal for a reunion between friends. The smile that had bloomed across her face melted slightly, her eyes softening as she restrained herself from throwing herself at him, knuckles clenched white on the doorknob. God, he looked so tired and beaten down. Nothing like the Floyd who'd left her, save for the familiar eyes and the worn quality of his face.

Her fingers ached to reach out and trace the lines of his mouth, his lips, his jawline -- just to make sure this wasn't another memory. A tiny step forward was taken, her eyes sweeping across his face in an unusual show of vulnerability. He was here. He was really here. The only person Selina had ever trusted was right there in front of her, and she was too afraid to touch him. Where had her confidence gone? Her indomitable nature? Was she really so deeply invested in whatever Floyd had given her that she would act in such a way?

In the end, she settled for saying his name -- but even that came out in a breathy sigh that sounded like it would have been better coming out of a lover's lips. It was almost a cry of salvation, a tiny sigh that belied her otherwise rather stoic appearance.

#lnterfector #( oh my lord what is this monster #i'm sorry it got so long i got feels and akdhfdjfh )#*au; backseat serenade

lnterfector

❝ Maybe he’ll stay dead this time. ❞

❝ Yeah. Good luck with that. Men like him don't just die. ❞

#lnterfector #( i don't like reblogged asks #for threads lkjdf )

lnterfector replied to your post: lnterfector asked:☠ ...

sHIT

[why does everYTHING ALWAYS END IN BLOOD]

#god dangit #lnterfector #{ out of quinn }

"He only had himself to blame." //idk you're super cool and i needed to send you a meme so here

[ meme ]

❝ Oh I’m sure. Batman is all sorts of insane. ❞

#lnterfector #[ answered meme ]#I already said this #but I find you really awesome kljdfkjdf #I was honored when you followed me

lnterfector:

Floyd had a job to do; a job that she was currently interfering with. Therefore, it was surprising that he didn’t decide to block out everything she was saying.

“Like hell you’d even come close to it.” “—You got thirty seconds to give me a better reason or I’m blowin’ your head off.” This was his definition of generosity.

Harleen stepped back, rather pointlessly - merely as a gut reaction to the immediate threat. She could always run, of course, or she could state a defense. The chance of him deciding there was no need to waste a bullet was roughly the same either way.

"…I'm the Joker's psychiatrist, and he's been fairly... insistent that I remain in that role for the foreseeable future. So much so, that three of my elected replacements ended up dead within days. I don't imagine he'd be too pleased if you decided to get trigger happy. Nor do I imagine you'd want such a well-paying client to become an enemy." Her tone held rather more superiority than she'd wished to convey, aided by the chill of fear. "...He may be in need of your services again soon enough."

#[instead of reblogging the ask over and over lol]#lnterfector #threads