The past few years had been something of an unpredictable, whirlwind adventure for Harley Quinn. Bounced in and out of Arkham, usually up to her eyeballs in trouble, she found herself (much to her disgust) at something of a loose end. Ivy was busy with botany, Joker had embarked upon some mission of mayhem, Pyg was developing his Dollotrons and Selina…well, Selina only really came out to play when it suited her. Typical cat.
There was one person though, she knew she could count on. Ever since they’d struck up a funny little friendship in a grimy diner, the years before her spectacular fall from grace, Dick Grayson had been a source of entertainment and frivolity. Perhaps a little more vanilla than her usual crowd, she found his company enjoyable nonetheless. Perhaps because it harked back to a more innocent time in her life, back before she found herself entirely underwhelmed by the contents of a human skull. Dick, in her eyes, was like Peter Pan. The boy who never grew up. True, he’d been a little more…lax with his ethics when he was younger, but there was still the spirit of a Lost Boy inside of him. If only she could dig it back out.
The text had been simple enough.
“I’m so bored I could hurl. Harbour front. 30 minutes. Don’t keep Wendy waiting.”
Bud was sleeping around the time she left; back haunch twitching as his large jaws snapped at invisible quarries. Stepping over him (making sure to leave his bowl full so he didn’t gnaw away at her dresser again) she headed down through the Narrows to Gotham’s bay district. There was a breeze coming off the water that brought a moist chill to the air, causing her to turn the collar of her jacket up against its bite. Wasn’t it supposed to be summer?
The sprawling metropolis of Gotham city with all her tangled steel and wire mesh is something of a playground for Dick Grayson. Rather than setting down true roots like one would be expected to do after making themselves at home, the boy spread out his branches, leaves upturned and looking for sunlight in a dreary, new world.
The connections he made (and still makes) with various people are strong and usually healthy (though not always) and are built so that if he were to up and leave one day without warning, they would wonder where he went but not be all that sad about it. With the exception of a few people that have wormed their way into Dick's soft, beating heart (JasonKoriRoyHenriTimWallyConnerCassBarbaraDonna) and thus who he cannot imagine himself living without, that's the way he lives his life. Fleeting and Transitory.
One of the bright spots of his life happens to be Harley Quinn, née Harleen Quinzel. He's still not exactly sure why she did the loop-de-loop into Crazyville, but she remains one of his closer compatriots even as she paints her face white and black and goes out with baseball bats to crack a few heads open. If it makes her happy, who is he to intervene?
The text comes in just as Dick is polishing off a turkey sandwich and he swipes through the locks on his phone until he can tap out a sufficient reply consisting of
"Who the fuck is Wendy??????"
He doesn't bother to tell Henri where he's going and he doesn't bother to tell Harley that he'll definitely show up, the boy merely laces up his tennis shoes, zips up a hoodie, and sets out on the town.
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