revmeup | call me out

He gives her a nod of approval. "It's cute," he says. His expectation had been something more bondage-y looking, so this is perfect.

"Although, I'm kind of sad that you don't have a charm that says 'Malcolm'," he adds teasingly while he fixes his tie.

"You haven't given me one." She fastens the collar around her neck and does a little spin with a flourish at the end to show him the whole look. She rests her hands on his hips and bites gently at his mouth. "You want me to wear your name?"

"I was teasing," he replies. "I wouldn't expect you to do that." She's still marked with Joker's name all over her and Malcolm doesn't feel the need to have that level of possessiveness. All people have to do is ask her and she'll tell them that she's his, just as he is hers.

After making sure his phone and wallet are in his briefcase, he turns back to Harley and takes a deep breath. "Ready?"

"Ready." Harley twines their fingers together and brings his hand to her lips for a kiss. He looks perfectly put together but she knows how much of a mess he must be inside. That's alright. She can be confident enough for both of them.

They hold hands the entire ride to Claremont, only parting to pass through security and pick up a visitor pass for Malcolm. Harley insists that Mr. David not be told about the visit ahead of time. She doesn't want Martin to have even an inkling of what's about to hit him.

The metal door to his cell makes a satisfying clang when she practically kicks it open. "Give us the room, Dave," she demands with a flash of her staff credentials.

He's glad to have her with him, as always. Nobody makes him feel more confident in himself than Harley does.

Mr. David, for his part, looks nonplussed as he leaves the room. How much Whitly family drama has he observed over the years? Too much to count. He could probably write a book.

Malcolm feels his hand start to shake as he and Harley stand before his father. Martin looks up from his desk, where a series of anatomical drawings are laid out. "Dr. Whitly," Malcolm says.

Martin stands up, a look of complete shock and amusement on his face. "Well, isn't this a wonderful surprise. My boy, it's always so good to see you. And you've brought a guest this time." He looks at Harley as if he doesn't know exactly who she is.

Harley doesn't look at Martin at all. She slips her hands into her jacket pockets and looks around the room, giving a low whistle. "Fuck me, this cell is nicer than my apartment."

It's like this hospital has never had an audit. She doesn't even hesitate to cross over the red line in confident strides to take a lap around the room, still ignoring Martin until she's right next to him. Then she sticks out her hand for a shake and introduces herself with every ounce of cheer and good charm she can muster. Which is just so, so much.

"So nice to finally meet you, Marvin."

Malcolm puts up a hand and nearly stops her before she goes over the red line, but then he remembers who she is. Harley would destroy him if he put a hand on her. Malcolm would too.

Martin graciously takes her hand in his, having watched her warily as she took her own tour of his cell. "Martin Whitly," he tells her. "It's so lovely to meet you." He turns back towards Malcolm. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

"Harley is my girlfriend," Malcolm tells him, sharing information that his father definitely knows. "We decided to just pull the Band-Aid off and introduce the two of you since you know she's working here at Claremont. That way you won't have to try some ridiculous scheme to get the two of you alone."

Harley squeezes Martin's hand with surprising strength before letting go and flipping through the papers left out on his desk. She isn't looking for anything in particular and seems unimpressed with everything she sees. Really, she just wants to get her grubby hands on all his nice things. She even manages to smudge a spot of wet ink across a crucial part of his notes. Find the precise way to be the most annoying in any circumstance is her secret power.

She makes a dismissive noise and walks back to Malcolm's side. "Meeting you is easy mode after brunching with Jessica."

"Scheme?" Martin asks. "Now why would I do that?"

Malcolm watches Martin as he observes Harley moving around, picking up his drawings and other papers. He can see the mild annoyance in his father's eyes, though he hides it well. "If you're interested in my work, I'm happy to show you," he tells Harley.

Martin observes both of them from across the line, his eyes landing on Harley. "Well, that's to be expected. My Jess can be very scrutinizing." He smiles. "I'm not nearly as... critical."

Harley's fingers twitch at Martin's placement of "my" before Jessica. She could tear his eyes out right now, but Jessica wouldn't thank her for it. Harley knows how it feels when someone else fights an ex on her behalf. It's only satisfying if you get the win for yourself.

Instead, she smiles sweetly. "Twenty years locked up sure has a way of lowering one's standards, I'd imagine." There's still enough of a doctor in her that she can look down her nose at Martin even when they're standing at equal height.

Despite the divorce, Martin will always see Jessica as 'his'. She can try to escape him fully, but she never will.

Martin shrugs a pair of handcuffed hands. "I'd like to think I've never been the critical one, wouldn't you say, my boy?"

Malcolm exhales slowly. "It's hard to be critical of others when you're a serial killer," he replies.

Harley places her hand between Malcolm's shoulders. A reassuring pressure.

"His opinion doesn't matter anyway." She's talking past Martin again.

"I'm curious why you came if my opinion doesn't matter," Martin says.

"I told you," Malcolm replies. "To foil whatever plan you cooked up to get Harley alone. She's not a damsel in distress, but she still doesn't need to be cornered by you."

"Oh, I'm quite aware she's not a damsel," Martin says, taking a seat in his chair and leaning back in it. "I dare say she and I probably have more in common than you two do."

A shiver goes down Malcolm's spine and he clenches his hand to keep it from shaking.

"Sure, Marv, we're two peas in a pod. Except for how your family actually likes me." Her tone is still light and breezy, but there's an edge to her expression that shows how happy she would be to demonstrate their common ground.

Harley slips an arm around Malcolm's middle and squeezes. She's with him. She picked his side.

"I needed to swing by the office to take care of some business. Thought we'd pop in for a quick hello." She shrugs. "So since we've done that, we can get back to our plans. Big day. Lots to do out there."

Martin laughs at that. "Oh, yes, I'm sure Jessica's your biggest fan." He gives a subtle once over to her rather loud outfit. "As we established, she's quite judgy. I'm not."

Malcolm holds Harley to him. "This isn't a social call, Dr. Whitly," he says. "We're leaving."

Harley flips the good doctor double birds on their way out the room and takes a moment to apologize to Mr. David for the upcoming temper tantrum after slamming the door shut.

She slings an arm around Malcolm's shoulders and leans against him.

"You good, babe?"

Martin follows them as far as the lead will allow him, staring after them through the window in the door. "Pity you're leaving so soon," Martin says, looking at Harley. "I was going to offer my assistance to you with your work. I understand you've been interviewing Peter Smithson."

Malcolm glances at his father and then back at Harley, wondering how she'll react to that. "Yeah. Are you?"

Edited 2020-07-22 01:19 (UTC)

Harley doesn't pay Martin's parting shot any mind. He's already dead to her. Peter Smithson runs his mouth for anyone who will listen, and it's no surprise word of her work has reached Martin.

"Me? I'm peachy." She kisses Malcolm on the cheek. "I think that went well, don't you?"

"Hey!" Martin calls after them, the facade falling. "Don't you dare leave yet. I have questions and you know I'll get my answers. Don't think you're going to date my son without my blessing."

Malcolm squeezes Harley's hand and does not turn around to look at his father's tantrum behind them. He just keeps walking, focusing on the door in front of them.

Harley really intended to ignore Martin, but she can't help but react at him falling apart so predictably, so fast. Her laugh is loud and brash, echoing through the hall. That sound will be ringing in his ears for some time after. She has to lean against the wall once they're through the door before her knees buckle from cackling too hard.

The way she laughs sends a shiver up his spine and he wonders, for a brief second, if he just saw Harley the way she was when she was with Joker. Was her cackling just an act for Martin's benefit or did she forget herself for a moment.

Malcolm wraps his arms around her so that she doesn't fall to the ground. "Are you alright?" he asks, brow furrowed.

Harley slips her arms around him and pulls him in for a kiss. She's high off the win, and the tension of a fight in the air needs somewhere to go now that she didn't get an excuse to beat Martin to a pulp.

"I am great. But what about you?"

"Fine," he replies, returning the kiss. He's not actually sure how he is after all that, but it could probably have gone worse. When Malcolm looks down at his hand, it's still shaking. He runs the trembling hand through his hair.

Maybe he's not fine.

Harley clocks that tremble and takes his hand in hers.

"Let's go home."

She leads him out of the building and hails a cab. She guesses he won't want to open up with a stranger in the car so she waits until they get home to press him.

"Talk to me. What are you feeling?"

Malcolm hates that he's panicking. He holds her hand in the cab the whole way home and sits down on the couch as soon as he's back in the apartment.

"It's... the yelling," he says. Malcolm has faced down a hundred serial killers who have yelled far worse things at him and he's hardly batted an eyelash. Martin Whitly is the only one who gets under his skin, and for obvious reasons. "And then you laughed, and..."

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