[One] Harley coughs, rolls over, and spits water. "Ugh. I think I just swallowed a fish. I hate fish."

That's when she notices the group heading toward her with grim purpose. She scrambles to her feet and holds her hands up a broad friendly smile on her face.

"Hey, I get it! Fish are important, I just don't like 'em. No need to look so sour about it, mister. Anyone would think it was you, garglin' with the fishes! Say, any of you know where Gotham went? I think it's thataway."

[Two]
Harley's checking out the scene in Bavan, avoiding the pamphlets, browsing the shops, and asking the important questions:

"Okay, but where do you have the old timey photo booth? More importantly, do you have stocks? You know, those things you put your friends in and you take a picture or chuck pies at them or something. I don't have a camera, but c'mon, there's got be something fun around here. I wouldn't mind if it was only a hayride."

[Three] "Now this seems like a party." Harley strolls into the place as if she's entering one of Gotham's hottest night spots. She'll shrug off any invitations to actually join the ceremonies.

"I'm not that easy, sweetie. Besides, that guy tied to the pole doesn't look like he's having such a good time."