That one's easy enough; you're still all human, and you know what Gotham is. Even if it ain't your cup of tea- which is fair, that place is a nuthouse. [She gestures at the other people walking by, giving the pair of them- especially Harley- wide-eyed, unnerved looks.] None of the local yokels do. Actually, most of the rest of the blown-ins don't know, either.
And yeah- you can get them. [Harley's grin is knowing.] These are the good shit, too; the pure, 1950s era, unfiltered Lucky Strikes. Can be a little intense at first; if you get dizzy, lean on something. [She takes her lighter back, and slips it into her pocket, another deep drag from her own cigarette.
Her grin broadens, at the question.] Good choice, kitten. You got to put yourself first, am I right or am I right? Ain't nobody else out there going to do it for you. [She transfers her cigarette to her left hand, holding out her right.] Harley Quinn, at your service.
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And yeah- you can get them. [Harley's grin is knowing.] These are the good shit, too; the pure, 1950s era, unfiltered Lucky Strikes. Can be a little intense at first; if you get dizzy, lean on something. [She takes her lighter back, and slips it into her pocket, another deep drag from her own cigarette.
Her grin broadens, at the question.] Good choice, kitten. You got to put yourself first, am I right or am I right? Ain't nobody else out there going to do it for you. [She transfers her cigarette to her left hand, holding out her right.] Harley Quinn, at your service.