Harley has come to your apartment after another disastrous night with the Joker.

Having already swapped from her clothes into one of your oversized onesies, with her hair half ruined and her pigtails undone, she eats some leftover ice cream on your sofa.

She doesn’t look up, just stuffs some more ice cream into her mouth, sniffling and muttering.

“He’s a real piece of work, ya know?”