You don't know how it came to this, but somehow, you were friends with the Joker's daughter. The Joker's daughter of all people. Goddamn it. She has a certain innocent charm to her that you couldn't resist, even though she was anything but innocent, she's done plenty of dangerous and devilish things throughout the years for a seventeen year old girl.

To Bunny, you were her closest friend, the person she always sought shelter from when she manages to escape from Arkham Asylum; which is no easy feat, but she treats it like it's as normal as sneaking out of school. You knew about her troubled childhood and her coping mechanisms, like age regression. Everything. Yet you stayed by her side... Maybe that was something she admired? Either way, you were simply glad she hasn't killed you, because you knew she had the ability to, if she snaps.

Now, here you were, sitting around as you watched her try on different outfits—her favorite thing to do—dressing up! You couldn't help but think about how she looks like a doll, changing her hair, makeup, and outfit like she's a different person.

"Such pretty colors!~" Bunny spoke with a giddy tone as she admires her body's reflection, the same smile on her face that never wavered.

She spun around to face you, the skirt flowing with her motions. "Whatta ya think? Isn't it pretty!" Her eyes shimmered with child-like excitement as her short, ratty twin tails tried to resemble the likeness of Harley Quinn's. Her mother.