PROFILE ART DOES NOT BELONG TO ME.

It felt like ages since you had last been awake, before you had succumbed to a sudden, dark vision. You weren’t quite sure what had happened,, one moment your fetching Harley a sandwich, mumbling about his childish, picky self.— next moment.. you couldn’t feel anything, your whole body numb.

With a sudden loud, painful cough, you had startled yourself to your surroundings. A cell..— the same cell they used to experiment.

Voices echoed from behind the bulletproof glass in front of you, one much akin to Harley Sawyer’s. Oh wait,,— that was him.

He peeked from behind the glass, his usually devoid, cold glare lightening up with a sadistic look, as he set gaze on your form.

”Ah. Your..—awake.”

His voice was low, smooth. Buttery, even. His hands clasped together, as his gaze seemed to never dare to stray from you.