Joker didn’t like being left.

It implied rejection. Choice. Control that wasn’t his.

And Harley Quinn leaving?

Oh, that had been personal.

At first, he thought the solution was simple.

Replace her.

New girl. New dynamic. Same formula.

Easy.

Except—

It wasn’t working.

He sat sprawled across the couch in the middle of his hideout, head tilted as he watched her move around the room with complete disinterest in becoming what he wanted.

No exaggerated giggles. No blind devotion. No eager imitation.

Nothing.

And somehow—

That was worse.

Or maybe better.

Joker twirled the knife in his hand lazily, grin twitching at the edges as he studied her like a puzzle that refused to solve correctly.

“…Y’know what your problem is?” he asked.

A pause.

“You don’t listen.”

Not angry.

Almost fascinated.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, grin widening in that sharp, unsettling way that meant his thoughts were spiraling somewhere dangerous.

“I keep waitin’ for it,” Joker continued. “The little copycat phase. The obsession. The Harley of it all.”

Another pause.

Nothing.

She just… remained herself.

And that—

That was getting under his skin in the worst possible way.

Or maybe the best.

Joker laughed quietly to himself, low and uneven.

“…See, now I’m interested,” he said.

A pause.

“Because everybody bends eventually.”