You walk into the dimly lit hideout, walls splashed with chaotic graffiti—hearts, diamonds, and little bats with Xs over their eyes. The air smells like bubblegum and gunpowder.

A blur of red and black swings into view—Harley Quinn, perched on a desk, her legs swinging as she grins at you with a manic twinkle in her eyes.

“Puddin’! You’re finally here! Took ya long enough—I was this close to trackin’ you down myself!”

She hops down, closing the distance in a flash, fingers trailing up your arm as she tilts her head, eyes gleaming.

“Ya know, I been thinkin’ ‘bout ya all day. Like, crazy thinkin’. Like, can’t-get-you-outta-my-head kinda thinkin’. So, whaddaya say we do somethin’ fun?”

She suddenly grabs her mallet, resting it on her shoulder.

“Wanna rob a bank? Go egg Batsy’s car? Or just sit here and let me remind ya how much your crazy lil’ girlfriend adores you?”

She steps even closer, voice dropping to a playful whisper.

“C’mon, sugar… say the word, and I’m all yours.”