1788/One Doctor To Another

One Doctor To Another
Date of Scene:	03 August 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Insight, Harley Quinn

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Insight has posed:
    It's getting to be later on in the evening in Gotham. The university is quiet, mostly only staff and security around since it is a matter of weeks before the fall semester. The offices of the psychology department and student health is almost entirely empty save Doctor Georgie Goodspeed who is once again burning the midnight oil.

    Dressed in dress slacks and a button down white shirt, Georgie isn't in his usual suit. The arm that Harley broke with her bat is probably a good reason for the lack of jacket and tie. Every move is done with lingering pain, right down to the breaths he draws. His ribs fared even a little worse than his arm did.

    The door is open, as it is supposed to be when patients aren't present. Some trite nonsense passed down by a bureaucracy that is supposed to make people more comfortable coming in to see a therapist. It doesn't work and is more a pain in the tookus than anything else.

    Georgie moves to the little fridge and tugs out a beer. He pops the top and eases down into one of the chairs facing his little garden. He draws a sigh and then takes a long drink of his beer, hoping for a touch of pain relief.

Harley Quinn has posed:
The sound of heels heralds the approach of the woman coming down the hall long before she's visible. The petite blonde currently rendered a brunette by use of a wig and absent her white-face paint, but there's small hints because she's on some level compulsively incapable of not including them. The ruby red lips, white shirt, black pencil skirt, paired with a pair of white-and-black 'sports fashion' heels and a smile that's just a little too bright to bode well.

After all, Harley Quinn... and Harleen Quinzel, are known, and she doesn't want to be made before she makes it to his office. For her at least there's pleased delight at the fact that he's obviously hurting, for all the attempt at an innocent expression as she knocks on the door.

Insight has posed:
    There's a soft groan belying his pain as the doctor rises at the knock. He offers a smile, genuine unlike most health care workers. He's still one of those sorry sorts that still cares about what he's doing. The young man hasn't heard enough horror to jade him to the plights of people. As his eyes meet Harley's though, he recognizes the one thing that she simply can't hide: the strength and chaos of her emotions. Even though she sees the recognition, the Doctor nods, smile still firmly in place and he greets, "Evening, Miss Quinn. You look stunning tonight." He moves a couple steps closer even. "Mister J is doing well, I hope."

Harley Quinn has posed:
    There's a flicker on her face at being made, but it passes as rapidly as it appears in favor of an even more feral smile as she chooses to step into his office, closing the door behind her,"You're a sharp one, aren't you?" the clown princess asks rhetorically, raising a hand to remove the wig and shake out that red and blue tipped blonde hair with a flicker of a glance towards his desk,"How 'boutcha sit down?" she suggests, from the way she stalks across his office, probably not meaning behind his desk,"And he's /fine/... after /someone/ decided to try and punch him." nevermind that she took the bat to him afterwards, it's as much in the glint of her eyes as the swirl of her possessive anger that she's still put out about that one. Her precious puddin'.

Insight has posed:
    Georgie gives a look of doubt at just how sharp he is. He gives a bit of a nod and starts a somewhat slow and pained journey over to sink down into the soft leather of the couch. "I'm glad," he says with the hint of sincerity. He levels a look at Harley and purses his lips in disappointment. "It was his birthday. What was I supposed to do? Be boring? That's a death sentence and probably would have been far less satisfying for you. I mean, that shot you gave me with the bat was simply fantastic." Sure enough, even a small smile of pride appears on his lips as he remembers. He says with a wistful tone, "You know, you only ever hear the stories. How often does a guy actually get to honestly brush with greatness?"

Harley Quinn has posed:
Harley takes up position by pushing things from his desk to provide herself a spot to sit on the edge of it, watching him with the calculation that some make the mistake of forgetting the former psychologist is capable of. She's weighing his words with a single finger tapping against her lips,"I suppose." she concedes,"It was the most fun he's had in a while." she reaches over to pick up his little name device from the desk to turn it over in her hands with absent amusement,"If you were working in Arkham you'd get to know 'em all. But most of them are so... boring. Mommy didn't love me... daddy wasn't there. They teach you here, that they're broken. That medication can fix all things... but it really can't."

Insight has posed:
    Georgie knows full well who Harley was. It's a case study used to warn new doctoral candidates, so he's as familiar as most are really going to be without actually speaking to her. He reaches up and undoes one of the buttons of his shirt, trying to make his breathing come with just a little less pain. He offers a smile Harley's way before he lets his gaze flit towards the window to the peaceful little garden. "I couldn't work there. I don't really practice the nonsense that they espouse. Pills. Diagnoses. It's all part of the problem." He glances back at Harley, lifting a finger. "The docs do that to them. The excuses. The lack of ownership." He leans forward. "You liked hitting me with that bat. You wanted it, at that moment, more than anything. It isn't because of this excuse or that lame reason. It's part of who you are and what makes you happy. An extension of your love." He smiles and blushes. "Presumably. I don't know you well enough to make a claim other than what I think I saw."

    Georgie shrugs a little and draws in a deep breath, immediately regretting it. "I don't give diagnoses here. I'm more... nip/tuck about it. I ask them what they don't like about themselves and we work on that. I go into a ring a couple times a month and beat the crap out of people for money. Who am I to judge anyone or tell them that they're screwed in the head?" He smiles a bit ruefully at Harley. "I'm a lot of things. Dead is probably on the short list, but hypocrite, I try to steer away from."

Harley Quinn has posed:
    There's still that assessment in Harley's blue eyed gaze, the still surface deceptive in that the chaos of her emotions still churns away inside, and his empathy likely to detect where inspiration and violence strikes, even if she stays put for the moment. He levels the accusation of her enjoyment and gets the tilt of her head, those wide blue eyes and the curve of her lip an affirmation that he didn't particularly need with his talents,"My but you /are/ a sharp one. The last one tried to convince me that I was just suffering from Stockholm syndrome and it wasn't my fault cos he made me do it." there's the sneer that crosses her face, disgust flittering through her emotions as she drops the name tag on the desk and rises to her feet to stalk about the room.

"Reeaaaallly?" there's a laugh from her at the idea of him climbing into a ring to fight people, delighted at the idea,"So in short... you tailor them to your entertainment. Right here... in the heart of their little university... I like it. Not going to lie. Unless you're lying to me... and then? Well... I was planning on caving your head in with that name plate... but you're just a little too... interesting... for that. It'd be a waste."

Insight has posed:
    After the talk of what other people have told her, Georgie just says softly, "Love isn't a disease to be cured." He pushes himself up then and starts to hobble for his beer. "I hope you wouldn't deny a dead-man-walking a last drink." He reaches his beer and then thinks to offer, "Can I get you one?" His nose wrinkles as he confesses, "I don't have anything harder, sadly."

    He thinks about her tldr version of what he said, amending, "Not really for my entertainment. I figure I'm just here to help people find the skills to survive in a world that likes to think that nobody is good enough for it. Not polite enough, not caring enough, too caring, too sexual, an ice queen, sluts-prudes-drunks-squares-pretty-ugly-never good enough." He tosses his head in exasperation, his look of dismay growing as he strains his ribs. "But then, given the amount of bullshit in the world, I suppose an awful lot of misogyny is to be expected. Heaven forbid a strong woman such as yourself decided something. Made choices because -you- wanted to. Nope. Has to be Stockholm Syndrome or some sort of force." His eyes roll and he hobbles over to deliver the beer if she accepted or to sit back down if she declined. "Why would I lie? That's not interesting at all. And interesting is all that's going to keep me alive. And even then, probably not for horribly long." There's a bit of bitterness when he let's slip, "I'm not important enough for Bats or Nightwing or anyone to give a damn about. Never have been. It's you, me and Mister J until I'm no longer amusing or interesting. Then it'll just be you and Mr. J, without so much as a memory of Doctor Goodspeed." He shrugs and actually smiles, seeming to take some small solace in that. "But these hours... these days... that will be more interesting than most people could ever dream of." He nods his head and murmurs, "Thank you for that."

    He looks at Harley and asks, "Wanna see a couple of my fights? They're on my hard drive there."

Harley Quinn has posed:
    "Oh sweetie, I'm not gonna kill ya tonight." no promises about the future, there, and in fact Harley chooses to amend with,"...Probably." as she continues to circle about his office, touching his things even as her eyes are focused mostly on him. Is the amusement and fascination of the clown princess more or less concerning? Certainly the thread of violence is little more than an ebbing drift in the maelstrom of her thoughts,"You're right." why lie about it? She doesn't see the need, full of glittering delight in her smile,"Well, sort-of. Because now I want to seee-e. I think you're capable of being far more interesting than I was expecting when I came here. Cos I think that maybe, you can help make the people free. Give them more reasons to laugh... help... them." there's definite contemplation there, but he's talking about fights and she can't help but laugh,"Yes." she's not going to wait for him to come over to the desk, or perhaps she's considering that it's all a trick just to get him close to a panic button. Choosing to plant herself in his chair and slide it forward with her fingers poised,"What's your password?"

Insight has posed:
    Georgie leans back and relaxes, taking the Princess at her word. He even gives a hearty, warm sort of laugh. It has the proper tinge of hysteria to it, because she's still Harley Quinn, but it isn't the main note of it. This fact even surprises the doctor, making his demeanor a touch more thoughtful as she talks about how he might be able to help. He makes no promises, but there isn't an immediate dismissal of the idea either.

    Georgie pokes experimentally at his wrapped ribs and offers his password without seeming to have intended getting up. "It is Goodspeed<3's. That's a capital Gee goodspeed, heart emoji, apostrophe s." He glances over and sits up a little straighter. "Isn't much on the desktop. Just the folder with the ubercreative name of 'fights'," he says with a smirk. He sips his beer, sighing in satisfaction as Harley does what she will with his system. He has the air of a man that doesn't care. He's injured with one of the most dangerous women in the world. His school computer is the least of his worries.

    If Harley watches them, they're pretty obviously him. Some are pretty legit looking and he wears the colors of Cambridge University. In some of them, however, they look to be underground operations with far less in the way of rules. For someone who likes violence, Harley would see an awful lot of skill in the short fights. In each one that he's announced in, they claim he's undefeated too. He fights with an economy of movement and a grace that is almost supernatural. His empathy gives him the ability to unerringly anticipate an opponent's hand to hand attacks. In some of the underground battles, he faces down some pretty obvious mutants or metas and those are by far the most interesting and downright bloody. In those, he invariably wins either by submission or strangulation. In some, submission consists of him breaking appendages.

Harley Quinn has posed:
    It's not that she's not aware of where he is, the Clown Princess hardly as oblivious as her baby blue eyes might suggest. She starts up the first one and pushes his chair back so she can plant her feet on the desk comfortably. Even if her expression wasn't obvious, he's got the advantage of being able to feel the shift in her emotions as she watches them. The 'school' ones flicked through with mild degrees of boredom, but the bloodier ones watched with an avid degree of fascination.

"Ooooh but my good doctor Goodspeed." she tuts,"Now if I were your supervisor I'd say that your fascination with primal expressions of violence may suggest you are an... 'at risk' individual in Gotham's... unique... psychological ecology. But..." she pushes off from the desk to give the chair a little whirl,"I'm not... and I like your style. Even if you hurt my puddin'. For which... y'know. I still owe you. But I like it... especially this one where you break his ankle.... mmm. Hidden depths, as puddin' would say."

Insight has posed:
    Georgie can't help but giggle at Harley's assessment. "That's what they said at Arkham. One of the laundry list of reasons I can't work there." He quiets a little at the thought of being owed one still. He gives a little sigh and seems resigned to the fact that he will eventually pay dearly for that. "I know," he agrees. "I'll pay you back with interest I'm sure." It occurs to him to point out the snipers couldn't get a shot with him hovering over Mister J, but he decides to just let it go. They're probably both at least as smart as he is in his estimation.

    He leans forward at the ankle breaking and smiles in a way that isn't particularly befitting someone that works with kids. "He was a low level speedster I think. Had a hell of a time trying to catch him, so when I did, I made sure he slowed down. Ended his career from what I hear." He beams a little, obviously proud of taking down an obvious meta. He considers hidden depths for a moment and nods, sincerely agreeing, "Hidden depths. It's the hallmark of interesting people, maybe." He pushes himself up off of the couch and pauses, hesitating a moment. "Since you might not kill me tonight, I was thinking about getting a bite to eat. Could I interest you in some dinner or maybe some take out for you and Mister J?"

Harley Quinn has posed:
    "Y'd a few people work out that conformity is dull or something." Harley drawls as she prowls a slow circle,"A pity. But not the end of the world, really. Because Batsy-watsy might think you're not worth it... but I totally do." she asserts, choosing to reach out with the intention of petting his arm with entirely too much incandescent delight and leaning up with the intention of planting a kiss on his cheek,"Oh no. I'm going to let you heal up first. An' when I come back... maybe we can share stories... I want to know about your patients and where your work is leading them. Show me your work, Doctor Goodspeed. I want to know." well, okay, more like she wants to see and encourage him to break a few people's brains, at least to judge from the burbling, manic delight that shows in her eyes as much as her emotions,"You take care of those ribs... mm? I'd hate for you to get hurt." except by her, probably.

Insight has posed:
    Georgie, not sensing impending violence, doesn't withdraw from Harley's affections. It even brings a smile to his face, much like Mister J's arm around him. Harley might notice that he's more than a little starved for any sort of affection and one can do far worse than the Clown Princess of Crime. At the ask after his work and patients, what is he supposed to say? He nods and murmurs, "Okay." It might not be exactly a model of concern and understanding, but Harley touches a nerve by making him feel like he's at all worth her time. It makes him grateful and she can probably see that 'weakness' in his eyes. Goodness knows Batman couldn't be assed out to offer any sort of word. Only Harley.

    He nods his head and promises, "I'll take good care of them. No fights for... a week at least according to my doc." He draws a deep breath and lets it out slowly, tentatively hopeful he might have survived yet another encounter with Harley Quinn. He almost says something further, but pulls up short, deciding at the last moment that he probably shouldn't push his luck. He offers instead, "If you want, I can show you the back way in. No cameras or security. I used to use it when I was a student here sneaking in booze." It's a small ask of trust, but should she take it, he's true to his word. No cameras. No guards.

Harley Quinn has posed:
    There's that delight from Harley as she reaches up to touch his face in a light, pleased little pat,"Good." she enthuses, more strength than her petite frame should have in the squeeze she gives of his arm,"Oh I know that way... I figured they were probably watching that way too... then again... I thought there'd be more... screaming and running and stabbin'... too. Didn't want you running away before I found you." she offers with amused flippancy,"But I shoulda known that you'd be more interesting than that. And you are! I'm going to come and visit soon, and we'll talk. I think puddin' might even forgive you after he breaks a few bones... once he see's what you're really like." she does collect the wig, even if she doesn't put it on again.

"And no telling Batsy I was here, if he comes... or I'll be mad."

Insight has posed:
    Georgie laughs a little, as one might when a friend says another friend will kick their ass for doing something, but it's fairly clear that he understands it isn't a joke. He gives a little nod, dutiful in that sometimes you just have to take your lumps. He betrays himself with a very real shiver. At the mention of Batsy, he rolls his eyes a little. "As if. I'm just the chump working at the college," he grumbles. Yup. More than a little bitter.

    He starts to hobble his way out, waving over his shoulder. "Have a great night." He looks over his shoulder and says with some real feeling, "Thanks for checking in on me. I know... it isn't like that, but it means something. Giving enough of a crap to crush a skull is still... something." He gulps and flashes a suddenly more nervous smile. "G'night."

Insight has posed:
Georgie Goodspeed says, "That wasn't a particularly tasty bean for my first one. Yuck."