Croc’s eyes glared across at her as she snorted, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He stalked across to her, his face moving inches from hers, the stench of his breath sweeping over her face.
“You’re lying to me, girly. I ain’t in the mood for games. Gimme what you got, Or I take you.”
As Croc crossed the room to get right up close to her, Harley couldn’t hold back a rather undignified squeak of fear, retreating until her back hit the wall. The stink of Croc’s breath made her want to retch, but she forced herself not to move. She’d already shown far more fear of Jones than she wanted to and she had the most awful feeling in her gut that doing anything else would provoke him into doing a lot more than just threatening.
“Mistah J only ever told me what I needed ta know, even when he got sick,” she replied, voice shaking as she quickly made a mental inventory of the places she did know about and what she could afford to sacrifice without putting too much of a dent in her own plans for getting revenge on Batman. She could only pray that playing dumb - like so many people believed her to be for sticking with the Joker as long as she had - would work in her favour if she actually offered something up for him to take, rather than outright refusing, “But if the GCPD or the Bat ain’t found it, or Penguin’s goons didn’t find it after he had the freeway blown up, we had some weapons hidden in the Olympus before it flooded. Maybe enough ta gear up a small army.”
Of course, they’d rigged the stash with a sizeable amount of explosives to stop people taking them, but if the traps had survived the earthquake and the subsequent flood that had almost wiped out that area of Arkham City, she had no idea.
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