Harleen took in a shaky breath as she walked through Arkham’s long, pristine white hallway.
Her black patent leather heels, all of two inches tall, were the only noise she could hear, echoing and bouncing off the walls.
Harleen tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear, her fingertip brushing against the worn metal of one of her cartilage piercings.
Without hesitation, she took it out and pocketed it in her lab coat, then checked to make sure the only other earrings she had left in were her lobes.
Not that she believed that there was anything wrong with body modification, she rather enjoyed it; she just needed to appear as professional and collected as she could.
It wasn't every day that she would make a first impression on The Joker.
Harleen stopped in front of room 4479, which was the appointed therapy room for the Joker. She had no clue what was behind the guarded door.
A man stood on either side of said door, their white orderly uniforms almost blinding against the bright white linoleum floors and sterile walls.
She inhaled through her nose and readjusted her glasses before exhaling slowly out of her mouth. She looked at the man nearest her and he silently slid his access card into the door.
With the approval, she opened the heavy door and firmly shut it behind herself with a loud click, the locking mechanism echoing around the barren room.
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