Post by Deleted on Dec 10, 2012 23:56:23 GMT -4
The afternoon blessed the gritty city of Gotham with scorching sunlight. It didn't usually reach such temperatures but today seemed to be a tad bit unusual, weather wise. The streets pulsed with life as Gothamites paraded the streets trying to make the most of such a beautiful day. Young couples rushed the streets clutching the hands of their other trying not to get caught from skipping class while the working class men and women poured onto the streets and dispersed in an attempt to beat the lunch time rush which they only contributed to by hurrying through the busy streets. Sounds were so powerful and overwhelming that it was likely people could be deafened by such tremendous sounds. The only refuge from the sheer power of the sounds was to enter a building.
The quaint little cafe sat on the corner of a block. It wasn't all that well known, few people tried to seek refuge or sustenance here, but of they had allowed themselves to be seduced by the quaint exterior they would be possessed by the power and taste of the food, never able to break free of its power. Harleen sat at a small round table. She had once tried the shop after passing it over oh so many times, and fell hopelessly in love with its quiet atmosphere and friendly service, not to mention a carrot cake to die for and a coffee so rich you would never go back to any plain old coffee. After just one lonely lunch there last month, Harleen had become obsessed with it to the point where she went out of her way to get at least a coffee there everyday at lunch.
The little brown wooden table was cluttered with files laying open overlapping each other in a fashion that resembled complete chaos. Her coffee sat in a little glass mug to her right with her piece of cake to her left. The cake's plate sat on top of another plate from her sandwich which she had already made quick work of. Don't get her wrong, Harleen loved where she worked. She loved the asylum and her co-workers were a joy to be around, but after staying with such wounded souls for an entire day, and having to keep going back there, the blood curdling screams and laughs of pure insanity got to you and broke down your defenses and your mind. However Harleen was convinced to stay in her profession and move up in the work place to being granted access to such cases as the Joker and Killer Croc.
Her eyes frantically shifted around the chaos, eying the mug shots of all the patient files she had. Granted not all of them were her patients, but their cases and the notes that her colleagues took really proved to be interesting and a great way to dive into the minds and rationality of why these people commit such things as murder and robbery. Harleen believed strongly in her thesis that people committed crimes for passion and love. These acts were their way of rationalizing what it was that their lover did or even trying to gain the attention of a lover or love interest. In a way, crime was something that went hand in hand with the technique of peacocking. It was a sort of trait that made you stand out to your interest.
The faces of the patients seemed to show a sort of traumatic event they seemed distant or hurt, even scarred psychologically due to some sort of childhood trauma or simply a complete breakdown triggered by a recent trauma. Whatever it was, Harleen was dedicated to aiding these pour souls in their dire attempt to re-enter society as a typical and functional citizen. She believed strongly that they could be helped while other's simply wanted these "psychotics" and "monsters" to be locked away from the "normal" people. The entire idea of having a normal person was absurd nobody was normal and the patients that she treated weren't monsters or psycho's they simply had a lapse where their psyche wasn't powerful enough to deal with a certain event that unfolded.
Taking hold of the handle, Harleen brought the hot coffee to her lips and felt its heat radiate as the steam lifted off her coffee and warmed her lips, sending a euphoric feeling pulsing through her veins and tingling all over her body. Where chills usually were, they had been replaced with warmth and heat. The feeling was divine as she allowed the warm liquid to pass her lips and travel down her throat, warming her entire body. Placing the glass back on the table, she traded the coffee for a fork, and taken a bite of her cake. Her blonde bangs hung over her glasses while the rest of her hair was draped down her back. Usually it was restrained into a bun but during lunch she cut loose a bit and at the very least let her hair down.
The blonde girl was mesmerized by one of her own patients, Victor Zsasz. He was deformed due to his habit towards cutting his own flesh after each kill he makes. Harleen had just received his case this morning and had just started to look over his file. Reaching up, she removed her reading classes and held them in her hands for a second just before she rubbed the crease of her nose. She had been studying these files for a while now and she hadn't been sleeping all that much, in a way she was obsessed with these cases to the point where she wouldn't stop reading not even to sleep. It was difficult for her to stop and pull herself out of her work.
The quaint little cafe sat on the corner of a block. It wasn't all that well known, few people tried to seek refuge or sustenance here, but of they had allowed themselves to be seduced by the quaint exterior they would be possessed by the power and taste of the food, never able to break free of its power. Harleen sat at a small round table. She had once tried the shop after passing it over oh so many times, and fell hopelessly in love with its quiet atmosphere and friendly service, not to mention a carrot cake to die for and a coffee so rich you would never go back to any plain old coffee. After just one lonely lunch there last month, Harleen had become obsessed with it to the point where she went out of her way to get at least a coffee there everyday at lunch.
The little brown wooden table was cluttered with files laying open overlapping each other in a fashion that resembled complete chaos. Her coffee sat in a little glass mug to her right with her piece of cake to her left. The cake's plate sat on top of another plate from her sandwich which she had already made quick work of. Don't get her wrong, Harleen loved where she worked. She loved the asylum and her co-workers were a joy to be around, but after staying with such wounded souls for an entire day, and having to keep going back there, the blood curdling screams and laughs of pure insanity got to you and broke down your defenses and your mind. However Harleen was convinced to stay in her profession and move up in the work place to being granted access to such cases as the Joker and Killer Croc.
Her eyes frantically shifted around the chaos, eying the mug shots of all the patient files she had. Granted not all of them were her patients, but their cases and the notes that her colleagues took really proved to be interesting and a great way to dive into the minds and rationality of why these people commit such things as murder and robbery. Harleen believed strongly in her thesis that people committed crimes for passion and love. These acts were their way of rationalizing what it was that their lover did or even trying to gain the attention of a lover or love interest. In a way, crime was something that went hand in hand with the technique of peacocking. It was a sort of trait that made you stand out to your interest.
The faces of the patients seemed to show a sort of traumatic event they seemed distant or hurt, even scarred psychologically due to some sort of childhood trauma or simply a complete breakdown triggered by a recent trauma. Whatever it was, Harleen was dedicated to aiding these pour souls in their dire attempt to re-enter society as a typical and functional citizen. She believed strongly that they could be helped while other's simply wanted these "psychotics" and "monsters" to be locked away from the "normal" people. The entire idea of having a normal person was absurd nobody was normal and the patients that she treated weren't monsters or psycho's they simply had a lapse where their psyche wasn't powerful enough to deal with a certain event that unfolded.
Taking hold of the handle, Harleen brought the hot coffee to her lips and felt its heat radiate as the steam lifted off her coffee and warmed her lips, sending a euphoric feeling pulsing through her veins and tingling all over her body. Where chills usually were, they had been replaced with warmth and heat. The feeling was divine as she allowed the warm liquid to pass her lips and travel down her throat, warming her entire body. Placing the glass back on the table, she traded the coffee for a fork, and taken a bite of her cake. Her blonde bangs hung over her glasses while the rest of her hair was draped down her back. Usually it was restrained into a bun but during lunch she cut loose a bit and at the very least let her hair down.
The blonde girl was mesmerized by one of her own patients, Victor Zsasz. He was deformed due to his habit towards cutting his own flesh after each kill he makes. Harleen had just received his case this morning and had just started to look over his file. Reaching up, she removed her reading classes and held them in her hands for a second just before she rubbed the crease of her nose. She had been studying these files for a while now and she hadn't been sleeping all that much, in a way she was obsessed with these cases to the point where she wouldn't stop reading not even to sleep. It was difficult for her to stop and pull herself out of her work.