While they waited for Jonny to get back with the food Joker relished in the sensation of Harley's caresses to his body, especially when her hand moved across his chest. That was his favorite. He breathed in cadence with her hand as he listened to the music on the radio and just stared into the brightly lit grocery store. He was comforted almost into a state of numbness that was shaken from him when Jonny opened the car door again. He hadn't even registered his Harley's little laugh.<br/>"I hope you got napkins," Joker stated, reaching through the division between the front seats for the bag of food. No answer was needed as he saw napkins and disposable forks in the bag. The rest of the ride to the abandoned theatre was spent eating the chicken and giving Harley pieces between her picking at it with a fork. He didn't use a fork. A useless step in the inevitable function of eating considering he really didn't feel pain anymore. When they finally arrived the food was gone and the container was filled with bones and used napkins, left on the backseat as the party went inside.<br/>Inside they were greeted by the buildings memory of them, scents of gunpowder and gasoline and death. The air hung thick with it, and yet on the swaying breeze that was present like a ghost there was the damp smell of dirt and must. That was the smell of the old discarded wood decaying. The discarded wood lay in scattered piles with pink fluffy insulation like discarded dreams and sentimental candy floss of old painful memories. There were orange lines of electrical cords running like tiny highways throughout the entrance of the building, some rising in the air and disappearing over the balconies and conclaves that made up the second level of the theatre. The front room had a few folding metal tables still set up and scattered with bomb building materials, tiny clippings of different coloured wires lay discarded like pencil shavings. The building was mostly dry on the inside, save for a few puddles near the outer walls from where the foundation was beginning to fail it.<br/>Joker didn't dwell long in the front room, shedding his coat he draped it over his arm and continued through one of the doors to the room with the stage. Where one of their many bedroom set ups resided. It was separated from view by the thick red theatre curtain, despite the moss that took hold in its cloth and the moth holes in it. Behind the curtain was a full sized bed with metal head and foot boards, a standing mirror, and a single dresser. Its drawers hanging open like spilt intestines, empty of any contents. It was on one of these drawers that he draped his coat before the squeak of the bed took his weight and he untied his shoes. Right now he didn't have the men or the resources to execute any plans he was beginning to formulate. With a sigh, he leaned back and crossed his ankles, tucking one hand under his pillow and leaving the other arm open as an invitation for Harley's presence. Which he knew she would take.