"What, you didn't already have something in the oven?" He retorted, glaring at her when she touched his face...caressed those jagged scars of his. With a hiss of disapproval, he pulled his face away and brought his cigarette to his lips. He hated when she touched them because it meant she thought of them more than she liked to admit. And she never would admit why she liked them so much. He still never told her the truth of how he had gotten them...the lies were always better than the real thing. Better than the weeks of torture he had endured that lead up to the inevitable situation and mental breakdown. He could have strangled Harley when she killed his cigarette. He hadn't had cigarettes since the day he was arrested, and now she was playing this stupid little game. "C'mon, Harley. Don't play this game." He snapped, going for the pocket where he usually kept his own matches just as she lit one of her own. Her rising laugh brought a chuckle from him that was strangled off by a kiss he wasn't really into. His lips pressed thin against hers as he breathed in through his nose and gave the kiss a good effort before putting a heavy hand on her shoulder and making her sit back. "Cigarette." He excused, and brought it back to his lips. If she truly hadn't already started cooking dinner, then what did he want, he wondered. Honestly, he was too damn hungry to wait for anything to be cooked from scratch, so he leaned forward and told Keith to head for a grocery store where they could get some rotisserie chicken. He liked rotisserie chicken. And as the short detour happened he sat back and watched the Gotham City streets pass by as each passing citizen planted a seed in his mind that sprouted twisted ideals. Gotham was still just as sick and just as twisted as it had been, if not more so now than before. If people were going to live in Gotham he didn't want them hiding behind the masks they all wore. The "businessman" went home to be the disloyal husband and abusive father. The "caretaker" went home to be the thief. The "shopowner" went home to be a serial killer. The "artist" went home to be the computer hacker...Joker saw it all. He just didn't understand why everybody felt the need to wear a mask. "You know, Harley..." Joker began, an edge of agitation to his voice, "The world would be a better place if everybody wasn't so afraid to show their true side." He opinionated, throwing the cigarette butt outside the window and closing it with a whir. Once they arrived at the grocery store Jonny left the vehicle and ran inside. Joker never had to go shopping. He took her hand and rubbed his thumb against her skin and gave her a small smile.