She bounced on the balls of her feet, making tiny audience like clapping motions, not quite actually letting her hands smack together.  Always an appreciative audience was Harley.  The phone ringing was like a memory caressing her brain in all the wrong ways.  She frowned again.  Silly women have silly sounds on their phones.  And then the deliciousness started!<br/><br/>She bounced over, and put one hand on herhip, leaning forward to stare at her selection with a finger planted firmly on her lips.  The classic exaggerated miming over something.  She hummed and hawed for a brief moment, and then quickly selected.  The middle one.  She liked the middle one.  He liked it to, she could tell.  He was smiling.  Her delicate spandex-covered fingers picked it up coyly, sliding along the handle, and his palm, stroking him just a touch before picking up the weapon of choice with a final flourish.<br/><br/>She cartwheeled again, and somersaulted, and bounced, and with a sudden flurry of red with black diamond patterend movement, she vaulted, and landed, sitting astride the poor Rachel's hips, her own white painted face grinning maniacally.  She reached out with the hand not holding the knife, and stroked a finger along that delicate cheek, and jaw.  She touched and stroked, and played, and adored the fear in those eyes.  Those pretty little eyes.  Harley liked them a lot.  Maybe she'd borrow them later.<br/><br/>She turned to listen to the phone call, grinding a little against the captive DA as she turned to follow it.  Her own face turned into caricature motions as she smiled at the person's first answer, and the lovely response from our gracious Host!  And then the bad turn.  She pouted, and wagged a free finger back and forth at the phone.<br/><br/>She turned to look at their now no doubt terrified captive, leaning down for a delicious little kiss, while her fingers started to undo that jacket a little, revealing some delicious cleavage.  The wonderful thing about the chest was that there were lots of little little blood vessels on the surface... and nothing that could kill just yet.  The knife descended, and placed its scalpel-sharp tip against her collarbone, pressing down just enough to let the bright red well forth.