Harleen didn't wear jewelry, not really. Studs in her ears of a ruby color, no necklaces, no bracelets or watch, no rings. Devoid of frills or cheap costume jewelry that people could be so fond of wearing. It simply never occurred to her to add anything unnecessary that too often got caught on fabric or this or that when most of the time she wasn't even aware she was wearing it. What was the point? Especially when patients could try to steal it, it could be triggering... anything could set them off.<br/><br/>She sighed. No, of course it wasn't going to be easy. Why would it be easy? For a moment she thought she might have him, might have done or said something to get a bit of information out of him but he was shutting down. He was trying to play a game and she wasn't, by the very nature of her position, allowed to participate. That didn't stop the urge from rising up to keep his attention, keep from having him dismiss her so easily. Harleen could feel her chest tightening and her hold on the clipboard was beginning to ache. Her lips pressed firmly together, unwilling to give up her name on request. It wasn't important, or it didn't seem that way, but a name was over familiarization, it crossed a personal boundary not meant to be crossed with people like him. But it was just a name...<br/><br/>Why did she feel compelled to prove anything to him at all? The urge was undeniably there. The short answer was because she wanted this to work, she had to have his trust and apparently his interest, something she didn't have. She was letting it fall apart before it even started. That should have been as bad as it got, but he managed to make it worse. The clipboard was lowered slightly and her eyes widened despite telling herself not to react. It was a game – she smiled faintly. He was playing with her, there wasn't anything special about the Sunday paper.<br/><br/>The clipboard was lowered back to her side and the pen was tucked into the pocket of her coat. “If I tell you my name would you tell me why you're interested in the paper? You've done something haven't you? That no one's caught onto yet.” Her voice was soft and even, an underlying excitement barely noticeable. “You don't have to make yourself miserable here. I can help you if you'd let me.” The glasses were lifted up and placed back on her head, safe until she forgot she put them there. “But you do have to give me something to get something back. A trade. A fair trade. Give me something I want and I'll get you something in return.”<br/><br/>She smiled again, almost automatically in an attempt to be friendly. “Maybe the paper or something to eat... or a pillow. You can decide.” Harleen was pushing, stepping over her boundaries just a little. Most patients would get what they were given for good behavior. Somehow she doubted it was going to work that way with this one. Her patient. Her eyes narrowed. It was going to work out. It had to. He didn't even realize how important he was to her, reclining there so casually, indifferent to his situation. Part of her was tempted to snap at him to stop being so cavalier.