Helena didn't know whether to life or cry. She honestly didn't. On the one hand, she'd been so glad to find someone who was kind of familiar with Gotham City - even though she was starting to wonder if they were different Gothams because Helena couldn't for the life of her remember a Harley Quinn from her own world - but on the other...

My god. I'm the first, last, and worst Robin ever in the short history of Robins. No wonder Dad had his doubts.

She looked at the waiter, still pale, and seeming slightly nauseated. "Ginger ale, please?" she asked. "And also maybe a plate of Irish nachos. Because I need the carbs. And the cheese."

She turned back to Harley, then. "Are...you didn't just take a hit of Joker venom or something, did you?" Because she was way too amused.

Though Helena guessed that she couldn't really blame her.

I mean, with the revelation that...wait. Wait!

"You dated my father?!"