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thecapitol2015-07-20 05:05 pm
Will we ever get the dough we need? Our pockets always bleed!
What: Harley is hustling for that sweet sweet Assi. Join her won't you? (Also a prompt for training room activities)
Where: D9 CommonsVarious prompts around the city.
When: After the announcement of a lack of credit
Warnings: None yet except a shameless and barely dressed Harley.
As she sorted through the various toys, souvenirs and assorted junk in her room the pit of personal guilt was threatening to swallow her up again.
How much of this had she bought on a whim? How many of these ridiculous dresses were weighted down with gems and expensive fabrics all because it made her feel like she belonged among the high society that she was striving to milk for money?
Some of it she could sell, especially the dresses since it was a social misstep to wear the same thing more then once. She would keep some of her more versatile outfits. The ones that made her feel her best.
The toys would be a struggle to sell. She'd amassed such a collection over the years! But desperate times call for desperate measures and she couldn't sell the plants that lined the walls of her room.
Choosing an outfit that she felt screamed "I am a professional" she suited up and prepared to face her tributes. This would be a true test of her leadership! Of her worth as a mentor! She picked up a hand drawn picture of Eva and Mindy that was so poorly done it was probably the only reason it hadn't been removed with every other trace of the traitorous former mentors.
"I could use a little luck here girls." She implored the rough scribble before sweeping out the door.
Prompt 1: A Mentor is only as good as her tributes turn out to be.
Let it never be said that Harley Quinn didn't work hard for her tributes when she put her mind to it.
Sure she was known to sleep in, play her music or TV too loud in the middle of the night and had a bad habit of treating the common area like her personal living room, but as soon as she heard their credit had been revoked she put her mind to work lining up all the remaining sponsors who would still talk to her and some new ones who had only expressed a passing interest in her tributes.
Dressed in a red suit patterned by her trademark black diamonds she adjusted the fake glasses she wore to look smarter and adressed her tributes."I'm not gonna lie to ya kids. This is gonna be rough. They're charging us for every scrap of food that comes into this place. We're lucky they ain't charging us for the water. I just knew the minute that fat head Jason started shooting off his mouth about where the money came from there would be some kinda fallout...but I was hoping it would fall out on their heads not ours."
Turning with a dramatic flourish she gestured to the window and the city spread out below them.
"But it's not over till the fat sponsor sings! We've got a city of opportunity out there and if we can make it here we can make it anywhere. I'm gonna be working my cute little booty off to make up for that lost income so we can get you your sponsor gifts but for food, clothes, and stuff to keep you sane we're gonna have to work together to get this done."
Seizing a chair she spun it with surprising dexterity and sat on it backwards facing her tributes. "So! We need ideas! If you don't have any then just start by telling me what you used to do for money back home. We'll work from there. After all we're celebrities right? We'll make it work for us!
Prompt 2: C is for Cookie and it's also for cash.
Dressing anyone foolish enough to help her in flashy red and black outfits Harley and her Harley scouts had a table set up in front of the Tribute tower just off of the sidewalk.
Stacked up on plates high were cookies of various shapes, sizes and consistency. While Harley herself was no great baker she was perfectly fine with using what little money she had to buy five or six kinds of cheap cookies and rebrand them with names like "Troll Treats" and "District 9 Nom noms" though her personal favorites were "The ooey gooey chewy kablooey" cookies which seemed to be oozing a mix of chocolate, caramel and nutella. Inside each one though was a baggies worth of pop rocks. Clearly Harley had made those herself.
"Step right up loyal Capitol citizens and support your favorite tributes! Each box of cookies bought goes directly into a fund to feed and clothe these fabulous young men and women! Though I'm sure some of you would rather see them nekkid, I assure you that modest is hottest this season and you will have more then enough of our undying gratitude to make up for every Assi spent!"
Of course she had also hung up a sign labeled "Kissing booth" next to the prices for the boxes of cookies. They had to have a diverse menu after all.
Prompt 3: Reading the want adds out of desperation
Sitting in the common area drinking a pathetic looking paper cup of water Harley was glued to her tablet as she flipped through screen after screen looking for potential new sponsors she could forcibly introduce herself to. She was not above stalking people till they went to lunch and then sitting down at their table while they were in the middle of eating. Having a captive audience just made things easier.
There was always the offer of signing on with the peace keepers of course but she could hardly believe they'd hire her. Then again it might not be a bad idea for one of her tributes.
"Maybe I'm just not thinking big enough." she mused gazing towards the bar on the other side of the common area. She could not and would not allow herself another overpriced drink from that place unless she was courting a client. It wasn't the first time she'd had to survive on scraps and it wouldn't be the last.
By god and his shiny gate in the clouds, if Harley Quinn could find creative ways to finance the Jokers operations she could keep her tributes fed.
Prompt 4: Not so much training as, excessive aggression release.
Of course Harley couldn't simply stop offering training sessions for her tributes (Or just friends of hers)
With her stomach only half full from free saltines covered in ketchup and hot sauce, Harley was hammering away at a heavy punching bag with her powerful pale legs. Each strike making a satisfying thwack sound and sent sharp stinging vibrations through her bones. Clad in a tank top and sweat pants with her hair up in a pony tail she almost seemed like a different person from the woman who had been hustling about all day.