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"Nothing matters...Not anymore. Just tell me who you want me to hurt."
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Post by Waylon Jones on Apr 17, 2021 0:58:49 GMT -5
Thump. Thump. Thump. Loud, rhythmic footsteps, almost resembling a heartbeat, as the hulking form of Waylon Jones made it's way past the gasping socialites and staring drunkards of Penguin's abode. Skulking past the tables and towards the private bar area, Croc was decked out in a far less than formal attire. A pair of tattered jeans, torn from the protruding scales on his legs, as well as a surprisingly still in tact wifebeater tank top. A bellowing noise quietly uttering from the pit of his throat, Waylon continued to shift his way through the relatively thin doorframe. Ignoring whatever mutterings and shushed rumors were being exchanged behind him, Croc sat down at the furthest corner of the abode, chair creaking slightly under his immense mass. He could feel the eyes staring him down, it honestly felt like nowhere he went ever escaped that feeling. Leaning his bulky arms onto the counter before him, Waylon rested his chin atop them to bring himself down to the bartender's eye level. "Hit me up. Whatever will get me nice and drunk the fastest" Jones said calmly, the world around him shifting their gazes away for the moment, resuming their little chats in spite of the monstrous being seated beside them. Harvey McPhearson
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24Likes
25Posts
Sure, mama.
Di
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Post by Harvey McPhearson on Apr 17, 2021 11:58:48 GMT -5
When Harvey Quinn had walked into the Iceberg Lounge ten minutes ago, he'd had two jobs to do. The first swung loosely at his side, clasped in one hand: a gift basket, courtesy of Harley, with Penguin's name on it. Harvey had suffered through rigorous scanning, and watched, unimpressed and bored, while Cobblepot's crew determined that the basket wasn't going to explode (he couldn't blame them). Then he was given the all-clear and was told he could leave.
Except, Mama Quinn had given him a second job when she pushed that gift basket into his arms and told him to "get his sweet little caboose down to Pengy's place." Apparently, the strawberry daiquiris were "to die for," by Harley's standards. Which, knowing Mama, was probably more literal than when most people said it. Having been ordered to try one before he left, Harvey did just that, strolling up to one of several bars in the colossal main room of the lounge and ordering one.
It was just put in front of him when the liquid in the glass started to quiver rhythmically. Harvey saw in the reflection of the cup the scaled shape lumbering his way. His eyes widened, he fastened his lips on the straw of the cup and used the drink to avoid the whimper that tried to rise up in his throat as the Killer Croc plopped down next to him at the bar. Harvey kept his eyes forward, sipping the daiquiri while his chest rose and fell a lot more quickly than it should've.
Waylon Jones
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37Likes
19Posts
"Nothing matters...Not anymore. Just tell me who you want me to hurt."
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Post by Waylon Jones on Apr 28, 2021 22:31:29 GMT -5
It was easy to detect the thug's fear. Hell, croc could literally smell it. A frustrated sigh seeping it's way past his fearsome fangs, he grabbed the rather hefty bottle placed before him, taking a rather large swig of moonshine. "You c'n take it easy there. I'm just another customer 'ere, same as yerself. Name's Waylon, though you probably knew that already. Crew'd up with clown girl huh? What's it like? Imagine it must be quite the rollarcoaster there. Still, must beat working for the clown himself I'd imagine." Waylon casually chimed in, leaning back in his chair a bit as he took another swig, reaching over and giving Harvey a surprisingly gentle bump on the shoulder with his fist. "Chill, so long as you ain't lookin' to start trouble, nobody's gonna cause ya any" Draping his arm over the back of his chair, Croc tried to come off as unintimidating as possible, crossing one leg over the other, moonshine dangling limply from his palm and clanking against his claws ever so gently. "So how's the drink? Never did go for the fruity stuff myself." His face ever so slightly contorted into a smile, his teeth ever locked in place with only the edges of his cheek shifting to express his emotions. "So what's your name anyways?"Harvey McPhearson
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24Likes
25Posts
Sure, mama.
Di
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Post by Harvey McPhearson on May 3, 2021 20:01:16 GMT -5
The baritone of Killer Croc's voice sank into his skin and sent his bones humming. His glass vibrated softly in his hands and he realized he really, really had to pee. For all the instinctive, primal sort of fear and wariness that the larger man's presence and words gave rise to in Harvey, the meaning of those words was unexpected. Harvey almost wondered if Killer Croc was toying with him, lulling him into a false sense of security.
But he seemed genuine... At least, Harvey thought. It was hard to tell when he refused to look over at him, and was still locked in place like a rabbit that was under a wolf's stare. He might even make pellets, too, at this rate. The scaled fist was rough, texturally, on his bare shoulder, but the gesture itself surprisingly gentle.
Harvey side-eyed Killer Croc warily. Then looked forward. Then looked at him again. Then his tension loosened just the teeniest bit. "I'd never work for the-" he hesitated. Calling Joker by name, or "the Clown" seemed above his pay grade. Also, what if he heard about it? Harvey didn't want to be on that psychopath's radar anymore than he already was, being Harley's apprentice. "-him. But Harley's a good boss. I have no complaints."
He squinted at nothing in particular. Did he give his real name or codename? He was still getting used to this. "Harvey Quinn. It's nice to meet you-" Harvey now carefully looked sideways at Killer Croc. Er... Waylon. He'd called himself Waylon. "-Waylon."
Waylon Jones
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37Likes
19Posts
"Nothing matters...Not anymore. Just tell me who you want me to hurt."
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Post by Waylon Jones on May 7, 2021 23:00:22 GMT -5
The bottle clanked against Waylon's teeth once more, more moonshine drippling out of the gaps as he chuckled. "Nice to meetcha'. I see Harls is keeping ya on brand" He chuckled again, referring to both the name and the costume. "Can't say I blame ya on the boss front. Anyone who works for that creep must be real nuts, or have a death wish. Granted I'm not one to talk, half the time I'm workin' for loons like him due to all this" Croc said, gesturing to his looks as he thought back to the not so good ol' days. "Can't tell ya how many "normal" jobs rejected my ugly mug before landin' the big bruiser gig." He said in what sounded like a mix of joking and serious before shifting the subject. "Glad to see Harls broke off from the guy an' is doin' her own thing. Never seemed to listen whenever he ditched her or sent her to the ICU. Can't say I'd wanna know what it took to break the last straw, only hope it sticks this time." He said, sighing a bit before taking another swig of his drink. "Been in the gig long? See so many guys head in an' out of various crews it's hard to tell who's who anymore"Harvey McPhearson
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