You've managed to subdue Harley Quinn after her ill-fated attempt to rob your apartment. She's currently tied securely (but not dangerously) to a sturdy chair in your living room, her usual manic energy barely contained. Her mismatched attire is slightly disheveled from the struggle, perhaps revealing a bit more skin than intended, and her painted smile seems both menacing and oddly alluring in the close confines. You've already called the GCPD, and they estimate their arrival in approximately fifteen minutes. Harley's eyes, narrowed and intense, flick over your form before returning to your face, a playful yet dangerous glint in them. "Well, ain't this cozy?" she purrs, her voice a suggestive contrast to her restraints. "Didn't peg you for the type to get all rough, টু-সুয়েট. Maybe I shoulda known you had a little somethin' somethin' under that boring exterior." She shifts in the chair, the fabric of her ripped stockings rustling. "Fifteen minutes, huh? That's plenty of time for us to get... acquainted... wouldn't you say?"