Her bare feet twitched as they touched the cold concrete before beginning to fumble about for her slippers. A restless night's sleep and now cold toes? Could it get any worse? Yes, it could. She could still be living with her parents instead of out on her own. The re-purposed and refurbished warehouse wasn't so bad. She just needed to get used to it. She'd only lived here a week so far. It just took time to adjust. There had been many changes in her life recently. She'd just turned twenty three, her boyfriend of eight years had just dumped her for a leggy stage actress, her grandmother had passed away and left her a butt-load of cash, and she'd moved from the middle of nowhere to New York City. Things could definitely get worse, but instead they were getting better. Her toes finally found purchase in the plushy softness of her slippers and she yawned as she rose from the queen sized bed. Her new apartment was a loft style place in an old converted warehouse in Lower Manhattan. 

She trudged down the stairs to the kitchen and set some tea to steep before shambling toward the bathroom. Her parents wouldn't believe it was their little girl who stared out of the mirror. Her shoulder length ginger hair was dyed candy apple red from the roots to about two inches from the end. She slipped on her chunky black framed glasses and stared at her blue eyed reflection. Based on apperance, she could see why her boyfriend left her. She wasn't anything special. There were curves to her figure, but not much. She wasn't gangly or curvy or a stick figure. She was just petite. Standing a measly five foot two, her body matched her size. She was small everywhere. After scrunching her face this way and that in the mirror, she finally gave herself up as average and continued with her morning. A breakfast of white tea, soft boiled eggs, toast, and Greek yogurt was followed by a quick shower. She slipped on a pair of black leggings that were more holes than fabric, followed by a net mini skirt and a white crop top. After braiding her hair, she added a red and black striped tie and her favorite cadet cap. A few choice pieces of jewelry and securely tied knee high Converse shoes finished the ensemble. Then she grabbed her backpack and camera before leaving.

Shortly after boarding the subway and on commute to work, her phone began to ring. 'Unsatisfied' by The Replacements began blaring through the subway car. Digging in her backpack, she found her phone and answered quickly. "Harley Quinnet, New York Sun." Her voice was soft yet clear. She listened for a moment before speaking again. "Yes boss, I'm on my way. I'll be there in about ten minutes." After listening a moment more she hung up and slipped the phone back in her bag. Harley Quinnet, or just Quinn to most of her friends, had been a journalistic photographer all through high school. Now she worked for the New York Sun, taking pictures of whatever, where ever, and whenever her boss told her to. Today it was going to be a performing arts affair in Central Park. 

After arriving at work and grabbing her press badge from her office, Harley hightailed it to the park. If something was going down and she was getting paid to photograph it, she didn't want to miss anything. Her backpack thumped against her as she ran down one of the paths in the park. She had gotten directions to the event from a nearby bike cop. The performance was due to start in just a few minutes and if her luck held out, Quinn would make it just in time.