Somewhere on the Mainland; Sunday Early Evening

[totalwildcard]

You asked Harley, it was a pretty good Sunday, so far.

She'd started out her day with no plan, and yet by happy accident (and it was definitely an accident, and not someone somewhere making room in a shared schedule to facilitate things, or anything deliberate on the part of anyone directly involved!) she'd run into Marc, and that had sparked a simple and easy plan after all: to drive him to the mainland for dinner, at a restaurant she'd overheard someone talking about on one of her off-island jaunts earlier in the week. It was supposed to be a family-run, no-nonsense little Italian place, and exactly the sort of thing Harley was in the mood for, especially right now with the company she had.

So life was indeed pretty good!

And Harley's mood wasn't soured even by finding out there was actually no parking available right by the restaurant. After some searching, she'd managed to find a spot some blocks away - which was to say, she'd sniped it from right under someone's nose with a truly reckless move. Which had led to some blaring horns from other cars. Which was all good in Harley's book! She had more important things to be thinking about, anyway!

"And the tiramisu's supposed to be amazing," she was saying, as they got out of the car. "Like, 'someone's 97-year-old tiny little Italian grandma made it' kind of amazing. D'you think they'd let me order that for an app and not just dessert?"

(NFB for distance, for the one modded with permission + some NPCs)

Comments

[hasaknightjob]

"No, I don't," Marc said. He didn't sound upset about it. Matter of fact, like he was talking about his height or eye color. "It's my thing. It's what I've got."

[totalwildcard]

Harley was deeply unsurprised, but still managed to give him a big ol' eyeroll.

"Of course you'd say that," she complained. "But that's just whatcha think. That's all your --- brain lets you see."

[hasaknightjob]

"Lifetime of experience," Marc pointed out.

[totalwildcard]

"Hmph." Had he ever seen anyone eat a forkful of past pointedly before? Because now he did! "Well I got months of experience sayin' otherwise."

[hasaknightjob]

"The sex doesn't count," Marc told her.

[totalwildcard]

"... Why not?"

She had other things, too! But saying that was still pulling one rug out from underneath her!

[hasaknightjob]

"Because it's not - I can't do a job like that," Marc said. "And in the end I hurt people anyway."

[totalwildcard]

"Okay, what is this moving of goal posts to bein' good at something meaning you gotta be able to do it for a job?" Harley demanded. And you could tell she was serious from how she actually set her fork down. (And the face doing all sorts of scrunchy things. That was a pretty big clue as well.) "Nevermind about what happens after suddenly being part of the equation!"

[hasaknightjob]

Marc put his own food down so he could face her. "What happens after is important if what it is is that I hurt people. It's what I do. It's what I always do."

[totalwildcard]

"Well I must've missed all the times you shoved me off the bed and onto the floor, then!"

Yes, Harley was trying to get him to hear how ridiculous he sounded.

She didn't think she was going to be successful, but making an attempt was really its own reward.

[hasaknightjob]

"Not - okay not that," Marc said. "Not literal. I'd never - fuck sic the hyena on me for sure if I ever did shit like that to you. I'm fucking possessed or something.

"But - " Marc's shoulders slumped. "Doesn't mean I can't fuck up with you. Won't fuck up with you."

[totalwildcard]

"At least wait to fuck up, first?" Harley suggested, still with extremely raised eyebrows. "Won't and can't are two different words, yanno."

[hasaknightjob]

This was one of those moments when Marc normally shut down. Walls up, conversation over - assuming the conversation even started in the first place. Not because of what Harley said. Just how Marc usually dealt with this specific problem.

Marc couldn't put a finger on why he didn't do that. It was maybe too much to ask him to examine the urge too closely. At best it was more than one factor. The framed picture wasn't not one of them.

"What if I know I'm gonna and I can't do anything about it?" Marc asked. "Because I am."

[totalwildcard]

"Are you planning to?"

It seemed like a reasonable question to her, or at least a reasonable way to word her urge to challenge what he was saying, when he was saying it like that.

[hasaknightjob]

"It's not a plan, it's a - " Marc made a twitchy, shrugging gesture. Not dismissive. Not trying to change the conversation. Instead it was him having actual physical and mental difficulty getting the words out. And that it was causing him pain to even try.

[totalwildcard]

"It's inevitable? Fate?" Harley supplied, but whatever fury and exasperation had been in her voice was rapidly dropping off the more she took in how he seemed right now.

In fact, they went away entirely.

"Marc?"

[hasaknightjob]

It was good she said his name, because he'd been in his head getting lost in I've got it, I've got it, I've got it as a firm reminder to - to Steven, and himself. It was fine, he had it, no need to let go of the body.

(Steven wasn't up, it was just one of those instinct things. The right emotions hit and a switch could happen without anybody being aware of it. Marc didn't want a switch to happen, so he was mentally white knuckling on no it fucking wouldn't.)

"I can't," Marc said. Not in response to her exactly. More him trying to continue what he'd already been trying to say. It did not look any less painful. "Your thing. Saturday. I can't."

[totalwildcard]

"There's probably not even gonna be a thing on Saturday," Harley said, because it was the first thought on her mind, and because the one right behind it - this goes way deeper than just my birthday on Saturday, I know it does - didn't really need voicing. "It's fine, honest. You don't have to -- try."

[hasaknightjob]

"Fuck," Marc said. He'd heard her, he had. But far too many things had gotten kicked off inside of him for him to be able to do anything but focus on the body. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, trying to think about nothing but the inhale and the exhale to try to calm things down.

[totalwildcard]

Fuck, Harley echoed in the privacy of her own mind. Give or take a few more colorful expletives added on.

"Okay," she said, with an instinctive attempt at something calm. "Okay, breathing's good."

[hasaknightjob]

Marc nodded to indicate he'd heard her without interrupting the breathing. This ws fine. Happened before. He could handle it. Just... took a little longer when he couldn't handle it by letting go of the body was all.

[totalwildcard]

Weird how much harder things could be to handle when you had to be there to do it, huh.

Harley shut up, and hesitated.

Then she hesitated some more, flexing her fingers on one hand, a dead giveaway of indecision if anyone but her had actually seen it.

And then her hand was against his upper arm, light and hesitant and ready to be pulled back at the slightest reason to. Like there was a possibility he'd turn into a hot stove or something, under her touch.

[hasaknightjob]

Marc didn't act like she was a hot stove, so there was that. He gave another nod, and added in the feeling of her hand on him as something tangible he could keep his focus on.

[totalwildcard]

He hadn't flinched or moved or shoved her away, and then there was the nod so... So, Harley's touch grew firmer. More tangible. Less a suggestion, more a fact.

Of course, another one of those fell out of her mouth: "I don't know what I'm doing."

She heard herself, and cringed, almost annoyed at herself. "And no, I'm not -- that's not askin' you to solve it for me, I'm just saying, and I'm pretty sure you can't, anyway."

She wasn't sure he was even processing her babbling in the first place. Maybe this was just purely for her, instead.

She was a selfish asshole, anyway.

"I just don't wanna leave you... alone."

[hasaknightjob]

That actually managed to get a wry grimace out of him.

"Never am."