Harley Quinn (
totalwildcard) wrote2024-07-14 01:51 am
Somewhere on the Mainland; Sunday Early Evening
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)
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)

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Holding him with all her might now, of course.
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His smug smile might have undercut any pretense though.
"Don't know what you're talking about."
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Just ignore how she was practically beaming at him.
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"Keeping up with you, Doc."
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They most certainly could.
"Ya gotta provide some contrast."
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If it ended in Harley just watching their hands and how the warmth in his skin tone made hers look extra pale, so be it.
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No, he was not done being a pain in the ass yet. The eyerolls were basically a reward.
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She flexed her fingers between his. Suppose that was meant to be demonstrative.
The squeeze she gave his fingers, however, was just... a squeeze. For fun. Definitely fun rather than affection.
"But I should kick your ass outta my tub for tryin' to -- trying to out-menace me!"
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"You like my ass too much," he replied.
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And would keep doing it if at all possible.
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She'd noticed it plenty.
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He did have something of an uncanny ability at spotting reflective surfaces.
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Not refuting the 'asshole' part of things, of course.
"So guess you'll just have to wait to get any friendlier than this with my front."
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He shifted a little bit against her, since that was where any contact with her front was happening. "Guess I'll make do with what I've got."
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At whatever hour it was by now.
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Because she had to.
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The odds he would remember the reason were small. The odds he'd try dunking her anyway on general principle were larger.
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