Apartment Above Needful Things; Tuesday Late Morning

[totalwildcard]

Harley had spent most of the weekend on the mainland. Not just Baltimore, either - she'd taken the kid out on a little road trip. Yanno, for life lessons! Most of them criminal, of course, but that was sort of how their mentorship worked, so someone else could handle the boring stuff. Anyway, they'd had fun!

So much of it, in fact, that Harley had only landed back on the island late on Monday evening. Technically probably Tuesday? Which meant that after she'd passed out and slept her fill, the day was already well on its way. She rolled groggily out of bed, shambled her way into the living room --

And groaned when she saw the glitter bomb still waiting on the coffee table, and not downstairs attached to the front door ready to explode on Frenchie if he showed up again this week. Whether he'd already shown up or not, Harley was not in a state to go set it up now.

She shuffled around some more, in search of her phone, which she found discarded on the kitchen counter. No calls, no messages apart from Cass informing her she'd ordered breakfast delivery on Harley's account. Harley looked at the phone for a long moment more anyway, tapping her thumb against the side of it in thought. Groggy, still sleepy, not yet caffeinated thought.

And pulled up a number she'd had for a while but never actually texted before.

(Successfully, anyway. There was that time on her birthday.)

You awake yet?

(expecting one but can be open for other stuff as well!)

Comments

[totalwildcard]

Harley held his hand a little tighter. Reflecting something in her chest upon hearing what he said.

"And it's not some other version," she added, hazarding a glance up at his face, finally. "It's just you."

[hasaknightjob]

There was tension there but it was the tension of wanting to say the right thing. There was warmth, too. It was in his eyes as he looked back at her.

"Thank you," he said. Like sorry it wasn't a well he went to often, but it was also one of those things Harley was an exception for. "It's you too. Whole package. Nothing else."

[totalwildcard]

"I wouldn't mind if it wasn't," Harley replied, because she had to. "But I'm gettin' it doesn't work the same for you."

And she was committing that to memory.

Which said something, too.

[hasaknightjob]

Marc gave a twitchy shake of his head. Depending on how good Harley's memory was of such things, she might recognize it as a similar gesture to ones Marc had made when the topic of birthdays had come up. One that said it wasn't necessarily a choice that he couldn't elaborate more he was about to.

"It - uh - doesn't. Nah."

[totalwildcard]

Whether Harley recognized it specifically was up for debate, but it definitely pinged her instincts in a real particular kind of way that told her not to push.

Not that she'd been about to. Weirdly enough.

So she just nodded, like that was that. And moved on - sort of: "Did Steven tell you he hugged me?"

[hasaknightjob]

That distracted Marc easily.

"No. Just said the stars thing. Were you okay?"

Marc knew Steven only had eyes for Watts so that left an offer of comfort as Marc's next best guess for motivation.

[totalwildcard]

"Unimportant." To what she was about to say, anyway! "Was just thinkin' about how weird that is, with the body. It doesn't feel the same."

[hasaknightjob]

"He hugs more," Marc said, as though that explained it.

[totalwildcard]

"No," Harley said, then immediately reconsidered. "Well, yes, probably but that's not the point! The point is, when you're driving this thing --"

And her other hand finally came off her leg again so she could prod him lightly in the chest.

"-- it feels like you. And it's not about who hugs more."

[hasaknightjob]

Marc knew that. But at the same time he figured he understood what Harley was trying to say.

"No mistaking me for someone else."

[totalwildcard]

"Not a chance," Harley agreed. "You are so you it's independent of your body."

Her hand flattened against his chest. It had no demonstrative value anymore, it was just... a thing. That she did.

"Not a lotta people can say that."

[hasaknightjob]

Marc was holding on to her other hand so obviously her free one had to do more things to compensate. Or something.

"And you're into that," Marc said. Not questioning. More confirming for the both of them that he was hearing what she said. "Me specifically."

[totalwildcard]

"Real specifically," Harley told him with a very serious and decisive nod.

[hasaknightjob]

The nod got an actual smile out of him. "Cool."

[totalwildcard]

Which in turn drew a smile out of her. Also her shoulders were straightening up again.

"Cool," Harley agreed, with a much lighter nod, this time. "So don't go gettin' all confused about how much you're wanted here. Else I might have to do more than just sit on your lap to drive the point home."

[hasaknightjob]

"The lap thing is nice though," Marc said, just so that was clear.

[totalwildcard]

It was already pretty clear, but Harley never turned down a little bit of extra reassurance!

Her snort sounded soft and her smirk looked pleased. "And your thighs haven't even fallen asleep yet?"

[hasaknightjob]

"I've had worse," Marc said. He slid his fingers through hers. For no reason.

[totalwildcard]

And Harley simply had to give his fingers a little squeeze with hers.

"Then I guess I'm not movin'."

[hasaknightjob]

"Your legs aren't tired yet?" Marc asked. Because of the two of them, she had the more difficult position far as he could see.

[totalwildcard]

"Ya don't think I woulda got up already?"

Well...

[hasaknightjob]

"At least say something about it," Marc acknowledged. "I hear you talk when stuff bothers you."

[totalwildcard]

"Exactly!" Harley said, with some of that classic Harley perkiness in her tone. "My legs are fine. I used to hang in the aerial silks in my cell for hours, this is nothing."

[hasaknightjob]

"Hang in the what?" Marc asked.

He did not have a lot of experience with circus acts, no.

[totalwildcard]

"Aerial silks!" Yeah, that wasn't gonna mean anything to him just repeated like that, was it? Of course, Harley was now rolling her eyes at the memory and amending it with, "Well, they weren't real silks, I made 'em all by my little self outta most of my prison clothes, and I can tell ya they do not make that shit out of silk. In fact I'm pretty sure Belle Reve gets their fabric from Chafes-Ya-Butt-Raw'R'Us."

None of that explained anything at all, no.