Midnight Manor Laundry Room; Sunday Morning

[totalwildcard]

Boy, had that gone poorly! Harley hadn't slept much, and some of the reasons why could maybe be inferred by how, come morning, her makeup looked like perhaps she'd been caught in a heavy bout of rain. Rain that also made your eyes look kinda red and puffy? It was Fandom, okay, genuinely much stranger things happened all the time! Leave her alone!

Also, thanks to the aforementioned lack of sleep, Harley wasn't actually feeling all that much better, come morning. She actually kind of felt like she needed to bite something.

Or maybe go egg the Wayne Foundation building in town.

Set something on fire?

... Or kick a dryer, apparently. Sorry about the occasional clanging noises (and the accompanying swearing), Midnightites! Midnighters? Midnightees...? People of Midnight. Sometimes you just had to laundry aggressively.

It was so much better than actually dealing with your feelings.

(open!)

Comments

[totalwildcard]

Harley startled a little at the first touch, leaning back - but it didn't last. Not longer than it took for a soft "Oh" of recognition to slip past her lips. After which, yeah, she leaned forward into it.

The makeup wasn't holding on too tight, either. Guess it'd been broken up enough by the tears.

(She would not be re-acquiring this mascara.)

[hasaknightjob]

Marc kept working. A light touch, or as light as could be and still wipe makeup off. He paused now and then to refold the cloth to get a clean spot.

"You look like shit," he told her, with the sympathy of one who'd had many mornings of looking like shit himself, albeit without runny makeup as part of it.

[totalwildcard]

It finally drew a big huff out of Harley.

"Okay, wow, maybe you are an asshole."

She didn't mean it.

[hasaknightjob]

"I keep telling ya," Marc said, deadpan.

He went to place a kiss on the center of her forehead when he was done, then held up the handkerchief, now smeared with makeup. "Where do you want this?"

[totalwildcard]

Okay but he could see how his claims of assholitude and forehead kisses didn't go together, right?

"Just put it wherever," Harley replied, with what was almost a wistful sigh somehow. "It'll get its go-round with the next load." Which probably wouldn't be today, but see if she cared.

[hasaknightjob]

Marc tossed it towards what might have been a pile of to be washed laundry. "Really doing a number on you, huh?"

He didn't mean the laundry.

[totalwildcard]

Harley scrunched up her nose, and lifted her shoulders. "I guess?"

He'd just washed off her tear-streaked makeup, after listening to her vent for a good mile. This attempt at minimizing anything probably wasn't going to play, huh?

Especially when it wasn't even a particularly sincere attempt.

[hasaknightjob]

"And you didn't even swipe my booze," Marc said. Which then had him looking at her studiously. "Have you eaten?"

[totalwildcard]

"... Does cheese in a can count?" Harley tried, hopeful.

Come on, it was the number one food of the heartbroken!

[hasaknightjob]

Marc stared at her. "That's not even food."

[totalwildcard]

"Yeah it is!" Harley argued. "It goes in your mouth for eating!"

The main quality for determining whether something was food or not. Obviously.

"But okay, then no."

[hasaknightjob]

"You should eat," Marc told her. Because he might try to deny it but he and Steven did have some things genetically in common.

[totalwildcard]

"Okay," Harley replied, lips twisting a little, with a glance at her laundry. "But can I at least wait 'til the dryer's finished before I go?"

[hasaknightjob]

"I was thinking we could order something," Marc said. "Delivery."

[totalwildcard]

"Oh!" Harley said, much too surprised, brightening up. "Ooh, that's cool, I like that! Yes!"

Please don't ask her to explain why she'd thought he meant something drastically different enough to merit such surprise.

[hasaknightjob]

Marc wasn't going to ask. He was going to wonder but not ask. "Got your phone on you?"

[totalwildcard]

Harley frowned, and proceeded to pat down much more places than there were pockets in her outfit.

But she did eventually produce her phone from one of them!

"Yes! What, ya want me to put in the order?"

[hasaknightjob]

"I could've if you didn't," Marc said. "Figured if you had favorites saved or some shit."

[totalwildcard]

"Well you coulda said that," Harley replied, scoffing, "you coulda saved me all that trouble!"

The trouble of patting herself down, yes.

[hasaknightjob]

"Sorry," Marc said with an eyeroll. "Next time I'll feel up your pockets myself."

[totalwildcard]

Hey, turned out that even with the time she'd beeb having since the day before, Harley was still perfectly capable of smirking hard at him. Sure, there was probably some exhaustion showing through, but still!

"I'll hold ya to that," she informed him, then pulled up the order app on her phone. "Right, what're we in the mood for? Classic breakfast? Eggs? Pancakes?"

[hasaknightjob]

"Works for me," Marc said. He wasn't going to think too much about how they'd done this often enough Harley knew not to get him anything with pork products.

[totalwildcard]

Harley nodded. "I'll get a bit of everything," she said, prodding at the screen. And no, no pork involved. She both knew and remembered. And that was something. "Coffee included."

Because clearly what her lack of sleep needed was more of it.

[hasaknightjob]

"I'll grab it when it gets here," Marc said. He gestured at her laundry. "So you don't have to abandon it."

Eat in the laundry room? Sure, why not.

[totalwildcard]

One day he was going to remember he had a home in this building that he could, in fact, take Harley to.

Or she might.

"Cool!"

Apparently that wasn't going to be on this particular day.

Harley finished the order, then looked slightly impressed. "Oh, nice, fifteen minutes! They're hustling."