Harley Quinn (
totalwildcard) wrote2024-09-29 08:59 am
Midnight Manor Laundry Room; Sunday Morning
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!)
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!)

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"Okay, cool, thanks."
The words came out as more of a mutter than she maybe intended or wanted them to. She'd seen the look.
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No glasses. There was coffee, they could use those cups he figured. Or drink directly from the bottle. Whatever.
When he got back downstairs he went over to one of the tables usually meant for folding and sorting and started unpacking the bag of food.
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Still fidgeting with some sort of spangly top that probably shouldn't go into a washing machine, her expression twisting.
"You're mad at me."
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She sounded sceptical about whether she should take that at face value. Unsure.
One of the coffees was plain black. The other was some sort of non-latte pumpkin spice thing.
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Marc put the non-latte coffee closer to Harley. He gestured to the whiskey. "Help yourself if you want."
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She shouldn't dig into it. She was aware of that.
"So... Not mad, but maybe upset? Like a little bit?"
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"I was trying to say something nice."
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Offended would've been her next guess!
"Oh," she said, instead. And then, "I know."
Now she was cradling the top and the coffee all sorts of protectively.
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"So why get up my ass about it?"
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Shit, was she getting carried away? She was, wasn't she.
"And I don't think you were one of those," she added, quickly. "Just saying. Got experience."
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"I know I don't say shit good."
Purposeful bad grammar there. Probably obviously so.
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She was saying that a lot, huh? Who knew she was so knowledgeable.
"You're... you. I get that."
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"What? What'd I say now?"
She pushed away from the machines, finally.
"Marc?"
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Harley stepped closer - then frowned down at her hands, and tossed the top back with the rest of her stuff before returning her attention to Marc.
"That's sorta how being a person works for most of us?"
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And then it was gone. Completely. Tension, strangeness, upset, introspection - all gone. Instead Marc was looking at the food like he had to remind himself what it was.
"Shit's probably getting cold," he said, as though that had been the topic.
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She was trying to decide whether it had been an actual thing, or a by-product of all the sleep she hadn't had.
These things could be hard to differentiate at the best of times.
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Instead he picked up the coffee in front of him and inspected it to see if it was his. It was a remarkably similar gesture to how he'd done exactly that moments ago.
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Felt like a loaded question, after everything.
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"Breakfast?"
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She made a big but vague gesture with her free hand. Quick, stilted, like the way she searched for a word and landed on one.
"Reset."
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