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]

There was second where Harley swayed forward as he let go, before she straightened up, fully back to relying on just her own two feet.

"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.

[hasaknightjob]

Marc got the food, making sure the delivery person had been paid and tipped (which was to say checking if it'd been covered already, and if not doing it himself). Then he stopped by his office to grab a bottle of whiskey before heading back down the stairs to the basement.

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.

[totalwildcard]

In the meantime, Harley had just restlessly fiddled with her laundry, or the parts of it that weren't currently in a machine, anyway. She was still doing it when he got back, although she then turned, and leaned back against one of the machines, watching him.

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."

[hasaknightjob]

"I'm not mad," Marc said, in a voice that was actually neutral and matched the sentiment. He looked at the coffees to see if there was any difference between them.

[totalwildcard]

"O...kay?" Harley said, slowly.

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.

[hasaknightjob]

It wasn't a passive aggressive claiming to not be angry when he was, so to that extent it could be taken at face value. There was no anger. If she was picking up a lingering off vibe though, that was accurate.

Marc put the non-latte coffee closer to Harley. He gestured to the whiskey. "Help yourself if you want."

[totalwildcard]

Harley's lips twisted, no less unsure. "I'm good." She reached for the coffee, bunching up the top against her hip with the other hand like some sort of security blanket.

She shouldn't dig into it. She was aware of that.

"So... Not mad, but maybe upset? Like a little bit?"

[hasaknightjob]

Marc made a face of distaste like upset didn't sit right with him, but not enough for him to come up with a better word.

"I was trying to say something nice."

[totalwildcard]

Look, at least this meant they weren't going to get stuck on Harley guessing adjectives until one landed right.

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.

[hasaknightjob]

Now the word would be confused.

"So why get up my ass about it?"

[totalwildcard]

"'Cause trying something doesn't always mean it works out?" Harley offered, shrugging. "Like, trust me, I should know, I've tried a lot of shit where I've just fallen on my face like some sorta dumb idiot --"

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."

[hasaknightjob]

Marc looked like he was about to say something lighter but changed his mind.

"I know I don't say shit good."

Purposeful bad grammar there. Probably obviously so.

[totalwildcard]

"I know."

She was saying that a lot, huh? Who knew she was so knowledgeable.

"You're... you. I get that."

[hasaknightjob]

"Great," Marc muttered, mostly to himself. He looked like her saying that had put a weight on him.

[totalwildcard]

It prompted a helpless, concerned noise out of Harley.

"What? What'd I say now?"

She pushed away from the machines, finally.

"Marc?"

[hasaknightjob]

"I'm me," Marc said, like he was agreeing with her. Or... maybe not her. He wasn't even looking at her after all. Not at any reflections either (which were of the two of them anyway, no one else). "Always will be."

[totalwildcard]

"Yes?"

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?"

[hasaknightjob]

There was a moment of something. A feeling in the air. Like maybe there was a little bit more about to show than normally would -

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.

[totalwildcard]

Okay, but now Harley was staring at him. Because she'd definitely seen something... happening, then not happening, just now.

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.

[hasaknightjob]

Ironically Marc would be able to sympathize, except for how in this specific moment he wasn't aware of it.

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.

[totalwildcard]

"Still yours," Harley said, frowning. "You... okay?"

Felt like a loaded question, after everything.

[hasaknightjob]

Marc looked confused that she was asking. He looked around to try to guess why and settled on the bottle. "Yeah. You know I don't give a shit if you drink my whiskey."

[totalwildcard]

"Yeah, we've been over that already," Harley replied, now stepping close enough to try and catch his eyes with hers. "What's going on? What is this?"

[hasaknightjob]

Marc looked at her, no problem with the eye contact, but his confusion was obvious.

"Breakfast?"

[totalwildcard]

Harley just frowned harder. "But we were talking," she said. "And then ya just..."

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."