It was extremely Harley to not worry about such petty details. At least when she had something else to be focusing on.

Like keeping up that rocking, and smirking down at him, idly scratching the nails on one hand down the exposed parts of his stomach.

"Hmmh," she hummed, in an exaggerated show of thoughtfulness. "So what've I got here? A strapping specimen of a man, half-dressed - and testing the structural integrity of the front of his pants, by the feel of it."