Apartment Above Needful Things; Monday Afternoon

[totalwildcard]

Soooooo... Harley no longer had a headache? And okay, maybe talking to Atton the day before had helped, a little, something. But come Monday, she was still in something of a blanket goblin mode, huddled in her apartment with comfort snacks and Bruce and bad reality TV reruns.

She'd pick herself up by her bootstraps tomorrow, okay? It was coming, cross her heart! Soon!

Just... maybe not yet.

So far, for Monday, having made it to the couch instead of the bed seemed like enough progress.

(for a guy that knows who he is, and lotsa slow play)

Comments

[hasaknightjob]

Watts and Steven had gotten back into town earlier that day. Sometime after which Steven had given Marc control over the body because for some reason Steven insisted he should have it because it'd been a whole week and something something Steven's anxiety issues when it came to Marc and yadda yadda.

And okay maybe Marc didn't not like doing a lap around the building to make sure Midnight was fine and nothing was actively on fire or whatever. Which covered the immediate area but not elsewhere.

So hrm. Maybe something else to check? Not that he worried or anything - though maybe if he'd bothered to check in with radio he might have a better idea of whether or not he should - but it was kind of an itchy sensation so whatever.

He sent a text over to Harley.

You alive?

What? It was the relevant question as far as he was concerned.

[totalwildcard]

When the phone buzzed, Harley wiped store brand cheese ball dust onto one leg of her pajama pants, expecting the message to be from Cass who'd been texting her earlier.

But then she saw who it was actually from, and her eyebrows went up and her chest did a thing (on the inside, not like in the boob sense) and, oh right, she should reply back exactly right now:

Yeah

And then:

You?

[hasaknightjob]

If Harley was there she might have seen Marc hiding an expression that might be like a smile. Since, yanno, he was texting so therefore alive. But she wasn't so alas.

Instead he went with replying Always am

[totalwildcard]

Hey, he'd started it! What if she hadn't been alive to answer his text, what then, huh?

But anyway, there were more important things to cover:

Didya come home?

[hasaknightjob]

Look if you couldn't make jokes about how the god you were in servitude to made sure you never stayed dead, what was even the point of all those resurrections?

Yeah. Where are you?

Not that it mattered.

[totalwildcard]

Of course not, why would it matter? Ahem.

Home

Cradling a giant cheese ball jar in a blanket cocoon, as you do.

[hasaknightjob]

There was a pause before Marc decided fuck it and sent, Want company?

[totalwildcard]

And there was another pause before the response came. And that pause was not because Harley had to actually consider her reply - which might have made sense, considering the state of both the apartment and her - but rather because apparently her tearing up reflex was still on a hair trigger.

(At least this instance was a better one?)

Yes please

[hasaknightjob]

Kay. Gimme a sec

That way Marc could give Watts the heads up he was heading out. What Harley did with the time it took Marc to do that and head over to her place was up to her.

[totalwildcard]

Text me when youre outside, Harley sent back, since there was that whole key thing. Then she set the phone aside.

And seemed to actually see her immediate surroundings for the first time in a while.

"... Aww, shit."

[hasaknightjob]

The walk wasn't exactly far so it didn't take that long before Marc was outside Harley's shop. As requested, he texted.

Here

[totalwildcard]

It was not a very long time at all, especially for how disorganized Harley's meager cleanup attempt was, but... Whatever?

She got the text, she skittered over to the window. Opened it, stuck her arm out, and called, "Here!"

Keys, flying, as usual.

[hasaknightjob]

Marc caught them, also as usual.

(Ignore there being a usual, Marc sure was.)

He let himself in, locked the door behind him, and headed upstairs. He glanced around on the way in case there was anything he needed to be aware of.

[totalwildcard]

The store looked as it always did, filled to the brim with dusty junk. The stairs seemed... a little sticky in places? That was new.

And at the top of the stairs, hovering in the doorway, was Harley: clad in pajama pants and a ratty, oversized tee, her face bare of any makeup. It made her look more than a little washed out, but it was a vast improvement over how she'd looked the previous day (when no one had been there to witness it) in her day-old makeup that had been both cried and slept in several times over. Progress!

She gave Marc a little wave as soon as she saw him. It came off almost shy. "Hiya."

[hasaknightjob]

"Hey," Marc said.

Nobody would accuse him of being the most observant person but he did pick up on an overall vibe. "You okay?"

[totalwildcard]

Harley attempted to smile, but it immediately looked frayed at the edges, like she was pushing too hard.

And then she said, "Yeah," and that sounded all crumbly and squeaky and, okay, not enough people ever asked her if she was okay and it turned out lying about it in the face of that was hard.

She did not sound convincing, no. She sounded much more like she was about to cry.

[hasaknightjob]

Marc wasn't buying it, no. He took his coat off since it looked like he was going to be here a while (had that been in doubt?).

"What happened?"

[totalwildcard]

Harley was still standing in the doorway, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. Still clearly trying to control her face, but -- "I had a bad time."

Yeah, no, she was fully coming off as sad, now.

[hasaknightjob]

"Somebody need beating up?"

Marc was pretty sure Harley could handle her own violence, but yanno. Principle of the thing.

[totalwildcard]

"No," Harley admitted, shaking her head turning her gaze towards the floor. "Not this time."

She clearly would have preferred it if violence had been the answer. That sort of thing was so much more simple!

[hasaknightjob]

Marc hadn't thought to bring booze with him, so that wasn't an option as an offer. Asking if someone wanted to talk about what was bothering them seemed hypocritical. Violence had already been ruled out.

So Marc held out a hand. A silent offer that she could come closer if she wanted. Maybe there'd be a hug or something.

[totalwildcard]

Harley didn't need much of an invitation.

Like, sure, she took his offered hand.

But she used that hand to then practically launch herself against his chest. Hope you had good balance, Marc! Because Harley was not accounting for how close he still was to the stairs.

[hasaknightjob]

Marc teetered a little, because he wasn't expecting that much force. But he adapted quickly enough.

He wrapped his arms around her, folding her in like she was under his wings. Or under two arms, the hand of one was still awkwardly holding a coat.

[totalwildcard]

Harley could live with a little something awkward, especially when it meant getting held like she was. Her own arms slid around his waist, tight, clinging.

Her face was getting smushed against his shoulder, with a whiny noise in her throat.

[hasaknightjob]

"It's okay," Marc said. He held her tighter, figuring that was at least something he could do. "I gotcha."