We're all rotten, buried and forgotten,

Living it up underground

Harley could hardly help from huffing and shrugging her shoulders slightly at his words. Who wanted to live in a cardboard box anyways? She just barely answers his question, being almost difficult, testing those very waters in such a way that was hardly her usual fashion. "What is normal anyways? People keep saying that word and I can't for the life of me, tell you what normal is." She challenged, her vibrant violet eyes alight, unafraid to take those chances most simply avoided. Normal.. A carefully crafted social construct made to dictate how people should act. Well, Harley really never followed those rules, she simply crashed through them with a sledge hammer and paved her own way. Better to make it up as you go than to be some hollow, unauthentic asshole. Rules were just guidelines anyways. Most people would have let their sails flatten and back track at his reaction to waltzing into the closed store. Nope, not Harley. She was quite possibly the most fearless human still breathing in this city that could eat you alive or flay you while you stood.

The raven haired could tell he watched her in that way that most people did when they weren't flat off pissed off at her. He watched her in that assessing way that said he didn't know what to do with her. Not many did. Her vibrant gaze assesses him without shame, it was that very moment where she noticed quite obviously that the man was ripped, not like the guys that work out occasionally, this man could pop a beer can with a little flexing of that bicep. She wondered if he felt as hard as he looked, like some marble statue of an Greek god. He would not be hard to look at when he offered her that job. There was never an if, in her mind. It was quite simple, there was no other outcome. Most woman would feel sheepish and shy at being around this level of masculine energy, accompanied by that frowny face that he wore so well. Not Harley, she simply smirks at him while he frowns at her. There was a part of her that died to see how he ticked, to see how far she could push him before she went too far. Then again, she almost always went off that edge.

She decides to explain, at least just a little, why she was even here in the first place before they stared at each other to death or he finally decided to kick her ass out. He at least admitted what she suspected, that this cranky man was in fact the owner. Perhaps she should dial it down, just a little.. but the real question was, did she even know how to? She had already strutted over to the receptionist desk with such purpose, allowing her fingertips to touch and run along the smooth surface of that brand spanking new table that perched between them.

Harley offered her name, but he kept his own perfectly concealed to himself, that alone got her mind work, always churning. He did give her the fuel to call him 'The Owner' for as long as she lingered in this store at the very least, or until he gave her better ammunition. Before she came up with a nickname to call him of her own, like macho head honcho. Her mouth remained open as a paper and pen floats to him on some unseen track. She was utterly mesmerized. "What in the hell?" She questioned, he had to be a freaking magician. Next thing you knew he was going to whip out some cards and tell her to pick one. He either had a ghost slave or he did that.. How the hell did he manage that one? What the hell was he? Maybe he was a magician. There was a sudden need to check that he had a pulse, she didn't have a good track record with vampires. That vivacious penetrating gaze returns to him, finally stopping that blatant gaping. She was utterly bursting with way to many questions for her own damn good.

He motioned toward the chair next to him, placing that same pen and blank paper beside him that floated around moments ago. He hardly acknowledged her before grunting out a challenge. "You got it, bossman, but keep your floaty things to yourself or I am going to have to show you a trick of my own." She would have a hell of time even drawing a smiley face if he was making things dance around her like fucking Fantasia. She slipped around the other side of the table with the same confidence as before. Now there was no desk in between them, she could swear she felt his warmth as she whisked past him to the receptionists chair. Please don't be a vampire. She somehow managed to be catnip to them for whatever reason unbeknownst to her. She hadn't bothered to move her bags, leaving them where she placed them originally. Surely no one else had the balls to barge in quite like Harley, she was betting on that.

She kept her eyes on him at all times until she popped herself into that chair, sinking into that comfy plushy chair. She needed to get herself a chair like this. His face remained so stony, the perfect façade of unreadable, folding his arms over his chest, those muscles staring at her again. How distracting. She peered at him before an incredulously smirk, despite that frown that wanted to find its way on her face. Ten minutes!? He was dead serious, she searched for that teasing grin or even for the mere words to admit that it was a ridiculous task.

If drawing was the trial, than she was perfectly keen to show her prowess, but 10 fucking minutes? Let's be real. He was setting her up for failure and he knew it! Half of her wanted to draw a stick figure with comically big muscles of him bending over and a clock with ten minutes written in bold being shoved vulgarly up his ass. Maybe she should just do that and call it good. Yet... She liked the idea of showing people up, she simply couldn't resist the challenge. So her gave into that thoughtful frown, her full lips pulled into a line as if pondering what to do.

The raven haired vixen began her work.. She would make a simple outline first, knowing she probably wouldn't be able to get the detailing she wanted in such a short time span. Smug bastard, with his smug, grumpy face, he knew she would struggle. She drew a magician's hat first, well because she was standing next to one, he could make things float after all.. It was damn distracting to focus with him staring at her like that. It was normally her doing the hard eyed stare. She shrugged as if trying to rid that feeling of that gaze. Next, she drew the outline of a ridiculously cute rabbit with floppy ears popping out of the hat with playing cards that were all aces floating above its head. Along the rim of the hat she drew a label, not filling it in yet, waiting for the last minute to write.. Fuck your 10 minutes.. It was simple, but with clean lines it didn't look half bad, especially when she added her own sardonic humour within it. A real steep gamble considering she had no idea who he was and he was tough one to read. "I don't need magic to make magic happen." She thrusted that paper toward him and said nothing else.

Harlequin Ray Westward