Nov. 22nd, 2024 04:41 pm
Pick Your Poison, Friday Afternoon
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Well, Adrian was a plant, so dinner wasn't happening tonight. Pam could live with that. It gave her time to finish up the salve she'd been working on for Octavia.
Which meant spending most of the day upstairs, messing around with chemicals, but... eventually, it was done.
Done and tested, if in a limited way.
She eyed the little container, and let out a breath. Right. Time to go downstairs, make some coffee, and blow off some steam.
Maybe, she reflected, once finally downstairs, she could get Adrian some fertilizer, as a treat.
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Which meant spending most of the day upstairs, messing around with chemicals, but... eventually, it was done.
Done and tested, if in a limited way.
She eyed the little container, and let out a breath. Right. Time to go downstairs, make some coffee, and blow off some steam.
Maybe, she reflected, once finally downstairs, she could get Adrian some fertilizer, as a treat.
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But of course, she'd already been to the tattoo parlor since then.
Where, as the guy had been inking the outline of the pretty mermaid lady's top half onto her arm, to turn the big J into a tail, Harley had experienced something of an epiphany.
Long story short, the mermaid remained an outline with none of the planned shading, when Harley came bursting through the doors of Pick Your Poison: "Pammy!! I figured out what you were talking about!!"
Like three weeks ago. Shut up.
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"Harley," Pam greeted. "You have?"
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She'd be more mindful of all the pronouns with regard to Other Harley at... some point, when she wasn't so... whatever this was. Hyper?
"And I'm sorry for reminding you of that."
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Well. It was not what Pam had expected. Then again, with Harley, when was it, really?
"...Thank you," she settled on, both because an apology like that deserved it, and because it bought her some time to come up with... other words.
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"I'm not that bad anymore, either," she added, after a beat. "But I'm more like kinda somewhere in the middle? 'Cause I'm not great yet, either. Maybe one day! But not yet."
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She'd already said so, but it was Harley; repetition wouldn't hurt. "I'm... genuinely glad to hear it."
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Just... redoing that ponytail for no reason at all.
"How bad?" she asked.
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No, Pam probably didn't know who 'the kid' was. And no, Harley did not realize that.
She gave a big shrug.
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Gently.
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That explained enough, right?
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"I dunno?" Harley said. "Felt right."
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And finally picked her almost-forgotten coffee mug from the counter. "Hearing you talk like that just triggered something. Which... you already figured out."
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"It's fine," she said, waving a hand. "We've all got deep-seated psychological stuff that can be very tough to rein in when we get startled by it, it's human."
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Through no fault or malpractice of her own, of course!
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"You haven't been in there," Harley said, slowly, by Harley standards, "have ya?"
She sounded concerned.
... And looked it. Her face had never been particularly subtle, after all.
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"It's where we met."
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And then made such a face, offended and appalled. "Jesus Christ," she said. "Really?! They put ya in there? What for?"
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Granted, Harley didn't have as much of a 'moral greatness' stance on it, but it was always Hate on Batsy o'clock in her timezone!
"Stupid winged jerk, I mean, who does he think he is?"
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It was also always Hate on Batsy o'clock in her timezone. What a surprise.
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Harley was built for the city. Northeast city.
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... Not that anyone here had rage, or anything.
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"Oh, I put a buncha guards in the hospital while I was there."
Judging by the distinct and uncharacteristically dark, sharp lack of glee in that statement, they'd well and truly earned it.
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It wasn't the first time she'd heard that tone of voice come out of Harley. And her reaction would likely be the same, every time.
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Although it also seemed to give her pause. Some of the ire died down, only to be replaced by a frown of something. Concern, maybe? "Did that -- was that a thing that... happened to her?"
Hey, look at her remembering to separate herself from the other Harley!
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"Ya didn't used to be like this."
Now, that was probably not all the way true, between how long it had been, and the battering Harley's brain had taken in the meantime.
But still.
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She let out a deep breath and looked at Harley. Thinking about something.
"And then I went to grad school," she said.
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Even if that meant she was raising her eyebrows a lot, now. "That did it?"
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She eyed the cup. "I'd say I hope your version of me didn't go through the same thing, but I doubt she's that lucky."
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Not that anyone here had rage, or anything.
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Not too deep. Not when she and this Harley had finally achieved some kind of a detente. "But eventually, it escalated. He pressured me into becoming part of his experiments." She rubbed the edge of her cup idly. "When I woke up in the hospital some time later, barely back from the brink of death, I found out he'd run away."
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Although:
"Wait, 'more or less'? What the fuck's that mean?"
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"Woodrue was many things, but 'brilliant' was definitely part of it," Pam said. (There was something gratifying about the anger, though, much as it was an echo of a similar anger on a similar face many years ago.) "He wanted to find a way to meld human and plant DNA. He found it. I was a successful experiment. So was he."
She shrugged. Looked out the window.
"Killing something like us takes a little more effort than usual."
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"I ate him."
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There was a beat of staring, and then:
"You ate him?!"
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Why yes, Harley, she had changed since college.
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Just possibly not for the reasons the average person would have. "Was it gross?" she asked. "Jesus Christ, Pam, not to get all literal with toxic masculinity, but that sounds like it would give a gal the shits like no other."
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And-- surprised herself with the laugh that followed. Oh, Harley. (Was that affection on Pam's face? Probably dangerous territory.)
"It was really gross," she said. "They always say 'eat the rich', but they never warn you about the taste."
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(That was the story she was sticking to, anyway.)
"Guess ya should just -- well, guess that it's gonna be fucking rank," she scowled. "'Cause some people've gotta suck all the to their last second on this rock suspended in space!"
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She gave her ponytail a tug. (Ugh, Harley-not-Harley had her fidgeting.) "But he won't be bothering me again," she settled on
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"Good," Harley replied, with a firmness that bordered on comical. "Means I don't have to start considerin' a revenge mission. Which is it's own kind of good 'cause I don't think I could stomach a guy like that."
She was going to think about... her Pam. Eventually.
And wonder.
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"No, I don't think you're the man-eating type, peanut," Pam said - gently, for her standards. "But I appreciate the sentiment."
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"Wait, what'd you call me?"
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Oh. Oh. Pam winced. "Sorry," she said. "'Peanut'. It's a thing-- I lost track for a moment, I'm sorry."
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Very Harley how the end of that question went all sorts of high.
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She really needed to keep that affection out of her voice, ugh. At least she somewhat hid it behind something wry and dry this time.
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That was definitely the flat confidence of a woman who knew perfectly well what she was capable of and (had convinced herself she) was comfortable with that.
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And then shrugged. Yanno, enh, what could ya do? "I'm sure they deserved it, too."