Dr. Pamela Isley (
joan_of_bark) wrote2024-11-22 04:41 pm
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Pick Your Poison, Friday Afternoon
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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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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