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.
[[ open ]]
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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
erroneously. "So that's a win."no subject
"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."