stuff us in boxes that's where you want us

cardboard is boring, we brought our matches - look how it burns

The comment about looking younger than he thought proffered a sarcastic quip of being old enough. A comment teetering on that line of innuendo. Seriously dude, the last thing a woman wanted to hear was that she looked like a kid. She peered at him with those eyes that hold a fire, a challenge. She was like an earthquake with human skin threatening to shatter the sphere in which they walked upon, even as a human she could be a force. Rage was her fuel to her power. Her tongue a weapon and her very complicated curse. Let us hope the man before her didn't have to suffer such wrath that even the gods would quake from. If only Harley was even aware of the force she could become, perhaps she had an inkling, but an inkling was all it was. It was most likely better, for the sake of anyone she came across. He seemed to be entertained by her reply as a grin crossed his own youthful admittedly handsome face. He seemed so vibrant, so full of life.

Even though being close to 30 she still managed to get carded. Seriously? She didn't look that young. Maybe she would chalk it up to having flawless skin and good genes. With all the shit she had been through, perhaps she should have looked much older than she had, weathered and eroded by loss and suffering. Especially when she had such remarkable gifts at luring those fiends to her like a magnet to metal. She would have been content to mind her own damn business and yet somehow, she ended up within the epicenter of that cyclone time and time again. But maybe in that chaos she truly thrived. Perhaps she was destined for the forge of chaos.

Most of her past was littered with monsters, she had the scars to prove it. Even though she was more than content to let the past lay where it should. Where they had been decaying, in a closet full of skeletons. They could rot there for all she cared. Harley had no problem with staring at her past right in the face, the woman never turned her cheek, never flinched with it. But even with all that lack of fear it still had a nasty way of biting her in the ass the moment she thought the threat had passed.

If only she knew that the past was not done with her yet.

Her license would fully show that she was the age she claimed to be, legal in all matters. But perhaps she dared him to question it, to flash the chaos she was capable of, even if but a glimpse of the silver peaked tongue she wielded. Yet the man seemed to take it quite literal, which of course caused an amused smirk to tug at the corners of her lips. "Oh my, All night huh?" There was the innuendo again, although subtle and perhaps even easy enough to gloss over. She thought about that comment about worldviews and how it would take all night long. She muses at that very thought. Who had that much to say? She watched him carefully as if searching for some kind of double meaning. Yet he seemed quite certain on it.

"You may have a lot to say after I inflict a masterpiece on you." The raven haired woman admitted, self-assured. Whether it be from that inflicted pain or something else entirely. She wasn't that much of a masochist, was she? She hardly knew anymore, not that it mattered. The raven-haired woman was certainly confident within her abilities to give a good tattoo, to know that her odds of disappointing him were slim. Her life may have been a mess but the art was hardly that. Art was the very thing the spitfire could control, one of the very few things she could manipulate to her will and her will alone, so much power in wielding a needle gun, a paintbrush, or pen.

That slight French lilt echoed within her mind, did he just call her Cherie? What the fuck was a Cherie and what did it have to do with her? It sounded French, that much she was certain of. The way he spoke those words it instantly made him seem old. Like a French old timie, even though he wasn't dressed like one. She had heard about them but she hadn't actually seen one. She eyed him skeptically, curiously. "Are you a Frenchie? And care to explain what a Cherie is?" She knew a few phrases at best, ones that were drilled into kid Harley's mind. Those phrases seemed like a lifetime ago. Such a very long time ago, how such things hardly mattered now.

She told him that story about the hipster who walked in wanting that lame tattoo after expressing he wanted something more worldly. She laughed at his reply, grinning her eyes narrowing in that way she often viewed the world, defiant. "You are giving that guy way too much credit. I don't think he was capable of writing a book. Unless it only consisted of pictures, basic ones at best, if you catch my drift. I wonder if people come in with such 'profound' ideas just to torment me." She rolled her eyes, as she feigned a dramatic sigh. They were better off writing that shit on their arm in permanent marker or henna. But nope, tattoos were all the rage and as good as it was for business and the laser companies that got to remove them.

She bats her long, thick dark lashes in an almost girly fashion that fooled no one. "But you won't do that to me will you? Tell me, Mr. Francais, that you have a challenge for little ol' me." She spoke those words while allowing him to riffle through a book of examples of her work. The motion was automatic pushing that book to see a small display of her works, as she leaned on the table, half sitting on it while he examined those pictures. Her fingers tapping on the edge of the desk. He seemed to take his time as he flipped each page with certain care that others seemed to lack. Once finished, she gave him a smart ass look to match her comment inquiring his tattoo status. That provoked a rather impish look upon his face. At least someone had a sense of humour. Not many appreciated her sexual innuendo and Isolt seemed only to get embarrassed by it. After all these years she was sure she could have gotten accustomed to in. Although, even if she said nothing, she was glad for it, happy for the sweet normalcy of it all. It's the little things.

The man replied with ease claiming he hasn't been a virgin of any kind for some time. She couldn't argue that one. The dark haired man was a good looking man, that much was very apparent especially with that impish grin on his lips had her noticing that very fact. If that wasn't enough, he was peeling off his shirt before she was even prepared. She paused, blatantly staring when she finally realized what he was doing. For a moment she thought maybe Isolt sent her a strippergram, maybe getting her back for what she unleashed on her at her bachelorette party. She had seen flesh of all kinds, day in and day out. But there was something about this that had her enjoying the show. Hot damn. "I do not doubt that.." She replied slightly distracted, a second or two later than her usual immediate response time. For a moment she hardly noticed the tattoos but her trained eye made it impossible to ignore them.

"That is some fine.... Work you have." She slipped off from her perch, walking around with her usual confidence around the desk to get a better look of course. At his tattoos. Not that distracting way his muscles seemed like he was flexing, she was a professional of course. The man was chiseled and in the way that said he worked out, a lot. But she wasn't blind. She moved to his back first noticing that one first, she almost reached out to touch where the name was. She noted the name hidden within the tattoo, it was good work, even she had to admit, usually she had found herself eternally cringing at mistakes or where the artists may have rushed or used cheap inks. But at least he had chosen his artists well. "These are really good, they knew exactly what they were doing." She said rather matter of fact to keep herself from allowing her eyes to wander. Professional Harley, reporting for duty.

"Do the names Aiden and Dorian mean anything to you?" He seemed too young for kids but then, some people just started young. Because that would suck to have those names tattooed on his body without knowing who they hell who they were.

"Well, I will be happy to provide the world class treatment for your feet." She teased.

Then his words made her bristle just a bit, she straightened up a little. Pft! The nerve. "Am I skilled enough for this?" How she nearly scoffs at him, a daring wayward look dancing in those violet depths. "Care to find out?" She looked at him with a challenge sparkling in her eye, intermingling with mischief. She was quite sure that at this rate she was going to see him naked if these clothes kept falling off.

"Any hidden names for this one too? Or do you just want so when you look down.. that you're looking down on the world. You don't have a god complex, do you?" She could hardly stop those sarcastic words from leaving her mouth, she was hardly a creature who possessed a filter. But just like that she slipped back into work mode, like she had a thousand times before. She even almost sounded professional. "I find feet can be a painful place as its so close to the bone, I realllly hope you're good at sitting still. I do have a numbing cream but it can only do so much." In other words, how much pain can you handle topless wonder?

She raised her brows at the sudden question in surprise. Cats? What was that supposed to mean? Maybe he was crazy cat man and lived with fifteen cats. Hey, everyone had their thing and she was certain he had his. She just couldn't quite figure it out just yet. But if she had it her way she would have him all figured out and all his buttons revealed. "Cats? I wish, because then I wouldn't have to deal with this endless need machine, even if he doesn't look like it right now." She hardly meant it, she adored her little black furmonster. "Cats are a tad too murdery... like they are plotting to kill you depending on the day of the week." She had way too much of that in her life to last her a life time. Thank you very much. She would stick to dogs. She pointed to the little puppy shepherd snoozing on his back, legs splayed wide, occasionally twitching from some dream. "Plus, he is even less of a fan of kittycats than me. Let's just say, I would be content if I never see a cat again. With the exception of kittens, of course." Because that made all the sense in the world. "I take it, you are?" She looks him square in the eye as if looking for some hidden answer so some unanswered question.

Harley Westward