stuff us in boxes that's where you want us

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

"Hmm. That depends on a few things.." She stated with an easy shrug of her shoulders, she had to admit, she was a little amused by his passion for potato farmers. Who knew? Harley was so used to people having an aversion to that sharpened tongue she wields; those potato farmers certainly did not stand a chance when they spent their days in a field. She was sure of it. The world was so very different when you lived a life of isolation surrounded by nothing but the land and nature around you. Who was ever ready for a hurricane with skin? Admittedly, it was difficult not to image a slew of middle-aged potato farmers with deeply worn lines on their tired faces from facing the elements, frowning disapprovingly at her like so many did. It was a look she knew all too well. Maybe Adrien should become a potato farmer just to live up to the stereotype she crafted in her head, he certainly had that disapproving look down pat.

As easy as it was to fall down that familiar rabbit hole of random banter, she had a hole burning through her mind the size of Texas. Those thoughts she was hardly able to shake, each day and sleepless night she thought about those cloaked warnings that had meant nothing at the time, only to mean something now. She was like undiluted rage stuffed in a brittle cage, a wild cat ready to use her sharpened claws without mercy. That moment where she confronted him was nothing short of tense. Perhaps a part of her deep down understood but it was covered with too much anguish, pain and lack of control she couldn't see beyond that pelting haze. Really, quite possibly she could even understand what he was trying to achieve, but it didn't make the sting any less easy, the fact that he dared showed his face here after all of that. Spoke volumes of the man before her, as though he willingly appeared to simply be a veritable punching bag to unleash all that pent up rage. How easy it would have been too, to rip him to shreds like she had that room at the Ark after Risque. That strange room she had woken from her own wounds. She woke up like a storm, vengeful and near rabid on that ship she hadn't even known how she got there. There was not a piece of furniture left standing, on that poor undeserving room. But at least she was alive and surprisingly healed, but she was not the same. No, she would never be the same. Her memories of that night were a blur of pain, blood, and torment unlike anything she had felt before, even still, she still couldn't quite recall everything with clarity. At least she could know with certainty was that she didn't dare scream, she wouldn't give Risque or Tetradore the god damn satisfaction.

No matter what Matteo said in that moment she was still convinced that all of this was a culmination of a singular choice that single handedly created a destructive domino effect. She wasn't exactly mad about it or hating herself for it, at least not now. It was a thought she had been familiar with for a very long time, sometimes deep within your own self-loathing you begin to be friends with it and accept those parts of yourself. It was Matteo's rueful smile that made her frown. She didn't want anyone's sympathy, didn't like to be viewed as some broken discarded piece trash, even if in some ways she was. "I do not know about that.. but I can tell you this, I don't believe in luck. You make it for yourself." She spoke truthfully then, letting their eyes meet once more. What she could do is control her very own actions and hopefully not make another colossal mistake that would follow her for the rest of her days. It was damn annoying that the future had a mind of its own and her actions meant so very little on this mapped out ride of life. She would be damned just to be another damn passenger just to ride it idly.

Matteo may have seen the future but fortunately for Harley, he hardly knew of that dark past. That very past was not something to boast about, not a by a longshot. Not even her oldest friend even knew of that dark sordid tale. Just was quite certain it was her burden to endure. Some things were just better off not said, buried until the sands of time eroded it away into dust. Until then, she would just have to use that past as her own makeshift weapon and then whatever was left, to forge that impenetrable armor and face those demons that so desperately wished to rip her apart.

Harley had to admit, she got excited at the notion that there was an effective weapon that she could wield against yet another big bag who wanted to take her down. Really, they could get in line, there was not a fast pass for this ride. The thought alone should have probably scared her but instead it ignited a readiness to face whatever this mystery thing was. She knew scary and it just didn't have the effect it once had over her. She could hardly stop that shine to her eyes at the mention of a weapon. "A weapon to wield into battle? I think you are speaking my language. If it's that special I don't know if I will be so willing to give it back." She declared, but unsure what that even was. Was it a... hand cannon? Or some special blade? That was when she saw the butter suddenly appear in his hand and she could hardly stop that look that was between a frown and total shock. He wanted to fight one of risques nightmare associates... with butter? "Uhh Matteo.. Your off your damn rocker if you think I can fight with butter. What do you expect me to do? Lube them to death?" That incredulous tone in her voice could hardly be hidden. Although, the idea of buttering the floor, so that vampires were slipping and sliding like a rare performance of vampires on ice. Now that was one hell of a thought.

Harley tried to coax just a little more from the fae while he busily worshiped this potato. Slowly but surely bringing it back to life with seasonings and magic, who the hell really knew what he was pulling out of thin air, but it was certainly entertaining to watch. That was when an idea sparked. Maybe she could try to get maybe a delectable little glimpse into a future that was as obscure as Matteo himself. There was a flash of something upon his face, like he were dazed for a second, it seemed so strange a sight, that flash of red in his eye nearly made her worry... He looked like a man possessed. She was just about to ask if he was alright but just as it had appeared, it was gone. In an instant, his expression bloomed back upon his face before his words easily danced from his lips in the form of a double entendre. A technicolor of emotions flash upon her face before falling back into that resolve in the form of a piercing glare his accented words seem to incite within her. "Someone's presumptuous." She raised a brow at him and give him the good old fashion Harley stare down. Just to see if he would falter beneath the weight of that very look, despite how doubtful it was. Harley was a force of nature that rarely halted in her tracks. She huffs in an almost disgruntled fashion, he didn't even check did he? "Plus, don't you know building yourself up like that only makes for far too much pressure one man cannot handle. Her lips curl into an impish smile that rivals his own, that mischievous glean sparking within her vibrant eyes.

He was the most cryptic of people she had ever known, even worse than her secretive brother. Alive and free, she could buy into that pipedream, even if it was as obscure as it sounded. What was the cost of this very vision? Was it even worth it? She could hardly help but wonder if anyone in this damn world was ever free. Everyone was a slave to something, she though leaning against that chair, practically draped over the back of it now. Even Matteo was a slave to his very visions, not that she would dare say that out loud. One way or another, this world made you its slave, if the people within it didn't get to you first. A slave to money, a slave to the corporations, or you could take your pick of the hundreds of other scenarios. "Tell me.. Is anyone really free?" it was a loaded question, perhaps even a touch philosophical in nature. So uncharacteristic to their other carefree bantering.

It was finally when that build up had finally come to be, those potatoes were deemed worthy of tasting. Damn, they did not disappoint. She exclaimed how the potatoes were like heaven exploded in her mouth and she could hardly stop the words from leaving her own, oh shit, he was right. A smirk danced upon her lips, shaking her head while he bowed before declaring an almost iconic self-assured response. "I don't know how you did it, but you did... But that's where heaven gets you every damn time.. You have a taste and then you want some more.." Heaven is like no cigar and you have to be reminded of that every damn day, and when you finally come to that sad realization it is too late. Doomed to a world of cursed, tasteless potatoes.

It was then he suddenly teleports, appearing behind her, pressed up against her frame, assaulting all her senses all at once. His words are all but goading and even as she thaws into that sudden rush of contact, she is still ever the wild cat, ready to strike. She peers up at him, pivoting her head so she could catch a glimpse of the fae behind her, ignoring her heartbeat, ignoring what her emotions were assaulting her.

No, he wasn't going to get off that easily.

His words nearly make her bristle, almost goading her into facing him. But she doesn't budge as if daring him to do his worst. "News flash, my heart beats because I'm alive.." She replied cockily. "Last time I checked, elevated heart rate was not a cause of losing. You poofed therefore you were disqualified." How she enjoyed making it sound like there were actual rules to this daring game of theirs. "Its simple.." But before she could utter another word or even react, he is gone. Appearing once more upon her couch, looking smug as a cat in sunshine. He was baiting her, and she knew it, yet still she fell right into his trap.

She moves across that room with intent, finding her way until she situates herself upon him, it took every ounce of willpower not to just pounce him. But even then, it is like her actions are not her own and yet they are, allowing her face to so find that nook where the most alluring of scents was coming from him. She asked him when he would ever learn, into that oh so alluring place she found herself within. That sound of his own amusement not unnoticed, his words only brought forth a small chortle.

How easy it would have been to lose herself in that moment, to simply give into that warmth, that pressing closeness of their bodies, that contact she so avoided in the past. That heartbeat was nice too, she could have placed her ear upon his chest just to hear it better. A heartbeat, how much that very sound seemed so coaxing and lovely in itself. She seemed content to indulge in that little nook she stole that kiss upon his neck, before allowing that tongue so very gently to taste his skin in turn, just because she could. She could have gotten lost in a swarm of those kisses and yet instead she shifts so slight to peer upon him asking him why he smelled so good? Their very noses nearly brushed together in that moment. He does not bat an eye as he jests, blaming his cologne. "Well, that stuff is worth its weight in gold." She muttered, swearing she didn't smell cologne on him, this scent felt like it came from somewhere deeper. Alas, she was content to ignore that thought, especially as he further distracts her.


She hardly expected the near casual but competent way he allowed his fingers of his recently unfolded arm to find her exposed skin at her hip. She almost wanted to growl at him in response telling him no touchy, but the words fail her then. That touch seemed to placate her. The feisty creature all but dormant for but a moment. She wondered if she would break out any second in a god damn rumbling purr. His words call out to her, a perfect little trap she was lulled into falling within. In any other instance she would have been mortified by it, but she was just so snug, warm, and content.

His words are soft and gentle, careful not to awaken that wildcat beneath. "Sure, hit me with it. I am open for theories." She replied, falling into that warm little trap with such ease. Lost in gentle soothing sensations, that very touch upon her skin exactly what she needed in that very moment. This wasn't losing if she just lay here for a moment right? She peered down upon him with soft violet eyes right then, she wanted to curl up and fall asleep into the best damn sleep ever.

Then he began explaining his theory and at first it drew out a laugh... she swore she felt a hint of nervousness within it. He was like a text book explaining the laws of attraction to her, while she very much soaked up his warmth and was lured into a sense of calm from each, deliberate lazy stroke of his god damn hand. It felt like a trail of heat, tickling her skin, how close he dared to trail beneath that hemline. She nearly closed her eyes and she suddenly felt something she hardly knew she was capable of feeling, of all damn things she could be feeling, she felt the pickle of embarrassment. It seemed to awake her from the reverie she didn't even know she had fallen within. That familiar twinge of her cheeks made her eyes grow wide with horror. No, he can't see that. In a hasty movement she has herself propped up with one arm on his chest and the other covering his eyes, her fingers tightly cemented in place to not allow even a peak at her. No, she refused to have those silvery eyes looking at her with that mocking impish way of his. She shifts, trying not to stare at his lips. She could feel herself losing her veritable footing. She was all prepared for him not using his words that it was the very thing she had been caught off guard by. No! She was not going to lose this, and she simply would not let herself give up that victory. What game they were playing she wasn't even sure anymore. It seemed to evolve into some strange beast that it would be so arguable who even won, if there ever was a winner. Or maybe they were just making the rules as they went, teasing and tormenting until someone back down. That seemed about right.

She drew in a sharp breath because damn she needed it. Words don't fail her now. "I dont know much about that whole mate thing. Although you painted a very.. colourful picture..... thanks for....... that." She declared dryly, shaking her head, that false sense of security was nothing but a blissful memory now.

Great, he inner feline was so very shallow that she could hardly stand herself. More things to sort out. Why couldn't he just be hideous or something, not just in looks.. but why couldn't he say something to repulse her? It was easy enough to do. She found herself so repulsed by the world at large, why not the man who tempted her so? How she barley took in the French words he uttered. She peered down upon his mouth as he said them so fluently, it was really nice mouth.

Fucking hell, he was right.

"I wouldn't exactly call you hot. I have a more than a few choice words how I would choose to describe you, but I think I will keep that to myself. She responds almost nonchalantly, trying desperately to regain some kind of footing. She tried her best to contain herself, to not appear so damn rattled, not missing a beat while she tried to suck her reeling mind back in. She was not going to let him win this, but damn that hand and his warmth felt so terribly good and she could hardly stop herself.

She rubbed her cheek along that hand that tilted her chin upward, nudging it out of the way placing a kiss right at the corner of his lips, lingering perhaps longer than she should have. She hardly trusted herself, but she trusted her sheer will to make him eat his words. "You had a piece of potato there and it was driving me mad, plus I owed you a thank you." She lies easily about the potato being there before sliding off him so reluctantly it nearly hurt to, that inner cat seemed to be the biggest traitor of them all. Why the fuck couldn't she be a giraffe or something, it wasn't like she even liked cats. At least giraffes could see the world all up there while they watched everything below them with mild indifference. Not many tried to fuck with a giraffe and as long as the giraffe had its head up in some tree munching happily, they were perfectly content. No, she had to be a stupid cat with stupid tells that you could read like a book.

"For someone who was all about action the last time, you certainly talk a lot." That sarcasm slips past her lips. There we go, regained footing for the win. At least standing now had given her some renewed confidence. She even had no problem looking down upon him, with that defiant playful look. "But I do think your generalizations is where you might be wrong.. I'm not cut out of the same cloth as everyone else, I've evolved, and you might just have to yield before you embarrass yourself. Plus..." She paused, dragging a breath into her lungs. It felt good, solid somehow. But damn she felt cold, not that comforting warmth that blanketed mere moment before.

"If and only if my inner feline did... think... that." She allowed her finger tips to toy with his sleeve, as though she instantly craved the contact of him the moment she pulled away. She couldn't even bring herself to say mate, she pokes him. "What is your excuse? Your clearly just as guilty as I am. Or maybe that gets you off, being such a tease." Mic drop anyone? If there was a time and place it was certainly now. It seemed she thought a whole lot more clearly when she wasn't cradled in his intoxicating.. SHUT the fleeping fuck UP Harley. She hissed at herself in her own mind. She pivots on her heels, to stalk away, taking her time to relish in her victory. Peering over her shoulder she smirks. "Care for something to drink?" She asked, she sure as hell felt parched and she needed a little bit of liquid courage if she was going to survive another round of this.

Harley Westward