The change goes over Harley's head; she's still used to facial expressions and posture changes. Reading someone by the glow of their machinery is harder; especially when your eyes are on the road.

"Oh yeah; that overgrown Daffy Duck's got lightning magic or some shit. Felt like my skeleton was on fucking fire. I mean fine, whatever, I hit him with a lamp first, but-" her hands clench, turning the corner, looking for a parking spot.

"He'a the one who made it personal." Her voice is colder than Jack has ever heard it.