So maybe running a marathon, leaping between rooftops and ripping people apart with her bare hands ain't in the cards tonight. There's still Jack, literally aglow and his arms a warm weight holding her close. Her hands slide up his chest to his neck, tugging him down far enough that she can brush soft, nuzzling kisses against his mouth. And the giggles keep going; but her voice has gone low and liquid, each tremour of laughter shaking her shoulders. It's a little like being drunk; maybe more like being high, all lit up and full with something other.

"You were hot as hell." It's a murmur against his mouth, warm and playful. "Jesus, the way you picked that guy up? I know you said your wires were strong, but I didn't figure them for that strong." One hand slides up and back into his hair, curling her fingers through it.

The man at their feet groans and shifts; Harley looks up at Jack with sparkling eyes, teeth catching at her lip around a grin, and kicks him viciously in the ribs.