thedifferencebetween | Ryslig Inbox

no no no

u dont get 2 make me curious then go 'nm'! wut?

if it makes any difference, lobotomized me wuz still really into lobotmized u! really not sure wut that says about either of us

yea im at home

we can meet out front n figure out where we wanna go hunting on the walk into town

lotta options!

Oh no. Not here. Maybe not sober, but definitely not here. If it's not written down anywhere, maybe someday I'll forget, and then it'll be like it never happened.

[It was absolutely written down somewhere. Harley remembers signing... something.]

Yeah, lobotomized me was pretty into you, too, Handsome. Pretty sure I tripped over my own tongue somewhere between robotic Boy Stuff and 'Gosh you're so smart!'

I mean, you are smart, but you know what I mean.

Be there in twenty?

ok but u gotta tell me when u get here!

And as promised, Jack is waiting at the gate, dressed normally in a pair of black jeans and his Hyperion jersey and a black suit jacket. What a friggin week. He's spent most of the day just trying to figure out if he needs to do any damage control.

Which he doesn't think so, as far as he can tell, the people he made a moron of himself to were also making morons of themselves right back. He does want to ask Slade about the boning section of their contract, but that doesn't have much to do with the last week other than that's when he signed the thing. And Angel...okay, well, he said a lot of sappy shit he wishes he hadn't said, and went into way too much detail, but it's out there now and it's not gonna kill him to make an effort.

So, all in all, it could have been a lot worse. It'll still feel good to throttle the living shit out of some lickbags and feel more like himself.

Harley's upgraded her car, since the last time she was here; now it's a sleek red Chevy Bel Air with the top down, circa about 1957. Her pigtails blow in the breeze behind her as she pulls up, and she's wearing- not much at all, from the looks of it. A black and red bustier that leaves her arms and shoulders bare; shorts that are indecently short; and from the look of it, some sort of knee-high leather boot, barely visible down under the steering wheel.

She also looks exhausted, face drawn with lines that could be caused by pain; but whatever it is, she can't help but crack a smile when she pulls up next to him. "Christ, you're a sight for sore eyes. Get in, loser; we're going murdering."

She barely lets him get settled in the seat next to her when Harley's leaning over; tugging him by the lapels, she lets her mouth catch against his in a kiss.

"Nice wheels!"

And outfit, hot damn! Jack takes a minute to look her over before hopping in the passenger seat eagerly. This? This is what he needs. Just shake off the past week, get back to normal. And by the looks of it, this is the same thing Harley needs. She looks tired as fuck - the only reason he doesn't is because his face never moves.

He still presses back into the kiss, though. His hands reach for her, his ass lifting out of the seat.

"God, I could do you right here, right now."

This is exactly what she needed; a little healthy, uncomplicated lechery with the promise of violence to get the taste of pastries and hypocrisy out of her mouth. Harley's breath catches, and she leans in just as firmly, hands reaching for him in return as her hair curls up, brushing the tips against Jack's jaw.

"Stole something with a backseat for a reason, hot stuff." She lets her teeth catch against his lower lip, for all it doesn't have any give to it. One hand slides over his thigh, curling inward just above the knee. "And ain't I tempted to let you."

She stays close enough that her lips brush his when she speaks. "But if you think it'd be good here, now, imagine how good it's gonna be later."

"Oh yeah, worth waiting for. But I'd still take you in a hot minute right outside my driveway."

She's right, though. Better to wait till they've had their other kinda fun. Which he's looking forward to just as much.

"We're gonna have fun tonight, babe." Jack pulls away, reluctantly, and rakes a hand through his gray streaked hair as he settles back into the seat. This is a nice car. He...oughtta learn how to drive these old time ones, get himself one.

"And I am pretty hungry. Didn't eat all week. Hey, wanna find a skeavy bar and take out the first lickbag that tries to pick ya up?" A pause as he remembers their text conversation. "Oh hey, you were gonna tell me something...."

"I mean I'd hope for at least a hot five minutes, but you know, I'll take what I can get." Her smirk widens; with a squeeze of his knee, Harley settles back into her seat, throwing the car into gear to peel around and back into the road.

"Ooh! Fun!" Jack gets an approving look, the wind picking up around them as their speed increases. "Maybe we'll get real lucky, and he'll have friends. Been awhile since I had a good old-fashioned brawl. I can do the sweet, innocent, bait thing, easy as lying. Who're you going to be? My jealous boyfriend?" Her lip catches between her teeth. "Or just the monster lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce?"

Then he asks the question, and Harley's face falls into a grumpy pout. "Crap. I was kind of hoping you'd forgotten." She wrinkles her nose as she down-shifts, pulling into the opposite-direction lane to pass someone doing a mere ten miles over the speed limit. "I- it's-" There's a growling noise in the back of her throat.

Because it's stupid. It's embarrassing, even just on the surface. Under that is fury, and under that... might actually be some genuine hurt. And who the hell else can Harley talk to about it? Who else is she even moderately close to that is enough like her that he'd probably just get it?

"...Okay, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. Anyone. I know it's stupid- but I don't know, there's people here- one or two I can think of- that'd I'd rather not find out." One hand comes off the steering wheel, and Harley holds up her pinky in Jack's direction. "Pinky swear?"

"How 'bout we play it by ear? See how it goes down. I can be anybody you want, sweetheart." He likes improv, it's fun! God, it's been a while since he hunted with a partner.

"Pinky swear! Who'm I gonna tell?" He hooks his robotic pinky with hers and puts his other hand over where a human's heart would be. "Secret's safe with me. Come on, after all the shit I told you while I was loopy?"

Which he assumes he doesn't have to say stays between them. There'd been a lot of personal opening up and sharing, more sharing than Jack likes and more than he figures she likes, too. But it's already done and now they know that stuff, and it's the kind that automatically makes two people closer.

"Spill."

"Psh, you know that's in confidence. Even if we weren't cuckoo for cocoa puffs, that shit stays between us."

Her nose wrinkles again, even with the promise; and just the memory makes her hands tighten on the steering wheel, trying to curl into fists.

"... Wilson and I got married while we were all drugged up."

The words come out in a rush, and Harley lets it sit in the air for a minute. The sun is already out of sight, light fading from the sky above them; and Harley's driving into the heart of Bavan, aiming for the shabby old town area on the other side of the financial distract. Big cities were all alike, in some ways; all scrumbled together out of similiar pieces in different ways.

"....Really?" Now that's not at all what Jack had expected to here. "That's...okay, you guys win for weirdest shit done while out of our minds. Why?"

He's fighting back laughter. The dude hadn't mentioned anything, but then again, they haven't exactly had a conversation about the last week. After their friggin cupcake party, what is there to say?

"I feel like I should tell you, in the interest of our friendship...your new husband wrote sex parameters into our business contract with pretty much everything on the table, so I'm probably gonna bang him in the near future." Now he laughs. He can't help it, it just seems ridiculous and he can see it. He spent plenty of time with them both while they were all higher than a guitar player in a rock band.

"It wasn't like...official or anything, right? This isn't some sitcom where in half a year you're gonna realize you're still married or some shit. Don't worry about it, you weren't yourself. None of us were."

This time it's a gargling noise in the back of her throat. "Why?" I don't know, Jack, why do people usually get married? Temporary insanity. Duh."

She wants to distance herself so much that her hands come completely off the streeing wheel, like she can ward off the words. "God, don't say the H word. You can have him; aside from anything else, the only thing I want from that motherfucker is his head on a platter." Her fingernails dig into the steering wheel when her hands come back to it, slowing the car as they get into the heart of downtown.

When she looks at him, it's the face of someone who knows they've fucked up. "It... might be. I think I signed something." Is he laughing? Against her will, Harlet's mouth twitches. "Jack. It's not funny." She stifles a giggle, and slaps his chest with the back of her hand. "It's not!"

"Oh shit."

Jack tries to cut off his laughter at that.

"Okay...okay, look, we're not like registered citizens or anything. So it's probably not gonna be anything that hard to undo." At most, likely just filling out a form. Besides, they were friggin monsters, who was gonna say 'no' to them?

"It'll be fine, Harley, relax! So you lost your mind due to crazy monster magic and you married a giant angel. That's not something to be embarrassed about, that's the best story at every party you go to from now on. Plus..." Jack clicks his tongue, the lights in his eyes flashing. His voice takes on a teasing, playful tone.

"That means tonight, I'm hooking up with my business partner's Missus. And that? Is really friggin hot."

Christ, but it's tempting to just let go. Leave it as some joke that never comes up again, just one of those things that happens here apparently. And she and Jack can go out and get covered in blood and have a fun little roleplay night.

But she can't. Just thinking about Wilson makes her want to put her foot through a wall- by preference, once about seven feet tall and sporting wings.

"Wish I could, Handsome. You should've heard the shit he spewed at me this morning, when we snapped out of it. Then he electrocuted me- and when you're half metal, and half delicate flesh bits, that packs a punch." Her teeth clench, staring at the red light they're stopped at.

"The next time I see that asshole, I'm going to cut his fucking head off."

With his simulacrum changes, it's hard to see the sudden shift that comes over Jack. There's no closing of his expression, no sudden stilling of body language, no rigid set to his shoulders. There's only an oddly mild and emotionless tone to his voice when he responds, looking straight ahead with the light behind his eyes brightening to a blaze.

"I'm sorry...He did what now?"

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.

"Uh-huh."

Jack nods once. This? This changes everything.

"Okay, I gotta ask, cuz I don't wanna be that asshole who crosses a line... you wanna handle this yourself or is it cool to take a shot on your behalf? Cuz...No. Uh-uh. Disproportionate fucking response right there. Not to mention I just don't like people frying my dear friends, that doesn't jive with me. But you do not fry somebody who's part made of metal, the amount of damage that can do....was he trying to fucking kill you? Over what? Jesus tap dancing Christ..."

"Over my shitty taste in men, apparently! No offense." Pulling into the nearest space, she yanks back on the parking brake, jaw still tight. "The last time I took a shock was a walk in the park compared to that. I still hurt. You ever wondered how it feels to get a sunburn on your kidneys? That's what this feels like."

The implications, of course, aren't super great. It means she's got more than just a metal leg and weird hair going on. Something's different under her skin, and Harley can't think about it too long, or it gives her the shakes.

The offer comes as a surprise; and not an unpleasant one. Jack taking a shot at Slade- watching Jack take a shot at Slade- "Are you serious? That's- okay, that's kind of hot. Sweet, of course, obviously, but- also a little hot." But. But some of the choicer bon mots from Wilson's morning tantrum are still ringing in her ears.

You lost the Joker so you're grabbing on to the next best thing. You can't stand on your own two feet. You don't know independence because no one ever taught it to you.

Despite the pain, despite the fury she's been venting at him for the last ten minutes, Harley manages a smile. Leaning over, she presses a kiss to his cheek, giving his hair a ruffle, before pulling away again. "I'll handle it, hot stuff; don't you worry about that. But I appreciate the offer, I do. You ever need someone at your back, I'll be there."

She slumps in her seat a little, looking out at the night. "Anyway, now you know why I wanted to blow off a little steam. I just- can't sit still today." Her fingers tap out a meaningless, staccato rhythm against the steering wheel. "Maybe it's the electroshock or whatever, but I been twitchy." Her fingers still, and she glances his way, lips curling up into a grin. "I'm glad you decided to come out with me. Got to admit, I've been wondering what you're capable of. You got to be able to fight, right? You're from Planet Wild wild West."

"Yeah, I'm serious! But see, that's why I asked. I know sometimes ya just want to take care of it yourself, I respect that! But same goes for you - you ever need somebody to watch your back, you call Handsome Jack."

But Harley's more than capable of meting out her own vengeance, and Jack's not going to interfere. Nisha had been the same way, she liked to hunt down and string up the people who took a shot at her. He's not about to get between a woman and her well deserved violence!

"Speaking of...if you want me to...I dunno, take a look at anything...I know my cybernetics. But yeah! Oh yeah, I don't have any formal training or anything but I can street brawl with the best of'em, plus I'm a friggin cyborg. I can fuck up people's day in all kinds of fun ways!"

"Really?" Fun talk about killing takes a backseat for a moment; Harley glances around, but they're on a dark side street edging into the Bad Part of Bavan, no one's around to see. "There ain't much to see; but, since you'll probably get a look at it later anyway-" Shifting, she raises up a little to unbutton her shorts and slide them down to her knees.

"It's all mostly on the inside, I think- and Christ do I not want to think about what that means- but this is the worst of it that I can see." She nudges aside her underwear; deep blue silk today, soft and nothing that would rub too harsh against the red burn wrapped around her hip. Where skin meets cybernetic leg is red and puffy; though thankfully that's the extent of the damage, there aren't any blisters or signs of worse than a first-degree burn.

"I think the actual leg is fine; it's the rest of me that ain't so hot. It's not really cybernetics, but there's this, too." Turning over her hand, she shows him her palm; a long strip of burn stretches diagonally across it. "I was holding the lamp I'd bashed him with. And I thought he blew a fuse in my hair for awhile, but-" She reaches up, picking up a lock of fiber optics to stare cross-eyed at it. "I think it's perked up a little since then. The glow looks about right."

Funny, what you could get used to.

"I just feel- I don't know, hollow? Like something's missing, like I need-" Her shoulders shift in a restless movement; and Harley's hand comes back to the steering wheel, starting to tap her fingers against it again. "I don't know. Maybe cutting loose will settle me some."

"Okay....first, just gotta get this out of the way. I know you're freaked out about changing, and it's scary and new and weird, but also ya know, I'm the same thing you are now. I've literally gone through this and out the other side. I'm right here, fully changed, totally fine. And you're gonna be, too."

Being a robot is awesome! And Jack is inspecting the damage as he talks, shifting his visual settings to account for the low light. It is some nasty damage, and he doesn't like where it's concentrated at her leg's connection port. Or...whatever it's called when it's magic robotics.

"Because yeah, your insides are changing. They're gonna change a lot. So much! But the more you worry about it, the more you try and fight it, the worse it's gonna be. You gotta lean into this, babe. And I got some basic x-ray tech in my lab, we can get a look inside so you know exactly what's changing. It helps to know! Also start thinking about all the cool shit! Like...once you're done, it's gonna be so much harder to hurt you. And you're gonna be even stronger than you are now. And you will be able to fry people."

He glances up, though the motion involves moving his entire head.

"And, uh...speaking of. You could be hungry. Exerted a lot of energy, need to replenish...I feel pretty empty when I need to suck down some juice."

The convertible has bench seats; lifting her legs a little to get around the stick shift, she scoots closer, close enough that to touch. Kicking out of the shorts entirely allows her to slide her knee up and over his; in theory to give him more to look at, but honestly, it's mostly for her own comfort.

"I- I'm trying. Honest. The last week left me with bad shit to clean up, but- while we were all weird, it honestly didn't bother me? I was just like 'tee hee, turning metal, oh well!' And I don't know, maybe I'm still rocking some left over vibes from that. I'm better- like it doesn't make me want to throw up to even think about, much, but it's just-" Her fingers catch his own, metal and skin, and she looks up at him.

"It's not like everyone else. We don't just grow new weird shit, you know? You, me- we get replaced, one chunk at a time. I'm losing my fucking body, which I actually happen to like, like, a lot. Call me old fashioned, but that pisses me off some."

She squeezes his fingers with her own, and sets his hand back on her knee. "But, there's also fuck all I can do about it right now, so- woah, hey, wait a second. Did you say hungry?" Harley's brow furrows, examining her stomach- or whatever this other new, weird feeling is.

"... Well how the fuck is that fair? It's not like I got tentacle wires, I can't just suck someone down like a freakin Capri Sun!"

"Okay, but sweetheart....you aren't your body." Jack covers her hand with his, returning the squeeze gently.

"Bodies are just meat, a vehicle for the real deal. Up here." His other hand taps his temple. "I'm still me, I've just got a way snazzier physical conveyance system! What's a human body, really? Just a lot of messy red stuff and blue stuff, blobby easily bruised meat parts all hung on a really fragile support system that's built to just break down the whole time it exists. You're your thoughts, your memories, all the experiences you been through. And none of that's going away."

He gives her hand another encouraging squeeze.

"I dunno, maybe it doesn't bug me cuz this is basically what I always planned to do? My brain, robot body. Upgrade from meat sack to metallic wonder. But it's not gonna change who you are. And yeah, hungry. I dunno, maybe you do, and they just haven't popped out yet. We'll see what happens."

This is a weird conversation to have with her pants off. Leaning over, Harley snags a finger through the belt loop of her shorts, and tugs them back up into place again.

"I guess that's probably the way of the future, huh? Upgrade everything. I mean, if you wanted to do it, go to town! It's your flesh meat to do what you want with, right? Maybe that's why it sticks in my craw so bad. I didn't consent to this shit. I've got no idea what's coming." There's a sigh, and in the quiet and the dark, she rests her head against his shoulder.

"Maybe it's just that I put so much damn work into this sack of meat. I used to compete, back in the day. Got me into college, back before I cared enough to get my grades up. I was in gymnastics for- Christ, ten, fifteen years?" She looks down at her non-robotic leg, letting a hand move over her bare thigh, trace along the tattoos she'd doodled when she was bored. "You don't get gams like this without putting the work in."

Her head tilts up without moving, to look at him. "But- I mean, you got a point. I'm still me, no matter what happens."

"No, you didn't get any choice. But...babe, that's how life goes sometimes! Shit happens." Jack shrugs. He really doesn't see what the big terrible thing is here.

"Look at it this way. All that work - which yes, you have a fantastic body, not gonna argue that! - could just as easily get ruined by a horrible car crash or plain old age. You're just in your thirties, you haven't hit the wall yet. The wall where you reach a point and it doesn't matter how much ya work out, whatever, your body just is not what it used to be. Except now...all that hard work is gonna be perfectly preserved. Look at me! Sure, I got the chest of a Ken doll now, but Ken's pretty cut!" Jack rubs Harley's metallic leg with his own metallic hand.

"Now come on. We're a couple of badasses with super cool extra features fully designed to make us beautiful forces of glorious destruction! Let's go mess some guys up. You know you wanna see me throttle some shitbag with my tentacles."

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, HANDSOME JACK. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 021.07.222.57 * H.Jack69 has joined 021.07.222.57 <USERNAME> First sentence of message. <BANNED USER> SCREENED MESSAGE. UNSCREEN? Y/N -- sample for when you ban someone <USERNAME> First sentence of message. <USERNAME>** First sentence of message.

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cw, mild body horror

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cw for burn injuries

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