thedifferencebetween | Ryslig Inbox

"Okay, I know how it sounds- and he was an asswipe, don't get me wrong! Just-" And Harley runs up against that wall again; where for all her eloquence and expression and ability to speak people's personal languages, she can't for the life of her make anyone understand why she stayed with the Joker.

She'd told Slade once that it was a kind of power; that he'd out a weapon in her hand, and made her feel invincible. But it wasn't just that. The Joker was just- a force of nature. A tornado deciding where to touch down; and Harley was absolutely a storm chaser.

"It had its good moments," Is what she finally mumbles; but Jack's arms are around her, and she's in bed with a hot guy in a freaking castle and maybe don't dwell on the past, Harls.

"Handsome, we're hot robots waking up in a freaking castle. How much bigger can it get?" But a grin tugs at the corner of her mouth, and she reaches one finger to brush against the tip of his nose.

"No, for real- just being here is- it's nice. It's real nice. You're real nice." Stretching up a little, Harley brushes her mouth against his.

"Now see, that's what I expected of Pandoran Christmas. Guns, subjugation, and other planets."

"Hey, no judgement here! I've been with people I shouldn't have been with for probably not awesome reasons. The right 'yes' can excuse a lot of 'nos'." He gets it, he does. That was him and Moxxi. They'd been shit for each other, and she'd turned out to be a flaming garbage heap of a person, but he'd stayed with her.

At least until it got to the breaking point, and then...oh boy did it break.

"And trust me, it can get bigger. But you're right, this is nice. Sucks waking up alone on a holiday, ya know? You're supposed to be sharing it with people, at least according to every friggin holiday card and seasonal jewelry commercial I've ever seen." And this year...with him and Angel still on the outs, he's been feeling just how big his shiny new castle is.

But right now everything's feeling pretty freaking cozy.

"His rocket sled's pulled by bullymongs, too! That's...uh...think four armed abominable snowmen only some of'em can get like twelve feet tall."

"Commercials are bullshit- but, yeah. I get it." Poor Jack. The Angel situation hadn't changed, and now he was rattling around in this place, all by his lonesome.

"Is that what a bullymong is? I've only ever heard you talk about their balls before." She gives another wiggle, but this time to get to his other side, and slide out of the bed. "C'mon, let's go see what Santa left us." She tugs at his hand, but stops. "Wait... if it's a rocket sled, why does it need to be pulled by anything?"

She's in one of Jack's shirts and a pair of boxers- that counts as decent! Who else is going to see them, anyway?

"That's why sucking bullymong balls means something's really shitty! And I dunno, holiday magic. How do any of them breathe in space? How does he visit every fucking planet in one night when every planet has a different day and night cycle? Who knows!"

It's just all part of the fun or whatever. Jack shrugs as he gets himself up, wearing a pair of silk pajama bottoms. He doesn't need them, but it's just part of being a person. People wear clothes.

But before they head down to Jack's personal living room at the bottom of the main tower, he steps to the glass balcony doors to throw open the curtains and look out over the snowy landscape. God, what a view. You could see the forest from here, dark and snow covered. And the sea...it's just spectacular. And it's all his!

"Just look at that. You ever seen a prettier Christmas morning?"

Noon. Whatever.

"Alright, let's go check out our holiday swag!"

An arm goes around Jack's waist, when he throws open the doors; and Harley took takes it in, a big, deep breath, and a happy sigh. Her head leans against his shoulder.

"I can just see it, you know- a hopping little town, right on the coast- if you're going to be a king, always be king of a port city, they're always rolling in it. Make up your own holidays- throw big feasts- ride through the city, and I don't know, spread largess to the populace? Oh my god when's your birthday, you can have a city wide party!"

The man makes some good suggestions. Harley slips away to take his hand, instead, tugging him toward the big sweeping staircase down to the main floor.

"Is this what it's like to be rich? Not just rich, like in Felfri rich, but like- your kind of rich."

"Kind of! It's about as rich as you can get here, probably. But I...I don't think anybody else has ever been as rich as I was back home. I could buy any planet I wanted. And it wouldn't even put a dent in my bank account. There...there isn't a number for the actual amount of money I had. Gajillion? Is gajillion an actual word? A million was pocket change!"

The deals Jack had made, the clever trading, the investments...he'd been wealthy even before he became president, and after that...he'd been richer than god.

"My birthday's in summer! And you better believe it was a holiday back home. Actually I had a lotta holidays. Handsome Jack Day, Jackanalia, Jackentines Day... outta bring those back once I buy Prosperity. That's what I'm calling my city." Or town, whatever. He's not sure what the difference is, but once he has some more coins, he's buying it.

He follows down the staircase - lit with small golden lights woven around the bannister - down to the opulent living room area, complete with towering decorated tree with a spread of presents beneath. The fireplace was already lit. It's just a welcoming as hell sight.

Harley doesn't really get cold, anymore; she can feel it, sure, but she doesn't so much have the ability to get goosebumps or the shivers no more. Still, the crackling fire somehow makes the whole scene perfect; like the icing on a big pretty cake.

"I'm calling shenanigans on Jackentine's Day. At least Jackanalia rhymes with the original, almost. What the heck did a Jackentine look like?"

The tree's taller than- well, taller than both of them. Even takler then Slade, who's probably the tallest guy she knows. And it fills the whole room with a gorgeous piney scent. When they get to the ground, Harley just takes a second, breathing it all in.

"Okay! Who should go first? If it's you, open the big one first. Or should we flip for it?"

"Usually like a box of chocolates with my face on'em."

Jack settles himself in, just enjoying it all. This is nice, this was a good idea. God it would have sucked to be alone today, just absolutely sucked.

"Oh, I'll go first. Gimme." Hey, she'd just said she loves giving gifts! And he loves getting them. Makes sense to him. And he likes the sound of 'the big one'!

"Normally I'm all about the Cult Of Jack? But that one's a little weird."

But Harley's smile is wide, and she's maybe started bouncing a little bit. The box is long and flat, and wrapped in shimmery gold paper with a black ribbon around it. Scooping it up from under the tree, she deposits it in his lap, and settles next to him.

Inside, when Jack gets it open, is a long leather duster, that will fall past his knees when it's on. Although it's black, all the stitching is done with thick gold thread; lines of it running up the lapels, curling over the shoulders, down the sides and back. The lining inside is all gold, a shining satin. Where a breast pocket would be on a suit jacket, the Hyperion logo is stitched. (Harley had to make some hasty doodles of his favourite shirt, when Jack wasn't looking, to get that little detail.)

Her eyes are bright, biting both lips as he pulls it out of the box, tissue paper going this way and that. "Thought you needed something to go over your jersey. Hope you like it."

Edited 2020-12-24 04:27 (UTC)

"Oh....oh babe...."

Jack lifts the duster out, face lights brightening in sheer delight.

"Look at this. Look at it! This is friggin gorgeous, this is..." It's great! "This is fit for a king! I love it, Harley!"

He stands up to try it on, pulling it on over his silk pajama pants. It fits perfectly. He does a little turn, enjoying the way it moves. Oh yeah, he's loving it.

"What do ya think? Sexy, right?" One eye flashes brighter than the other, and he bends to retrieve Harley's main present. "Here, your turn."

He's excited about this. He put a lot of thought into it, he's proud of himself. He hovers, knowing he might need to explain a little. Inside the box are...sheets of some kind of shiny, glossy white paper of some sort and a device that looks like a handvac nozzle attached to a hair dryer.

Her teeth catch at her bottom lip, eyes bright, as he gets up and swirls around in the coat. She'd got his height right, too; the other measurements she got from the tag inside one of shirts. It fits well; and it does look damn good.

"It's gorgeous on you, babe. Sexy as all hell, and sharp enough to cut." And he likes it. Just that is a little bit of a thrill, all on her own.

The box being shoved into her hands is a different kind of thrill. She's had a couple of different presents already; but it still isn't typical. Slade gave her a gun- he probably gave everyone a gun, now she thinks on it- but this- she has no idea what this might be.

The paper is ripped away in excitement, lifting out- the hair dryer? And then the paper, looking at the front, then the back. Finally, it's Jack that she looks up at. "What is it?"

"Ha, yeah, I figured this would take some explaining! I whipped this up special for you."

Jack's eyes flash again, in excitement. He's proud of himself. He'd put actual thought into this, tried to come up with something that Harley would enjoy and get use out of. Something special.

And thankfully, the computer parts of his brain help him actually recall and identify what other people care about.

"Okay, so...I know you're into tats, but that's kinda a no-go when you're a robot. But this is the next best thing! You got specially formulated decal paper here, draw on the shiny side and peel off the backing and bam. And this little gadget'll seal'em right onto your chassis. The paper'll take any ink, ya can draw shit on it yourself or have someone do it and bam - self expression via self decoration! And you can remove'em pretty easy, too, mix it up, switch shit out...."

Harley's eyes start to go wide the moment he mentions tattoos. By the time he's done, her mouth is open in a big O, staring at him.

"Jack!" It's nearly a shriek, and she jumps up to fling her arms around him. "That's so cool, that's so fucking cool! And you made it? Just for me?!"

The hug is hard and tight, Harley jumping up and down a little; at least until she gets her hands on either side of his face, and pulls him down for a hard kiss.

That's the response he's looking for. That excitement and delight, that thrilled reaction....Jack knows he did good.

"I made it just for you!" So he'd had some help from his department, but nobody needs to know that. "Cuz you're my favorite girl."

God he loves how she just kisses his mouth, like it's a normal human guy's mouth. Sure, sure, she's a robot now too so she gets it more than most people would, but still. It's one of those things most partner's just avoid, staying away from the whole face area in general.

"Merry Christmas, babe."

Favourite girl warms her all through, the seconds before it freezes her instead. But it's fine. It's fine. That's just the old deep-seated need for approval rearing its head- and it don't mean more than what they've already talked about, about liking each other and being close. That's all.

"Merry Christmas, handsome honey." One more kiss, and Harley tugs him back toward the sofa they've been curled up on. "Come on, you've got one more present to open! Oh my god, I'm gonna start drawing like as soon as I get this stuff home. You know I did most of my own tattoos? Or as many as I could reach, anyway. This is going to be perfect."

Edited 2020-12-26 22:47 (UTC)

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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.