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Why, Jack. That's a very kind thing to offer. I should say thank you. I will. Thank you.

Let me analyze the data a little further before I make any long-term decisions. I have several immediate tasks left before I leave; I have to finish packing, spray-paint the hallway, and find Slade's dog so I can steal him. I left myself some instructions before I turned off my personality matrix.

I estimate I should be there on the close order of about half an hour.

yea also probably the moving in convo is 1 me & harley prime should have

no offense

whens she gonna b back?

I am Harley Prime. You just know me with a personality overlay. Please don't take what I say when the subroutine is active too seriously; I tend not to be very rational.

No definitive time frame has been scheduled. My instructions are to turn my overlay back on 'when this doesn't suck so much.' A value judgement, but my logic circuits are highly flexible.

no ur the ai component created by magic robot changes

i got 1 2

i kno how this works

dont get me wrong ur a snazzy ai! snazzier than mine

but ur not my harley

then that would b when ur with me becuz i make things suck less

[There's a bit of a pause, this time, before a response comes back.]

Oh. I see. Well, Jack, I understand and respect your opinion.

I won't be long. Estimated time of arrival is 27 minutes.

alrite ill b waiting 4 u

It takes her 32 minutes to pull up in front if the castle; but this is still on the close order of 30 (+/-(x/10)), so Harley is satisfied. Less satisfying is the visage of the man waiting for her; the one who said, 31.73 minutes ago, that she was not his Harley.

It's fine. There is no emotional connotation to the words; and Harley is used to them, anyway. Hasn't everyone else she's spoken too without her subroutine active said the same thing? But it does raise the question- what is proper ettiquette for greeting a man you're sleeping with, but who says he isn't sleeping with you, after coming to stay because someone else you're sleeping with (who probably also isn't sleeping with you, not in the future at least) kicked you out if their house?

There's no data for this in her programming. If Emily Post had been available for a consultation, she might have been able to untangle it. But not one individual robot. So when she steps out of her convertible, her hands link behind her back, one foot scuffing at the dirt. Her face is blank, impassive. As Jack might have guessed, she's back in her Simulacrum form.

"Hello, Jack. It's nice to see you today."

Bruce, the only one of her four (four?) dogs tall enough for it, leaps over the edge of the backseat to slam his head into Jack's knees. Bruce has his own ettiquette for initial salutations.

Welp, Harley's still in full bot mode. Jack can tell immediately.

"So I guess whatever went down fucked ya up pretty bad, huh?"

Because he does get that, in its way, the stripping away of emotions and emotional response is a defense mechanism. It's a simulacrum's way of protecting themselves. It just also sucks a whole host of kraggon cock. He absent-mindedly pats the most enthusiastic of the dogs and urges him away.

"Alright, let's get ya settled. Whatever the hell happened, you're at Castle Handsome now, and here at Castle Handsome you are friggin royalty and nobody can kick ya out or order ya around! No matter which Harley's in the driver seat. I got some human staff now, I pay'em big and let'em live in the servants quarters downstairs and promise not to eat'em. They'll take care of ya the same way they take care of me."

He's not about to sleep with her or be romantic when she's like this - that involves emotions, and this is the part of Harley that doesn't have those - but he's not gonna treat this aspect of her like crap.

"Want a hand with the dogs?"

It's not that Harley, with her subroutine off, doesn't have expressions. They're just so small, especially compared to her normal big grins or exaggerated pouts or teeth-baring anger, that they're difficult to pick out. It's mostly in her eyes, rather than in her mouth. Just now, they light up, just a little, and she ducks her head and nods.

"Yes, thank you. That would be nice. Would you grab Bruce's leash? If it's not too much trouble."

She's already wearing a sling; now she reaches into the back to lift out Damien, the half-grown bulldog, and settle him at her hip. The white terrier Jack hasn't seen; she lifts him out, and offers his leash over. Arly doesn't need one; he's a good boy.

Next is suitcases. She goes to the trunk to get them. "Oh, it wasn't that bad. He just lied to me and told me to get out by morning with no reason or warning." She gets both bulging suitcases in her metal hand, where they won't bang against the dog riding on her hip. "I didn't even electrocute him; thought it was a close thing, for a moment. Can I kiss you?"

She's standing and watching Jack again, now, the dogs milling between them. Her expression is one of polite interest.

Jack just takes the leashes he's handed, only vaguely paying attention to the dogs. She's really got herself a whole little pack going on here.

"I really do not get what his damage is. What happened to Mr. Gruff and Buff I Have No Feelings? Cuz this is a pure emotional response. He needs to put on his fucking big boy pants and deal with his shit." It's disappointing, really. He thought Slade was better than this.

But then comes the ask.

Now this is a weird position to be in. Because yes, she is indeed his...something. Not girlfriend, they've been very clear on that front, but...something. Special lady friend. She's also not exactly herself right now, even though she is. They haven't exactly had this conversation, how much physical affection is cool when Harley's full-bot.

But logically there's nothing weird about a kiss. They both kiss all kinds of people all the time, probably. And it's not like they haven't done way, way more plenty of times. It's just different when not all of Harley is making the decisions.

"Yeah, you can kiss me. But we should probably leave it at that for now, this all feels like a very gray area as far as consent and taking advantage and all that. I'm not that kinda guy. I mean I guess unless Emotionally Capable Harley left any notes about hookups and body rights or something..."

"I understand. Consent is very important." It's the most emphatic thing Harley's said so far this evening. "And I would never want to do something you don't want me to do."

Even the kiss is barely one, when it comes; Harley goes up on tiptoe, and brushes a barely-there touch of her lips to his cheek. But her eyes light up a little again, her lips curing up at the very corners, and she starts up the steps to the castle.

"No, I- she- didn't leave any instructions. I imagine she would be very upset about it if we did anything. But then, she thinks we're different people too. It's not very rational, but then I shouldn't say that out loud, because it would imply you're not rational, and that would be rude." She says it all matter-of-factly.

"I think you're correct; it must be an emotional response- on Slade's part, I mean. My tentative hypothesis is that this is an instinctive withdrawal into safe emotional emptiness because he told me he liked being married to me, and then set me on fire, while we were trapped in the ski lodge. It was a very strange party."

"Eh, you are and you aren't. You're Harley, but just the logical, lacking emotion, computer part. You're an aspect of a whole. But you're not the same, obviously."

Jack heads back in the great doors of his castle as he talks.

"It's like coding! Ya got your deep code and your surface code and put'em together you get a whole program." It's messy and complicated and there isn't any language that exists to cover it.

"Yeah, see, this is why I don't go to human parties. He...he said that? Really? I mean you...you weren't into being married, right? Cuz you're not looking for something serious and if you were...I sincerely hope he's not who you'd be looking for it with."

Harley actually stops dead in her tracks, at the metaphor; they're headed for one of several big, sweeping staircases to get to her tower. There's almost a real, whole smile aimed at him, and her eyes are very big. "Yes. Exactly like that." Then she keeps walking. Bruce pulls hard on his leash- he's been here before- and lifts his nose into the air, giving a yipping giggle.

"I usually look at it as a machine and an operating system. The operating system doesn't do anything the machine couldn't on it's own; it just makes it easier and has a more friendly user interface. But it's all bells and whistles, it doesn't change the underlying function..." Her voice trails off, going quieter. "But if it didn't have one, no one would want to use it."

The questions, apparently, don't merit a stop. "Oh yes. I was very happy at the time. But we were all on that gas that one boy created, none of us were ourselves. The argument could be made that the marriage wasn't ever valid at all; neither of us were in our right minds to be entering into any legally binding contracts. As I am, it's better for things not to get too serious. I am In Recovery; I do much better without a primary user. It's all irrelevant anyway; Slade only said it because he was testing whether an alien parasite was controlling me. And it was. Thus the fire. But he did mean it. I think that bothers him."

Her head tilts a little, looking at him, as Bruce tries to take the steps three at a time and nearly overbalances when the leash yanks him back. "Why? Are you implying that we should have a more serious relationship? Is this a test to see if I have an alien parasite? I promise that it's gone. You can quiz me about any of my previous outfits if it will make you feel better."

"No, I'm not saying we should, I'm just saying...I mean, we're pretty friggin perfect for each other and kind of nuts about each other. If we wanted something serious, it's a no-brainer. We even get each other's weird robot stuff! Which, circling back, decent metaphor but the thing with us is...we're not just machines. We're people. All the 'bells and whistles' are what make us people and not fancy toasters."

Personality is important. Feelings are important. All those messy little things that make a person a person. Sure, an argument could be made that lack of them is more efficient and easier, but life would be stupidly boring and pointless.

"Like...feelings. How do you, right now, feel about me?"

Okay, maybe this is a dangerous line to pursue, but Jack's trying to make a point.

There's no hesitation. "I like you. I like being close to you. I like talking to you. It's very nice. But it made me..." A hint of a furrow appears in her brows. "Feel... bad... when you said I wasn't your Harley. That was... not nice."

Damian squirms in his carrier on her hip; Harley's free hand goes to his head without looking, stroking slow and soothing over his fur. "Slade wouldn't let me touch him, the last time I had my personality subroutine off. Rafe talks to me like I'm stupid. I don't know if I have any other friends. I don't know if I have any friends."

"Aw, jeeze. Look, I like ya. And I know you're not stupid and I know you are Harley. But...again. All those bells and whistles? Those are a bunch of things that make Harley Quinn Harley Quinn. And I really like your personality. That...wild, chaotic energy..."

The same kind he has. It's...god, it's great and he can't get enough of it.

"And hey, I bet I'd dig ya like crazy if I was in robo-mode. Or...whatever the equivalent is. Mine's pretty much like yours. We're just in...really weird, uncharted territory here."

Jack lowers his voice some, footsteps echoing here and there as they make their way through the castle. The human staff he mentioned.

"It's gonna take some trial and error, some figuring shit out. We're a couple of highly advanced cyborg that are honestly more robot than human. It's gonna get all kinds of weird with us! But I'm down for weird if you are."

"I like weird." Her voice lowers, in response to his; but it's the same matter-of-fact tone as everything else she says. Still, she eyes him sideways, and a hint of a smile tugs at her mouth.

"And it won't be for long. Maybe a week. It's probably better for me to find my own place; living with a man hasn't worked out for me recently." They're finally to the door to Harley's tower, one more flight from the top; she has to set the suitcases down to get at her keys. "I can always go stay at the station if I need to; but that's a secret, I can't talk about it yet."

"It's not like we'd be living together living together. Ya got your own tower, I got mine!" Jack gestures to her door.

"It'd be more like we were both living in the same fancy ass apartment complex. Plus...servants! Access to all the servants!" Major perk, in his mind. Who doesn't want servants?

"Secret, huh? What's so secret about it?"

So she just said she couldn't talk about it, but it's him! Obviously she can tell him.

"Yes. That was how I moved in with Slade. We didn't even live on the same floor. I was still kicked out." The words are plain, matter-of-fact.

When the door is unlocked, Harley picks up her suitcase again to lead the way. She's had time to decorate, since Jack told her the space was hers; tapestries on the walls and rugs on the floors, furniture soft and plush but with sturdy legs. Nothing second-hand here- it's a castle, it should like- but everything tough out to withstand an excited hyena with the zoomies.

"It's a surprise secret. A good surprise. For the whole peninsula. I can't tell you, because it would ruin the surprise. But when you're surprised, you should come visit the station. It has special things for Simulacrum."

"Well, I still kinda know about it, but who'm I gonna tell?" And it's not really a priority in Jack's mind anyway.

"And okay, yeah, fair, but...I'm not Slade. I'm not emotionally constipated or the kinda guy that freaks out over a little weird trauma. Just saying."

He's not that kind of asshole. Jack knows, of course, that he is an asshole. He'll never deny it, he's not quite that self delusional. But he takes pride in being a very specific sort of asshole. He's the funny, charming, reasonable kind! The appealing, cool kind of asshole.

Not the kind that throws sulky tantrums and cuts everyone out of his life. If he did that, who would he bitch at and vent to?

"But...ya know. Up to you. I'll let ya get settled in and everything, you know where shit is. You need a servant for something, pull that big ass gold satin cord by the bed, it'll ring for one."

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