[There's a series of loud crashes inside as Harley careens through the greenhouse, hyenas on her heels. It's hot inside, so she's just in a pair of pink jersey shorts and a sloppy 3/4-sleeve baseball shirt, hanging off one shoulder. Her hair is loose and bouncy, and her grin, wiiiiiide, is the same as ever. She smiles at Eddie, all apparent irritation gone. She scampers out barefoot and preps to scoop him up in her arms.] Hold onto those coffees, lil man.