Re: Corner couch: Banner/Harl
He minded and Harl could tell. It squirmed in him, his jealousy, a twisty lil worm of a flame that he refused to fan, but it was there—whether it presented as questions of self-worth (I ain't good enough anyway. I knew it) or anger toward Kitty didn't matter, 'cause they had the same root. She put her finger on it before that shy lil smile came out n told her he was head over heels for the woman in the catsuit. Harl didn't say nothin' for a minute, slurping away at the purple until it ran dry. She set the glass on the floor nearby n turned inward toward the man.
She moved again, not caring if her dress was riding high or not (and it was). She sat with her back against the arm of the sofa and her feet stretched out and poking at the doc's thigh, a dimpled grin appearing on her face. When she wasn't aimin' for sex, Harl was cute, rather than beautiful, n it came to her by nature. She didn't try to pretend it didn't.
"Ya think a lot about sex n love, huh? How they go together or not?" She licked remnants of the drink off her lips. "I ain't gonna pursue no one, Doc. He's Robin. Damian. A real cutie. But, we don't really work that way in Gotham. But I think it's real sweet ya wish it did. You're gonna get that heart of yours crushed, ya know, but maybe you're a masochist."