Harley very easily dismissed the threat of physical violence. He smacked her all the time. He was a passionate guy, her Puddin’. What she couldn’t dismiss was what he was saying about this fairy.
Or the way he was saying it.
He was all dreamy and mushy and it wasn’t over her! It was about some… some… BUG! It was somewhat horrific for her to see him get this emotional and sentimental over somebody other than herself. Especially since he didn’t do it over herself. He wasn’t mushy about her. He wasn’t lovey-dovey. He showed he loved and needed her in other ways, and Harley’d always been good with that. Until now.
Her face grew progressively more angry and hurt as he spoke, until he made his final threat. At that point, all she could do was mutter, “Wasn’t underwear. It was lingerie.”
Lingerie that she’d stolen to entice him. That she’d wanted to use to show him how much he meant to her. And he’d tossed her out on her head. And now he was talking about this thing that made him fly like she was the best thing since sliced bread? Oh, no. No. Harley wasn’t having it. Not any of it.
She gave him the sweetest smile in her arsenal, and chirped, “Whatever you say, Mr. J.”
He didn’t want to hear about her squishing the fairy? That was fine. She just wouldn’t tell him about it when she did it. But it was still gettin’ done.