If she had a different audience, Harley might have played up the fact that he was hurting her. Yelps and yowls designed to get male attention had worked well for her in the past, sometimes bringing would-be heroes to her aid. But that wasn’t going to work here for a coupla reasons.
First being that she had a sneaking suspicion that the big jerk would just hurt her more if she let him know he was definitely leaving bruises. Her opinion of him dropped another thousand degrees right there. Harl was willing to give more people the benefit of the doubt than some might suspect, but deliberately hurting somebody that had outright declared she was done fighting? Bad form. Unless he thought she was going to trick him and come up swinging. Which she had to admit that she considered. He didn’t even have to let go for her to do some real damage; she did have a pretty clear shot at the family jewels from where she was. But she already could have done that if she’d wanted to play dirty, and he was just being stupid not to realize that.
Which was the second reason that she wasn’t going to whine. She had an audience that she didn’t want to alienate. So no hitting below the belt, literally, and no whining. Because the girl associated herself with wolves, which were pack animals with a definite hierarchy. The doctor in her was not going to allow a set back because she lost respect with the girl by appearing weak.
Besides the Bat did more damage. This wasn’t that bad. Just irksome in a painful way. She set her teeth and bore it out without saying a damn work about it though. She’d bet he couldn’t do the same. Maybe later, without Firekeeper and Blind Seer around, she’d make him cry. Yeah, that’d be fun.
Especially since his plan was a pretty poor one for getting out of this position without doing any damage. The smart thing would be for him to just let her go so she could do a modified flip, using her grip on his waist to balance her legs as she dropped her lower half to the floor, then she could let go of him entirely. But no, he though he was going to be able to sustain her weight without the added support of her arms around his waist. Did he not get physics? That his arms, bent at the angles they were, would be pulled awkwardly if they were subjected to holding her dead weight? Harley wasn’t some cow, but she was a compact little bundle of muscle with some hot curves. She didn’t weigh nothing. He was going to end up dropping her, and gravity was going to have her sliding down the wall.
At least she wouldn’t nail the kid on the way down.
Sighing very dramatically, she said. “Whatever.” Then she simply let go, spreading her arms wide, letting him take the full and awkward brunt of her weight, fully expecting to land on her head.