"Awww Malcolm," Harley coos, realizing he really didn't know. She'd never hid it, but he'd never asked before. "You're supposed to be good at your job!"

She sets her drink on the table so she can take his face in her hands and kiss his cheek. Her fingertips are cold from the glass.

"I'm... selective with the jobs I take. No hits, no weapons deals, none a' that shit. I don't want to get my ass thrown behind bars either, you know? But I mean, what else am I gonna do? Who'd hire this hot mess for anything legit?"