Harley just stands there, beholding the items from the box with wonder, and he thinks maybe he should have gotten her better things if she was going to be so enamored of receiving a gift. The cosmetics set isn't even really a gift so much as a restitution. The alcohol was a simple callback to earlier today, when she said she preferred it sweet. Has no one ever cared enough for her to show her that they did? He could have been much more impressive, he thinks, and should have really put more effort into it.

Or maybe not, because then she might have cried, and he doesn't ever want to make her cry. He comes up behind her to wrap his arms around her middle, a sort of backwards hug. "A promise like that cannot be considered binding when made while inebriated," he points out, dropping his chin to rest on her shoulder. "Besides, you haven't even met my mother," he adds in what will become a common refrain during her obviously teasing marriage proposals.