Harley starts stripping down before he even finishes speaking, so if he doesn't make a quick exit then he will see more of her tattoos. She doesn't care either way. There is nothing in her point of view but the bathtub and herself.
She stays in hot water until she feels dizzy, then stays in for longer just to make sure she really makes the most of it. When she eventually emerges, her skin is scrubbed raw and pink all over, and she is bundled up in the soft robe. Gale didn't ask for anything in return, but she'll bring bullshit magic trinkets as often as he likes after this.
She wanders the house until she finds Gale or, better, Tara since even Harley's tenuous grasp of self preservation knows better than to aimlessly snoop in a wizard's home.
"A dying plant is a little on the nose for a breakup depression spiral, don'tcha think?"
He sees more than he means to, but much less than he could, fleeing the room the moment she starts to undress. Mostly all he gets is the blurred impression that she's not merely pale-faced and that she does have other tattoos. That's enough to set him blushing, but at least she doesn't see it.
"In here, dear!" Tara calls shortly after Harley has left the bathroom, because her feline hearing is superior to Gale's.
By the time she's finished, at least Gale has had time to properly dress in a simple but well made top and trousers. He's brushed his hair and combed his beard and feels a lot more publicly presentable. Harley finds them in what must be a study, judging by the desk. There are so many books and scrolls, more densely packed than through the rest of the house. There is other magical detritus around the room like crystals, tools, and a small statue of Mystra. There are also display cabinets, conspicuously empty.
"I am not... not... and anyway, I just haven't had time to take care of it," he protests.
Harley rolls her eyes with a loud scoff and pads away on bare feet. She comes back with the plant cradled in her arms and marches through the study to the balcony, where she sets the plant on the small table and settles down to check the damage.
She already watered the soil in the washing room, but some of the dead growth needs to be cut back for the poor thing to regrow. She pulls a small folding knife from the robe pocket and gets to it.
"If you're spending all day and night locking yourself in your house, then you've at least got to take care of the things that live in it." She jabs the point of the knife in the air toward him with a flourish. "Including you!" She tilts the blade Tara's way next, carving a question in the air. "Right?"
The knife is folded away and tucked back into the pocket. She spends a moment finding the best sunny spot for the plant, then brushes her hands together and stands with her hands on her hips.
Gale's brows furrow and he frowns, watching as she drags his neglected pothos into his study (what if she gets dirt on the books!) and begins to prune it. "It's merely a house plant! Nothing of particular consequence."
"I knew I liked her when I met her," Tara says, purring so loudly that it sounds like the rumbling of some machine. "She has a point, one I've been trying to make myself, though it falls on deaf ears."
"I've been listening," Gale protests. He makes a show of leaning away from the knife, though it's nowhere near him at all. "And I am doing fine, all things considered." He doesn't offer to explain what all those things to be considered are, though. Tara sighs heavily.
Gale stands, smoothing out the creases on his thighs and trying to regain the air of a proper host. He almost points out that it's a ridiculous time to go to bed, closer to the midday meal than sunset, but then he remembers that she had said she often doesn't sleep. Besides, he had slept a good portion of the day away himself, who was he to judge anyone else for their off kilter sleep schedule. "Yes, right. Follow me."
The bedroom that he leads her to isn't large, but it is well appointed with a plush looking bed stacked with blankets and a folded pair of much too large pajamas, a side table holding a carafe of fresh water along with a plate of bread and cheese in case she's hungry, and an armoire that she will find full of books instead of clothes if she decides to go snooping. "It's not much. I don't get many visitors these days, but hopefully it will suffice." He stands awkwardly in the doorway, not sure exactly what he should be doing with himself. Leaving, probably. "Well! I'll, uh, be back down in the study if you need me. Please let me know if there's anything else you might require."
Harley has Tara on her side, so Gale might as well consider the argument settled for now. He can't possibly hope to stand up to the both of them.
She trails through the house after him, pausing a couple times for a better look at some knick knack or other and then having to jog the few steps to catch up. Once her basic needs are met, she will certainly be a horrible little snoop.
The spare bedroom is nicer than anywhere she's been in recent memory. She rocks back on her heels at the doorway, like she's second guessing this all. It's entirely too good in the kind of way that must mean a trap.
But her stomach growls loudly at the sight of food, because she gets a meal about as often as she gets to sleep, and her treacherous body steps through the door entirely without her brain's input.
Once again, she does not wait for him to leave to start changing. It seems to be her preferred way of saying that his presence is no longer needed and that he can kindly fuck off.
She eats half the bread and cheese, packs away the rest in her satchel for later, and spends way too long trying to decide what to do with the door. She doesn't want to be bothered, so she closes it. She doesn't like being trapped in a room, so she opens it. There's a lot of fretful pacing before she settles on leaving it open just wide enough for Tara to fit in, and stacking books to fall and wake her if the door is pushed open any further. When she's done with that, she throws herself onto the bed with a satisfying fwump and wraps herself in a blanket cocoon.
All together, she sleeps a solid thirteen hours. The kind of deep, desperately needed sleep that leaves her totally disoriented on waking and fighting the blankets.
It's. Embarrassing.
She changes into her own clothes, double checks that nothing was taken from her bag, and tries to sneak out.
Passing by the study on her way out, Harley spies Gale asleep with his face on a scroll, drooling a little and muttering nonsense. The candle on the desk burns so low that at first, it's hard to notice Tara, asleep in the space between his chest and his lap. Apparently they weren't particularly worried about the potential of her thieving or causing other havoc, or maybe they were simply too tired to care.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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She stays in hot water until she feels dizzy, then stays in for longer just to make sure she really makes the most of it. When she eventually emerges, her skin is scrubbed raw and pink all over, and she is bundled up in the soft robe. Gale didn't ask for anything in return, but she'll bring bullshit magic trinkets as often as he likes after this.
She wanders the house until she finds Gale or, better, Tara since even Harley's tenuous grasp of self preservation knows better than to aimlessly snoop in a wizard's home.
"A dying plant is a little on the nose for a breakup depression spiral, don'tcha think?"
no subject
"In here, dear!" Tara calls shortly after Harley has left the bathroom, because her feline hearing is superior to Gale's.
By the time she's finished, at least Gale has had time to properly dress in a simple but well made top and trousers. He's brushed his hair and combed his beard and feels a lot more publicly presentable. Harley finds them in what must be a study, judging by the desk. There are so many books and scrolls, more densely packed than through the rest of the house. There is other magical detritus around the room like crystals, tools, and a small statue of Mystra. There are also display cabinets, conspicuously empty.
"I am not... not... and anyway, I just haven't had time to take care of it," he protests.
no subject
She already watered the soil in the washing room, but some of the dead growth needs to be cut back for the poor thing to regrow. She pulls a small folding knife from the robe pocket and gets to it.
"If you're spending all day and night locking yourself in your house, then you've at least got to take care of the things that live in it." She jabs the point of the knife in the air toward him with a flourish. "Including you!" She tilts the blade Tara's way next, carving a question in the air. "Right?"
The knife is folded away and tucked back into the pocket. She spends a moment finding the best sunny spot for the plant, then brushes her hands together and stands with her hands on her hips.
"Right! I'm very tired! Bed, please!"
no subject
"I knew I liked her when I met her," Tara says, purring so loudly that it sounds like the rumbling of some machine. "She has a point, one I've been trying to make myself, though it falls on deaf ears."
"I've been listening," Gale protests. He makes a show of leaning away from the knife, though it's nowhere near him at all. "And I am doing fine, all things considered." He doesn't offer to explain what all those things to be considered are, though. Tara sighs heavily.
Gale stands, smoothing out the creases on his thighs and trying to regain the air of a proper host. He almost points out that it's a ridiculous time to go to bed, closer to the midday meal than sunset, but then he remembers that she had said she often doesn't sleep. Besides, he had slept a good portion of the day away himself, who was he to judge anyone else for their off kilter sleep schedule. "Yes, right. Follow me."
The bedroom that he leads her to isn't large, but it is well appointed with a plush looking bed stacked with blankets and a folded pair of much too large pajamas, a side table holding a carafe of fresh water along with a plate of bread and cheese in case she's hungry, and an armoire that she will find full of books instead of clothes if she decides to go snooping. "It's not much. I don't get many visitors these days, but hopefully it will suffice." He stands awkwardly in the doorway, not sure exactly what he should be doing with himself. Leaving, probably. "Well! I'll, uh, be back down in the study if you need me. Please let me know if there's anything else you might require."
no subject
She trails through the house after him, pausing a couple times for a better look at some knick knack or other and then having to jog the few steps to catch up. Once her basic needs are met, she will certainly be a horrible little snoop.
The spare bedroom is nicer than anywhere she's been in recent memory. She rocks back on her heels at the doorway, like she's second guessing this all. It's entirely too good in the kind of way that must mean a trap.
But her stomach growls loudly at the sight of food, because she gets a meal about as often as she gets to sleep, and her treacherous body steps through the door entirely without her brain's input.
Once again, she does not wait for him to leave to start changing. It seems to be her preferred way of saying that his presence is no longer needed and that he can kindly fuck off.
She eats half the bread and cheese, packs away the rest in her satchel for later, and spends way too long trying to decide what to do with the door. She doesn't want to be bothered, so she closes it. She doesn't like being trapped in a room, so she opens it. There's a lot of fretful pacing before she settles on leaving it open just wide enough for Tara to fit in, and stacking books to fall and wake her if the door is pushed open any further. When she's done with that, she throws herself onto the bed with a satisfying fwump and wraps herself in a blanket cocoon.
All together, she sleeps a solid thirteen hours. The kind of deep, desperately needed sleep that leaves her totally disoriented on waking and fighting the blankets.
It's. Embarrassing.
She changes into her own clothes, double checks that nothing was taken from her bag, and tries to sneak out.
no subject
Aaaaand SCENE