Chapter Text
Harley curls up in a vain attempt to alleviate the tension in her lower back, too miserable to get up for painkillers. Note to self: next time, stash 'em within reach.
Burrowing deeper into her blankets, she waits for death to claim her already.
An insistent doorbell rudely interrupts her wallowing in self-pity. Harley sneers and drags herself upright, legs barely supporting her. Where's Jonny when she needs a butler? If this is another sales rep, she's gonna rip out their throat.
At the door, the sun outmatches her own baleful glare, earning Harley a blinding headache and amplifying her foul mood.
"You look awful, dear." The visitor's voice resembles that of a glockenspiel, bright and musical.
"I feel worse," Harley growls, gaze alighting on hair glittering like rubies and a smile so radiant it clears her face of angry clouds. "Or," she corrects dreamily, temple leaning against the doorjamb "better now that you're here."
"That's so sweet," Carrie chuckles. "Speaking of. Lyla mentioned you weren't booked this week, so I knew you'd need one of these."
Carrie motions to the box she's holding, filled with chocolate fudge and other baked goods.
"God, they smell so good," Harley moans, inhaling their warm aroma. "You're an angel, Cupid."
Harley curls her fingers around Carrie's, dazed expression turning devious as she eases the box from her grasp.
"I'll take this then," she purrs with a flash of teeth and slams the door into Carrie's face.
One, she said? Harley needs them all.