“What sorta thank ya are we talkin’ here?” With the swat from his hand, Harley would poke at his side again … and again. Before shifting to lean against him, picking at a hangnail. “Hm, somethin’ red. Not picky on what, but look at you thinkin’ all out.”
“Money, beer or burgers would be fine,” he told her before finally grabbing the hand that kept poking him. When Harley leaned against him he threw her a puzzled look before bluntly stepping away after telling her a quick ‘ok’ on her new car’s requirement. He didn’t even check back to see whether she had fallen down before he returned with a bright orange car. “It looked red..”











