ersatzdivinity | It must have been the mistletoe

"It's not about babysitting, it's about being a good friend!" It's about recognizing when someone isn't really okay, it's about knowing when 'I'm fine' is a lie, sometimes even before the person saying it does. It's about knowing when not to take that for an answer. Okay, so she doesn't really think they just shake him like a Magic 8-Ball, but hell--they're in New York or wherever else they end up, and he's here, and phone calls and movie nights and justifications don't make up for the fact that they aren't here, and they let him separate himself like this. They let him convince himself that this is just how things are, that this is fair and right, and she just will not stand for that at all.

One hand lifts to stave off any protestations about just how good of a friend any of them might be as she continues. "I get it. I get you don't wanna get anyone else caught up in stuff they don't wanna be. You won't ask. But you shouldn't have to, and it shouldn't be about choosing to deal with the parts they don't like. Way I see it, there's only one choice you make--whether you're friends with somebody, or you're not. If you're friends, you accept 'em, warts and all. That don't mean just pretending the bad parts don't exist, or bein' too busy to deal with 'em."

She reaches out then, with both hands, reaches for his own, and if he lets her she'll take his in them, twining their fingers together and squeezing. If not, well, she'll just let that part be, because she's got something more to say.

"You and me, we've known each other, what, a little over a month now, right? Maybe two months? But you knew who I was long before that. You know all about who I was, the things I did, the things I might end up doing again, because nobody's perfect. Things happen. But the point is, Sandy--the point is, you made a choice that first night. And like hell I'm not gonna make the same one."

He won't hold himself back from her, will happily let her take his hands. He imagines there's a few people who might flinch away from her and having been on the other side of that, he'd never do it to her. He'll even squeeze back a little.

"I'm glad to hear it, Harley, I am. I..." he breathes in deep. Closes his eyes. Breathes out. "I'm happy when you come by. I don't know what it is but... it's not as hard, spending time with you, talking to you. I don't feel like I have to be, well, anything with you. Just myself."

He grins a little.

"Oddly enough, you seem to like it."

He glances at the door again though.

"I keep them away, Harley. Me. I distanced myself because a lot of the time, I just... I can't. Some people say that dealing with Superman or Batman or Wonder Woman is stressful because as neat as it is, those are still their heroes.

"I'm lucky enough I get to work with mine. All of 'em, the old ones and the new. But it's not always easy for me outside of a professional context."

"Of course I like it, you goon, I like you>. I like bein' here. Hell, just bein' yourself--you're a better man than any of the other ones I ever met. And me--well, you better just get used to me bein' around, cause I don't do distance," she tells him, and despite the tears still drying on her cheeks, she's smiling at him. Maybe the rest of those friends of his let him distance himself, and maybe he just says all that's fine. She still doesn't think so, and in her opinion, they're pretty shitty friends if they just accept that, but nobody's askin her. "I'm just--glad I can help make you smile." And she is. She really is. There aren't a lot of people out there who are happy to see her, to know her. Knowing he does--well, it means a lot to her, too.

"You always manage that," he assures her before reaching over and picking up the dreidel again. He wiggles it a little, and there's a definite attempt to keep her smiling as he puts it to the table.

"Mind if we play a little until I've got some chocolate winnings too?"

He won't address him and his being a better man. In his estimation, he's not half the man Wesley or any of the others were. He couldn't lead, like Carter or Alan. He wasn't good at being a confidant like Pieter was. He never could quite pull off panache likd Dinah or Jack or Ted. And he definitely couldn't raise spirits half as well as Karen or Jay. Michael was an organizer and his tech skills were unmatched. Courtney, for all her youth, was shaping up to be another leader, and Jesse had a soft touch he wished he could manage. And with all the things that Rick had dealt with, he was a hero just for being there.

He wasn't anything special. He was a freak with a talent, more blood on his hands than most people knew, and more money than he knew what to do with most times. He was convenient. Except, maybe to Harley. That raised his spirits a little.

She knows it isn't over. Not that easy. Not that he doesn't believe her, but it takes a hell of a lot more than one voiced opinion to change a lifetime of thinking a certain way. But he's smiling at her, and she thinks, I can make that happen, at least, and it's something. It's enough. Not forever, but for now. He is special. Freak or not, blood on his hands or not--they've all got that, hell, she's both in spades--he's special. He means something. And that's why she smiles back, why she finally wipes the tears away and sits back up, offering a slightly shaky laugh.

"Yeah, I guess I could manage that. You know, you could probably convince me to share, if you tried hard enough. Ask real nice, you know how it goes."

"I could," he says thoughtfully, or perhaps closer to 'mock' thoughtfully, before giving her a lopsided smile and shrugging. "I guess I just figure a lady's entitled to her winnings. Now, if she decides to take pity on a poor loser..."

"A lady might, if the gentleman in question got her a drink," she answers, in that same mock-thoughtful tone, the benevolent lady bestowing a favor upon a supplicant. It's impossible to not follow it up with a grin of her own, though, eyes bright once more.

He tilts his head towards the kitchen, a room she's been welcome to since she first came in. But for now, since he's hosting-

"Eggnog, hot chocolate, coffee, tea... and any of those can come out with a kick."

She does feel comfortable in his house. It isn't shyness--no one would ever accuse Harley of being shy--but it's fun. Part of the teasing, and also, it's just nice to know he's willing to play along. "Whatever you'll have, too. Like eating chocolate, it's not really fun if you're doing it alone. Like a lot of things, really." Stretching her legs out and draping them over an arm of her chair, she holds up a couple coins with a grin. "Might even come with a tip, if you're lucky."

He doesn't drink alcohol, considering what he does most nights, but he does do all kinds of warm beverages. He gives her a nod, stands up, and then finishes it with a playful bow before he heads for the kitchen.

When he comes out, it's with damn fine mocha for her, a black coffee for him, and a little bowl for collecting the wrappers.

"Quick enough for a tip?"

Mocha is totally fine, more than fine even, and she takes the mug and inhales deeply with an appreciative noise, eyes closed. "I'll even make it double, if this tastes as good as it smells," she teases, holding up two of those golden coins between her fingers. "This is perfect. A hot drink, chocolate, games, good company. What do you usually do for Christmas? If you aren't working." She's got some ideas of her own percolating, but never hurts to ask, anyway.

"Usually, I read or I watch Christmas movies all night," he offers with a grin as he sips at his own drink. The coffee is good, because he is a picky picky man when it comes to his caffeine, the company is better, and the night is warm with the fireplace going.

"There room for one more in that marathon?" Before, she would have figured he'd spend the holiday with the rest of them. With someone, anyone else. But they won't ask, or if they do, he won't accept, and she's not letting that be a thing that happens anymore. It's too sad, and he's too...well, that's it. He's too. And so she's gonna be that way.

He glances over at her.

"If you don't have anywhere else to be."

It's his usual way of letting people off the hook, making sure they weren't just being nice or putting themselves out.

It must have been the mistletoe

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