Harley flicked her fingers towards the bedroom and the hyenas moved to it, lingering at the edge of the bed as Harley guided him to it.

"Not all of 'em, no. Sorry, Puddin'." Harley frowns, but he sort of had done a number on her with the impromptu frying session he'd put her through. Four days of no sleep could do a number on someone, Harley knew. Just a day straight made you as functional as a drunk. No doubt his insomnia was a part of his madness.

"C'mon, baby. Let's lie down. We can talk if you wanna."