Harley leans her elbows on the table, and places her head in her hands, when she meets his empty expression. It brings her face closer to his. Their conversation more private and meaningful.

She speaks just as low as he does. "I don't like to advertise the fact that my metabolism is fucked up. And I can endure a longer time than others... Don't need anyone eyeing me up like some sort of experiment potential."

"If you guys have to take me off the rotation to make sure others get what they can. Then I trust y'all to make the right decision."

"But Devil's Advocate moment... our leaders ain't going to be any good to us if they can't think right. We still need some sense of organization."

She chuckles lowly. And pulls out a piece of bubblegum from her jacket pocket. "And ain't that a strange thing. A gal like myself fighting for organization."