"Haaaaaaaarley." You sling an arm over her shoulder and from a distance it probably looks companionable. Probably.
"Vriska." She's glowering - just a little. It makes your smile widen. "What do you want?"
"I'm wounded, Harley, I really am. Do I have to have an ulterior motive to want to hang out with a fellow lover of this great sport?" You feel the muscle shifting in her arm - it's no surprise she's got a great throw. Even as you lean more of your weight on her she remains steady - good balance.
"Yes." Usually Harley's saccharine sweet, but you really like that your mere presence rankles her enough to make her blunt. It's flattering.
"Well, that's a real shame, but I know where I'm not wanted." Just a hint of dramatics now, it's what she expects. "See ya around, Harley."
You wonder when she'll find the note in her pocket. You hope it's when she's changing for the next game so Lalonde will ask her plenty of questions.
Frankly, it disgusts you to watch Harley play. As much as she's Ms. Sugar, Spice and Sportsmanship both on and off the ice, her throws always hit that sweet spot of power and precision that makes it plain that she's a curler of exceptional talent.
Which is why it's such a crying shame that she's saddled with losers who don't even realize what they have.
Egbert seems like a decent enough kid, but the way he mismanages Harley as skip makes you seethe. And of course Harley, goody-goody that she is, is all about the fun of the game and team spirit. If you were in her position, you would have usurped such incompetent leadership a long time ago.
No matter, you'll just have to crush them and show them their own inferiority. Then maybe you can lure Harley to your side.
"This is bullshit, Harley, and you know it." The slam of the door behind you isn't as satisfying as it should be.
"Vriska, I try not to be rude, but you're really not listening so I'm just going to say it. Fuck off." She's already fiddling with her lock like the conversation's over. Asshole.
The way she jumps when you smack your hand against the locker next to her still isn't satisfying, but it's a start.
"Much as I enjoy the usual back and forth, let's skip the games this time. You threw that game, didn't you? You should have wiped the floor with those amateurs, even with the chumps on your team. Are you really that desperate not to face me?"
"Oh my god, Vriska." She's looking at you like you're stupid, but at least she's finally looking at you. "Not everything's about you, okay? For your information, Meenah's team is really good!"
"But you could have beat them!"
"Sure, maybe. But we didn't and the only one who seems to have a problem with that is you. I like curling, but it's not that serious." She's turning away again and you just want to make her stop.
"For fuck's sake, would you stop acting like we're done here? I don't care if you want the last word, I'm talking to you."
"We are done here, Vriska. What else is there to say? Or do you just want to keep yanking my pigtails like a five year old?"
"Woooooooow, congratulations, genius! Now, if you actually work out the general reason why someone would be pulling your hair, we might actually graduate from preschool!"
"...Wait, what?"
"Well, yeah, Harley. What exactly did you think this was about?"
"I just thought you were really into curling."
"I am, but I hope you don't expect me to devote my attention to someone who can't even challenge me in the rink. I need a rival I can test myself against, someone who makes me want to work harder just to beat them into the ground. God, Harley, how much more passion were you hoping for exactly?"
There's no hesitation before she's saying "about this much" and then she's yanking you by the collar and kissing you hard. Holy shit that is so smooth and it's kind of pissing you off because it's no fair that she's just coaxed you into this big emotional confession and then she gets to make the first move. So you retaliate by pressing her back into the lockers and kissing her back with equal vigor.
At some point the kissing has to end and you have to try to regain your composure. "So does this mean you're on my team?" You really hope the look on your face is the mix of sexy and cocky that you're going for.
"Oh, Vriska, I think it's obvious that I'm on your team." Her smile is bright and sunny and saccharine sweet. "I'm still going to kick your butt in the next tournament, though."