She's leaving. Pamela knows it before she hears her mutter a forlorn goodbye or sees the bulging suitcase at her heels, all because of the one colour she zeroes in on as soon as she sees her. Black. Her lips are no longer the vibrant red that Pamela has long since come to associate with the bright whirlwind of life that Harley can be, but a dark industrial black that echoes of smoke and death and him. But it almost doesn't matter, because she knows that someday, soon hopefully, Harley will make her way back to her and maybe (just maybe) that time she'll stay for good...