[ harley crosses her arms over her chest, but then — oh, there's a loose string hanging from the end of her cutoffs, so she's a little distracted unfolding herself and then plucking at that for a minute, glancing up when she realizes there's been a lull in the conversation. oops. ]

So what, you thought if at first you don't succeed... blah blah blah? I mean, not to armchair diagnose or anythin', but you know what they say about doin' the same thing and expectin' different results.

[ not that she doesn't respect the persistence here, but. ]

You might be right, but you think they're ever gonna admit it? LIEs, it's all right there in the name and everything.