sly

It was a precarious dance. To toy with the very future of not one, but two beings. It was, in fact, a decided riddle the Frenchman so rarely dared entwine himself within and yet- of the plethora of paths that stretched ahead of Harley, there was but a handful the near ancient Fae deemed acceptable for the woman who had fallen beneath his....protection. In one fashion or another. This particular path, however, was surely one the young woman would find disagreeable to some extent. If only because some measure of it would be guided by his hand rather than her own and yet how certain Matteo was that, in time, Harley would come to thank him for his interference. Even if tonight was destined to be a little...rocky on that front. It was with that very notion in mind that Matteo so effortlessly added yet another handful of beans to the dish in front of him. He had never, in all his two thousand years of existence, made any attempt to cook this dish despite its ties to the army and several thousand wars. It was a distinctly traditional meal and yet one that he was certain Harley could at least attempt to take credit for. It lacked any truly significant skill and by that notion alone the violet-eyed woman would surely be able to replicate it if asked at a later date. Harley's kitchen, however, was woefully understocked. It was with no small amount of muttering that the Frenchman added the finishing touches to that dish. The warm scent of meat and potato and rich stock all but filled that apartment. Ace, from his bed atop the lounge, continued to look on longingly despite the pieces of smoked meat the Frenchman had already shared with him (in a successful effort to befriend him) as they both awaited Harley's return from her work at the tattoo shop. That Harley had not been anticipating him in any sense so hardly seemed to concern the Frenchman. Matteo, as always, content to merely do as he pleased.

It was a half hour later that Ace leapt from the lounge to rush to the door. Matteo so merely glanced upward from that pot, the finishing touches to that dish applied as Harley stumbled through the door and into Ace's delighted embrace. The veritable shock upon her face at the sight of the Frenchman so determinedly cooking within the middle of her tiny kitchen prompted little more than a grin to Matteo's own features. Harley, despite that long day, looked as lovely as she always did. Excellent.

"Ah, Mon Cherie, we have been waiting. Ace tells me you are fifteen minutes late. That is alright though, I knew you would be, I timed dinner to account for it."

That warm grin upon his ever-youthful features so hardly faltered as Matteo gestured toward that meal he had been diligently creating and completed only moments ago. That stew of smoked meat and beans and potato and several herbs had a veritably heavenly aroma that did those basic ingredients a distinct and deserved justice. It was assuredly perfect. Harley however, was another matter. Matteo's silver gaze shifted to eye his companion once more, his eyes nearly languidly roving over her femanine figure before meeting her own. Her outfit was casual, comfortable, the very thing to wear when working in a tattoo parlour all day and yet for a date?

"Is that what you are wearing tonight? Oui, you can do better I think."

Those words were very near a tease, a distinct impishness finding its way to the Frenchmans features before Matteo moved to turn that heat off. That look of utter confusion upon Harley's features was still distinctly ignored. It was that sudden sound of someone else outside that apartment however that readily prompted Matteo to pause, his gaze cast up at the clock upon the well, a frown readily finding his own handsome features.

"He is....earlier than he should be. It is alright, you look lovely in that anyay, Mon Cherie. Here."

Matteo reached to grasp that pot from the stove before handing it rather abruptly to Harley. The baffled woman given no choice but to grasp the handles of that pot.

"It is Fasole Cu Carnati, it is a traditional Romanian dish. I think I have cooked it correctly. Either that or it will be a very...culturally insensitive dish. We shall hope for the best, oui. Enjoy."

That ready grin so hardly faltered, Matteo affording Harley no chance to question but any of what had occurred within that fifteen minutes since she had unwittingly walked through her own door before the Frenchman abruptly disappeared. In much the same moment as a knock sounded upon Harley's front door.

...................

Sly's own features frowned slightly, his hand lifting to rap his knuckles agianst that door again. It sounded as if....there was someone else in there? Did Harley live with someone? Maybe this was the wrong address. Sly reached into the back pocket of his jeans, juggling that toolkit as he did, to fish that crumpled piece of paper out. That note he had found within his jeans pocket the very evening Harley and himself had survived the utter...disaster that had been Syn had invited him here tonight, that address seemingly correct, with the insistence Harley's shower 'needed fixing'. Why Harley had written him a note rather then merely call the company itself he hardly knew. The woman's penmanship, in turn, was by far the...fanciest writing Sly was certain he'd ever seen. That note had been obscure in every way. Harley had seemingly slipped it within his pocket while he was unconscious that day and yet, obscure or otherwise, Sly so hardly found himself....unwilling to see the violet-eyed woman again. She had saved his life after all- the least he could do was fix her shower. Besides, it wasn't as if looking at her for a prolonged period was exactly difficult. She was damn easy on the eyes and her company had been enjoyable- when they hadn't been trying not to die.

That silence seemed to carry on for several more long moments. Sly very nearly considered knocking again when that door finally opened. That utterly baffled look on Harley's features was hardly missed. The woman, holding a covered dish, seemed almost surprised to see him despite her note having invited him here tonight. He was only about ten minutes early, was that too much? Was she not ready yet? Sly's blue gaze easily met the dark-haired woman's own. His look was very near expectant as he waited for her to say, well, something. That silence was bordering on very near awkward now. She hadn't exactly been short on words last time. Why did she look so surprised now? Alright. Maybe he should say something. Sly's lips parted, his accented words uttered softly into the evening air.

"Ummm, am I too early? You told me to be here by six, I figured it wouldn't matter too much if I was a few minutes early just to take a look at your shower."

The bafflement upon Harley's features seemed to increase into outright confusion. Sly's own hand lifted to rub at the back of his neck in a subtle display of unease, his shaggy blond hair near threatening to fall into his eyes with the gesture. His gaze met Harley's own again, the woman seeming as if she required something more of an explanation. Was it possible she had forgotten?

"You gave me a note, remember? The one you put in my pocket that day at Syn? I think when I was unconscious for a bit there- which is a little bit weird of you but, hey, i've moved on from that. You asked me to come fix your shower tonight. I still have it. Here. You have the fanciest writing I think ive ever seen."

Sly reached to pull that note out of his back pocket once more before passing it to Harley, offering the woman the chance to view her own handiwork. That handwriting was flawless, in fact, it was very near....ancient looking. The kind Sly was certain he'd only ever seen in old movies or museums when they framed letters written by famous writers or long-dead generals. How or where Harley had learned to write like that he hardly knew.

Sly-

Maybe you'd like to 'fix my shower' sometime? Wednesday evening at 6pm works well for me. See you then. - Harley

"You didn't actually say what was wrong with your shower so I just bought my whole toolkit because I-"

The near colossal -bang- from somewhere within Harley's apartment very near prompted the warlock to jump backward in surprise. Sly's blue gaze widening readily as he glanced from the woman and toward that sound and back again.

"Jesus, is that the sound your shower makes? How long has it been doing that?"