Harley's request to see 'real magic' some time hardly saw the simper upon the warlock's features falter as he nodded. His species, after all, was the only species truly capable of capturing the essence of most of the earth's elements. True elementalists, those capable of wielding every element were nearly unheard off and yet- most witches or warlocks were capable of harnessing at least one, even two elements well, His own affinity for fire surely enough to provide Harley with a glimpse of genuine magic even if Sly himself was so hardly....powerful by any means.

"I can show you my show routine some time. I use real magic in that. As for those herbs working on the undead I'm not entirely sure. They are pretty strong but you'd probably have to hit a vampire in the face with the whole bag before it did anything. There are a few plants pretty notorious for repelling vampires though. I can ask for you."

Sly's blue gaze shifted to meet the vibrant violet of her own. It was hardly difficult, after all, to deduce that it was surely vampires Harley desired to attempt to avoid. The night they had spent at Syn entirely enough to convince him that she had some sort of....problem with the undead. Maybe she owed them money or something. In the very least it was hardly his business to pry. Not tonight. Harley raised that small bag of herbs to her nose just as the ROmanian attempted to warn her off from doing so. The young woman inhaled deeply- far too deeply- that scent prompting a near instantaneous sneeze. One that coaxed a good-natured and yet no less obvious chuckle from the warlock as Harley ascertained that those herbs were, in fact, rather strong. Well. He had tried to warn her. Who lifted a bag of herbs directly to their nose anyway? What did she think would happen? Maybe she didn't spend a lot of time around herbs. That amusement continued to linger on the blond's features as he offered up that plan to head out for the evening before he came back to tile that bathroom as he'd promised. A notion Harley seemed willing to accept- provided they ate that pizza he had provided first. Sly's own head bobbed as he moved to hand those boxes to the raven-haired woman before asking after the location of the plates. Harley's gesture toward the top cupboard saw the Romanin reach upward- only for the cabinet door to very near collapse off its hinge. The door barely managed to hang on.

"Oh, shit. Do you....enjoy lopsided cabinetry or did you want me to fix that too?"

One eye rose upward in a fashion entirely teasing, the warlock glancing back at his companion before he reached for the plates. The Romanian eyed that hinge all the same as he did. It would only take a few minutes work to fix that. Sly wholly certain it would be worth it to prevent the door from attempting to make its daring escape every time it was opened. It hardly took long for Sly to pass Harley those plates, the pair settling themselves at the kitchen table once more in much the same positions as last time. Thatpizza easily shared between them. It was, however, that momentary quiet as they are which seemed to tug at the gypsy's mind. That memory of Harley's obscure neighbor prompting that very question to leave his lips. Weirdness seemed to be....attracted to Harley. In droves. What did that say about him? Sly's head tilted slightly, his lips tuggings softly upward in amusement at his own internal thoughts before he attempted to describe the unusually well-dressed individual who had accosted him in the hall-and called him by name. Harley must have spoken to him, right? Especially if he had known Sly's name. Not that anyone ever called him Sylvester to begin with. The warlocks features shifted into a frown at that very notion before Harley insisted this area was filled with suspicious people. Even if this particular individual was supposedly harmless- and didn't actually live her.

"So he....broke into some else's house just to tell me he was friends with you and...leave for spain?"

Sly's words were nothing short of dubious. The warlock struggled to comprehend this apparently harmless and yet possibly insane individual who may or maynot have lived several apartments down from Harley. Sly easily swallowed that pizza before turning to glance almost warily at Harley's front door.

"That has a working lock right? It's not like the kitchen cabinet is it?"

Harley had already proven herself, well, capable of looking after herself and yet a door with a functional lock seemed like a necessary precaution all the same. Sly's head shook softly at her query in regards to whether or not that obscure neighbor had said anything else to her. The Romanian, for now at least, willing to let the matter pass. The man was far more intrigued to learn whether or not he got bonus points if he made that pizza himself- the veritable challenge in Harley's words coaxed a soft chuckle from within. It was his queryon how she felt about extreme sports, however, that prompted a deliberate huff from the pretty, dark haired woman. Her life, she said, was an extreme sport.

"Look, after that night we had at the vampire bar- I believe you."

That had been....insane. Extreme sport sounded tame compared to what that night had been and yet Harley seemed to almost...anticipate that exact level of chaos within her life. It wasn't his business, he supposed, and yet, what exactly was going on at that bar- and what Harley's roll within it was still managed to tug at the corner of his thoughts. Harley's violet gaze shifted to meet the blue of his own. Sly was purposefully vague in his description of where they were going tonight as her eyes narrowed in clear suspicion before leaning back within her chair- the gypsy's own arms crossing over his chest. One eye lifting slightly at her desire for more clues.

"It involves weaponry and projectiles that are responsible for the injury or death of over forty thousand people a year. I figured you could probably handle it given we survived the vampire....sandstorm.....thing when we first met."

Sly's lip tugged upward into a warm simper, the warlock moving to gently push himself back from the table before gesturing toward the door.

"Speaking of which, we should probably head off, we should be able to walk from here. You ready?"

The warlock shifted to stand beside the door then, waiting only so long as it took Harley to insist she was ready in turn before he moved to open that door for her, shutting it behind them as they stepped out of the apartment. Sly easily moved to lead the way out onto the street then, the blond effortlessly falling into step beside his companion- his blue gaze daring to cast a sideways glance toward her as they moved. Her outfit so perfectly flattered her figure. Those femanine curves were distinctly visible. Mihai, delighted to be outside once more, took that moment to appear. That singular burst of flame so readily took the form of a fox as he so often did, racing ahead of his master upon the path, a bright flicker in the growing dark of the evening.

"So- I have to ask something."

Sly paused, waiting for Halrey to glance toward him as they walked so easily down that sidewalk and towards Sly'schosen destination.

"When I asked you out- why did you say yes?"

There was little save distinct curiosity within the man's voice, his gaze meeting her own with equal intrigue. They had managed to escape a certain brush with death together. One Sly was still certain he...owed Harley for even if she refused to accept it and yerevan then- he hardly suspected it was because of that she had chosen to agree to go out with him. Sly nothing short of curious as to how he had so apparently managed to win her over. He warlock turned easel down another street then,the pair heading half way along that sidewalk before Sly paused a decidedly well-lit part of the street. The warlock nodding toward the park they stood in front off- its bright lights easily aglow within the night. A distinctly teasing grin upon his features.

"Well? What do you think? Pretty extreme, huh?"

The sign in front of them so proudly declared it to be miniature golf. That attraction bustling with other people already attempting to hit those coloured balls through various obstacles. The warlocks grin so hardly faltering.

"40,000 people a year get hit by golf balls or flying clubs- pretty dangerous."

sly.