It was that very revelation that his own kind were hardly as supportive of his 'magic show' as the rest of the crowd that seemed to spark some sense of discord in the violet eyed woman beside him as Harley frowned in turn. Witches and Warlocks, Sly knew, were hardly known for being...accommodating at the best of times. His species was veritably known for their prideful natures and ability to charge almost extortionate prices for whatever services they provided. The wizarding community, Sly was certain, retained a firm belief that they were, in fact, the most superior species of all. Even going so far as to find...displeasure in any of their own kind who did not fit that carefully crafted mold. Sly, with his street magic, brought down the entire wizarding name as far as his peers were concerned. His act made a mockery of true magic. To borrow elements from human magic shows an apparent sin and yet- Sly had become almost painfully used to their whispered words and judgemental stares. Let alone the several attempts to sabotage him that had been made over the years. It was almost...nice to have someone on his side. Harley clearly put out by the notion his own kind hardly supported him and yet-her query on whether or not he was 'bound' to those killjoys, as she called them, prompted a soft shake of his head.

"You mean like in a coven? No, I'm not part of anything like that."

There had been offers, once, for that very thing and yet Sly's rejection of them had only seemed to fuel that metaphorical fire of discord between himself and the magical community. He was hardly opposed to covens, not really anyway. Yet- they hardly seemed to offer him....well.....much of anything, really.

"Covens have too many rules. I was never that good at rules."

That ready grin found his lips once more, his gaze meeting Harley's own again near teasingly before his attention returned to that matter at hand. Sly had, he was certain, spoken enough about himself at that moment. It was surely Harley's turn. The young woman was still a veritable mystery to him when it came to that more pertinent information. Turning that idea of 'getting to know you' into a game, however, seemed a far entertaining method. Sly, this time, wagering that question upon his own golfing skills. It was, perhaps, something of a gamble and yet therein lay the fun of it. That fun fact he was determined to win however, was hardly allowed to be something as mundane as a star sign. The warlock was content to reveal his own as if those astrological movements might truly affect a person's nature. Harley was quick to find that offered amusement, the young woman insisting she was a Taurus- and that none of those supposed traits applied to her despite how very fitting they seemed. Sly allowed one eye to raise, a smooth, easy chuckle parting his lips before his shoulders shrugged loosely. Denial, he insisted, was a fairly strong Tarus trait. Harley's gaze met his own near instantly, the woman's look holding a distinct challenge that prompted that laughter from the blond warlock once more as she insisted that sounded nothing like her. It was refreshing, in every sense, to meet someone with a sense of humor. As well as someone willing to play that 'game' with him in turn. Harley taking up that offered golfing challenge. Four shots. He had four shots to get that ballin the hole if he wanted to learn something new about her.

Harely's insistence that she liked how willing he was to work to get to know her prompted a simper to Sly's own lips- the raven haired woman at last returning his golf ball that she had held hostage- her shoulder playfully, almost flirtatiously bumping into his own as she did. The offer of that 'handicap' however was one Sly had hardly anticipated. The warlock momentarily distracted by just how damn...sexy her voice was. Even without her trying. Those teasing notes to her words were nothing short of appealing. Sly taking several moments longer then he surely should have to truly consider her offer. An offer he was certain she didn't expect him to take up. Well. Maybe she was about to learn something about him too. Sly was hardly afraid to take what was given. Especially when it increased his odds of winning. The blond was entirely content to agree to that very thing. His own hand reached out, offering her a gentle, playful shove as he accepted that handicap- if he failed to make it in his original four shots. That look of surprise upon Harley's features was hardly missed, the young woman insisting she truly didn't believe he'd take it. A ready grin found Sly's features once more, his shoulders raising in an innocent looking shrug.

"You should never make deals with Gypsies. At least that's what i'm told."

That teasing grin hardly faltered. Sly, perhaps, offering that extra information about himself in turn before he turned to focus on that ball. Alright. Four shots. He could do this. He could do this to impress a girl. That first shot was, at least, not terrible as the ball rolled across the grin, crashing into a cow before coming to a stop. At least it made it halfway. Sly sifted across that course, the warlock eyeing off that goal once more before smacking the ball a second time. This shot sent it colliding with an alarmed plastic chicken. Damn. Mihai, in his excitement, hardly seemed willing to tolerate his master's incompetence any further, the flaming spaniel began to bark excitedly- as if that sound might somehow encourage the little plastic ball. Sly's blue gaze shot sideways, eyeing his familiar with clear disdain before insisting he was disturbing the crowd. The blond's hand gestured to those decidedly empty seats around them. That very act prompted that laugh from Harley in turn before the warlock hit that ball a third time. This shot was far softer and more delicate than the first. The ball, at last, actually in line with the hole- if only he could get it through the blades of the whirling windmill. Mihai, evidently oblivious to his master's desires, seemed content to bark in excitement again. Sly took that opportunity to glance back toward Harley once more if only to query whether or not she was enjoying this fabulous display of skill. That sarcasm within his words was surely as clear as that playful confidence. Harley insisted she was certain he was all talk and that she was evidently merely arm candy.

"To be fair, ninety percent of my jobs are sales jobs, I really am all talk- and you make pretty nice arm candy. I'm just saying."

How readily the warlock was willing to accept exactly the truth of it with good humor, Sly hardly denying that very fact. After all, smooth talking, quick talking, fast talking- that had been how he'd earned a living for most of his life. The Romanian was certain that Harley was entirely right. He was all talk. He was merely fortunate enough to be good at it. Sly's gaze fixated upon that windmill once more, the warlock frowning in concentration before, at last, making that hit. The ball shot forward, colliding with one of the edges of the blades. Shit. That unusual shot, however, seemed to propel that ball in the right direction and into the darkness beyond, spitting it out a moment later. Only for it to roll directly into the hole. Sly, for several moments, so merely blinked in ready disbelief at that shot. He had hardly expected to actually make it. Much less in four shots. Harley, in turn, seemed almost equally surprised. Her words seemed to shake the warlock from his own moment of disbelief as he swung that putter up to rest over one shoulder as if he made such shots every day of his life. Well, might as well play the part, right? That teasing insistence she was lucky to be with such a pro prompted a ready roll of the woman's eyes as she queried how she was going to keep her hands off him- before insisting maybe he needed to save some cockiness for the rest of the night. A soft chuckle easily fell from the warlock's lips then as Sly shifted to stand beside her, the warlock moving to lean on that putter once more as he eyed her expectantly. He had won that 'deal' after all. She surely owed him.

That sudden mention of the muscle car he had seen parked near Harley's apartment prompted a nod from the warlock's head. He did remember seeing it. A car like that was hard to miss. Even in its state of disrepair. Harley paused, if only briefly, the woman seeming to consider her words a moment longer before insisting she had planned to repair it with her Father- before he died. That car evidently required a lot of care in turn. The violet-eyed woman named it Omen. That very name prompted a lift of Sly's gaze once more, the warlock distinctly seeing exactly how that name was self explanatory and yet- Harley spoke almost....confidently about her Father's death. At least, not in the way someone did when a death was recent and they were still struggling to accept it. Her father, perhaps, had died...some time ago. The car still remaining unfinished.

"Are you still working on it by yourself?"

He knew...something about cars. At least, enough to keep them on the road and yet restoring a car from essentially nothing was beyond his own expertise. Maybe it took...longer then he realized or maybe Harley had simply lost the motivation to work on it alone.

"It would be a pretty damn neat car if it was up and running."

That was surely undeniable. Harley moved to set up for her own shot, the woman striking at the golf ball as she spoke, the sound of it colliding with those farm animals adding an almost amusing background tone to that conversation as she insisted she supposed she was sentimental. After all, she had kept her first guitar. The instrument apparently still working....sort of. That amusement tugged softly at Sly's features once more, his gaze shifting to watch that golf ball as it rolled about the course with Harley in pursuit.

"So you play guitar then?"

After all, she had said 'first' guitar. Implying there were others along the way. People so rarely inclined to collect instruments they didn't play.

"Are you in a band?"

How readily....he could see that of her. In fact, she seemed exactly the type. Sly inclined to consider that very image for several moments. Hmmm. That- could be very hot. Harley managed to coerce that ball beneath the windmill as they spoke, the woman managing to knock it into the hole on the fourth shot. Sly content to offer an almost dramatic sigh at her victory as she turned to face him with a grin. She had made that shot in four. Even despite having taken on that title of arm candy. Sly's eyes rolled slightly and yet playfully.

"Alright, alright, I'll show you some of my show after we leave here tonight."

A promise was a promise after all.

"Come on, let's try that next one."

That next hole had far more water then Sly had anticipated. His golf ball managed, on several occasions, to land in the fake 'pond' in the center. His hand thoroughly soaked after having to reach into that questionable water several times over, the man finishing significantly over par. The warlock hardly seemed to find that same luck until very near the end of that course. Holes 17 and 18, both jungle themed, managing to see him get that ball in the hole in less turns then the suggested hits.

"So I think we can conclusively state that dessert, outback, space, paris, what I think was supposed to be some sort of very gimmicky version of Ireland, water and candy themed golfing attractions....aren't my talent."

Those, after all, had been the holes he had done the worst on. The blond shook his head slightly as he led the way back toward the office to return those putters, his gaze glancing back toward Harley once more, those teasing words finding his lips then.

"You were keeping score though right? So who won? Because your efforts in space, Paris and Culturally-Insensitive Ireland were pretty abysmal too. You just about took that Leprechaun's head off. Not a fan of little men guardian pots of gold?"

sly.