Faye knows what she looks for, usually. It’s that CONFIDENCE AND SWAGGER that comes from a person, who knows who they are, and what they want. Harry, though, doesn’t seem to be any of those things. In fact, he’s all but stumbling over himself, the way that he’s like tongue-tied and playing to impress. It’s unfair to draw him onwards like this, as if something might shift and change within her, or him, to make this anything other than the picture of her using him. But right now, when he had a nice car and was willing to fumble himself to make her laugh, the attention feels nice, doesn’t it? And maybe his earnestness is something that she could find charming for an afternoon.
How lovely it is to lean back and let him treat her, though, she suspects he doesn’t have the mean. And part of her doesn’t really care - and isn’t that the worst of all? The nice boy who’s been taken advantage of, she leans in, those RED LIPS GRINNING back at him, and she thinks, even still, this is more fun that he’s probably had in a while when not sitting in the front seat. And maybe, for fun, she could convince him to take her for a spin, adrenaline junkie, troublesome woman, she’d do her worst to get what she wanted… and for now, her glass tipped against his own, already feeling herself warm like honey beneath the influence of fine whiskey.
“You’re fun because you shouldn’t be fun. Because I feel like I might ruin your life, or make your night, and I think you FEEL THE SAME WAY about it, and can’t wait to find out. Because you’ve been waiting for something like this, haven’t you? To shake you, wake you up, make you into a person you’d be proud of. So here I am. And you’ll be fun to watch to see what wins. So. Think about it .Where do you place your bets in this, Harry?”
“Yeah, s’pose I do.” He shrugs his shoulders and takes a sip from his whiskey glass, slightly startled at how well she’s able to read his emotions. Not that it’s hard; he’s an open book, for better or for worse, the kind of man who wears his heart on his sleeve because he doesn’t know any better. “I do hope you don’t ruin my life though, because it would be rather a lot of bother.” Harry adds, a touch of that self-depracating humor ever-present. He finds himself wanting to down the whiskey to give himself the liquid courage to look Faye in the eye, and not wanting to look like a complete heathen in front of her and everyone else in this much-too-posh establishment.
“I think you’re the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met, and I mean that.” He murmurs, trying to sound like he really means it, because he does. He never can seem to fully put his social awkwardness to bed, as much as he tries. “But I know you don’t really care for words.” He glances up at Faye from the corner of his eye, and gives her a half-smile. “I just don’t want to go on wondering what if? anymore. For better or for worse, whatever happens tonight.”
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