slow burn [harlan]

Thursdays were meant to be peaceful, the day Honeydukes was closed to catch up with the week, prepare for the weekend. Halloween fell on a Thursday, however, and the village had decided to celebrate and invite the students down from the castle. All the students. The littlest ones, the ones that had never been to Hogsmeade, had never seen the wonders of Honeydukes, had put their sticky fingers on every single jar in the shop, had sampled nearly everything, had thought that because it was Halloween they didn’t need to pay for anything. There was still plenty of business, sure, but there was enough Halloween nonsense to make Honey so very thankful for the end of the day.

She had sent home the few employees soon after she had turned over the ‘closed’ sign on the door; her brother had made it a couple hours before heading up to bed. Honey decided to stay downstairs and clean, then reclean once she was done with that. There was plenty she could be doing to get ready for the next day’s business, chocolates to be made, pastries to swap out. Honey had considered closing tomorrow but she could hear her parents’ disapproval of that idea as soon as she had considered it, and while Honeydukes hadn’t seen that ‘unavoidable drop in sales’ that her parents had predicted when they had first owled her about that article, she’d still had enough of their disappointment to last her a lifetime.

Honey hadn’t really left Hogsmeade much in the past few weeks, had only sparingly left Honeydukes. Having her brother live with her meant he was cooking dinner for the pair of them, and she did her best to not read into that, nor his offers to make the deliveries she usually saw to in-person. She shifted a candy jar, tipped a nameplate to straighten it, then took a step over and repeated; she supposed she could do this with magic, but she preferred the tedium. And she preferred having some time alone.

The bell above the door chimed and Honey took a step towards the sound, a few wrapped cockroach clusters in her hand. “We’re closed,” she said, ignoring that the door had clearly been unlocked. She stopped as soon as she had stepped around the shelves; @Harlan Bellamy was the last person she had been expecting to see, either here or ever. She hadn’t heard much from him since the World Cup and she hadn’t expected that to change after the article had been published. Of all the people named in the article (with some truth attached to it), Harlan was certainly the most vocal about his love for the press.

“Sorry,” she said immediately. She was sorry for the article, for leaving the door unlocked, for holding one of their most disgusting products in her hand, for not changing out of her family friendly and brother-approved  Halloween costume. She dropped the handful of candy on the counter and straightened up, making no other move in his direction. “My brother’s here.” Honey pointed upwards toward the flat, hoping that would be enough to convince him to keep his voice down with whatever choice words he had for her.

Hogsmeade on Halloween night. There were a dozen other places, off the top of his head, that Harlan Bellamy would have rather been. It wasn't that the holiday itself was so bad — on the contrary, the Quidditch player quite liked the camp of it all — but, it had everything to do with the location. The village, admittedly, had never been one of his favorite places, but due to circumstances outside of his already subpar self-control, that was not the case for a moment in time. Currently, though, the association was not one that he cared to indulge in.

The obligation was simple but contractual, an event at the local Quidditch store for the Hogwarts house teams with a handful of the top professionals in the game in attendance.  After his latest performance in the World Cup, though, Harlan questioned his relevance at such a thing. The store had been recreated into a haunted house, the students assigned with completing a series of sport-related tasks for the chance to win a selection of prizes and experiences. Costumes were strongly encouraged, but that is exactly where Harlan drew the line.

As the night came to a close and once it was confirmed that all students had vacated the premises back to Hogwarts, a few of the players had agreed to stop by their old haunt at The Three Broomsticks. By now the crowd would be sparse and truthfully, they all needed a stiff drink after dealing with hormonal teenagers for two hours. Harlan had all but signed the dotted line when the familiar fluorescence of a storefront in the opposite direction caught his attention. As if on cue, the autumnal wind blew tunnel of dead leaves down the path that he knew he shouldn't be considering.

"I'll catch up," Harlan lied, waiting until his peers had turned the corner to start his trek toward Honeydukes. He wasn't sure what he wanted to achieve by seeing Honey now, but he couldn't help but satiate the curiosity. The light cascading onto the otherwise uninhabited street meant that someone was still awake, a good sign.

It had been a few weeks since an article detailing Honey's personal life, for whatever reason, had been published by none other than Rita Skeeter. A personal life that in some seemingly small way had involved Harlan. Given his part in their varied level of relationship (depending on the month), he knew that he had no right to be upset; Honey belonged to no one, and most certainly did not belong to him, but he found himself drowning in unfamiliar territory.

The public response was across the board but the majority had believed the article as fact, and therefore the Griffins had to act fast. It wasn't hard for the suits to find a willing participant in a very public, new relationship with the captain that would serve both her and the team's needs. Penelope was an up and coming model and had worked on a few of the years biggest fragrance potion campaigns. It didn't hurt, either, that her father sat on the board of trustees for the ministry, and had an unimaginable amount of sway in what would and wouldn't become public.

Harlan paused for a moment at the door, taking half a breath before pushing through the threshold. He assumed well enough that the door would be unlocked, but the idea of it possibly being locked was enough to stop him for a moment.

Sorry was certainly not the first thing that he expected to hear upon his not-so-breaking and entering, but he was relieved nonetheless that the voice belonged to Honey, and not someone else. Harlan's gaze followed her direction upstairs, his brow furrowed. If she expected him to start tearing the place down, she was dead wrong. In actuality, he felt a twang of sadness when he first saw her, and that was in no way related to her colorful choice of onesie. Despite his best efforts, there was a heart in there somewhere.

"You really should start locking this," Harlan opted to avoid anything too meaningful yet. Just how little he had planned for this was becoming more and more clear as the moments passed on. "Nice... horse costume," He took in the look from head to hooves, completely missing the horn that had fallen out of view. Absently, with eyes still on her, Harlan pulled a box of sweets from the shelf and popped it open despite his aversion to most things confection.

Honey had never intended to apologize, still felt like she hadn’t done anything too wrong, but it was the only thing she could think of to say. Harlan was the first person named in her article that she had seen, or even heard from — not even a rude comment from Charlie — and he caught her off guard, she supposed, especially when he spoke rather plainly instead of anything with any sort of emotion behind it, either good or bad. She shrugged, not taking her eyes off of Harlan ormaking any move to lock the door now that it had been mentioned. “I should,” she agreed, stopping herself from smiling just yet.

“Unicorn.” She didn’t move to prove it to him, didn’t bother with the minimal movement of just pulling her hood back up to show him the rainbow horn. She stayed where she stood, firmly planted. Any lack of personal space, when Harlan was involved anyway, led to pretty much just one thing, every time. She assumed he wasn’t supposed to be there; his managers, his keepers, his press agents, his whatevers hadn’t appreciated Honey’s presence even before the article. That, and she hadn’t missed the news about his new woman, either.

She raised an eyebrow as Harlan pulled a box of ice mice off the shelf. “Those are—” peppermints that will make his teeth chatter for more than a few seconds “—on the house.” She had already unnecessarily apologized; how much nicer could she really be? She wondered if she should bring up the article more directly, tell him how it was only kind of true, stop short of saying that of all the people mentioned, he was her favorite. That all felt like a little much, maybe.

Honey crossed her arms across her chest and leaned back against the counter, conscious of staying out in the open shop where anyone could see, hold her perfectly accountable. She had heard about the little Griffins thing going on down the street, but she had assumed Harlan would have used any excuse to get out of it — she had expected him to show up here even less. “We’re closed, y’know.” She smirked and pushed herself off the counter, poking at a display of fudge and moving a block over by a fraction of an inch, though she was still focused on Harlan.

The chill of Autumn air, it seemed, had crept into Honeydukes as well. The atmosphere that spanned the distance between he and Honey had dropped significantly in temperature since their last interaction, and he suspected that it had little to do with an internal heating problem. It didn't help, either, that whatever mystery candy he had so careless tossed back just moments before had sent a chill down his spine, seeping into his bones. It wasn't until he opened his mouth to speak that he realized his teeth were chattering uncontrollably. He frowned through the involuntary action and finally looked at the packaging. Ice Mice. Damn her.

It took a few moments for Harlan regain his composure, head still shaking, his visible action of disappointment. "That's what I get for trying... something new," Something from here was the blond wizards originally planned sentiment but something about Honey looking back at him from under the hood of her oversized unicorn costume had stopped him. He hadn't ever seen her this way, reticent and almost cautious, and it had shifted his sense of balance. What he expected, he wasn't sure, but this was not it.

As Honey moved from her perch, he finally saw the unicorn horn and smiled to the ground before his gaze carried inevitably back to her. Of all the costumes that his imagination could possibly dream up, a unicorn may have been the last, but as it turned out it suited her. He supposed she had to keep things kid-friendly with all the impressionable Hogwarts students on the loose for the night. Just then it dawned on him that she probably needed a drink just about as badly as he did.

"Really?" Harlan teased as his eyes traversed the uninhabited store, still messy from what he could assume had been a busy night. Absently, he picked up a few boxes that had been pushed from the shelf and placed them on the nearest display. "Ah, it's okay," He assured as he stood back upright with some difficulty; the years of Quidditch hadn't been particularly kind to him. "I know the owner," Harlan continued, taking a few more steps to bridge some of the distance that she had created. "She owes me a favor," He dared, pausing at a display of slimy looking candied snakes.

In truth, Honey by no means owed him any favors, the article was clearly not by her design, and she owed him no explanation, but Harlan just couldn't help himself. "How are you?" He asked in a way that implied that he didn't mean it in the small-talk kind of way. Though he wasn't ready to come right out and say it, he wanted to know how she was, really. He cared for Honey, more than he wanted to make known, and more than anything, he felt for her. He was well accustomed to the barrage of articles, both truthful and not, that the press concocted but he predicted that this was more new to her. "Honeydukes bar still fully stocked?" Harlan pressed his luck.

Honey suppressed a smirk as she watched him shiver, offering no apology or something to help the cold pass quicker. “Guess you should stick with what you know.” They were still talking about candy, she thought. She cleared her throat, waiting for him to get over his candy-induced chill, proud of herself for not calling more attention to it. She straightened up another few boxes of candy, straightening herself when he seemed to be back to normal; it was harder not to smirk now.

“Really.” He wasn’t looking for a response — almost never was — and she shrugged, following his gaze around the store. She raised an eyebrow as he tidied up, resisting the urge to follow-up and tidy his tidying, keeping her distance. “Oh do you?” It didn’t matter how far she was keeping herself; he took a couple steps closer and despite her better judgement, she didn’t move. He wasn’t mad about the article and that was apparently making her incredibly grateful for his presence. She’d call it calming, if she didn’t know any better.

Both brows shot up as he mentioned the favor. “Do I?” She stopped talking about herself in the third person; this felt a little too serious for that. She watched him for a minute, trying to figure out if he was upset without being visibly upset. That seemed a bit too complicated for him, she decided after another minute. She had apologized one times too many already, Honey reminded herself. “I’ll see what I can do,” she half offered with a shrug, looking at the half-tidied shelves instead of Harlan.

And then it was how are you? instead of how’s business like it should have been. Honey paused before leaning back against the counter again, her eyes on Harlan, still processing how not mad he was about everything. “I’m… alright,” she said slowly, resisting the urge to talk about business anyway. It was all she had been trying to think about lately, but having Harlan here and not obviously angry had her second guessing herself. She could elaborate, she figured, but he spoke again before she had the chance to ruin anything.

“It is, mostly.” Honey shifted, glancing toward the kitchen. The good alcohol was upstairs, as usual, where her brother was, not as usual. “There’s gin,” she mentioned as casually as possible, though she was pretty sure the best thing they would find in the pantry downstairs would be blackberry liquor; something told her that wasn’t really Harlan’s drink. “Do you—“ she stopped herself, knowing already that it wasn’t a good idea but plunging ahead anyway. “My brother’s here, see, so—“ she wanted him to finish the question for her, but after another second she finished it herself. “Can I buy you a drink?” She looked at him for a second before adding: “As the one favor I owe. Not here.” She looked at the store one more time, then at the door, before shrugging in Harlan’s direction one more time.

Harlan could see the gears shifting, the familiar look on Honey's face as she tried to make sense of the situation, to discover his intent. Almost as much as he himself was. Harlan hadn't landed on an exclusive reaction to the series of events, constantly teetering in a foreign territory between empathy and jealousy, a place that he did not enjoy. The best way to deal with that, as evidenced by his unannounced visit, was to face it head-on. The task was easier said than done he was learning.

He didn't press the conversation but instead listened, watching as Honey's gaze shifted between him and quite literally anywhere else in the room. It was unusual to see this side of her, the picture of self-assurance be anything less than just that. "Good," Harlan concluded in response to how she had been holding up. Given the circumstances, 'alright' seemed appropriate.

Gin. Harlan smiled as his eyes flashed mischievously to the backroom for a brief moment before he caught himself. They both knew that gin was off the table. It had to be. He had a new relationship (if you could call it that), and while it had been forged for all of the wrong reasons he had to admit he was enjoying Poppy's presence, enough so that he called her something other than her given name. The lack of complication was a breath of fresh air. She made him feel lighter in some way.

Somewhere though, despite his best efforts to push it to the back of consciousness, Harlan wondered what it might look like if he and Honey gave whatever they were a chance. A real chance, as opposed to burning it to the ground at every available turn. His mind lingered on that for a moment before returning to the present. Her brother was there, of course. "You don't want to introduce me?" Harlan lowered his voice, eyes casting upward toward wherever this mystery brother was.

"You do owe me a drink," The wizard agreed without much thought. "Dumplings and dollar beer?" Harlan prompted with raised eyebrows, the muggle currency was foreign on his tongue despite the fact that the delicacy had become somewhat of a staple for when he and Honey were evading the public wizarding world to escape any prying eyes. Tucked away in London, what appeared to be an abandoned basement laid an oasis. An establishment where people still smoked indoors and sat on plastic chairs while eating and drinking to their heart's desire. "Do you need to change?" He couldn't help but grin.

Honey jumped on the opportunity to leave the close-to-serious topics of conversation far, far behind. “Dunno if he’d take too kindly to the man who tarnished my reputation.” She smirked, touching on the article without mentioning it flat out; she figured he could take the hint and catch the joke. In all reality, they both knew that meeting family members was nothing short of official, and nothing they would ever be doing. She smiled, her eyes raking over him another time before she glanced back out at the store.

She didn’t remember actually owing Harlan a drink, but she wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass her up. She didn’t want to take the time to consider why she wanted to go with him, if it was about him or if she would have accepted anyone’s offer for a minor jailbreak; it had been ages since she had been out and properly enjoyed herself; dinners with her brother still had an air of disappointment hanging over them.

Dumplings and cheap beer sounded like a godsend. Honey usually preferred better drinks, saving her beer drinking for when she wanted to impress or appease someone -- that one Oktoberfest was a blur, thankfully -- and she once again found herself consciously trying to ignore the realization that she and Harlan had been to this place on numerous occasions; she couldn’t remember the last time she had actually minded drinking cheap beer for Harlan’s sake.

Returning his grin and looking down at herself, Honey shrugged. “Nah, I look great.” She didn’t and she knew it, but she didn’t trust herself to drink with Harlan in anything more appealing. There was so much work left to be done at the store that Honey knew if she lingered much longer she would change her mind. He was a few steps away from her and without a second thought, Honey stepped forward and grabbed his hand, turning them both to apparate them to just down the street from the little restaurant. She couldn’t remember the name of it, but it didn’t really matter; it was small, it was muggle, and it had the best (and only) dumplings Honey had ever had.

Honey straightened up, dropping Harlan’s hand -- and the brief feeling that it was just nice to touch him -- and rolling her shoulders before rounding a corner and heading toward the shop. She had to keep moving, keep focused on anything that wasn’t the work (and family) she had just unceremoniously abandoned. They entered and sat and ordered their usual, and it might have been just like normal, except for the article and her unicorn costume and that they weren’t seeing each other at the moment. So, anything except normal, really.

“So,” she started, filing the lull between ordering and receiving their drinks. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” Honey usually tried not to read too far into things, especially with Harlan; they were the sort of casual non-couple that would just drop by -- she had shown up drunk on his doorstep more than once -- only planning when it was necessary to avoid anyone. “Thought I’d have heard from you sooner, really.” She didn’t just mean because of the article, either. They had a good thing going when she had been dating Viktor, but it had stopped as suddenly (and at the same time) as her actual relationship had -- something she couldn’t help but to read into.

Where Honey & Harlan had landed, both literally and figuratively, was as familiar as it was foreign.

The hole in the wall establishment hadn't changed, even that slightly off-kilter framed photo of the Thames just behind Honey's seat hadn't been adjusted since their previous visit, which Harlan, of course, noticed immediately. The aromatic journey of the steaming and frying of various dishes paired with the dull remnants of stale beer also remained unchanged. The atmosphere brought him back to the first time he'd discovered the place. He lived in that space for a moment before returning to the present in time to catch Honey ordering two of the cheapest beers on the menu.

Despite all of the things that remained the same, just as many had changed. If not more. Harlan had no idea where they stood in the wake of the article. Try as he did to avoid any and all of the press surrounding the debacle, talk of Honey and Viktor being done for good was a hard one to miss. Even his teammates were discussing it in the locker room as soon as they thought their captain had vacated.

"You're on the Griffins official blacklist, I'm afraid," Harlan broke into a smile, though he wasn't entirely joking. The team personnel did not hold their tongue as far as the stake of his career was concerned. One more major scandal and the fans would turn on him. A group of witches and wizards who, for whatever reason, had studied public relations had declared that thus making it a fact for the coaches who knew no better.

"I'm sorry," Now it was his turn to apologize. He was genuinely sorry. Not for waiting so long to reach out after the article, but because of his involvement in her life to begin with. The blame was on him. He knew that Honey was in a relationship and yet he still pursued her. He pursued her relentlessly, despite every warning that he was becoming the very person that he vowed to never be.

Two plastic mugs of beer slammed down on the table in front of them and splashed on the table. Harlan offered a thankful nod to the waitress before turning his attention back to Honey, not touching the drink just yet. He was never great with articulating how he was feeling on an emotional level, but he hoped sincerely that she got the message that he was trying to convey. "It's for the best, anyway," He concluded before taking a gracious mouthful of beer through shrugged shoulders.

“Tell me when it’s a blacklist for a team that matters.” Honey returned his smile easily, comfortably slipping back into their usual type of conversation. She wasn’t close enough to touch his arm nonchalantly as she laughed, which was probably a good thing. Honey kept her hands to herself, musing over the idea that she was causing issues for Harlan’s PR team. They hadn’t even done anything (recently); she was just existing. It was thrilling, almost, after her month of practically cutting herself off from everything. Thrilling, but boring.

But then Harlan apologized and Honey’s smile fell; despite their lack of closeness she reached for his hand, placing hers over it. “Not needed,” she said quickly, though her hand stayed firmly in place, and would have stayed as long as he’d let her had it not been for the waitress, scaring Honey enough for her to find her own personal bubble again.

She glanced at the waitress, at Harlan, at the drink, at Harlan again. The apology really wasn’t necessary; he didn’t owe her anything. Their shared understanding was almost too much sometimes, how often they were on the same page about things. They had wanted in and out of their pseudo relationship at (almost always) the same time. The article had been right about Harlan, anyway, their on-and-off-again thing, that first fundraiser, the continuation of things throughout her relationship with Viktor. She had read it and immediately thought about him and what he’d think, how he’d be upset; she tried now not to consider how the same thoughts (or cares) hadn’t occurred for any of the other mentions.

It’s for the best, anyway. Honey raised her eyebrows, not sure which ‘it’ he was referring to. The article effectively shutting down all her future personal endeavors? Her presence on the Griffins blacklist? Their status or non-status as an item being exposed and being stopped in its tracks? She didn’t want him to be talking about that last thing, though she assumed he was. “Yeah,” she agreed despite not actually agreeing, not really. “What a nightmare.” She grinned, fighting back the argument that they had been good, that more than once she had fought away the idea that they could be great if they gave it an honest shot, that they were the only ones stopping themselves— not some stupid article, not some PR team.

It was for the best, anyway. Honey nodded before taking a large swallow of her beer — the cheap stuff tasted closer to water, which only worked in her favor — and wiping foam off her lip with the sleeve of her costume. “He broke up with me, by the way.” She nodded again before adding, “Viktor,” and laughing again. She had been about to do the same, but he had beat her to it. She hadn’t even told her brother that, figuring it wouldn’t redeem herself any. Why she was telling Harlan, now, was far beyond her. “For the best,” she repeated, this time adding a roll of her eyes.

While it was a relief that she didn't press the matter of his fault, a small part of Harlan wanted Honey to not be so quick to acquiesce. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was waiting for the inevitable consequence of his actions. Thus far, the only consequence he had seen was a fake relationship with a model and increased season ticket sales for The Griffins. Apparently, everyone loved a bit of a scandal. And now, there was Honey, assuring him that there was no need for him to apologize.

Following the water-beer came a parade of steamed dumplings served on mismatched tableware. Usually, they ordered a little bit of everything on the menu, and it seemed that their faithful server hadn't forgotten that either. Another on the list of things that hadn't changed. Harlan made room on their small two-person table for the dishes before turning his attention back to Honey as she spoke in agreement with his statement.

It was for the better, he thought. At least, enough so. That was what he was supposed to say anyway, wasn't it? The two of them couldn't carry on whatever it was they were doing forever, after all. The implications of their actions did not only affect just them. There was an intricate web of people and feelings involved. Harlan had forgotten that for a moment in time. He was blinded by his own impulses and what he believed to be his own needs. He couldn't shake the question now of whether his father had felt that same way.

When Honey confirmed what he already knew, Harlan fought the urge to let her know that he'd already heard the news of the breakup. Hell, the whole wizarding world had heard by then. Instead, he nodded. "Yeah, you probably deserved that one..." Despite his initial thought to offer up a sage piece of advice, or tell her that 'everything happened for a reason', he decided he reached his seriousness limit for a while.

Leaning forward and grabbing a dumpling from the plate nearest Honey, he doused it in chili sauce. "Who's next on the list, then?" He teased. "What big story will The Prophet be dropping next month?" He raised an eyebrow, the intent of his question very clearly a joke. "A heads up would be nice this time," Harlan washed the food down with another swig of his drink. The ease of the conversation was nice, a welcome surprise, and left him wondering if perhaps they could handle the whole platonic thing after all.

Honey ignored the food for a minute, trying to figure out Harlan’s thought processes. This was new -- not trying to figure him out, but doing it during conversation -- and quite impossible, it seemed. They were agreeing that this was for the best, though Honey hadn’t fully convinced herself, and she thought -- hoped? -- that he wasn’t convinced either. Of course, sneaking around wasn’t for the best, nor cheating on whoever she moved onto next or going all in with Harlan. There wasn’t a best; if there was, it wouldn’t be limited to dumplings.

She took another large swallow of her drink before picking a dumpling at random, sticking to one of the dipping sauces she knew to be the mildest, effectively distracting herself from watching Harlan’s reaction. She had thought it impossible for men to be done with her if she wasn’t done with them first, even though her present company had ended things (multiple times) with her. He was right to do it then, and he was right when he spoke now. She laughed, despite herself. “I did, didn’t I?” Smirking, she glanced up at him and shrugged. It hadn’t even just been Harlan -- there were others before he had come back into the picture -- but she could only be so honest in one night.

It was worth it, she supposed, and she thought that Harlan was about to say the same as he leaned in; she dropped her gaze as he reached for another dumpling and she hid any disappointment in her glass.

“Oh, I’ve got a date with the Griffins’ better beater next week.” She shrugged, turning her glass around on the table. She wasn’t serious, not really. From what she could tell, @Roxanna Rathbone wasn’t really her type. “And I’ve invited Rita Skeeter as our third so,” she shrugged again and took another drink. “Consider this your heads up.” She was smiling as she set her glass down.

Usually about this time, Honey would start to worry about all the spicy food Harlan was having -- spicy food meant spicy kisses -- but this was not that sort of night. It was for the best, or whatever. “Really, though.” She picked up another dumpling, holding onto it as she continued. “No list, no plans. I’ve been behaving myself.” She popped the dumpling into her mouth with a smirk. It was easy to behave when she lived with her brother, anyway; how quickly she left to spend time with Harlan should have been a bit more concerning to her. “Did that article get you in trouble?” She stopped short of placing any of the blame on herself.

At the mention of his Griffins teammate and co-captain, Harlan arched an eyebrow. While the hair color was right, he was certain that if Honey was telling the truth she would have made her attraction known before now. She had met Roxy a handful of times, and she and Harlan had their share of experiences with other women, after all. Presumably, it would have already come up in conversation. Wiping the chili oil that dripped down his chin with the back of his hand, the result of an all too ambitious attempt to eat a large dumpling in one bite, he shook his head.

"Oh, that sounds delightful," Harlan finally replied, enunciating each vowel, though the conviction did not align with the sentiment of his reaction. "You three combined know entirely too much about me," He thought out loud as the realization hit him. It was the truth, those forces combined could take down his career faster than it came to be. Luckily for him, said forces would likely never actually link up.

The ebb and flow of their conversation paired with the meal had lulled Harlan into relaxation. It was nice, but alarming. He wasn't sure what he was expecting in meeting with Honey, but this was not it. Still, there was a thought that lingered in the back of his mind, the nagging craving for something else. It was becoming more and more clear that that was his greatest flaw. Harlan was always searching for the next best thing, always looking for more, and it wasn't fair on either of them.

Pushing the idea out of his mind, he signaled for another beer. They had worked their way through a lot of the food on the plates before them, but he needed something more to keep his own thoughts at bay. "Seems unlike you," Harlan retorted with a knowing smile. There was truth in the statement, of course. He knew Honey well enough by now, after all.

At her question, the captain paused. Trouble wasn't the right word, but he definitely felt the butterfly effect of the article. His handlers were more strict now, and everything had to be by the book. "Not any more than usual," Harlan finally replied, offering a half a smile. He had gotten himself into much worse on his own, and he didn't want Honey to feel any sort of responsibility. "Keeping a low profile." Sure, if low profile meant flaunting a very public new relationship. He wondered in vain if Honey had seen anything about it but stopped himself from questioning.

Honey wasn’t sure what the other two women could know that she didn’t already, but that didn’t really matter, she figured. She shrugged, the dumpling in her mouth throwing off her smirk a little bit. Reaching for her drink, she shrugged again. “I wouldn’t worry. Won’t be too much time for talking, anyway.” It had started as a joke, but the more she talked about it, the more she thought it wasn’t a horrible idea. A distracting thought, at least, which seemed to be exactly what she needed right now.

He ordered another drink and Honey looked down at her own -- there was still at least half left -- and took the cue to have a bit more, though she was still far behind Harlan.

Seems unlike you. Honey coughed, nearly choking on her mouthful of dumpling. She covered her mouth with her hand as she recovered, coughing again before fixing it all with another swallow of beer. He was right, of course. She didn’t often stay on course like this; normally, she wouldn’t sneak out just to eat dumplings and drink cheap beer. This would be leading somewhere, somewhere that wasn’t her home, alone. She wiped her mouth with a paper napkin, only stopping her dumpling consumption because there were only a couple left and she was feeling oddly courteous in letting Harlan have them.

He wasn’t in any more trouble than usual. That should have been encouraging, really. She didn’t want to give herself too much credit for making his life complicated, but she had figured that article would have been worse than the little one-liners that had been printed before. She took another swallow of her beer and nodded. “That’s good.” She had been reading the paper since -- solely to make sure there wasn’t anything worse mentioned about her, of course -- and hadn’t missed the news about his new woman. Maybe ‘low profile’ meant something else entirely to him; maybe that was him saying that things with the new woman weren’t that serious; maybe that was wishful thinking.

She wasn’t sure when she let things get like this, when she started caring who he was seeing or the underlying reasons why, why she didn’t want to call attention to it. Things didn’t get like this with other people she had resigned herself to be friends with. This was just the most recent one, the closest-to-home fallout from the article. She couldn’t care less what Charlie -- the article’s other big mention -- thought about it all. That was all this was.

“Well, bringing things a little back to normal,” she started with another smile, though this one didn’t have the full emotion behind it, “I don’t have any money.” She shrugged. “No pockets.” She pointed down at her costume. “I’ll owe you two drinks next time?” She hoped there’d be a next time, anyway. Besides, that was a much easier thing to say than admit she had any deeper thought about this whole scenario.