watermelon sugar [erika]

Even in Paris, she had found a place that was Erika Trickett.

Wunderbar was lavish, but warm, the kind of bar that you could tuck yourself away into and forget the outside world for a night.

Escaping from the late-evening Spring shower, Harlan arrived with Paulie, a new trainer for the Griffins. He also just happened to be in a brand new relationship with one of Erika's friends, Chantel. Of course, the main event was the birthday, but more importantly for Paulie, it was the first night he was meeting the whole friend group at once, and Harlan had been recruited as the buffer.

Through Erika, he'd met a handful of the group in passing, and Paulie was convinced that Harlan would be able to distract them with some Quidditch anecdote if anything went south. That or, he whispered as they walked in, he would throw a drink on that white dress shirt. Harlan scoffed, wishing he'd opted for a darker color, because he knew the man was serious.

There was a clear divide among the patrons -- on one end there were a group of witches and wizards dressed formally, assumedly on their way to the opera, and on the other, Erika's party. There were balloons, and gifts, and loud laughs that filled the room over the soft sound of live music. Harlan couldn't help but grin when he saw the one in the middle of it all. Leave it to Erika Trickett to make a birthday party bearable.

"What's the occasion?" He caught her as she was setting another gift on the table outside of the circle of people. Paulie was somehow already tangled up in Chantel. "Did she mention I was coming?" He cast a wayward glance to their friends with a slight roll of his eyes, pulling a card from his pocket. "Happy birthday," He tapped it on her shoulder. It was nothing special, a handwritten card and an IOU for pizza and cheap beer at the shitty bar in London they both frequented (with only a veiled mention of a few of their more memorable nights there).

"Thank you so much for coming!"

The voice belonged to a tall blonde woman who enveloped a friend in a tight hug, rocking them from side to side as she swayed. It was her birthday! It wasn't a "big" birthday but every birthday was a big one for Erika. Turning another year older was no big deal but a Friday night in Paris certainly was. The party had sort of taken over the bar, with people dancing to the band, clinking glasses, chatting, spilling into the pre-opera crowd who eyed them perhaps a little cautiously.

She didn't think she was drunk but she was well on the way to being. Erika was happy as she surveyed the party, a moment by herself as she chewed on her lower lip in a vain attempt to hide her excitement. Her head bobbed to the music that the band was playing (a sort of upbeat jazz/synth pop mash up) waving to people trickling in and rushing to greet them.

As per tradition, she had a "friend party" and a "family party." She didn't get it, either, considering that everyone usually went to both. The Tricketts were more like a tribe - or a cult, whichever. Every single member was fully submerged in birthday parties and being shy...wasn't really an option. Erika had been back in Europe for less than twenty four hours, her skin a golden brown from the Egyptian sun and she was still a little bit jet lagged.

With a flair for the dramatic, Erika spun and struck a pose. What's the occasion? "I am," she said brightly, her grin widening as she saw the man himself. "Hello," she offered kindly as she tried her best to hide her surprise. Since when did Quidditch superstars just casually drop by?

"No," Erika replied darkly as her eyes slid from Harlan to Chantel who had her arms around her new beau quite aggressively. She pulled a face, halfway between a wince and a grimace. "She neglected to mention that," she added brightly, her smile still in place. "But welcome," she said gamely. "Nice to see you as always," she said smoothly. If anything, Erika was rather flattered he'd haul himself out to the middle of Paris in the cold spring air.

When offered a card, she snorted with laughter. "Thank you," Erika preened as she adjusted her jacket to take the card and open it. She grinned quickly, flicking her big blue eyes up to his. "Nice," she laughed  as she held it up, instantly shunted back eighteen months. It was a private joke - but one that could be turned into a very public one if he wasn't careful. She turned the card over in her hands, still smiling. "I could probably sell this," she joked, meaning the card that he'd signed. "What, with it being a genuine Harlan Bellamy signature and all," she slid it and the IOU into her trouser pocket. A little birdy told her he'd stopped signing autographs a long time ago.

"So, what're you doing here?" Erika asked Harlan cheerfully. "Other than celebrating me, of course," she grinned, hands on her hips, momentarily distracted by Chantel and her new boyfriend grinding out of time with the music on the dance floor. She swiftly pretended to gag. Then it clicked.

"Oh!" She gasped, her eyes wide as she clapped her hands together in glee. "You're the back up plan." Erika grinned from ear to ear as she realised that Harlan was simply here to protect his friends. "He definitely doesn't need saving," she said in jest, nodding to the dance floor behind Harlan's shoulder where acrobatics were moments away from kicking off. Mesmerised momentarily, she turned her attention back to the Quidditch player. "That's hilarious," she said, sounding smug, as though the idea of Harlan ever needing to be someone's wingman was just insane. It was nice to know that no one was immune to getting vibe checked.

"Drink?" Erika asked, grabbing Harlan a lager without asking if he still drank it or wanted something stronger. "Oooh," she whispered as she spotted someone with a tray of glasses. "Shots," she explained, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him with her.

Harlan had intended on letting his eyes wander — to gauge what level of Prophet intel Erika's crowd looked to be willing to divulge — but was instead drawn to the lids of her eyes as their blues scanned the card. His words. They were sparse, by nature, but it still seemed impossible that she'd read them so quickly. The moment her gaze flashed up to him, though, he knew that wasn't the case. There was just a hint of mischief in their disapproval, knowing disapproval, a sure indication she'd seen between the lines.

Grinning through a silent response, he nodded. Nice. He probably should have been more careful with his words, with his name, but it wasn't like any stranger was going to able to piece together his vague clues about a pool table and the multitude of definitions for what the pocket was. It seemed so long ago now, that the details should have been of little value but he found himself recounting them all far too easily.

"Oh, I'm sorry — " His eyes widened. " — did you think I'd written that?" Harlan made a face. "I've got people for that," He joked, switched on to the fact that Erika knew better than to believe him, leaning forward so that she could hear him, shifting just that bit closer. He could smell the warmth of coconut something on her hair, or maybe it was her skin.

Taking a step back, he followed her attention to their two mutual friends who were tangled into one another. It was a miracle they weren't down each other's throats yet — but the night was still young. "Hardly," He refuted with a scoff, the backup plan that was. It was only somewhat true, and he refused to succumb to it when they were in the state that they were. "He was worried it would be... uncomfortable,"  Harlan explained, finally seriously, his tone matter-of-fact.

"I think I'm just the distraction, though," He raised an eyebrow. "Y'know should anything go wrong," He eyed the room. "Tough crowd, your friends," He stated, though that didn't seem likely. They'd arrived just on time for the tipsy haze of most. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood. It was infectious.

A pint was handed to Harlan and he took it, looking over his shoulder for anyone who may have been paying too close attention. He had a plan for the night, and this wasn't it. The plan was to stick to something strong, something that he could hold onto for the night, trick people into thinking he was on their level. Beer though, he sucked down like water.  A lager, nonetheless. "Thanks," He nodded in her direction, both flattered she'd remembered his taste and wishing she hadn't.

Shots. He groaned. He could have stopped the trajectory of his body easily, but it was her birthday, so he followed. He imagined that one shot, at least, would be in his night, but anything more than that and he was going to have to draw the line. There was more than one reason he couldn't get drunk. "Only because it's your birthday," He pulled two glasses from the tray and handed one to Erika. It was tequila. He knew she would be pleased. "Just the one," He used that as his cheers, conjuring two thin slices of lemon and sucking on his own the moment the taste of liquor hit his tongue. He pulled the citrus from the rind and rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. "Why did we do that?" He shook his head.

"Right," Erika laughed, rolling her eyes skyward. "Of course you do. Merlin forbid anyone would think you'd take the time to write a card out," he joked. She thought it was very sweet and if he was here just to be a "buffer", he really didn't have to. "You didn't have to get me anything," she added afterwards but the gift he did give was very Harlan; oddly thoughtful, amusing and verging on inappropriate. Still, she folded the IOU into her pocket without any intention of cashing them in.

Harlan was in her peripherals but she smiled, her eyes sliding to him briefly before back to the happy couple. His scoff made her blink. "Come on," she grinned playfully. "That's never happened to you before?" The cursebreaker asked, amazed by how unscatched he seemed to have emerged from childhood. She couldn't count the amount of times she'd been playing gooseberry or her dates not turning up. Uncomfortable? "I'm uncomfortable," Erika winced as she watched them move. "I think they're attempting the lift from Dirty Dancing," she mused. "I bet your man's going to faceplant," she grinned, finally turning to face him.

"Wow," she whistled, eyes wide in surprise. "You're really not okay with just being in the background, are you?" She joked before she shrugged. "Yeah," she heaved a heavy sigh and offered Harlan a sympathetic smile. "They really don't like you." Turning to face him again, she looked past him to her friends and her heart swelled in affection. It was nice, surrounding herself with people that loved and cared for her. "Something about how you're too rough and unapproachable," she added before cracking a grin. "I'm kidding. They think you're brilliant."

But it didn't matter.

"Just the one," Erika agreed as she saluted him swiftly and downed the tequila, screwing her pretty face up in distaste and snatching a slice of lemon from his hand. "Oh no," he coughed, trying not to gag as she chewed on the fruit and instantly wished she hadn't. "Because it's my birthday," she replied in a sing-song tone, puckering her lips as she swallowed the remnants of the lemon before she heaved a shudder.

"And you could have said no," she told Harlan quickly, her eyes bright as they flicked across his face. "Oh," she said suddenly as the light bulb in her head went off. "Are you in training? Is that why you can't drink? You should have said!" Erika exclaimed, guilt washing over her as she extended her hand for his beer, wiggling her fingers impatiently for him to hand it over to her. "I'll have your beer. I can get you a juice. They have mocktails? Or a lemonade," she offered, gesturing to the bar. "Don't let me ruin your night or your regime."

The band's music was making her head bob as she drank, this time a pink drink with a flamingo shaped straw that was very sweet and very lethal. "You staying long?" She asked Harlan over the bass, wondering if Chantel and his friend had him locked for the entire evening. "And does the IOU have an expiry date?" She grinned. "You know, just so I can find a day to slide it into my diary."

It struck Harlan as he followed Erika's attention to her friends just how much younger they were. If memory served him right, he would say she was in her mid-twenties now, an age that, for him, felt like another lifetime ago entirely. He grimaced through another healthy mouthful of beer, bored by the internal monologue he'd been struggling with more as of late  — the idea of his best used by date. Apparently, it hadn't just been pertinent to his career.

"I prefer rough and unapproachable if I'm honest," He shook the existential crisis as quick as it'd come.

The shot had been a terrible idea, of course. A terrible idea that he had gone along with. The only upside to the burning of liquor and citrus in his chest was watching Erika's reaction to it, her face contorted into some mixture of pain and pleasure. He couldn't help but pull half a smirk as he handed their glasses back to the bartender who was watching them with what he read as skepticism. Chantel and Paulie had tarnished the group already, apparently.

"Oh come off it," Harlan pulled the bottle back in defense, grinning at her outstretched hand. Erika was right — the season and his training were a few of many reasons why he planned on limiting his drinking — but she started it so he had to finish it. Juice. He made a face. "Hasn't stopped me before," Regime being ruined by drinking, that was. Hell, the Griffins were notorious for some level of debauchery. Harlan sank the rest of the beer to prove a point, eyes stuck on her over the bottle.

Another round. Erika had gone for something tropical, a birthday concoction just for her, and Harlan opted to stick with beer, his back pressed against the bar as much as possible to avoid the other patrons. The things he did for friends, he thought smugly to himself, elbows rest behind him on the marble. Was he staying long? In truth, Harlan didn't know. The intention was certainly not to be there longer than he needed to be. 'We'll see," He glanced over to their friends with a shake of his head.

"Valid until the next birthday," Harlan decided after a moment of deliberation, catching her eye before scanning the crowd again. "Surely, the diary isn't too full?" He teased, voice just a level higher to cut through the increasing volume of the band and the crowd. "Really," He nodded to the growing mass of people, fingers briefly touching the side of her arm to get her attention. "Hey, don't let me keep you," He was aware that she may have been entertaining his company since his company had become otherwise occupied. He felt a bit like the Grinch on Christmas.

"Of course you do," Erika replied gently, already a handful of drinks down and definitely ready to drop some truth bombs. "Because it's easy," she shrugged. "And all girls like someone who looks aloof and dark and dangerous." Harlan fit the mould of most women's daydreams. Tall, broad, a little rough around the edges, looked like he could give an impressive hug. "And you're scared." She saluted him with her glass.

As the bottle was pulled out of her grasp, she laughed and rolled her eyes. "I'm only ever thinking of you," she teased. She nodded in agreement. "Maybe it should," she ventured gently, an eyebrow arched. From what she was aware, his team were top flight and climbing higher. "You'll have to forgive me," Erika tacked on, speaking above the music. "I've been out of the country for the past six months or so, so I've really no idea what you've been up to. Not been arrested yet, then?" She offered a sparkling smile. Rather than being impressed with him sinking a beer he didn't even want, she tutted darkly and shook her head. "That's how you keep getting yourself into trouble."

Erika found herself hanging as she waited on Harlan's response. She thought he was fun. He was easy-going and funny and, for a man of his fame, surprisingly pleasant. Her bright blue eyes shifted to follow his gaze and she grimaced. "They're a disgrace," she added fondly. "If I ever do that when I get a new boyfriend, promise me you'll tell me to pack it in."

When  he told her she had another year on the homemade coupon, she laughed. "Of course it's full," she answered as she sipped her drink. "I'm a modern, cosmopolitan woman," she told Harlan lightly. "But it's the job," she finally admitted. "I can't put any roots down right now so I don't know what I'm doing tomorrow, let alone months ahead. I like to think it makes me mysterious but it just ends up with people getting mad at me." It was a joke. Sort of.

Harlan's fingers on her arm made her look across at him as she ignored the hairs that stood to attention. "You're not keeping me," Erika said brightly with another sunny smile. "I think things are dying down, actually." With that, some friends came over and enveloped her in a hug, dropping kisses on her cheek and saying thank you before they trickled out, either home or onto other bars in the city. "Talk about clearing a room," she joked, snorting into her cocktail.

Erika blew at her hair as she watched Harlan's friend and Chantel practically eat each other's faces off in the middle of the dancefloor. It was having an effect. The opera patrons who had come for a quiet drink were hastily shrugging on jackets, shooting glances their way and Erika simply gave them a big thumbs up in response. "I think they'll be fine," she added gently. "Chantel doesn't live far and I'm fairly certain your man there is going to be glad to walk her home."

She swiftly buttoned up her jacket and nodded to the table of presents that she really didn't deserve. "Speaking of, I'd really better clean those up. Fancy giving those muscles a try? Thanks for coming!" Erika called as she grappled a young man in a hug and laughed as he squeezed her before letting her go. With Harlan behind her, she very carefully loaded him up with wrapped boxes, making sure he was okay as she stacked them, hooking a gift bag on his finger and taking some for herself.

Erika was loaded down with sparkly bags, taking extra care with the ones that felt like they contained bottles of alcohol. She squeezed through the bar, a tangle of pink glittery balloons bumping about behind her as she exited into the neon drenched Parisian street. She walked on, trusting he'd follow. "So," she said brightly, expertly dodging a deep crack in the pavement. "How are things with you?" She turned to look at him quickly before pausing. "Do you want some tacos? I'm starving."

Harlan kept an eye on Erika between canvassing the bar and watching his friend, making sure he didn't get too bold with any hand placements— there was certainly a lot to keep up with given she was tucked under the embrace of someone new every time he turned back around. He suppressed a smile over the lip of his bottle of beer, watching her enthusiasm, even in saying goodbye. He was impressed. It was almost infectious. And for him, that was saying something.

Talk about clearing a room. He scoffed, pretending to be gravely offended by the accusation. Really, though, that was his dream, people leaving because he'd arrived. Some peace and quiet. "Maybe your party just isn't all that great," He teased, leaning into her side and lightly elbowing her shoulder.

He wasn't given an option in the matter of helping her clean up, but he would have either way— he couldn't trust anyone else there to do the job correctly. Perhaps the challenge of his strength had something to do with it, but he brushed that aside. "Haven't got anymore?" He peered around the stack of boxes with a grin. It wasn't that they were all that heavy, it was the obstruction of his vision that was going to be a problem. He hoped their final destination wasn't far off.

"I—" Harlan opened his mouth to provide some kind of answer as to how he was, half frowning— small talk wasn't really his thing. It wasn't their thing, either. Thankfully, she changed the subject. Tacos. He recalled that she had a thing for Mexican food. "Sure," He shifted the boxes in his arms, pausing. Why not? It was still early enough. "I'm assuming you know a place?" It was Erika, of course she did. She knew that place, everywhere. "Are the gifts coming, too?" Harlan propositioned. Turning up somewhere with a parade of balloons following him wasn't exactly his idea of fun.

The night air was cold and she didn't bother to fix her face as it wrinkled in distaste. Winter was always long in the city, she noticed, faintly annoyed at all the rain and the grey. "You okay back there?" Erika asked with her mega-watt smile, turning so she was facing Harlan and walking backwards without a care in the world. She knew these streets by now and even in her tipsy state, she knew where the deep cracks where and what to side step.

"You make a lovely pack mule," the tall blonde told the taller man with a cheeky grin, her balloon high in the air as it bounced along beside her. She was happy. Paris stretched out before her, a maze of streets drenched in neon lights. She'd had a nice night, surrounded by people she loved and she'd bumped into an old friend. How lucky was she?

At Harlan's question, she snorted and rolled her large eyes. "Mate," she joked, playfully exasperated. "Of course I know a place. Amateur," she tutted in jest with a shake of her head. That was the thing with Erika; she had an uncanny knack to get her hands on almost anything. Goblin gold in the middle of the rainforest? Yep. Rare and hexed jewels hidden deep in the underground? No problem. Lebanese food at four in the morning? She had it covered. On they walked with Erika skipping over puddles as she went before she laughed as though his anguish was funny.

"Well, I can't just leave them here," she answered. "I know you're no gentleman but do a girl a favour, would you?" She smiled. "It's not too far, I promise. Then I'll take them off your hands," she gently coaxed him as though Harlan was a stubborn ox...but that wasn't really a stretch too far.

Erika lead Harlan through the Parisian streets in companionable silence, her shiny blonde ponytail swishing in response before they crossed the road and headed towards a small restaurant on the corner. It had a red painted exterior with a green striped awning and a small selection of tables and chairs outside of La Parrilla. The lights were still on but there was no one inside and a bell over the door chimed as Erika pushed it open. "Ladies first," she winked as she held it open for him.

It was clear and bright inside, with mismatched tables and bunting across the ceiling. The walls were a warm shade of terracotta and there were a series of photographs, taken by the owner, proudly showing off his hometown. Switly, she helped him with her gifts, carefully taking them from his hands and making a neat little pile on the floor and tying her balloon to her left wrist as though not to lose it. Standing to her full height, she gave a cheery wave to the man behind the counter who, in return, gave her a big thumbs up.

"So," she began as she dropped into her seat and handed Harlan a menu as she flicked through it, despite knowing already what she wanted to eat. "This place is my favourite. It's got the best tacos around," she gushed as she already decided she was also going to get tequila flavoured beer to go with it. "Order whatever. It's my treat. Hello," she said brightly as Francisco appeared and dropped a kiss on each of her cheeks, causing her to giggle.

"Tacos al pastor?" He asked with a grin that made his moustache quiver and she nodded. "Please." Francisco's eyes shifted to Harlan before back to Erika. "Lay the chili on me," she added gamely, causing him to take both of their menus and depart, muttering something that sounded a bit like don't come crying to me. She blinked in mild surprise.

Erika shrugged off her jacket and hung it on the back of her chair as she held out a bottle to Harlan as they arrived. She took a swig and coughed, shuddering a little. "A galleon says I don't remember any of this tomorrow," she joked but actually really rather meant it. "How's training?" Erika asked Harlan conversationally, despite him knowing damned well she was a Montrose Magpies fan. Suddenly, their food arrived and Francisco had added a birthday candle in her taco and she laughed again. "Make the wish!" he cooed as he sat the plates and down and watched her keenly. Shooting Harlan a glance, she smirked before she closed her eyes and blew it out.

"Gladly, thank you," Harlan said over his shoulder. He was immediately innundated— steam blurred his vision, flying behind a man that had full plates stacked up to both of his shoulders, the smell the dishes a mix of various spices and flavors, lingering. He wasn't particularly hungry until that moment.

"Of course you know a place," He repeated to himself as he unloaded all of her gifts, in awe of how she had discovered something like this in the heart of Paris. Thankfully, their table was tucked away in a corner, so he had room to stack, and room to avoid the mass of other patrons. It was late for dinner, even for Europe, yet still, there were families, and couples, and people dashing in and out for a takeaway.

It was her treat. Harlan made a face that suggested in no way was he going to let that happen, on her birthday especially. At some point in the meal, once she was lulled into a false sense of security by way of tacos and beer, he would sneak away 'to the bathroom' and get the bill. "I'll take the same," He nodded appreciatively to the server who ran back to the kitchen.

"Not too bad," He sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest in thought. "Think I'll be regretting this tomorrow, though," Harlan half grinned and gestured to the beer. The shots she'd guilted him into at the party probably weren't going to help, either. "Season's been going well," A bit of an understatement given their current rank in the league, but he left it at that.

Their food arrived fast— almost too fast, but he didn't question it. If the crowd, and Erika's high praise, were any indication it was going to be good either way. Harlan raised an eyebrow at the makeshift taco-cake and smirked. How very Erika.  "Good wish?" Once the parade of staff left their table he relaxed again, tucking into one of the tacos on his plate. At first bite, he sat back farther in his chair and let out a groan.

"Merlin— fuck," He reached for a paper towel from the freestanding roll between them and wiped his mouth. "That is good," Again, he shouldn't have been surprised. "Should've just had your birthday here," He teased with a grin, taking a swig of beer. It was something imported, the residue from the lime that had been pushed into it mingled well with taste still left in his mouth from the taco.

"Do you know how many restaurants there are in Paris?" Erika asked Harlan conversationally as they settled themselves down. "Around forty thousand." She grinned. "And have I ever let you down before? Trust the process, Mr. Bellamy," she added in a sing-song tone.

It was an explosion of colour and smell in the restaurant. It was gaudy by Parisian standards, sure, but that was what she loved about it. She laughed about the shots and the tacos and how he'd probably feel a bit rough in the morning. "Don't tell your coach and I'll go quietly," she joked as she pressed her wrists together and held them across the table for him to pop on a pair of imaginary handcuffs.

"I'm doing you a favour," Erika replied as she took a swig of beer. "What do you normally eat? Boiled chicken and rice?" The tall blonde pulled a face. "Again, you could have said no," she offered him a grin. The problem with Harlan was that he wanted to have fun - she could tell - he just sometimes had a bit of trouble letting himself go. "C'mon," she chided him as she held a bottle of beer out for him to take, dangling precariously from her slim fingers as she waggled it in temptation. "Take your foot off the gas, just for tonight."

Though hearing things were going well wasn't really a shock. As out of touch as she was, Erika had still heard a trickle of sporting news. "Amazing," she added brightly with another smile. She'd already seen three people wearing Griffins' merchandise this week alone. "I think my brothers managed to score tickets to your next game," she added conversationally. "My family is up in arms. They love you guys," she grinned. "Say hi when you see them. You can't miss them, really. They're about eight feet tall and look a bit like Vikings." All of the Tricketts did.

She smiled fondly as the staff receded and left her with her taco before she looked up at Harlan quickly. "If I tell you, then it won't come true. You know the rules," she joked before she delicately picked up her food and took a bite. Still, she nodded. "Just the usual. World peace, warm weather, all of the clothes in the sale rail come in my size," she quipped.

While she didn't have the decency to blush, she did clear her throat gently as Harlan ate his food. Her big bright eyes watched him closely as he reclined, an eyebrow raised. "So, am I forgiven? I told you. I'd never steer you wrong," she nodded as she picked up her taco and dipped it in a little pot of salsa. He really should not make that noise in public.

With her mouth full, her eyes widened as she tapped the table in excitement at his comment. "Right?" Erika managed to reply once she'd swallowed. "Next year, maybe," she grinned, dimples appearing in both of her cheeks as she added way too much cheese in her tortilla.

"But for real," Erika added as she chewed her food, them both being left alone momentarily. "Did you come all the way to Paris, just to make sure your friend was okay? Or did you really come to see me?" She watched him closely, knowing full well that he wasn't really here for her but allowing her the faint whiff of a what it? "And you still haven't sung me Happy Birthday yet." With that, she placed her food back down and reclined in her seat, arms folded across her chest as she nodded, as though waiting for him to do just that.

Harlan cleared his throat. Try as he might, the image of her wrists pressed, handcuffed, sent his imagination down a path that was hard to not focus on. He and Erika were friends, they had been for quite some time. One occasion (another in the morning) aside— those thoughts had no place here.

"Fine, fine, sure," Harlan took a pull from his bottle of beer, leaned back against the plastic chair as if that would satiate taking his foot off the gas. She was right, though, he was wound up. Most days, it like there were a ton of bricks on his shoulders— the pressure of his position, where they were in the season, weighed heavily.

Wiping his mouth with the ball of a paper towel, he settled back further. This was his kind of place— no one knew him, no one gave a shit, he could relax. "Eh, it's alright." Harlan teased as Erika asked if she was forgiven for his gluttony. Truthfully, he had no doubts about her taste, but it was fun to give her a hard time.

Pausing mid-bite, he considered the question. Why had he come? He could have just as easily sent a card. His gift, an IOU he'd written in a fervor before apparating, was not one that needed to be delivered in person. The restlessness that plagued him popped into his head, but Harlan brushed it aside. He was being a friend. Nothing more and nothing less. "Of course I came to see you," He shrugged, washing the taco down with beer, turning serious at the mention of singing.

"You do not want that—" Harlan corrected immediately. Him, singing, in any capacity, was not a good idea. After a moment, he spoke up again, thoughtfully. "Did you have a nice night, though?" He wasn't there for most of it, but he was curious. Birthdays were a strange occasion. Bittersweet.

"Have you not tried meditation? A lil' bit of yoga?" Erika asked him quickly as he leaned back, drinking from her bottle. While they weren't close, they were still friends and she didn't like seeing anyone she cared about suffering. She grinned quickly. "Do it in private, if you ever get a minute to yourself." She was about to wager that he was very rarely alone, either with his team or a lady. "There's a sunrise class in a couple of days. You should come along." It didn't matter that she knew exactly how he looked in the mornings already.

It was alright, he'd said, and she laughed. "High praise indeed," she added lightly before she chomped on a habanero pepper and didn't flinch. "I've got you," she winked as she added a spoonful of sour cream to her taco. "Any recommendations you need, I'm your girl."

Erika continued to eat, pausing to dab at the corner of her mouth with a paper napkin as she allowed herself to smile. Of course he came to see her. "Of course," the tall blonde echoed with a nod of her head, flicking her gaze to his briefly before away and over his shoulder. They didn't spend a lot of time together but it was always comfortable when they did. Harlan's expression darkened and she grinned.

"Oh no, I really do," the cursebreaker insisted before she rolled her eyes. "Spoilsport," she joked as she finished her food and leaned across the table to snatch the slice of pepper he hadn't touched. "Yeah, it was nice," she admitted with a smile. "I didn't have to buy a drink all night," she grinned as she wiped her fingers on the napkin delicately. "It's my warm up party." She paused in case he was confused before she carried on.

"My family is huge," she explained but he already knew. "I don't think they could all fit in the club so the other party is tomorrow. You definitely made the right choice in picking to come to this one," she added, her eyes wide in mock terror. "They would have definitely made you sing," she joked as she popped the pepper into her mouth and chewed. "But hey," she began as she pushed her chair back and stood. "If you aren't going to serenade me, then you've got to help me carry my stuff home."

Erika fluffed her hair and shrugged her blazer back on, tucking some Muggle notes beneath her plate to pay for the food before offering a wide grin and a wave at the staff as they wished her another happy birthday. "Really cute," she mused as she stooped to collect her things, politely holding the door open for Harlan with her foot as they stepped back into the chilly night air.

They walked in companionable silence and they must have looked so unusual,  her with her gift bags and balloon bumping along behind her and Harlan, looking like the ever-suffering boyfriend. "Take a left," she instructed as they crossed the road and headed down a typical Haussmannian street - tree lined with tall, white washed apartment buildings either side. She struggled with her gifts, letting out a grunt of annoyance as she fished her for keys, before extracting the set and unlocking the cheery red door with needed an extra wiggle of the key and a shove to open.

A long index finger pressed the button for the lift and she waited patiently as she heard it trundling down, stepping in before Harlan and pushing the button for the fourth floor. Exiting the lift, she stepped across the quiet hall and changed keys, pausing only when Harlan didn't follow. "Are you not coming in?" Erika asked as she loitered in the door way, her head tilted.

Blue eyes, alit under the fluorescent of the restaurant, followed Erika as she casually took a pepper from his plate and popped it into her mouth. "Ha," He shook his head with a laugh, trying to muster up disappointment. It was Erika, after all. Few could get away with such bad table manners, but if anyone could...

"Sounds like fun," Harlan hadn't meant to sound sarcastic. The Tricketts seemed to multiply by the hundreds— at Hogwarts, he remembered, there was one everywhere you turned. While hard to keep up with, in truth, he didn't have a bad thing to say about them.

Wiping his mouth his napkin, he sat back again in his chair. His empty plate reminded him to feel regret for eating so much, so quickly. Walk her home? "Ahh, I suppose I could do that..." He teased, starting to collect the boxes. "Only because I could use the walk," He added casually as they made their way outside. Of course, he would have done it anyway.

The cool Parisian air was a refreshing change of pace from the hot, steam-filled restaurant— Harlan let out a breath with it. "Aye aye," He mocked her, but dutifully followed the instruction, take a left. "Think I know the way from here," Harlan studied the lined street, trying to differentiate her place from the others, but failed. "Maybe not..." He conceded as she strutted up a building front that hadn't even been on his radar.

As they made their way up, the thought that had crept into his mind over dinner— that maybe he shouldn't be doing this— became increasingly loud. The last time he'd spent any time at Erika's house it was decidedly not to be a gentleman, or a friend, both of which he was currently trying to convince himself that he was capable of. He studied her from across the lift, but turned to the door before she caught on.

Was he coming in? Harlan hadn't realized that he paused at the entryway until he heard her from inside. "Yeah— "He almost apologized. Her place looked different. It was as warm as he remembered, light and airy, but he was seeing things now that he hadn't noticed before. Pictures of her friends and family, a plush white blanket draped over the couch— had she always had plants? Then again, he hadn't exactly been paying attention to the decor the last time he was here.

"Where do you want these?" He was quick to get back to the business of being a friend. It couldn't be that hard after all, just dropping them off, not lingering long enough to start second-guessing himself.

As Harlan assured her that he knew the way, she couldn't help but smirk. If he'd ever been to Manchester city centre, he'd soon realise that the Paris layout was similar. There was a lack of street signs and a twisting, turning rabbit warren of roads and avenues that, when dark, was nearly impossible to navigate. Erika had been living her on and off for a number of years now and even she wasn't sure of where she was half the time.

"If you need to remember for future reference, it's the one with the potted plant," she explained as she nodded to the small aquamarine coloured glazed pot, overflowing with brightly coloured geraniums. It was from a trip abroad and had seen better days. It had a number of cracks but she didn't mind. "You know, in case you need to pop by for any reason," she added with a sunny smile.

Out of habit, Erika tossed her keys and they landed in a bowl by the front door with a clatter as she shrugged off her jacket and launched that, too. It was one of her mother's bugbears, her messiness. It didn't matter how many times she'd tried to explain it using the term "organised chaos" but whatever.

She blinked at Harlan's apparent unease at coming inside so she stood back and opened the door wider. "Do I smell or something?" She joked as she let him enter, closing the door behind him. "Oh anywhere's good," she added casually, gesturing vaguely to the living room. "Just drop them there by the couch and I'll sort them out in a bit when I write my thank you cards." Speaking of cards, she carefully placed Harlan's behind the clock on the mantelpiece for safe keeping.

She went around and opened the balcony doors, the cool night breeze catching on the gossamer curtains before she headed to the fridge. On the door was a collection of post cards and fridge magnets, some rude, some a little bit tacky but she loved them. With two beers, she uncapped them with her teeth in a very ladylike manner before holding one out for him to take as she nodded towards the open balcony.

With a yawn, Erika rested her hands on the wrought iron building, her beer bottle hanging precariously over it as the lights of the city twinkled for miles around. "Pretty, right?" She asked Harlan with a grin, unsure if he was the type of person to appreciate a cityscape or an art gallery or anything of the sort. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled with a sigh before she drank from her bottle. "It's my happy place," she explained. Erika had never really tended to put down roots. Except for Cornwall and this apartment, she wasn't settled anywhere else.

"Do you have one?" She asked Harlan conversationally, remembering that he was very much a homebird that did not want to fly. Maybe that was why they'd never tried to start anything between them, simply because they were fundamentally different. "But thanks," she said suddenly, her eyes still on the classic Parisian skyline of jutting and uneven apartment rooftops. "For coming to my birthday and carrying all my gifts back. I'll forever remember you as my own personal pack mule," she joked before she grinned.

The whole not lingering plan he had come up with was derailed the moment the familiar crack and clank of a bottle cap met his ears. To Harlan's surprise, though, as his gaze found Erika from in the living room, the sound had come from her mouth. "Merlin's — "He began. With every option to use literally any fraction of her magic, she chose that. It was simultaneously fucking impressive and absolutely unnerving.

"— I could have opened that," He stepped aside from the armful of gifts he'd set on the coffee table. His fingers touched hers briefly as he took the bottle but instead focused on her attention to the balcony. It was cool, for Paris, the smell of the rain from the night still present in the late-night breeze. If he thought about it enough, he could believe that the rest of the world didn't exist, apart from right where he was.

"Mmhm," Harlan hummed in agreeance as his steel-colored eyes took into the cityscape. Somehow, despite, all of the similarities, the view felt innately different than that of his own flat. Though he figured that was just semantics. That, or the combination of tequila and hot sauce.

Did he have one? The wizard contemplated the question, taking a drink from the bottle and leaning forward on his elbows. He wasn't so sure that he did. If that was a good or bad thing, he didn't know. "Nothing like this," He glanced sideways to Erika who was still looking intently ahead, her blue eyes lit by the lights of the city, by the moon that now crept beyond the parting clouds.

"It's fine, really," He reassured with a laugh at the mention of being her personal pack mule. This wasn't the sort of thing that he could make a habit of, though. Somewhere in the back of his mind, while no lines had been crossed, he knew that they were creeping up more and more. "I am surprised there wasn't a line of blokes begging for the honor, though," Harlan teased, not averting his gaze. It was Erika, after all, he was certain there was a handful of suitors who would have been more than willing.