night & day [tara]

They'd done it.

They had actually fucking done it.

The Griffins had won the finals and Harlan wasn't sure that he had experienced a high like it for as long as he could recall—  hell, had he ever? That thought along with the one that reminded him he shouldn't be allowed to be so celebratory (given the last month) tugged at him from a distance. He was much too busy spraying another bottle of champagne over the heads of his team to dwell on it for too long, though.

After the match, they had returned to where it all began and ended for them— it was only natural, of course. Friends and family were invited to the impromptu gathering, the press too, (only at the entrance, as contractually obliged).

The Griffins management had done little to prepare, a testament to their faith. Truthfully, he didn't blame them, they were the underdogs— and almost always would be— so the chance that they might win at one point felt like a pipedream. With that said, they had done what they could with the place, roped in personnel to man the newly placed bars in the middle of the pitch, a large tent now canvassing the space, adorned in black and red and alive with energy.

Harlan was impressed. It almost made the interviews he had to give worth it.

The team had (somewhat) cleaned themselves— the captain himself was still battered— a bruise under his eye, the remnants of a busted lip that had been magically appended marking his face. He had changed out of his kit and into a black button-down and slacks, hair was still damp from the shower.

Once he'd made his way through the cacophony of cheers, and hugs, and kisses, and claps on the back, Harlan had started to make his way to the bar when a shout caught his attention. "You!" The familiar voice belonged to Tara Kingsley who was surprisingly, pleasantly so, sporting quite the grin. If he wasn't mistaken she looked proud. She pointed from the corner of the bar before trudging toward him for an embrace.

He wasn't sure if it was the adrenaline, or if he was just in a good mood, but he pulled her up from the ground, arms wrapped around her waist. "What, are you surprised?" He set her down and could practically feel the stares from her family now, who just so happened to own the team. The last time any of them had seen them together they were without a doubt yelling at each other (bonus if it was one of the times that she'd slapped him).

@Tara Kingsley

Finally! Finally finally finally!!! FINALLY! Tara couldn't stop laughing, crying, shouting at the top of her lungs, hugging her family members, friends, coworkers, anyone. The atmosphere was electric with glee and celebration and it felt like the party was alive. It was if the whole city was alive with their win. She could hear fireworks in the distant, a result of fans celebrating their home team victory in their own way. But she couldn't believe it and she could at the same time. THE GRIFFINS HAD FINALLY WON THE CUP!!

The lead up had been intense, nerve-wracking, filled with ups and downs, surprising comebacks, hope and doubt and the anticipation all mixed together for these past few weeks. Growing up in a family that lived and breathed by the sport, Tara was uncommonly good at rolling with the punches, navigating through the wild ride that was the Finals. But this? This was something she had hoped for, dreamed of, and had wanted so badly for her team for years. And it had finally happened! She literally kept saying "We finally did it!!" to random people as she walked around the room.

She had been in the owner's box with her family for the whole game. Her father shouting and blustering the whole game as usual, her mother blasé, almost disinterested, watching with a cool calm Tara had never managed to perfect. Her brother Niles kept rattling off stats on different players, their season highs, their last five games, anything that came to his mind that he thought someone would want to know. Tara had told him on multiple occasions to shut the hell up, but he was so zoned in, it was like he didn't hear her. She hadn't even seen her sister Blair today except this morning before the team had practiced before the match. She had been running non stop as the team's publicist and she wondered if Blair was happy that the team won or just happy that the playoff run was over. Either way, Tara wasn't shy about shouting out to the Griffins players as they flew around the pitch, heckling the other players, and calling out the refs angrily when they missed obvious fouls. She was surprised she even still had a voice right now, considering all the screaming she had done during the game.

But when it happened, when they had won, Tara had never felt happier. Her da had cried, her mum had immediately started organizing the after party with Blair, and Tara hopped up and down embracing her brother who was just as happy as she was. And now, she was making her way through the party, keen on reveling in the team win all night, wearing dark black jeans, a team jersey with her last name across the back, and black heeled boots with sharp silver stones. She had already found the team keeper and nearly tackled him with a bear hug, squeezing him so hard as she relived all of her favorite saves, his eyes sparking as they recounted the game. It felt like she was hugging someone every five seconds, so happy to see the front office and team staff together, celebrating the win. One huge group of people running together toward one goal, like a machine gaining speed and momentum as they went and they were just lucky enough to have been the one team that had won it all. She still couldn't wrap her mind around it!

Tara was slowly making her way to the bar, needing some well-deserved alcohol to celebrate the big win. But through the crowd, she saw his tall, familiar frame and she was moving toward him without a thought. "You!!" she had called out, pointing at him, pulled to him naturally as she smiled hugely and wrapped her arms around her, laughing as he pulled her off the ground, her dark hair swinging behind her. "You fucking did it! I don't care what people say about you, you are the best captain we've ever had," she said saucily as she brought her hands up to his face squeezing before she smacked a large kiss right on the corner of his mouth. "Now let me buy you a drink because damn that hit you made to their left chaser halfway through? It was killer," she said as she wedged herself between him and the bar and flagged down the bartender before sliding a beer into his hand and clinking hers against his.

She looked up at him and shook her head, smiling. Sure, they had history, but this? This was so much bigger and Harlan had had a lot to do with it. Hell, he had carried his team to victory and Tara was almost.. proud? Merlin, she wasn't sure who she was anymore, but hell if she cared. The Griffins had finally won!!

"What do people say about me?" Harlan teased, still holding her up as he puffed up like he just might do something about it.

Truthfully, he knew exactly what people said about him. Especially when he was first signed onto the Griffins. He was hot-headed— a liability. It didn't help, of course, that the previous captain was beloved, though incapable of taking them to that next level. Those first few years were rough. The team pushed back on him incessantly. But somehow, they had gotten there.

As they pulled back, he was surprised to feel her lips on the corner of his mouth. That was unexpected. He paused for a moment, brow furrowed as his grey-blue eyes studied her intently. That act (among others) was typically reserved for after they'd had a blowout fight, usually. Maybe she really was proud?

Harlan got it though. The mix of emotions was enough to make even him feel light, conflictingly so. It felt like he had been working to this for years— probably because he had— and now he had no idea what to do with himself. A drink, as Tara demanded, seemed like a good start.

"They got me back for that one..." Harlan smirked, gesturing to his eye as she forced her way to the bar, their proximity not lost on him. He did sneak a glance at the jersey as she pushed back to him with said beer. in hand "What, the Bellamy jersey was sold out?" He tugged at the side of the fabric. Not that he imagined she would ever publically endorse him, of course. Their history was a bit too complicated for that.

"Doesn't quite seem real does it?" He was uncharacteristically dreamy as he sank nearly half the bottle post-cheers. For the first time in a long time, it felt like he could finally breathe. The looming question of what now?, though, lingered. He needed to avoid that. At all costs. "You watch from the box?" The box, among the many, was the one that her family owned. It had the best view from the sky. He had seen her there, so he wasn't sure why he'd even asked.

"Nothing that is true," Tara replied in a sing-song voice, teasing, her green eyes sparking with amusing. "At least not now, anyway." It was their usual banter, but lighter. Probably because she wasn't being a raging bitch. But, hey, it's what happened when your team won the cup.

She was too busy getting drinks to notice his furrowed brow, her laughter ringing out as she bumped into one of the equipment managers and she had grasped his arm, grinning before wrapping her in a one-armed hug in triumph before she turned back to him, beer in hand. She took a slug of her beer and damn if it wasn't the best think she had ever tasted.

Tara grinned as she took in his eye, bruised and a little swollen, and shrugged. "Nothin' you can't handle," she said. She felt his hand on her jersey and she half turned, her chin on her shoulder as she looked over at him so she could see the name on the back. Kingsley, proudly emblazoned. It had felt like fucking armor when she had put it on just before the game and now it was a token of pride for her family, for this team, for their city. "As if I'd ever wear your fucking name on my back. You can wear mine though," she said with a smirk. "I'll get you one custom made. My gift to you for winning today."

She sighed, the exhale feeling shaky, as her chest felt tight with adrenaline and glee and just so full of happiness. Merlin, she'd never been this happy before. Tara shook her head slowly, barely believing it herself. "It doesn't! I still can't believe it. I know you always hope for it to happen, but Merlin, you pulled it out of the bag this year," she said, still in awe, still in disbelief, still reeling.

With a nod to his question about the owner's box and a grin, she sipped from her beer as she looked up at him, her back leaning against the bar. "Didn't you hear me yelling at you to clobber that little shit of a beater they have?" she asked with a laugh. The Kingsley's box had one of the best views and it was like she was in the sky playing beside them. It had been an exhilarating game to watch. Remembering something, her eyes sparkled as she said, "My da cried when we won!" Tara admitted with a smirk as she mentioned her father, the team owner, who was usually all business and strait-laced as they came. She was gonna remember that moment for years. A few tears had leaked down her cheek too but no way was she telling Harlan that.

"How do you feel though? How was it for you?" Tara asked, living off this high as long as she could, wanting to know more about how the game had felt to him, to be actually in it.

As if I'd ever wear your fucking name on my back. Harlan shook his head, fighting the grin that plagued him. Just as he expected. "Your gift, to me?" He repeated, placing a hand over his broad chest in disbelief. "What, I get to wear your name for all the work you do for the team?" He teased. Any other night, it probably would have turned serious now, but they seemed to be keeping things light. How could they not?
 
"You would be so lucky..." He clicked his tongue, shifting to face Tara as she leaned back against the bar. For something so exclusive, the place was packed.

Harlan rested an elbow against the glass counter in an attempt to avoid the flow of thirsty patrons behind him. He and the team seemed to have been the last arrivals, but things had really picked up since then. There was an energy here. It was electric. An overflow from the match, apparently. Usually, he would have been cross about it, but tonight, he felt nothing of the sort.

"Oh, that was you?" He referenced her yelling from the owner's box. He hated to admit that he had very well heard that in passing as he flew by. "Quite the mouth on you, Kingsley." Not that he would forget it.  "Did he? Really?" Harlan leaned forward in surprise. Her father, the Griffins owner, was a lot of things, but emotional was not one of them. "I'll have to find him tonight..." There was a whiskey with his name on it. Harlan scanned the crowd to find the familiar face, to no avail.

"I— " Harlan began, then paused, opened his mouth again but stopped to gather his thoughts. "— I've no idea if I'm honest," He sank what was left of his beer and nodded appreciatively to the bartender who seemed to be waiting for him to signal for another round. "As I said, it doesn't seem real," The captain let out a breath, holding her gaze a moment. "Told your parents they hadn't made a mistake with me..." He quirked an eyebrow mischievously.

She didn't fight the smile turning up her lips, just nodded regally, a small lift in her shoulders. "Yes, of course. It's a great fucking honor, Bellamy. Wise up," she quipped. Typically her words would have carried a bite, a sharpness, especially with Harlan. But tonight? It was all light-hearted, playful fun. Merlin, she didn't want this night to end. But! The champion parade through the city in a week was going to be epiccc. Tara couldn't wait.

Tara finished off her beer and slide the empty bottle behind her on the counter before nodding to the bartender who got her another a few minutes later, sliding an outrageous tip towards him with a little wink and a grin. She was being a little cavalier, but who the fuck cared. Hell, she would probably tip Harlan too just for fun if she knew it wouldn't go to his head.

She rolled her eyes and nudged him in the side with her elbow. "As if you couldn't hear me yelling at you," she said. "You're welcome, by the way," she added with a tilt of her head, her long dark hair flowing over her shoulder. "You never would have seen that bludger banking off the right if it wasn't for meee." Sure, she had screamed and yelled, leaning out over the box, her mum telling her to come sit down, her father gripping the rail tightly, but her and the other thousands of fans were all looking out for their captain. It was a team effort, except she didn't actually have to do any of the work. Pity.

"He did! I don't think I've ever seen him cry!" Tara added gleefully. It was the best worst kept secret she had ever had. She was pretty sure that she was going to tell every single person she ran into tonight. "He'll find you no doubt. Maybe sob a little on your shoulder, make sure you have your handkerchief ready. Oh and then he'll tell you that we need another win next year and he needs it not to be such a last minute comeback victory. Work on that, will ya?" Tara said with sarcasm, knowing her father all too well and how obsessed devoted he was to his team, but mostly to winning.

As Harlan glanced around, Tara felt her eyes wandering too. Oh! There was Blair, she gave a little wave of her fingers and then a nod toward Harlan and a thumbs up as if saying Look! We're not fighting. For once! She saw Roxy, who she would have to steal a moment with later and probably smooch on her too just to thank her for the win. When she heard Harlan's deep voice start and stop, she glanced back, looking up at him curiously. She could almost see his thoughts whirring around in his brain. Damn. She wondered if winning was a headfuck for players. Your whole life and career striving for one thing, one goal, one win and to have it all, to get it. Tara shook her head a little as if to refocus. All of these adrenaline was messing with her and her eyes met Harlan's, making her still. "Merlin, I hope I don't wake up tomorrow and this is all just a dream," she added, nodding, understanding what he meant. And she wasn't even on the fucking team.

And then he ruined it. She rolled her eyes and pushed him back a little, her hand on his chest. "For fuck's sake, again with that? Look, you were a terrible risk two years ago and luckily, luckily you somehow managed not to screw it up. Congrats!" She raised her bottle towards him with a laugh and drank.

"You're right, maybe we owe that—" Harlan nudged her and gestured to the cup on display in the middle of the pitch, alit in all of its glory. "— to you," He grinned despite himself. He'd seen the bludger coming before the cacophony of sound from the crowd met his ears, actually. That was just background noise when it came to the game. Admittedly, harsh, but he reminded himself that focus had always been his greatest asset. On and off the pitch.

Harlan sucked in a breath as Tara talked about her father, impression spot on. He could see it now, that little light in his eye despite the perpetual seriousness. Harlan himself hadn't always had a great relationship with his father (hell, never had), and Mr. Kingsley had come damn near close to what he imagined to be a healthy father and son dynamic might look like. It left him feeling more sentimental than he cared to admit.

Following her attention, his gaze landed on Blair. He rolled his eyes before giving her a nod. They had almost as contentious a relationship as he had with her sister— almost. "You know she's just waiting for you to punch me, right?" He turned back to Tara, relaxing again.

"Wow, you really know how to make a man feel good, Kingsley, a real gift," He teased. "Speaking of, where's—" Harlan paused to think. He'd only seen Tara with the bloke twice, so he wasn't sure why he was bringing it up now, but what better time? "— old mate with the goatee?" He figured she would know what he meant. He scanned the crowd again, avoiding any stares. It wasn't really a goatee, either, but he could dream.

She turned as she felt his shoulder nudge hers and followed his gaze to the cup, lit up like the badass trophy it was. All theirs. All of the world knowing they were the best in the league at this moment. Tara was grinning at their banter but she watched as some witches and wizards posed around the cup for a photo. “What a beauty though,” she said on a sigh. “You know we’re going to be drinking champagne out of that cup by the end of the night, right?” she asked, sliding her gaze to him, wondering which Harlan she was dealing with tonight. Either way, she was going to be living it up and the cup is what it was all about.

“Oh, you think?” Tara asked as he turned away from Blair, but she looked over curiously. Hmm. Well. “I’m not one to disappoint,” she said shortly just before she punched him in the stomach, albeit lightly because she didn’t have fight in her tonight. It was all about the victory. But she did turn back to look at Blair and give her a double thumbs up like Duty done!. Her sister had flounced her hair and weaved away in the crowd. Make that a double victory. She glanced up at Harlan with a smirk, “Sorry, buddy. You asked for it,” she said, not sorry in the least bit.

“Sorry that’s not my job,” she said with a laugh before taking another sip of her beer as she raised her brows at Harlan in question. Who? Oh right. “Ryder? He’s around here somewhere,” Tara said with a disinterested glance around the pitch. “He was a bandwagon fan, only started wanting to come to games with me once you guys were in finals. Fucking annoying.” She huffed an annoyed breath at the guy she had been seeing more off again than on again for the last few months. Who named their kid Ryder anyway. But speaking of... Tara gave Harlan a curious look, tucking her dark hair behind one ear.

“How are you doing with your recent... y’know,” she said, hinting at the recent breakup that Blair had shared with her, not that she was supposed to be telling him this. But hell, it’s not like she was the fucking press.

Silvery-blue eyes widened at the mention of drinking champagne from the cup. He had to admit the thought had crossed his mind— though he assumed the trophy would be under the careful eye of the management for the night, there was only going to be so much they could do to stop the team after they had a few drinks (especially with Tara on their side). They won it, they deserved to celebrate properly.

"Think you might've lost your touch, kid," Harlan cast a furtive glance down to where she had "punched him" in his side, raising an eyebrow as he turned back to Blair. She looked just as impressed, a roll of her eyes before turning to go do whatever life or death PR task was needed. "She needs to relax a little, your sister..." Rich, coming from him.

Ryder. Of course, his name was fucking Ryder. Harlan looked like he was thinking as much as well before he slapped a hand over his mouth to stop him from laughing. "I'm sorry, it's just— "He ran his hand over his jaw in thought, the coarse shadow of facial hair tough on his skin. Before he could belabor his point about how ridiculous a name like Ryder was (paired with that goatee as well) Tara continued. A bandwagoner.

"Classic," His face turned a bit more serious now. "Can have him out of here in the blink of an eye..." Harlan snapped his fingers as if to demonstrate. "Just say the word," He smiled, only vaguely threateningly. His reaction, he justified, had no part to do with whatever conflicting jealous feelings were swirling around in his chest. This was for friends and family, after all, and he suspected that this Ryder bloke was neither of those things.

Before she could even ask, he knew where the question was going. Fucking Blair. He had asked that they keep the breakup as quiet as possible during the finals, which she agreed was for the best. He remembered now that the finals were over, and he was going to have to deal with it eventually. "It's alright," Harlan pursed his lips in thought. "For the better, really," He continued, biting down on his bottom lip.

"Shot?" He swiftly changed the subject and signaled to the bartender. He was not nearly drunk enough for that conversation.

Think you might've lost your touch, kid. Tara rolled her eyes and gave her an exasperated look, irked as much by the thought that he assumed that was a real punch as she was by him calling her 'kid'. No wonder Blair had stalled to check on them because normally that would have set her on an edge. Tonight, she decided to take a long slug of her beer and watch her sister go 'handle' someone else. She slowly turned her head back to look at him, an amused smile on her face. "Surprised you guys haven't started a support group together yet. Merlin knows you both need to learn to relax," Tara said, her lips slowly turning up into a smirk.

She narrowed her gaze at him, her bottle stilling on the way to her lips as she watched him try to suppress the laughter. He didn't even have to say anything, she could guess. "Yeah, his name is Ryder. It's not like I fucking chose it," she quipped back, almost in defense, but there was laughter bubbling up under her words and it had her shaking her head. Merlin knew why she was still with him, but considering what was happening with the team over the past few weeks with the finals, she couldn't really spare extra time or energy to a guy she wasn't really interested in anymore.

"Oh really?" she asked with a tilt of your head as he mentioned being able to get rid of Ryder, then made a show of glancing around. "Are you going to ask Roxy to handle him for you?" she joked. As if she needed his help to dump her doofy boyfriend. As if she would accept help from him to do it.

Tara watched his face, trying to decipher his reaction as she asked about his recent failed relationship. For the better, really. Hmm, yeah sure, mate. "So she broke up with you, did she?" she guessed with a grin before he suddenly changed topics. She nodded with a smile, agreeing easily, signaling the bartender with two fingers tapped to the bar and ordering a couple of shots for them, but she glanced back at him. "These are on me," she said graciously as she handed him the shot glass and grinned. As if they were paying for anything tonight. Daddy Kinglsey was putting all of this on his tab and Tara for sure wasn't holding back. She had ordered top shelf for them. "What should we toast to other than being the best fucking team in the league?"

Harlan braced himself for impact (he recalled her particular fondness of being called "kid"), though nothing came. She really was in a good mood. He wondered briefly what else he might be able to get away with for the night given her disposition, but on second thought, decided that they both better capitalize on not being at each other's throats for once. He would play fair. Tara did suggest a support group for he and Blair, which he pretended to seriously consider before rolling his eyes through a grin.

"Oh, defensive..." He commented to no one in particular, his smile pulling up into something of a smirk, though he tried to be subtle about it. He hadn't ever known her to be defensive about a man (in a way that wasn't related to what happened on the pitch), and truthfully she wasn't being that now, but he to at least give her a bit of a hard time for it. Christ, the guy's name was Ryder, and apparently a bandwagoner. No redeeming qualities as far as he could see.

As the conversation shifted to his relationship status, Harlan tensed. Talking about things of the personal variety was never easy for him (or comfortable, even). Particularly given he hadn't really worked through everything yet. The breakup happened in the midst of the finals, and Harlan had used that as his excuse to throw himself more so than ever into training. Again, he was reminded by the trophy to their left that that was over now, and he was going to have to face it eventually.

But not tonight.

"Something like that..." He offered with a noncommital shrugged. It seemed that was his forte lately, not committing. "On your father, you mean?" Harlan corrected with a grin and a light elbow to her shoulder. Genuinely it meant a lot that she was happy to breeze over the subject, at least for now. Give him a few hours, and few more shots and he'd probably be half-drunk and talking about it anyway.

"To the Kingsleys," Glass clinked against hers before taking a shot in one fluid movement. It was no secret all that he owed her family, especially now. "And to not talking about relationships anymore," He corrected with a shake of his head. He figured he could give up bashing that Ryder bloke if that meant he was also off the hook.

She could almost see him mulling over the idea of a support group with Blair and she snickered as she looked up at him. "I can see you're considering it. I won't tell Blair, promise. Otherwise, she'll be scheduling the meetings, typing up agendas, and making you the secretary."

Oh, defensive.. Ugh, she had forgotten how much Harlan knew just how to press her buttons. It was a good thing he had done that little thing of winning the quidditch cup tonight otherwise they would probably be winding up for Wizarding War III. "Not defensive, just the truth," she muttered with a shake of her head.

His noncommittal answer only made her want to know more. She had begged Blair for more details, but her sister had been surprisingly tight-lipped. Even after Tara had offered to take her binder shopping for some new organizational supplied. Where this new found loyalty to the captain came from, she didn't know, but being nosy curious was one of her best traits. Besides, now that they had completely and entirely figured out that something between them would just never work - and they had had the fights and battles to prove it - Tara wanted to know all the details. Luckily enough, he was the one that had suggested the shots. Tara didn't know of a better natural truth serum than shots.

"Yeah, putting it on his tab, shh don't tell," she said with a grin. "Order whatever the hell you want." Was that party going to be cheap? Hell no. But did they deserve it? Hell yes!

Tara nodded and then nodded again as Harlan toasted and she added "And to the best beater on the Griffins!" she said before clinking her glass against his and then tipping her head back to swallow it all. It slid down her throat smoothly and then she grinned, her green eyes dancing. Never a good sign. "Speaking of the best beater, where is Roxy?" she asked devilishly. Couldn't let the compliment go to his head.

"He won't mind— it's for me— Phil loves me," Not Mr. Kingsley, not even Phillip, Harlan deliberately used her father's nickname as a display of their friendship. He figured he could call it that. Ever since that night in Germany after a particularly messy loss when the two of them were last men standing post leadership personnel stitch up, he knew that they would get along just fine. They weren't all that different, he was surprised to find. Tara's father was just as painfully serious as he could be, with that streak of mischief somehow always in the current.

Tequila. He could have guessed that from her. It was clearly good tequila, too, the burn was crisp and smooth as it hit his chest. For a moment he was surprised to hear her be so complimentative— the whole best beater thing— but in true Tara form, there was a catch. Harlan let out a chuckle. "I can't argue with that," He held his hands up in defeat. Roxy was one hell of a Beater.

"Where the hell is Roxy?" Harlan scanned the room, caught Rob schmoozing with a handful of women (even as a trainer, he cleaned up), but no sign of his raven-haired co-captain. "She's got to be my support up there...." He scanned the stage that been procured and looked like it was still in the process of being set up. "Apparently I've got to give a speech," Harlan explained. "Speaking of—" He gestured to the bartender for another round.

"No throwing anything, you..." He looked over his shoulder at Tara, more seriously now. It was worth the warning, knowing her.

Phil loves mes. Tara grimaced and made a noticeable retching move as she raised a hand to her lips. "Ugh, don't pull the whole 'best friends forever with my dad' thing. You'll creep me out even more than you usually do," she said with a shake of her head. Merlin, she couldn't even imagine her father and Harlan being buddies. Seeing her dad cry tonight was enough of a familial revelation she was willing to have tonight.

She grinned as he agreed with her Roxy quip and glanced around for her friend. She needed to properly congratulate her as well, probably with a 'That's my girl!' and a playful swat on the bum. "I haven't seen her yet," Tara added as they both scanned the room, eyeing up the stage that was buzzing with activity. She couldn't even see her sister and she knew Blair was over there directing people with a militant urgency. "Go on, get up there," she said nudging him towards the stage. She laughed as he warned her, damn he knew her too well. "Alas, I’ve left all of my rotten tomatoes at home that I usually use for this occasion. Don’t forget to mention me in your speech," she called out after him as she winked and shooed him away towards the stage.

Turning, she ordered two more beers which arrived hastily and she tipped generously as she double fisted her beers before she heard a deep voice just over her shoulder. "Hey beautiful, I noticed that you---" Tara glanced at the guy and held up her hand with a sigh.

"I’m gonna stop you right there. It's appreciated, but it’s gonna be a no from me tonight, beautiful." Tara said, interrupting him before he could even start. Merlin, a few beers in a guy and they make all sorts of bad decisions. She eyed him for a second, a little grin appearing on her face. Not that she judged bad decisions, she kind of thrived on them herself. Still wasn't going to work for a guy that opened with 'Hey, beautiful." At least Ryder wasn't that douchey. Well, not usually. Where was he anyway?

Tara did give him the second beer that she had ordered for herself as a parting gift (look at how nice she was tonight! Merlin, she wanted to pat herself on the back!) before she started weaving her way toward the stage to get a better view. She could see her dad and mum off to the side, Blair speaking at light speed to a tech wizard who looked scared shitless, and the Griffins whole team start to assemble on stage. Tara grinned, taking it all in, wanting to remember every freaking moment.

His speech had gone as well as it could have— Harlan was by no means as good on the stage as he was in the pitch— and it showed, but it helped to have his team behind him. Quite frankly, he was uncomfortable with the attention, but he figured it came with the title, having to say a few words, so he obliged. He kept it concise and to the point, scanning the crowd of familiar faces (some more than others), and found that he focused on a select few for clarity when it seemed his emotions might take over.

Harlan was damn proud. And he had hoped that he had conveyed that, in his own own way.

In the midst of it all, he had spotted Tara, with Thibault no less. The kid was new to the team and hadn't played a single second in a game, but he carried himself like he won it all. Harlan had fought to keep straight face a the time but lost it as soon as Tara found him in the crowd in the aftermath. "What, no tomatoes?" He teased, turned to clap the back of the man that had congratulated him with a hug as he strode past, and then resumed. "And no drink..." He clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

"Sorry about Thibault—" Harlan was pushed toward Tara in the moving crowd, filled to the brim with energy.