if i had a tail [kate]

Interesting, Kate said. Oysters. Fucking interesting! Not his first word of choice. Harlan couldn't help but grin through the mouthful of champagne he'd reluctantly put back, swallowing the bubbles with a shake of his head. How very unamerican of her to be so discrete with her opinion, he thought to himself.

"Have another, then?" He raised an eyebrow as if to dare her, gesturing to the tray— he could see how she really felt, thus his question was entirely rhetorical, but it was fun to tease her.

The sound of nails on glass was only a temporary distraction from the pressure of her leg back against his own. He supposed he had started that, even if he hadn't fully realized, either way, it was hard to not think about. "Really?" Harlan turned serious. He had known about the breakup from Honey. Not intentionally. He wondered if Kate had known that her ex had been confiding in his once girlfriend (what a strange word for it now, in hindsight).

He knew better than to ask. None of that was his business. And truthfully, he wanted to put as much distance between that, and him, as possible.

"Ohh, your award is now void, I'm afraid," Harlan clicked his tongue before half-standing behind the table of their booth. "Audrey—" He raised a hand to get his sister's attention before sitting back again into where Kate's leg was wrapped around his ankle. Audrey, quite frankly, could not care less, in all reality, and neither could Harlan. "Kidding," He smiled, uncharacteristically bright.

Kate had turned to shift to look in the direction that he led and he noticed the back of her dress again, this time up close. Without thought, he touched the oversized bow at the neck, the white fabric draped over the open back of her exposed skin. "This is nice," He commented as he touched it. "Very practical, as well..." He teased, giving it a little tug before turning back to his drink. Even champagne would do at that point.

Have another. Of course she should’ve known, if she hadn’t been completely honest about how horrible the slimy thing was that slid down her throat, he’d urge her to eat another oyster. She’d feel rude if she didn’t, and while Kate didn’t like to necessarily be cornered into things (inadvertently or not--unless they were of a very specific nature), she liked being thought of as an uppity bitch even less. She was sure plenty of people thought that, what with news coverage on her past relationship and her attitude toward it being… completely inaccurate.

“Fine, I will,” Kate dared him, and raised her eyebrows as she picked up another shell, daintily, with her skinny fingers. She screwed up her face again, unsurprisingly, as she chewed a couple of times and tried not to gag as it went--stubbornly--down. “Nope. My opinion is still the same, unfortunately. I don’t like to disappoint new friends, but--” Kate stopped in her tracks and grinned, mostly at herself, for calling this man her friend. Of course he wasn’t her friend.

Your award is now void. He had a sense of humor, underneath all that steely-ness. She wondered if he got more fun or markedly less when he drank more. It seemed inappropriate to ask, and maybe he wasn’t the type to be self-aware enough to know that anyway.

Her shoulder shook as she laughed anyway, and Kate rolled her eyes. “Come on, spare me, don’t encourage her. I thought that her backhanded speech about. How simultaneously awesome and horrible I am was never going to end.” It was also inappropriate to be venting to this man, who again (remind yourself, Kate) she barely knew, but here she was, despite it all, doing just fucking that.

“Practical?” A singular eyebrow shot up her forehead this time, and Kate set her jaw as she weighed what to say in her mouth. “Like. Practical looking or practical for using?” She knew the answer, of course, she wasn’t Demure Debbie like everyone thought she was. “I admit, I’ve only worn this dress once, so I haven’t taken it off--but the bow would probably make disrobing pretty quick.”

This was insane. Who was this person, speaking for her? Whose words were coming out of her mouth? She disbelieved, over and over tonight, that she shared a brain with this very woman she’d become.

Harlan was impressed. In truth, he hadn't expected Kate to step up, but she had. Well, kind of. It was clear that she enjoyed the second oyster even less than she had the first and his face pulled into amusement in return. If he were better he would have felt bad for having suggested it, but then again—

"Well now you know," He pressed back against the booth, quirking a brow at her use of descriptor. Friends, were they? And he'd been just about to tell her that she had no obligation to stick around. The oysters had been had, his job for the night was done. Besides, the question lingered as to why she wanted to be anywhere near his sister after the fiasco that was her introductory speech. "Alright, alright, easy, then, still my sister," He wagged his finger but couldn't fight a grin for too long.

She wasn't wrong.

Running his tongue over the back of his teeth, mouth slightly agape, the wizard contemplated how best to answer. Lying seemed less and less viable with each second that fucking look was plastered on his face, the one that said exactly the option that came to mind. Before he could answer, though, Kate continued and he let out a breath that he attempted to mask with a laugh, running his hand over his mouth briefly.

"No comment..." Harlan held his free hand up to convey his innocence, whatever of that he had left. He hadn't initially meant it in the way that she might have been thinking, so he justified, but at the idea, his steely blue eyes met hers for a fraction longer than he had before.

Still my sister, he told her, and Kate could relate to that sentiment on more than one count. She had a sister who frequently embarrassed her and acted out-of-pocket, but of course, they were family. She still loved her and she’d do anything for her, despite having been told by her ex-husband and several family members that Francesca was a complete nuisance. They weren’t wrong, but love blinded her. It usually did that; familial love or not.

“Yeeeah, I know the feeling,” she told him with her eyebrows raised. “I have a sister too. I’m younger, but. She’s the handful.” Or was she, really? Fran was far more independent when it came to relationships than Kate was. Kate, perhaps, had more agency and independence financially--but she consistently felt more tethered to others. And, consequently, to getting them out of whatever shitty situation they’d managed to land themselves in.

He was very quiet, she thought again, probably for the tenth time that night. Harlan also had a distinct habit of covering his mouth any time his body told him to show any emotion--and Kate wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Men were taught from infancy that any kind of emotional display was vulnerability and that was the same as weakness, but surely he’d have wised up to the fact that that concept was bullshit by now, right? He was--what. Thirty? Thirty-five? She gulped.

“Really?” Kate grinned widely, shocked that he hadn’t taken the opportunity she’d so blatantly given him to be inappropriate, “You have no comment? Like, zero?”

Wrapping his hand around the champagne coupe, the voice in the back of his mind (fueled by his mother, those god damn childhood etiquette coaches, and, on that night, his sister) came to the forefront and gave pause. Subtly, his fingers drifted to the stem before he took another sip.

"Oh yeah?" Harlan asked. His tone was indicative of the earnest curiosity about the person that he'd just met but felt like he might know. By proxy, at least. "Are you the youngest, then?" He sat down the glass and studied her briefly before turning back to the room. Something about what category sibling someone was seemed to say so much about them. Harlan, himself, the middle child, hated that it was true.

The smile on Kate's face prompted a reaction of his own, somewhere between a grin and smirk. Harlan took another drink for good measure to allow himself a second to think. "None that won't get me in trouble," He commented matter-of-factly, serious then.

"Like, zero," Harlan repeated as his mouth pulled back into a full grin. He hadn't realized that he'd bumped a shoulder into her's in the process but didn't immediately correct it. "I like the accent," He clarified.