Causeway Parking Lot to the Mainland; Later Tuesday Afternoon

[totalwildcard]

It might not have ultimately been too much of a surprise which car in the parking lot was Harley's current ride. At least if you happened to know the Chevy Impala was Dean's provided it was even present on Tuesday. The funky 1970s green Chevy Chevelle sedan (four doors, see what she'd said about the back seat?) was of course Harley's: a classic look, but not so flashy as to attract too much attention and immediately get her in trouble as soon as she'd grabbed it from where the very unfortunate previous owner had left it.

Although the main hint that it was hers was still probably that she'd parked her butt on the hood of the thing as she waited for Marc to get there.

Call it a freebie.

(for that guy, continued from here!

Comments

[hasaknightjob]

"Fair enough," Marc said.

He tried waiting until she reached for a fry and then seeing if he was able to catch her hand before she could.

For fry protection of course.

[totalwildcard]

Of course!

Harley wasn't trying to be particularly fast, nor was she expecting to get caught, so...

It ended up being not at all hard for him to catch her hand, no. She gave a huff when he did.

[hasaknightjob]

"Gotcha," Marc said. Which was about catching her as a fry thief. It was also why he kept hold of her hand. Because holding the one hand completely solved that issue.

[totalwildcard]

Harley saw a flaw in that plan!

"No you don't."

Of course, she telegraphed the hell out of her other hand reaching for the fries, now.

[hasaknightjob]

It was possible Marc should learn an important lesson from this given things that happened to other versions of himself. He wasn't, but he should.

Luckily in this case he was only dealing with Harley, so instead he made no move to stop her as she went for another fry.

"Thief," he said, purely as observation. Still holding that first hand.

[totalwildcard]

"And a successful one," Harley informed him, with a grin, as she popped her ill-gotten gains into her mouth again.

Not making a single move to rescue her hand from him.

[hasaknightjob]

"Gonna have a hard time selling those on the black market," Marc said. He used his free hand to pick up the remaining bit of his sandwich so he could finish it off.

He did not seem to be in a rush to claim the remaining fries. Or to let go.

[totalwildcard]

And now Harley was pushing her fingers between his.

She'd come up with a bullshit reason for it if she needed to, but not a second before.

"Sometimes you gotta just take things for keeps," she said, "not for the re-selling."

[hasaknightjob]

Look, Marc wasn't going to acknowledge he was still doing it or letting her thread their fingers together before he absolutely had to so that evened out nicely.

"Got anything in mind there?" he asked. Again totally about fries.

[totalwildcard]

"Well, I'm gonna keep these in my belly," Harley replied, gesturing both at and with the fries, "but I'm seriously considering gettin' all the dessert to go and stealing you away from here."

[hasaknightjob]

"So that's a no on ice cream," Marc guessed.

Which was also not a no on the idea of dessert to go.

[totalwildcard]

"There's ice cream at home."

Maybe?

That wasn't really the point. Her thumb was brushing against his hand.

[hasaknightjob]

Yep. Still not letting himself acknowledge it was happening because if he did he'd make himself pull away.

(Not because of Harley. His own issues. Emotional wall maintenance. Which was a thing he tended to be bad about around Harley specifically these days.)

"Lotta desserts travel well." Marc said.

[totalwildcard]

Meanwhile Harley was just playing the 'if I don't look at it it's not actually happening' game, for her own reasons.

"Pies do," she said. "Which works out great for me."

[hasaknightjob]

"Why pies?" Marc asked. Slightly distracted by the brainpower devoted to ignoring how his thumb was brushing against her hand in return.

[totalwildcard]

"Because they're... good?"

It was the best reason she had for anything. Especially when there was extra touching happening.

[hasaknightjob]

"I could eat pie," Marc said. The dessert order was obviously the most important thing right now. Not anything going on with hands.

[totalwildcard]

"So we'll get pie," Harley replied. Inanely, but whatever, confirmation was always good. "Pies, more than one kind. Good for energy and to find out how good they are at making them here!"

[hasaknightjob]

"I got no problem with that," Marc said. Pies were so much easier to focus on and talk about. Which was kind of a theme for Marc, actually. Go fig.

"To go?"

[totalwildcard]

"To go," Harley agreed, and looked up to try and catch the attention of their little-almost-old-lady-waitress.

Thumb still absent-mindedly moving against his skin.

[hasaknightjob]

Marc might need his hand back when it was time to pay. But the bill wasn't there yet. So he could, yanno, leave it where it was. Thumb still brushing Harley's hand. Continuing required less thought than stopping, right?

Something like that.

[totalwildcard]

And their waitress, coming over now, had already made her own conclusions about the two of them, and yet had enough discretion brought on by experience to make no remarks about the handholding, either.

Which meant Harley could just happily continue doing it while putting in their dessert order of "a slice of every damn pie you got, to go, please, thank you so much!" with her usual level of cheer.

[hasaknightjob]

Marc glanced towards the dessert display to see what pies were there. Nothing stood out as a problem - not that many pies could but you never knew when a place had some unique signature thing - so he turned his attention back to Harley.

Not their hands though.

"Only one of each?" he asked. "We're gonna have to share."

Or he'd keep letting her steal stuff from his plate. One of those.

[totalwildcard]

Harley chuckled. "Okay, make it two each," she said, and then barely waited a beat before adding, "More leftovers for me."

So there would still absolutely be stealing/sharing.

[hasaknightjob]

"I see how it is," Marc said, not at all bothered by this (and only in part because he could fairly easily get fresh baked pies at home). "I'll have to keep my eye on you."

That was barely about the pies.