Harry rolls his eyes and turns his attention to his toast, poking at it without any particular enthusiasm. It'd be nice if Holmes would take the hint and go fuck himself somewhere else, but Harry isn't holding his breath. It just hasn't been that kind of week.
Harry doesn't reply right away, or even look up, but some of the irritation eases out of his posture.
"Yeah, okay," he mutters after a moment. It could mean any number of things. Mostly it means that with the initial flare of anger gone, Harry is tired and defeated and doesn't have the energy to keep it going right now.
Harry does look up at that, surprised. He hadn't thought it would be that easy. Maybes he's gotten his Holmeses mixed up?
Yeah, no. Even as fucked up as he is, sleep deprived and kinda hungover and still a little drunk all at once, he can still tell the difference. Even though he doesn't know either of them that well.
Maybe it's a doubles thing.
"If you figure out how, let me know." It just slips out, part of an in joke he had with a friend once, so long ago he can't remember who anymore.
The way he dresses and the stubble on his face are a good indication. Holmes borrows his clothes from everyone and tends to keep at least one thing from the nineteenth century on him at any given time-in this case, his jacket and the pipe in his right hand. Strat tends to dress exclusively modern, in clothes that actually fit, and shave more than once a week for good measure.
Surely that's not a speculative look he's giving Harry, or if it is, it's speculating about something other than sex. Even Holmes isn't that much of an ass... right?
It's sweet, the way Holmes's narrative has a shred of faith left in him. Futile, but sweet.
Harry himself has looked back at his coffee, which holds marginally more appeal than the toast, and isn't paying any attention to Holmes and his looks. He takes a small sip from the mug, and discovers that the coffee also has the added benefit of still being warm, which is something the toast lost about twenty minutes ago.
Why Bar insists on providing toast to patrons who haven't been eating is a mystery. Maybe she's trying to bore them into ordering something they actually like just to make her stop.
. . . Holmes is still here, isn't he? Even though Stark is probably waiting somewhere, and Harry is not even going there. He'll just have some more coffee. Maybe Holmes will get bored if he doesn't say anything.
Someone is walking down the path with his hands tucked in his pockets, smoking a pipe.
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Maybe if Harry pretends no one is there, he won't get noticed. Or at least someone will have the decency to pretend not to notice him.
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Not a hope.
"Six days, was it?"
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". . . What?"
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"How 'bout you go fuck yourself," he suggests instead.
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He sighs.
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A pause, then:
"Sorry."
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"Yeah, okay," he mutters after a moment. It could mean any number of things. Mostly it means that with the initial flare of anger gone, Harry is tired and defeated and doesn't have the energy to keep it going right now.
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The ghost of a smile curves his lips. "I'll just go and fuck myself, then, shall I?"
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Yeah, no. Even as fucked up as he is, sleep deprived and kinda hungover and still a little drunk all at once, he can still tell the difference. Even though he doesn't know either of them that well.
Maybe it's a doubles thing.
"If you figure out how, let me know." It just slips out, part of an in joke he had with a friend once, so long ago he can't remember who anymore.
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"Oh, but you forget. I have Stark for that."
The way he dresses and the stubble on his face are a good indication. Holmes borrows his clothes from everyone and tends to keep at least one thing from the nineteenth century on him at any given time-in this case, his jacket and the pipe in his right hand. Strat tends to dress exclusively modern, in clothes that actually fit, and shave more than once a week for good measure.
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"Yeah, I guess I did."
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Surely that's not a speculative look he's giving Harry, or if it is, it's speculating about something other than sex. Even Holmes isn't that much of an ass... right?
Who are we kidding.
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Harry himself has looked back at his coffee, which holds marginally more appeal than the toast, and isn't paying any attention to Holmes and his looks. He takes a small sip from the mug, and discovers that the coffee also has the added benefit of still being warm, which is something the toast lost about twenty minutes ago.
Why Bar insists on providing toast to patrons who haven't been eating is a mystery. Maybe she's trying to bore them into ordering something they actually like just to make her stop.
. . . Holmes is still here, isn't he? Even though Stark is probably waiting somewhere, and Harry is not even going there. He'll just have some more coffee. Maybe Holmes will get bored if he doesn't say anything.
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