014. PITY

Rory glanced over her appearance in the entryway mirror. 

Coating her lips with gloss, she leaned forward to inspect her makeup for one final check. She had no explanation for the sweat in her palms or her insistent need to continue fixing her hair and outside, but she knew it wasn't like her. 

"I am fine," she tried to convince her reflection. "It's only dinner. I go out for plenty of dinners - it won't be any different. Besides, it's not like it's a real date."

She reached for the list of questions written down in her notepad and read it over once more.

Are you a dog or a cat person?

How do you like to spend your weekends?

What were you like as a kid?

Are you close with your family?

What causes or charities do you care about?

Do you have an odd talent?

What are you looking for right now?

"He's probably looking to kill me," she mumbled, answering the last one on her list.

Rory made a mental note to ask how old he was. It wasn't a question that came up in any of her research on what to ask on a first date, but she wanted to know. 

Rory knew in the back of her mind this date was more of a way for Harry to feel better about his outburst, but she still couldn't help but get excited. Her first date - who would have thought she would go on one of those? Not her. And definitely not with Harry.

She had entertained company for dinner in the past - it wasn't like no one had ever asked her out before. But all those times, she was playing a game. The person sitting across the table from her was always her target for the night, never someone she was genuinely interested in getting to know better. Her lines were repeated and rehearsed, she always knew exactly what to say to get the information she needed. How fast she could get a man to give up the code to a safe or tell her where he kept his watches was humorous.

Tonight, Rory wasn't playing a game.

There was nothing for her to win. She needed to be on her best behaviour since the whole threatening to kill at the drop of a hat thing was still going on.

No games. No con. Only dinner.

That was fucking weird to think about.

At precisely seven o'clock, Rory heard a knock. Running her hands down the silk material of her blue slip dress one final time, she took a deep breath and opened the door.

Harry stood with his hair perfectly tossed to one side, dressed in a pair of dark slacks and a crisp button down shirt. She parted her lips to make a joke about his inability to button his shirt up all the way but was interrupted with an abrupt,

"Ready?"

His points for punctuality were immediately taken away by the lack of greeting.

"No flowers?" Rory asked, noticing his empty hands.

"I didn't think of it."

"I bet Dallas would have brought me some."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Is this going to be a big problem for the entire night?"

"Oh, would you relax?" she said, rolling her eyes and shutting her apartment door. "I'm just teasing you. Besides, I hate flowers anyway." Double checking that her front door was securely locked, Rory dropped her keys in her purse and forced a smile. "Ready."

Harry looked up from his phone. "Good."

Turning and heading down the hallway without another word, Rory took that as her cue to follow along. She wasn't expecting to be showered with gifts and compliments right at her front door. But she was at least expecting a proper hello out of him.

If Rory thought her greeting was bad, the taxi ride to the restaurant was even worse. With Harry's attention glued to his phone, her only options to keep herself entertained included small talk with the driver and looking out the window.

The taxi rolled to a stop outside an Italian restaurant Rory had always wanted to try but never had; she walked by it all the time on her way home from work. Harry tossed a handful of bills into the front seat and exited the car, his attention remaining on the device in his hand.

Rory gave the driver an apologetic smile. "Thank you," she said, doing a quick mental calculation on the amount of money Harry had paid.

At least he gave a good tip. He deserved half a point for that.

And since she had been keeping track of his overall performance, that meant they were entering the restaurant with Harry on the leaderboard at a whopping half point.

"Welcome back, Sir," a man at the podium greeted them the moment they stepped foot inside the restaurant. "Same table as usual?"

As Harry replied with a - quite shocking - verbal response, Rory noticed the man that led them to their table had barely looked in her direction.

Asshole, she thought to herself, glaring at the bald spot on the back of his head.

Did everyone wake up this morning and decided to be rude? Excluding the taxi driver, of course - he was nice. Rory wished she had gotten his name. Maybe she should have asked him for dinner instead.

The restaurant was small and cozy. There were a handful of tables in neat rows on one side and booths with red leather covered seats on the other, while a bar was stationed on the far end. Dim lighting set a romantic feel to the space and the walls were painted with art that you would find in a museum.

Settling into the secluded booth, Rory noticed the way Harry made genuine conversation with the man before requesting his usual drink. Before Rory had the chance to order the most expensive glass of liquor on the menu, the man disappeared.

Just as quickly as the man returned with Harry's drink, poof, there he was gone. Was she really going to have to survive through this night without alcohol?

Rory groaned, tapping her foot against the ground.

"Something wrong, Bambi?"

Yeah, a lot of fucking stuff is wrong with this! Starting with how- "No," she said, forcing a smile, "Just wanted a drink, that's all."

She was starting to wonder why she even prepared for this date at all. She could have skipped the whole thing and had a much better time with a bottle of wine and a microwave dinner at home. Alone.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven."

"Wow. You are old."

Harry, taken aback by her comment, looked up from his phone. "Excuse me?"

"I just thought you were a bit younger. You look good for your age, old man."

Harry knew she was trying to be charming by her teasing, but he was far from amused. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-one." Noticing him struggling to think of a comeback, she added, "Anything you can think to say about my age sounds creepy, doesn't it?" Rory giggled to herself, picturing his internal difficulties. "Don't worry. I've slept with guys older than you before."

"Riveting information, thank you," he replied, waving down the waiter for a refill.

Harry turned his attention to this cell phone and the conversation died down to a boring silence. Rory blew out a frustrated puff of air, attempting to busy herself with the menu. This was certainly shaping up to be a riveting night.

"Are you ready to order?" the waiter asked, placing the glass full of amber liquid down on the table.

Grabbing the menu right out of Rory's hands, Harry handed them both to the waiter. "We will take the usual and whatever else Tony suggests."

"Hey!" she whined once the waiter had disappeared. "I had my eye on something!"

"You'll like it, Bambi," he flatly replied.

"And what if I don't?"

"Then I guess you will go hungry." Harry shrugged, his attention returning to the device in his hand. "I need to take this."

Harry slid his body out of the booth and was halfway out the door by the time Rory had dully processed that he had left the table. Her eyes focused on the large window at the front of the restaurant, watching as he spoke angrily to whoever was on the other end of the call.

There goes Mr. Angry Pants, at it again, she thought to herself.

Reaching across the table, she grabbed hold of Harry's drink and drained its contents in one swing. The liquid burned the back of her throat, but it was an extremely welcomed feeling after her thirty minutes of silent torture.

Looking around the restaurant for entertainment to keep her busy and avoid perpetuating boredom, she set her aim on something - or someone - at the bar. She could never give up the opportunity to toy with a man in a nice suit. They were just too easy.

Her current plan for the night was to entertain herself for a short amount of time and if she wasn't having fun manipulating the man at the bar like her personal puppet within five minutes, she would sneak out the back and go home to her microwavable dinner. There was a mac and cheese left - her favourite - and it was desperately calling her name.

Rory was a whore for mac and cheese.

Especially when it was cooked in five minutes or less.

Making her way over, she quickly pulled down her dress slightly in the front, ensuring the girls were well on display for an eyeful. Letting out an overly dramatic sigh, she strummed her fingers against the bartop, waiting for the bartender to finish serving the customer at the other end.

"Rough night?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," she said, "My date has been more interested in his phone than having a conversation with me. I didn't think I was that much of a bore to have dinner with, but apparently I've been proven wrong."

"Well, I don't mean to be blunt but your date seems like an idiot," he said, taking a sip from his glass. "I don't know who in their right mind would rather look at their phone than pay attention to you."

"Aren't you charming," she purred, extending her hand. "I'm Rory."

"Jeff."

Strong grip, she noted. "So, Jeff," she said, looking at the wall of alcoholic bottles behind the bar, "What would you recommend to help a girl get through a shitty date?"

"I would say ditching him for a drink with someone else would be a good place to start."

Rory giggled as the bartender approached. "I'll get whatever he's having," she said, pointing to Jeff's glass. Her voice dropped to a whisper, "What are you having?"

"An Old Fashioned."

"What's that?" She knew - otherwise she would be shit at her job, considering she was a bartender for a living - but she also knew it was always good to make a man think they were smart.

"It's good. I think you'll like it."

Wrapping her hand around the glass placed in front of her, she uttered a quick "cheers!" and took a sip. Rory loved the taste, but just for dramatic effect, she wrinkled her nose and squeaked, "Oh! That's strong!" She licked her lips. "But I like it!"

"Ronnie here makes the best. If you like that, you should try-"

The sound of a throat being cleared louder than necessary silenced Jeff.

"I don't mean to interrupt," Harry said, appearing anything but pleased. "But I'd like to return to our dinner now, Rory."

Rory gave Jeff a small smile. "Sorry. I guess I should go."

Without acknowledging Harry's presence, he replied in a hushed tone, "That's alright. You know where to find me if he takes another phone call."

Much to her disappointment, she said goodbye, picked her glass off the bar and rejoined Harry's side. The things she would do to go home and eat that mac and cheese.

"I can't leave you alone for two minutes without you pouncing on the first guy you see."

Rory rolled her eyes, plopping herself back down against the red seat in the booth. "Yeah, well, I got more conversation out of him in two minutes than I've gotten from you all night."

"Forgive me, Bambi," Harry spoke in a much softer tone, immediately taking her by surprise. "There was a work issue. But it's all sorted now. You have my full attention - I promise."

"A promise? First remorse and now a promise?" A playful smile that found its way onto her lips only lasted for a brief moment before it fell, hearing his phone buzz. "Are you sure it's all sorted?"

"Well, if it isn't, I told them it's all on them to solve now because I have plans." He leaned forward, placing a hand on her knee. "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"

"Nope." She took a sip from her drink. "Dick move, by the way."

Guiding his hand further up her thigh, he nodded in agreement. "That is quite the dick move, I apologize."

She pressed her lips against the rim of the glass as his hand dragged the fabric of her dress higher. Thankfully, the asshole waiter returned with plates of food just in time, forcing his hand to abandon his touch.

Get yourself together, woman. He was just being a dick seconds ago! The voice inside Rory's head scolded her. Now one look into those two snake eyes has you in a puddle? Pathetic.

"Finally, I'm starving!"

"You'll enjoy this," Harry said, as he dished out some of the pasta onto her place.

"And if I don't, you have to order me something else considering the waiter only speaks to men."

"That won't be necessary. Don't be a brat, Bambi."

Stabbing the pasta noodle with her fork, her eyes narrowed. "Fuck you," she sneered, taking a bite, eyes running wide at the taste. "And fuck me that is good." She took another bite. "But more importantly, fuck you. Fuck you, Harry. Yeah, I said it. Fuck. You."  She dragged out the curse slowly for extra effect. "You have been an asshole all night and I wish this wasn't so fucking good so I could leave this shitty ass dinner."

"I have been."

"Don't just agree with me if you don't believe it."

"I do. You are right, Bambi." He sighed, wiping the corners of his mouth with his thumb and index finger. "I haven't done this in a while... and I realize now that I forgot how all of this works. I usually don't turn off work mode... but that's not fair to you and it's not an excuse to not give you the night you deserve."

The last thing Rory ever expected was to get an answer from Harry that felt genuinely honest. It almost made her feel slightly bad for saying "fuck you" to him so many times. But only slightly. After all, he deserved it.

"When you say you haven't done this in a while, do you mean having dinner with someone? Or having a conversation with someone that isn't Colson, Dallas, or Kip?"

He grinned. "Both. However, I was referring to dinner."

Rory picked up her glass and took a long sip. "So... you used to go out for dinner before?"

"Yes."

"With who?"

"A girlfriend, Bambi."

"Oh, now we're getting to the juicy stuff!" She leaned forward. "What was her name? How long did you date? Did you also call her Bambi?"

"No, that nickname is just reserved for you."

Rory scoffed. "Yeah, and all the other chicks that walk in and out of your bar." Inhaling another mouthful of food, she swallowed before adding, "You didn't answer my other two questions."

"And I won't be."

"What? Why not!"

"Do you want me to start asking you questions about Tanner?"

"God no," she said with a groan.

"That's your answer." He fell silent, digging into his plate and noted her sullen expression. "Ask something else if you're so curious, Bambi. But not about that."

"Got any family?"

"Both parents are dead. Mom died of cancer a bunch of years back. Dad shot himself when I was a kid," he told her bluntly.

Rory's face softened. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"I didn't say I cared that they died." He did - but he didn't want her to know. "You?"

"I was raised by my dad and grandparents. I had an Uncle who came around sometimes. He was cool."

"I thought you were in foster care?"

"I was," she said, "Something happened to them. Not all at the same time, but, yeah."

"Couldn't your mom have taken you in?"

"My mom skipped town a couple of months after she gave birth to me."

Harry only responded with a nod. Clearly, his reactionary response was quite different from hers. But in his twisted defence, he was texting something under the table and was trying to be accurate with his spelling without raising alarm over his action.

"So, we've both suffered big losses in our life," she commented. "Interesting."

Interesting wasn't the word most people would use when discussing such a subject. But, Rory was far from most people.

"Have you always lived in the city?"

He shrugged. "I guess you could say that. You?"

"I was born in Seattle. Got shipped around for a bit before ending up here."

"Do you miss Seattle?"

Moving a piece of food around her plate, she nodded. "Yeah. But I don't think I could go back."

"Why not?"

"There's just a lot of... sadness. That's the city I lost everyone in and if I go back, it would just be reminding myself of that." She cleared her throat. "Do you have a hobby?"

Harry wanted to question her further but quickly decided against it. "I like collecting records."

"You really are an old man," she teased.

The rest of their night continued with the little questions game they played. Nothing got too deep or personal, but Rory was fine with that. She was sure discussing death was one of those topics to avoid on a first date, and they already dove far past her usual limit with that conversation. 

After their dinner plates were cleared and they shared a dessert, a small chocolate lava cake which Harry picked, the two were the last ones in the restaurant.

"Dogs or cats?"

Rory bit the inside of her cheek, not wanting to see the amusement that sparkled over him continuing to play along. "I guess... cats?"

"You sound unsure."

"I had a dog when I was younger and I've just never thought of being able to replace her."

"What was her name?"

"Sandy." Rory took a sip of her drink. "What about you? Is Mr. Angry Pants a dog or a cat person?"

"Easy. Neither."

"Wow. I guess that means there will be no pussy for you."

Harry, unable to hide a smile showing from her remark, leaned closer. "Charming as always Rory. But there is something I do want to ask you. Tell me," he softly began, "How'd you do it? How'd you pull off stealing from me?"

"Is that what this entire dinner is about? You thought you could wine and dine me and I'd just spill all of my dirty tricks?"

"Dirty, you say?"

"Very," she purred, "Very dirty. But one dinner isn't going to open up my vault, Harry. You have to try harder than that."

Harry did something rare. He accepted defeat - which he blamed on the fact they were the last two in the restaurant. It most definitely was not because of his lack of preparedness on how to get such an explanation out of her. Of course not.

Harry was never off his game.

Especially not for a Bambi.

Right?

As the two decided to enjoy the warm night and skip out on a cab ride home, Rory hated to admit that she liked the feeling of walking next to him - even if the date was arranged out of him feeling pity towards her in the first place.

Because pity was the only reason he asked her out in the first place.

Right?

The banter between them was something she genuinely enjoyed and didn't have to fake laugh her way through. And the way he walked with his hand against the small of her back made her feel... Well, the exact word that fit her feelings perfectly wasn't coming to mind. But she knew she liked it.

"Rory!" A familiar voice called out. Turning her head, she spotted Benny excuse himself from a conversation and walk over. "I didn't know you were going out tonight." When he recognized who she was standing beside, his eyes went wide. "Wait, shit. Are you guys on a date?"

"No."

"Yes."

Rory turned her head to the side. "Wait, what?" 

"Why are you surprised?"

"You mean this is a real date?"

"As opposed to what? A fake date?" Harry ran his hand through his hair, trying to piece together what the hell Rory was talking about. "What did you think I meant when I asked you to go out with me to dinner?"

Benny's eyes shifted between the two as Rory hesitated to answer. "Uh," he said, clearing his throat, "I think this is my cue to exit. Either I'll see you inside or I'll see you at work, Roro!"

"I thought you were just taking me out for a pity dinner."

Harry raised a brow. "The fuck is a pity dinner?"

"You know... when you do something because you feel bad. I thought you felt bad about the lollipop thing so you asked me out for dinner to make yourself feel better."

"I asked you for dinner because I wanted to take you out," he said. "Did you really think I would feel that bad about biting a treat for children because you were annoying and not listening?"

"Maybe. I thought you might be turning a new leaf." Rory noticed the way he stepped towards her, minimizing the distance between them. "I'm not sleeping with you."

The corner of his mouth tugged upward. "I don't recall asking if you wanted to sleep together. I thought we were discussing your confusion over being asked out."

"Just wanted to clarify." Her tongue darted across her bottom lip. "You're still my boss. And I don't-"

"You don't fuck anyone that's your boss. I am aware."

"That includes kissing."

"Did you think I was going to start making out with you on the street, Bambi?"

Rory bit the inside of her cheek, trying to not laugh as the thought of him such a thing crept into her mind. "No. But now that I'm aware that this is a real date, I thought I would put all my rules out on the table." She looked over her shoulder to the entrance of the bar. "Do you want to go in?"

Noting the loud music that blared through the walls of the small venue, he replied, "I'm not much of a dancer."

"We don't have to dance. I'll buy you a drink and maybe there will be a guy in there I can use to show you my tricks. How about it?"

Harry wanted to say no but he knew giving up the opportunity to see the way she worked was too tempting to pass up.

Besides, it's not like he had any other choice.

He had not received the signal that Rory could go home yet. 

you know what I need? sleep.

happy hump day - I mean Wednesday!