stuff us in boxes that's where you want us

cardboard is boring, we brought our matches - look how it burns

Sly claimed that covens weren't his thing, that they had much too many rules for his liking. She could see that. The same went for... most groups. It caused the raven-haired woman to observe the warlock with a new kind of interest, it came in the form of a flash alight within the bright violet depths of her eyes. She couldn't hide the question that needled it way to the forefront of her mind, wondering just what kind of rules that he was prone to breaking. In this city though, it wasn't all that hard. But she could not deny that it was another point in the warlock's favour. As far as Harley was concerned, the people she found she liked the most were the ones that didn't bother to draw in-between the lines, the kinds that cut the red tape, the kind of people that didn't allow themselves to be contained in those suffocating, insufferable boxes so many people loved to fit within. "Me either " She declared with a certain kind of gusto that said she felt it in her damn bones. Wasn't that the truth! It was practically imprinted in her DNA. Was there even a rule she hadn't broken? At least once at some point in her colourful life. It wasn't even always on purpose thing... at least not all. Sometimes she knew exactly what she was doing and did it with gratification. Maybe that was one of the many reasons she found herself being a magnet for trouble. One of many, she was sure. Her reckless tongue surely had a part to play in that. Somehow it managed to get her in as much trouble as it got her out of it.

That grin lingered upon the blond warlock's lips before those light blue eyes met her own as he offered her a challenge that solely relied on his ability to make the hole. She kind of liked the idea that he was willing to work to get to know her. How could she resist a good challenge? However, she seemed almost surprised that he had accepted her offered boon so easily and nearly kicked herself for offering it. Clearly, she was getting too cocky... But Sly almost too easily accepted. Most guys would flat-out deny they needed it. It was like macho guy code. Not Sly. He readily took the extra shot and proceeded to look entirely innocent in response to her remark on the matter. The guy was clearly a different breed. It said a lot about him and she was certainly paying attention.

The scruffy-haired blond then proceeded to warn her that she should never make deals with gypsies. She swore she heard that one before. With a light, playful roll of her eyes. The same thing went for faes and she already bypassed every single one of those warning signs, like a car with cut breaks. But then again, throwing caution to the wind was kind of her speed. She could die at any moment and damn it all too hell she wanted to live. She rose a dark brow. "Probably should have told me before I made a deal with one. Although it's cute of you to warn me of your gypsy ways. But kind of like rules, I think I would have agreed to it anyways." You would think she would have started listening with how many times it had snuck around and bit her in the ass. Yet this was decidedly different, she surely wasn't putting her life on the line... it was just a little information. What he actually did with it. There was certainly no danger lurking around the corner here and he had already proven himself to be more than halfway decent. Pretty sure he wasn't going around killing people with his bare hands. The fact that... that was a plus... really said so much, on all levels.

The Romanian Warlock then took the stage. The stage was the correct term because he actually made it like he was putting on a show, just for her... and well maybe Mihai and his invisible audience too. He moved in such a way that it was hard to look away. It only grew more entertaining as Mihai joined in on the efforts. He lined up yet another shot and paused just to needlessly tell her to watch him like she wasn't already watching the way he moved. She was also certain he was also kind of full of himself but damn did it work for him. If you couldn't sell yourself, who would? She smirked subtly and claimed he was all talk. Unphased, the blond responded that 90% of his jobs were in sales and that truly was all talk. He made a good point. That she would make pretty nice arm candy. That remark earned him a light huff of a snort. Really the whole notion of her being arm candy was ridiculous, if only for her mouth alone, let alone to dress the part.

"You know what I can see that about you." Although Harley wasn't an easy sell, at least when she made up her mind not to be. "You know, the thing about arm candy is supposed to behave and not stand out. Pretty sure I fail at both those things." She huffed in amusement. "But enough distracting me with flattery, I hope you have a little walk behind that sweet talk." She urged the man to take his shot, figuratively and literally, idly swinging her own putter. Alright...she was actually kind of impressed because he pulled it off. He didn't even need to use that free pass either. It was a solid effort. It looked like Sly was going to get that information after all.

"Look out Tiger Woods.." She uttered out loud even though, she hadn't the faintest idea what to offer him. He made his way toward her, sliding right up beside her, all too aware of the Romanian's proximity. That expectant look in his eye that said everything she needed to know, he was not giving up on his prize. A little bit about her certainly didn't hurt anyone. So she told him a little bit about her car. Omen. Yes, she was one of those people that named her car. She mentioned that it once was her father's project car that they were supposed to work on together before he passed. Better gloss over the details. She spoke about it fondly; glad she could speak of them without always feeling the sting of it, even though she was sure it would churn up some wicked emotion if she allowed it to. Sly didn't dig in or pry, in fact, she almost liked him more for it. But he did inquire about the car itself. Asking if she was working on it herself.

"Pretty much. I used to have a bit of help, enough to at least get it up and running. But you know how it is.. After a couple of years, things start to break, really important parts that likely needs replacing. At least that's what I was told. I can do some things myself, but the bigger stuff.. Not so much. So, it runs currently... Not sure for how long though." She frowned as she realized just how much she was probably in over her head.. but then again she was used to that place. She had a room there and the weather was just fine... That was a problem for another day. She did most of her best work under pressure anyways. "I was told to strip it and sell it to a collector... Hell, someone just offered to buy it from me last week... But there is no way in hell I am giving up on Omen. Pretty sure it will be on its last wheel and I would still refuse to sell.." Equal parts, stubborn, sentimental, and something else... Who knew someone could be so loyal to a car? Most people would have certainly given up by now.

Harley then set up her first shot, pausing to strike the ball before offering him that she kept her first guitar too. She eyed how her first hit went, determined to win that challenge of her own. Something told her that Sly and Mihai's show was certainly worth seeing. But she felt like she was being seriously judged by that disturbing alarmed chicken. The windmill and its moving parts seemed to be the biggest hurdle to overcome. It was then that Sly inquired if she was in a band, as in currently. Oh yeah, yet another thing in her life sabotaged by vampires.

"Not anymore, not since the last one went our separate ways. I do play still, and sing.. well.. mostly only in the shower. The singing, not the playing.. Apparently, showers are for singing only.. And.. uhh.. swordplay." Matteo apparently how to have fun... Well, it was certainly easier when you had other people's places to destroy. "I think you should be the first to know... I won't be continuing that hobby... At least not while I live in.. a tiny west-side apartment." Well... she kind of left out that she sang at her shop, and in the car. But that was a need-to-know basis and she didn't need to share all of her secrets. Unsurprisingly, Syn got in the way of a lot and business at the parlour was picking up. Damn, she was just glad she had forgiving clients and her job was flexible. She finally took her last shots, and somehow, by some stroke of divine luck, managed to make it in four. She felt like a goddamn peacock, ready to strut herself. That meant she won her prize too. Victory shone within her violet eyes as she swung that golf putter with confidence.

"If I start playing any better, you might have to be 'my' arm candy." She teased with a clear smugness in her voice, flashing him an equally coquettish glance that matched her words. Harley reminded him to hold up his side of the bargain. After all, she managed to always make good on her debts. She anticipated Sly would do the same, at least with this. So far this making a deal with a gypsy thing was really working out for her.

Sly led the way to the next hole. Somehow the conversation took on a mind of its own, twisting into an elaborately ridiculous and highly nuanced 'would you rather'. Such a topic was destined to be amusing to her that she had forgotten to keep score. But she had to admit this place really did well with the detailed cheesy factor with each and every mini course. She struggled with the pond one too... She was kind of perturbed that they actually used... real water. Now that was irritating.. Especially when she kept hitting that dumb ball out of bounds and into.. You guessed it.. More water. Of course, her ball ended up in places that were not supposed to be part of the course. Sly didn't seem to fair much better with that one. But he was getting better. If only Harley could say the same, her performance was rather hit-and-miss. She either blew it out of the park or crashed and burned impressively so. But she did score a grand total of one hole-in-one. Dinosaurs were apparently her lucky charm. It was impressive with all the teasing and talking that they made it through the whole course.

Sly recapped the ones he hadn't quite done so great on... claiming that some of those holes were not his talent. "We just won't add those ones to your professional resume." Harley offered. She was content to leave out all of her her abysmal playing moments when Sly was content to remind her of them, earning him an all too dramatic sigh. "They really did Ireland dirty, I agree. I have no sympathy for the little green man." Anyone ever wonder where they got that pot of gold hm? But it wasn't that. No. Gnomes like leprechauns kind of freaked her out.. as silly as it sounded. It was something about the look in their eyes, soulless plotting eyes from hell. Although she hadn't intended to hit the leprechaun with such force... she had to admit she took great pleasure in nearly sending its head flying clean off. "I guess you were right about the extreme sport being hazardous." Yeah to little green men, if the scuff her ball left behind wasn't proof enough.

"I felt bad for Paris too.. not sure why people need to throw in a giant baguette every time someone suggests something French." She questioned out loud, as far as Harley was concerned the baguette was synonymous with the eggplant. Yeah it was most certainly a euphemism.

The pair began to head toward the exit, but not without returning their putters, walking side by side but Sly apparently had conveniently forgotten to keep score, just like she did. She doubted Mihai was keeping track either... Not with how interested he was in the pair and that ball too.Although Sly opened that metaphorical door wide and gave her one hell of an opportunity. One that she seized after being prompted with who won. "You know. Pretty sure it was me. Plus I get bonus points for pointing out the Karen who did in fact complain to the manager about Mihai being a fire hazard." Of course, nothing amounted to it besides one irritated PTA soccer mom who did not get what she wanted, which was usually not how things typically went. "How could anyone get mad at that face?" She gestured lightly toward the flaming pup as they stepped out into the fresh night air.

She stopped to consider that she never thought mini-put, aka chasing after neon balls for over an hour could actually be kind of fun... but there she was, proven wrong.

Harley Westward