2019-08-20 - 58% Of Serial Killers Are White Males

Did Hailey push this to 1:45pm through the course of their late night/early morning texting? Maybe she did. Either way, Harvey wasn't going to be early. In fact, he was bordering on late, balancing on the line between 'looking desperate' and 'being rude'. It was something of an art. At least it's not raini -- no, wait, it was, a summer storm that was coming down hard and sending streaks of lighting through the air, thunder rumbling like a dozen movers were rolling dollies in God's territory. He's dripping by the time he steps into the diner's lobby, stripping out of his coat. Man needs an umbrella.

Today's musical offerings was the entire collection of BABYMETAL, a Japanese kawaii metal band. Currently on track: Gimmie Chocolate, which is a great song if you've never listened to it. But it's not for everyone. It's definitely not for Harvey, who raises his focus to the ceiling to see if he can figure out where this terrible music is coming from and blow out the speakers or something.

Hailey did not further reschedule this lunch. She probably should have, considering the late night + apparently busy morning she's had, but she was here at one-thirty, because only assholes run late to things, Harvey, learn to budget your time better. It means she's got a booth and an iced tea already, and a waitress just came by to drop off a bowl of soup at her table a minute ago, but Hailey is very busy on her phone and hasn't gotten to the soup yet.

The frowning she does at her phone is intense. Whatever it's telling her, she does not like it, and thumb-taps things back at it, then leans away abruptly, shakes her head, and turns the screen off. As punishment.

She has just had a moment to frown at her watch and decide she's been stood up when Harvey decides to bring the storm in with him. "Oh, that's gonna be a problem," she tells no one, since no one is sitting with her, since Harvey is still making the lobby-floor wet [omg the joke is right there]. Anyway, she lifts her soup-spoon to alert him to her presence.

Harvey spends only a few seconds frustratingly looking ceiling-ward; he cannot find the speakers from which spill this irritatingly catchy music. They are probably super tiny and basically invisible, Millennial bullshit speakers. Nevertheless, the downward cast of his focus means he catches the lofted spoon, and he throws his coat on the rack and heads towards Hailey. "Hey. Sorry I'm late," he wasn't that late. It was only bordering late. "Got caught up on the phone, newspaper bullshit." Work is always an acceptable excuse, no one is going to argue with you if you claim you're late for doing your job.

There's a touch of the heel of his hand against his pants to make sure they weren't incredibly damp before he goes sliding into the booth, offering her one of those patented be-dimpled grins as he makes himself comfortable. "Did you already order?" he motions to the soup, chuckling. The grin gets momentarily wider, aren't those dimples pretty?~ "Shit, I didn't think I was that late," but there's an unspoken 'oh well' hanging on those words. He'll just move right along, plopping his elbows on the table as he gives her a once-over. "How goes the epic quest for a roommate? You get that squeaky fan fixed?"

Going straight from here to work, so Hailey's dressed for the hospital, not the diner. She's not quite so preppy (and wealthy) as some doctors, but her blouse has buttons and her skirt has pleats and her hair is tidily braided so she looks nice. It's all going to go to hell the second she walks out into the storm, but for now, it works~

It's hard to tell if she's giving him a pass on being late, since she doesn't say anything about it, just noisily sips soup off her spoon and tilts her arm, looking at her watch for a second. "Hi," is what she offers back once he's said all five of those sentences and made dimples at her. "Oh, I solved both of those problems, thank you for asking. That waitress may not be back for about ten minutes, just based on past experience, so do you want some crackers?" She has packets of them to go with her soup.

Or they can roll the dice here. Harvey's pretty; maybe the waitress will be more attentive now.

Oh look. Here she comes. Hailey will just shake her head and eat her soup.

"Hey," Harvey says again, this time with extra dimples, when she finally says 'hi'. It's smooth , not awkward at all, a bit of that disarming smile thrown into the mix if only because he saw that look she gave to her watch. Concentrate on the pretty, Hailey! Not on the time. When she mentions solving both her problems, his brows go up - intrigue paints across his expression. "Oh yeah? I found a place too, believe it or not. Looks like we both got lucky," the jokes just write themselves here. He was about to say something else - about the crackers, or the shitty service - when the waitress practically trips over herself to come and take their order. He's polite enough to let Hailey go first if she hadn't already ordered, but for him? A club sandwich, fries, coffee. ".. And I think my friend could use a refill on her tea, yeah?" The waitress goes scurrying away.

"So tell me about this roommate situation," he shfits back to slouch in the booth, looking across to her. "Is it a nice place? Bat-and-snake free?" Then, with a slight tip to his head, he adds: "You look nice, by the way. I like the way you did your hair, with the braid," compliments get you everywhere?

Hailey has soup and iced tea, so yeah; she's all set here, that's the part she communicates to the waitress with a smile that absolves the poor woman of the sin of falling all over the pretty man. She watches while that waitress scurries off, and she sips some more soup, walking her fingers across the table to retrieve the cellophane-wrapped packet of crackers and sliiiiide them back over next to her bowl of soup. Since now Harvey is getting an actual meal and doesn't need them.

"Ahhm, it's nice? It's a very cute little house, no bats, no snakes. My roommate has a cat," she shrugs, "but the cat is cute. Here." The phone she was punishing earlier gets turned back over, and she's going to show Harvey the instagram page for Abby's cat, Chickpea. Isn't this fascinating? Isn't he glad he asked? Also, "Thank you," for the compliment. It gets him a smile and more pictures of Chickpea, she flips through them. "Did you cave and move in with the snake bikers?" (Or, like, has a lot just happened in the 9-ish hours since that text conversation?)

"Cute cats are better than ugly cats," Harvey offers by way of silver lining - she might've said no animals, but at least she gets to live with a pretty one. He leans forward when she shows him the cat's instagram page, his brows lifting as he flicks a glance from her to Chickpea and back to her again. ".. The cat has it's own Instagram page?" The tone is somewhere between bewildered and amused, though the chuckle that picks up at the end of the question suggests far more of the latter than the former. "And you're sure your roommate's not a serial killer?" as though the cat insta might suggest otherwise.

As for his own good fortune, he grins as he stays leaned forward, though Chickpea is ignored in favor of looking up at her instead. "Nah, actually it was sorta kismet. Found an ad on Friendzone and met with the guy and he seemed all right. But what sold me was his dog," he pauses for dramatic effect. "Dog's name is Harvey. I mean how could I say no to living with dog-me?"

More pictures of the cat. "She has a lot of followers." For just some random cat, anyway, but Hailey seems impressed with Chickpea's social media presence, and has liked pretty much every picture to prove it. (Listen, there's not a lot to do at three in the morning.) "Except for me personally, I'm not sure that anyone's not a serial killer." She clicks off the phone and looks pointedly at Harvey, lumping him in with all the people who aren't her personally and are therefore potentially serial killers. "But she's very nice. The kind of nice that makes you realize that you could stand to try to be nicer to people, do you know what I mean?"

Whether he knows what she means or not, she winds up blinking at him. "Is that a true story?" About dog-Harvey.

"Definitely way more than me," Harvey mentions of Chickpea's number of followers, but he doesn't look at the pictures anymore. She's captured his focus! So when she gives that pointed look to him? He flashes her a bold smile. All he needs is a halo, and he'd look like the perfect angel. "Well I'd promise you I wasn't, but I don't think that help. Still, you're taking a lot of risks coming out to lunch with somebody who may or may not be a secret axe murderer," he grins, bobbing his head when she talks about what kind of nice her roommate is. Yep, sure, he knows exactly what kind of nice that is.

"Of course it's a true story," he laughs, leaning back into his booth. "Why would anybody make something like that up? I told him it was a little odd that he named his dog after me before he even met me, but I guess it's sort of flattering," he smirks. "That's a true story, too, for the record. I told him that. He wasn't really amused though, I think we're going to get along great. He lives over a gun store."

"It's a public place," full of waitstaff that turns a blind eye to the patrons who are in turn deeply involved in their own ritual of being ignored, "so I think I'm pretty safe. Plus, I know what you're capable of?" Temple-tap. "And it would be a pretty even match." There's a 'but' in there that Hailey leaves off in favor of smiling and eating a cracker while he talks about his budding bromance.

And living over a gun store. She sputters cracker-crumbs all over the table, which she's hastily trying to wipe up with her napkin now. Shocked and not a little saddened, "You're going to wind up on the news."

Harvey tips his head at her temple-tap, a certain amused brightness to his eyes. "Mm, maybe," he relents, looking aside as the waitress drops off his sandwich and coffee and stuff. Then it's right back to Hailey, those hazel eyes go. "But I make it a rule not to mind-fight with anybody prettier than I am. Kinda a good philosophy to live by," he picks up one of his curly fries, grins, and pops it into his mouth.

She sputters crackers all over at the same time that he's chewing, his eyes widening as he bursts into laughter. "Oh come on, it's basically the safest place in all of Gray Harbor!" he points out, reaching over to grab a napkin from the holder and help clean up her cracker-splatter. Which, it's kinda gross to clean up something that's been in somebody's mouth that you barely know? So he should get a gold star for this. "Besides, he seems like an all right guy. Kinda lonely and keeps to himself, but I didn't see any axes or vans with no windows, and the place is too small to have a secret murder-basement."

Sorry, Hailey is busy cleaning up soggy cracker crumbs and cannot respond to flattery right now. Please leave a message after the napkins get piled onto an empty plate, and she'll deliver the gold-star as soon as possible. "You realize you just described every single serial killer ever, right? Lonely, keeps to himself, never seemed like the kind of person who was capable of chaining people up in the back-room that no one even knew about for years and years while he tortured them with Gatorade and car batteries?" At least, while she laid out that manifesto, they managed to clean up all the cracker-spit, so that's something.

"Thank you. Sorry. That was gross." The cracker-spit; not the manifesto.

"But he has a dog named Harvey, Hailey! How many serial killers do you know have awesome dogs named Harvey?" Checkmate, Miss Doubtful. There's the deep, rumbly sort of laughter that peppers this entire conversation; he's clearly keeping himself entertained while cleaning up her mess. He balls up his napkin and leaves it by his drink, shrugging at her apology. "It's cool. A little cracker spit's never killed anybody. How do you torture somebody with Gatorade?" That question didn't really belong in that specific piece of dialogue, but that's where it came out - probably because it just occurred to him that she was talking about torturing people with Gatorade. "If it makes you feel any better, I didn't see any Gatorade at his place."

Wow. Yes. Hailey got totally put in her place because the dog is named Harvey. So much so that all she can do in the face of his overwhelming logic is say in a 'pat on the head' tone, "I hope your co-workers write you a nice obituary." She resumes eating her soup without spitting it everywhere; assume slurps are taken in between dialogue. "It's an electrolytic fluid. Which means it conducts electricity," she thinks to add after a second - in case he's actually stupid and not just playing stupid. "So if you're trying to electrocute someone with a car battery," she makes pinchy-fingers to represent the mean bitey bits of jumper cables, "you can douse them with Gatorade first." Still making pinchy fingers, connecting one end to her spoon and one end to her straw, bzzzzt, see? "Or make them drink it, because Gatorade is disgusting."

"They barely know me yet, so I'm sure it'll be appropriately vague and kind," Harvey says with a chuckle, pushing his fingers into the rim of the plate so that it slides an inch or so across the table. "Want some fries?" he offers as he takes up his sandwich, peering at the sad state of the bacon within, and then just shrugs and takes a big bite while she talks about frying people with Gatorade. "Huh," it's not that he's stupid. It just has never occurred to him that you could do that to somebody. Thank goodness there's this weirdo over here who can tell him exactly what to do. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll be on the lookout for a stock-pile of Gatorade and car batteries. Just in case," he offers her a softer smile, a brief show of those dimples, and takes another big bite of his sandwich.

"At the risk of uh, breaking the tradition we've started with keeping our conversations incredibly dark," he ventures with a slow chuckle, reaching to grab his coffee. "How're you liking Gray Harbor so far? Aside from the weirdness. Is it different from where you were? Where was that again?" he lifts a brow.

"And zip ties. Duct tape. Excessive amounts of bleach." Hailey starts moving fries around on the edge of Harvey's plate without eating them, making a neat little border for the plate out of the taters while she lists things commonly found in the arsenal of serial killers. It keeps her occupied, and means she only catches all the dimples in glances and so they're easier to put out of mind. "Padlocks. Maps of rural areas. Is he white and in his thirties?" LIKE HARVEY IS.

She seems honestly surprised, not just coyly dodging questions here. "You don't want to talk about the hallmarks of serial killers anymore? Because I'm from Wyoming. Trust me, how to electrocute someone with a car battery is a lot more interesting than Wyoming. Have you ever been there?"

Harvey's brows inch upward with every item she ticks off her list, until they are practically one with his hairline. "Hey now, what's wrong with being in their thirties?" He sits up a little straighter, shoulders back, chest out. "I'm white and in my thirties and I'm not a serial killer. But you sure do seem to know a lot about them. Do you listen to a lot of true crime podcasts or something?" It's mostly a joke, but he's eyeing her up like that might actually be her reality. "I know a few good ones. If you want tips." He steals a fry from the border she's made, popping it into her mouth.

"I thought you said you came from upstate. Wyoming's not upstate, it's like.. to the right-state," he picks up another fry and wags it at her. "But nope, never been. I .. can't even honestly tell you where Wyoming is on a map," he admits with a sheepish grin. "But I think it's one of those square-looking states?" Actually it is THE square-looking state, but whatever. He's pretty, look at dem dimples. "What brought you out to Washington from Wyoming though? The whole.. job-before-this-one thing?"

What's wrong with being a thirtyish white dude? "Statistically speaking, you're a dangerous demographic. Sorry?" Hailey really is sorry, if it helps, her apology fitted to a regretful look at poor single-white-Harvey over there. And now there's a hole in the fry-fence she built, so some of the other fries are going to start climbing out of it. She reaches for the toothpick that had been stabbed into his sandwich, holding her fingertip on it with a 'may I?' look across the table to replace the regretful one from a moment ago.

"It's to the right on a map. Washington," her finger not trying to take the toothpick draws a squarish-shape in the air. "Ahhhm, Idaho?" She thinks? "Montana and Wyoming," right under Montana. "Then Colorado and Mexico? I think?" Who cares. She looked at dem dimples. "Yes," the job before this one. "But my mentor?" Christ, she uses a lot of question-marks when she talks. This one is a terminology issue. "Passed away recently, so it was time to get a new job. Also, it wasn't a proper hospital, and I really should do my residency at a proper hospital."

"You know, they say there are three kinds of lies. Lies, damned lies, and statistics," Harvey remarks in response to her statistically speaking, boldening his grin when he knows she's looking. Can't get away from those dimples if you're staring right at 'em, HAILEY! But he waves his hand in a 'be my guest' sort of way when she makes a move for his toothpick, helpfully rebuilding the wall that he ruined while she draws a map of the good US of A in the air. "Idaho's the state with the potatoes, I know that much. What's Wyoming known for? Pretty women who move out to Washington?" There's a tip to his head, a lift of his brows, and then he chuckles as he eats another french fry. Chew-chew-chew, while she puts question marks on the ends of statements she should be sure of.

"You said before about that. That it was a mental health place?" during their totally impromptu picnic in the park. "Must've been a sad place to work. I don't think I could've done it, so props to you even if you moved on. What was it like?" it's kind of a casual question.

"You can tell whoever they are," that says that about statistics, "that they're wrong. There are only two types of lies." One finger, "Actual lies." Two fingers, "And lies of omission." You know, like the lie that Harvey's perpetuating right this actual second. Not that Hailey knows that, she's just standing firm in her convictions about the validity of statistics, making a face at him and his grin.

The purpose of the toothpick is to poke back any fries trying to breach the wall. She stabs them back, and any that stick to the toothpick become part of the perimeter. THIS is how you build a wall!

"Sometimes it was sad. But also necessary? People like us - when we break, it's much harder to put all the pieces back together, I think, and all the edges are jagged and dangerous." Frowning, she looks up from the fries and across the table at him, and he may have dimples for days, but those big blue-green eyes are nothing to scoff at, especially when they're all seeking like that, searching his for understanding. "So it was sad but necessary."

All right. That hit a little closer than Harvey would've liked, but he weathers the feeling of straight up discomfort that storms through him at the second extension of her finger. He doesn't even blink an eye, just shrugs his shoulders. "I'm pretty sure that, statistically speaking? At least fifty percent of statistics are made up on the spot," like the one he just did. See that? HA!

But, he leaves her to her wall building since she's doing such a good job at it. She might wanna contact someone in the current Administration - she obviously knows what she's doing! 'Sides, there are eyes to look into, big blue-green ones that are seeking for understanding. He definitely holds eye contact for a little more than is politely necessary in the circumstances, which creates this moment in time where there's awkward silence. But at least he fills in the dead air with a: "Oh, uh. Right, sad but necessary," he slouches back, not reaching for another fry because he doesn't want to disrupt her building (again). He seems to chew over what she says, considering it with a thoughtful furrow of his brow. "Is that the kinda people that were there? People like us? 'Cause that's.." he trails off, thinking it through, his lips slipping into a frown. ".. Awful. If our kinda think gets people so mixed up all the time, that there needs to be a place for people like us."

Guess that means Hailey better roll for that shit, too.

Nice.

Nope nope nope, if Harvey wants to be all holding eye contact for the point that it becomes an awkward silence, he's going to have to deal with the consequences. Hailey hangs on that moment pretty well till it's over, and Harvey's settling back and trying to make the conversation continue. She tries to do that, too, sit back casually, forgets that her glass of tea has been sitting there forever, knocks it over with the back of her hand, and creates a huge mess.

Most of the tea goes all over the table, running in rivulets toward the edges of it. Some of it falls into the plate of fries, which have been walled in, so now they're drowning in a reservoir of ice and brown liquid. "Oh no!" She throws all the wadded up napkins into the plate of submerged fries, "This is like the end of Titanic!" While pulling her feet up onto the bench seat so she doesn't wind up with a lap full of tea. Total misquote while she throws another napkin into the disaster, "Never let go, Rose!"

In a good diner, a waitress would run over with a kitchen towel and save everyone, but that's not the diner they're in, so they're on their own here.

Harvey was, clearly, not expecting to have to deal with this specific consequence when he 'chose' to get lost in her eyes, yet he saw the iced tea spilling before it happened. Not because he's like, clairvoyant or whatever? But just because he saw the trajectory of her hand heading straight for that iced tea cup. It all happens in sort of slow motion - he thinks to say something but it's too late, and the iced tea is everywhere, one of those brown rivers headed straight for him with an iced cube spinning in the middle. "Oh no!" he throws a couple of his own napkins onto the table to save himself, but he's not quick enough - the iced tea hits the edge of the table and starts to tumble off like some kinda shitty waterfall. He has only one option.

"I know there's room enough on that door for me! I saw it on Mythbusters!" he launches himself out of his side of the bench just as the iced tea spills over his side of the table, and scrambles to her side, wedging himself between her and her only way out. Unless she wants to crawl under the table.

Pulling all the napkins left in the dispenser out of it in one grab, Hailey puts her wall-building skills to good use, creating a dam on her edge of the table to keep the tea from spilling over. There are a few leaks in the dam, a couple drops already splashed onto the table (which is why she pulled her feet up), but it's dry enough that Harvey's should be fine; it's raining outside anyway, so who's gonna notice if he's got a couple spare wet-spots on his pants.

Oh well. Stuffing herself into the corner of the booth, folding herself up as much as she can, she looks across the tops of her knees to Harvey and says with an apologetic smile, "Well, that's what they get for trying to breach the wall?" The fries, she means. But really, "Sorry. I'll pay for your lunch." You know, when someone brings them the check.

Harvey lets Hailey do what she apparently does best - build walls - while he gets himself comfortable on the dry side of the booth. Does he notice that she basically tries to put an ocean of distance between them and become one with the wall? MAYBE. But in spite of having just escaped having to explain to random bystanders why the front of his pants are wet (like, "No, I did NOT pee myself, this girl I was hitting on spilled her drink all over the table!") he seems cool as a cucumber, twisting so that he can look at her better. He at least looks amused - his eyes bright, dimples deep, smile big! "And now they're all drowned. A proper punishment, I agree," those damn fries.

He shakes his head though at her offer. "Uh, no. I invited you out here, so I got it. It's not a big deal anyway, I was mostly done with the sandwich." Indeed, all that was left was a piece of the crust that was swelling as it soaks in tea. "Though if this was your way of trying to bring this whole thing to an end quickly, I think I might've made things awkward by coming over here," he notes, a little self-depreciating in his laughter there.

Hailey's not strictly saying this was her way of trying to bring this whole thing to an end quickly; she's just sharing information. "I have to be at the hospital at three." She shakes her hand till her sleeve creeps back enough that the face of her watch is visible, tilted to show it to Harvey specifically. Still, the dimply smile makes her want to allay his guilt, asshole, so she rushes to assure, "But I promise, you didn't make anything awkward." Her index finger whips around and points to the disaster she created on the table, "You'll be hard-pressed to compete with that mess, Harvey. I guess you could throw some ketchup into the fray..."

Before she trails off into ways to make it worse and/or spills anything else, "You know what's probably the best invention of all time? Lids."

There's a glance to her watch face when she tucks her sleeve down, but really, he doesn't focus too hard on what time it is. His hazel eyes are quick to lift back up to her blue-green ones, his grin turning lopsided as she suggests he add ketchup into the mess. It's oh-so-casual how he leans over, definitely on the edges of her bubble, but the reach of his hand goes for the sugar packets that are in their little holder right next to her. The glint of his eyes is boyishly wicked as he straightens back up .. and flings a couple of the packets right into the mess. "There. I helped," he chuckles, and tosses another packet of equal onto the plate, letting it soak in with the fries.

"I tell you what. Next time? I'll make the giant mess and then we'll be even," he offers helpfully, "But maybe we'll go someplace nicer with better service? So we can get some paper towels or something, shit." There's a laugh as he looks aside, trying to catch the attention of one of these terribad waitresses. Yoo-hoo, pretty boy over here!

"Or soap." That was Hailey having second-thoughts about what's the best invention of all time. She's frowning about that, and also in confusion about wtf Harvey thinks he needs that necessitates the invasion of her personal space - which it should be noted she has worked hard to stake out for herself, why else is she crammed as tightly as possible into the corner of the seat.

But then it turns out he just wants some sugar. And while she'd totally give him some! Hers isn't conveniently pre-packaged, so he made the right choice, yep.

All that to say, she's distracted as fuck. Hence the startled, "Wait what?"

Also, here comes the waitress to drop off their SEPARATE checks and be like, "What in the world happened here?" At the mess.

Hold that thought, Harvey's gonna circle back to her 'wait what' in just a moment. Right now though? That dimpled smile gets turned back on and in the direction of the waitress. "Bear attack," he says, deadpan. "Came out of nowhere, smacked the iced tea cup all over the table. Really, we're just lucky to be alive." He takes both checks, thank you very much, already fishing into his pocket for his wallet. "Do I pay you, or..?" They'll figure it out. Probably once the waitress stops fawning.

Which happens sooner rather than later, conveniently so Harvey can turn back to wag his brows comically in Hailey's direction. He probably just saved them from getting thrown out of the restaurant, nbd. "This was fun," he inches out of his seat, slips his wallet back into his back pocket, and unfolds a hand in her direction to help her out of the booth. "There's a pretty nice restaurant at the end of the boardwalk. Good views of the bay and all that. For next time?" see, he got back to it. "I'll make sure they put a lid on your iced tea cup," he adds with a grin.

The waitress is a hair's breadth from fanning her face, all tee-hee and whatever about the bear attack, don't worry about it, they'll clean it up, etc. The staff here are the worst.

Anyway, while he's smoothing shit over, Hailey's stuck in 'wait what' land, which is kind of like Frontierland but with fewer animatronic bears playing the banjo and more big eyes and knitted brows. "Thank you," she says of the helping hand, which she takes and lets help her drag out of the booth. On her feet, dusting herself off, it's a sudden, "No." Hold on, there's more to that thought. "I mean, no, not dinner. Walk in the woods, though?"

This is how she lures Harvey into the forest and murders him. 😃

Too bad for the waitress, Harvey's focus is on helping Hailey out of the booth. There may be a quick squeeze to her fingers before he drops his hand, right around the same time that she totally tells him no. "Uhh.." There was that awkward pause, brows hiking - it wasn't disbelief written on his features, but actual disappointment. Sure, he was totally still trying to pry information out of her that she was rather adept at avoiding (which only made him want to know more), but he was actually enjoying her company. Which.. was probably going to cause some complications later down the line BUT THAT'S LATER! That's not today. Today, she was saying no, and then amending to 'not dinner.' "Walk in the woods?" he repeats, considering, and then casually shrugging his shoulders.

"That sounds good, actually. A walk in the woods. But if you bring an axe.." he side-eyes her, chuckling. "I'll text you."

Listen, Hailey was absolutely prepared to spill her angst about that hospital all over the place, but the iced tea got spilled first. That wasn't some deft dodging of the subject; that was his own goddamn fault for being pretty. You reap what you sow, Harvey.

So yes, walk in the woods. This is kind of not the truth, but it's really close to it, and there's a kernel of truth in there so: "I work really weird hours, so it's hard to make dinner-dates," with an apologetic twist to her smile. The axe-joke works, and she manages to smile without the apology in it, assuring, "I mean, if you think about it, I don't need an axe." She can chop him to bits with her mind, "And I should really stop reminding people of that, derp. Thank you for lunch?"

Is it still pouring outside? If so, she's gonna have to sprint to her car.

At least she won't fall the fuck down doing that.

"Hey, a walk-in-the-woods date can be even better than a dinner date, done correctly," Harvey says to her, flashes those dimples once more, and then finds the amusement wiped off his face completely when she suggests that she can chop him up with her brains. The huge-eyed expression that he shows to her is more or less him hamming things up than being appropriately terrified of her powers. "I don't want to think about that any more than I already am," he offers, though the laughter follows soon after.

He's gonna walk her to the place where he left his coat, but she's on her own from there. Still, "Yeah, sure. Thank you for coming out. You're.. a lot of fun to hang out with," which is unexpected. He's gonna lean in for that cheek kiss now, just a quick peck, so if she's gonna make her run for it? Better check now.

"All right then." There's nothing Hailey can spill, and she's made all the jokes she can possibly make about serial killers without getting herself put on a list somewhere, so she's left with that brilliant response to Harvey kissing her cheek. Like, the player saw that shit coming a mile away, but the character is nonplussed as shit about it. So she just runs out the door and uses her earlier roll to avoid falling down in the parking lot. She makes it safely to her car!