milliways_bar | (no subject)

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The end of February was not a great time for Harry; too many memories of the same time last year, when everything started to go wrong. He's an essentially level-headed person, though, and his funk has more or less subsided.

Maybe more rather than less: he's in the bar with something he hasn't brought out in a long time, his acoustic guitar. He hasn't touched it since the days when he played for Josie; now he's strumming and fiddling with a notebook. It's just possible he's trying to write a song, although if he is it's clearly slow going.

Possibly he's not very good at writing songs. The coffee helps. The coffee helps with everything.

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Possibly Harry is hurt by the idea of coffee as a vice, but it occurs to him that that probably only proves her point. "You could do a lot worse," he says dryly. It's not quite a joke.

(Too many memories.)

Time to change the subject: "How was work?"

"Oh, there's all this excitement building over the election," she says, lifting her mug again.

"I suppose I shouldn't cheat to find out who wins, should I?"

(We're talking Nixon versus Kennedy, here.)

"I'm surprised you've made it this long," he says, with less levity than you might expect.

That's not the big spoiler for that race, after all.

She shrugs nonchalantly.

"I suppose it doesn't really matter, either way. Although there are rumors circulating that creative is planning to have a party in the office, after hours, to watch the results."

Joan shrugs again.

"I'm not so sure I'll go."

He nods. "You already see a lot of each other."

It's different for him--the sheriff's department are all his friends. He's picked up that Joan doesn't exactly feel that way about many of her co-workers.

"And the after hours parties tend to get out of hand - fast."

She speaks from experience.

"I may be partial to a quieter evening."

He smiles at that. "You're not going to hear me complain."

"Do you want to go out and do something together instead? In your world, maybe?"

A lot easier to explain a stranger in New York than Twin Peaks.

There's certainly not the issue of blending in.

"If you'd like to visit, my world and I would love to have you."

"Well, I just thought it would be nice," he says smiling. "If it wasn't too quiet of an evening."

It weighs on his mind, a little; the issue of explaining her and the tight circuit it makes of their lives.

"I'll see what I can do about arranging something."

Luckily, it's soon enough in advance that she'll be able to work around any reservations that need to be made.

"Something that isn't too quiet."

"I can dance a little, I think," he offers. "If you show me the steps."

He's making sacrifices here.

She chuckles a little at that.

"Well, I promise they wouldn't be hard to learn."

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