( for bringstheheat )

[goblinjr]

The trip from New York to Central City had been easier than Harry thought it would be.

Still not easy, because Peter and MJ had insisted on saying good-bye to him one last time before he left. They got upset, and that made Harry upset, too-- even with the promise that he'd keep in touch with them. No matter how many ridiculous hoops it might take jumping through to keep in touch without Norman catching him, they were his best friends and he could at least manage that. In fact, to Harry's surprise, those were the only tears he shed that night. He thought he'd be more upset about leaving his dad, but Leonard had planned the "escape" from Osborn manor so well that it made it easy to leave. More than that, this is what Harry wanted.

There were no regrets, and there still aren't.

By now, Harry's starting to settle and get a feel for his surroundings. He still has yet to meet the infamous Mick he's heard so much about, but... Really, he's not too bent out of shape about it. As much as he's intrigued by this guy who means so much to Len, it's also kind of hard not to be intimidated with everything Harry's heard, and he's already conjured up this idea of Mick that may or may not be worse than he actually is. Leonard headed out earlier - something to do with the job he was currently on, Harry supposed. Either way, that means Harry's left to his own devices for a bit in one of the safe houses. Not a big deal in and of itself. Len's gone out of his way to make him feel safe and comfortable, for which Harry is endlessly grateful to him. Accordingly, Harry's curled up on the couch - his back to the door - with a book and some Cheerios that he's decided to eat straight out of the box.

When he hears the door open and footsteps heading in, Harry doesn't even think twice about it. "Hey, handsome," is his cheerful greeting. He sets about marking his place in his book before craning his neck back against the arm of the couch to peer at the door upside down. "How-- ACK!" The sight he's greeted with is a significantly larger man, looking very rough and gruff. Definitely not Len. Harry sits up with so much force that his reading glasses half-flop off his face, dangling lopsided over his nose. The box of Cheerios launch off his lap, sending a small spray of cereal to the floor.

"You're not Len," he points out unnecessarily, staring in surprise.

And by his amazing skills of deduction, that can only mean that this is probably the one and only Mick Rory. It was only a matter of time before they met, but Harry'd been kind of hoping Leonard would be around when it happened.

Comments

[bringstheheat]

Finally. Snart was back in Central for good, his New York kid in tow. Not that it mattered to Mick one way or the other. Sure, every time Len came back from New York it was with that smug little smirk of his that spoke of getting well-laid and stealing a few fat wallets, but it was a pain in the ass when he kept jumping town. They couldn't plan anything beyond a few minor scores and hitting ATMs and the racetrack was getting downright dull.

Mick needed something bigger. Something with fire and violence and he needed Snart to keep his ass in town to plan it.

They're holed up in the safehouse over on Racine for now - the bigger and more comfortable of the places they had. Decent furniture, close to the good takeout places (both Chinese and beer, for the record) and more importantly it had cable. While Snart was out timing responses and watching their upcoming target, Mick was going to take advantage of the quiet with a mountain of takeout, a few beers and the game on tv.

Handsome? He grunts in reply, kicking the door shut with a bang. "You're observant." And he tromps to the kitchen to fish out a fork and the opener for the beer. It's not the first or last time people have startled at the sight of him so for the most part he can ignore his freakout.

"And you must be the kid Lenny's gone all stupid over."

[goblinjr]

Harry's not exactly difficult to startle to begin with. Factor in that he was already nervous about meeting this guy, and there you have it: an easy recipe for flipping out. He at least stops gawking long enough to pluck the reading glasses from his face and set about cleaning up his mess without ever really taking his eyes off of Mick.

"Well, hello to you, too."

He can't help but smile to himself a little, though-- that he's had that much of an impact on Len. Sure, moving to a completely different city and being trusted enough to be let into one of his safehouses is a pretty big testament to it, but... Y'know. It's different hearing it from someone else. Someone who - as he understands it - is family to Len.

"Um-- yeah, I've heard a lot about you, too. Nice to finally meet you?" he tries, nevermind that Mick doesn't exactly seem like a guy who gives two damns about niceties.

[bringstheheat]

Mick grunts at the offering. He's never been one to stand on politeness or any sort of matters even if it's with the kid Snart has gone all soft on. "He mentioned he was in town, didn't mention that he was takin this house while he worked."

Not a bad looking kid, a little jumpy he surmises as he looks him over. Mick hands over a beer. "You know anything about hockey?"

[goblinjr]

Another grunt. Why does Harry get the feeling that's going to be the majority of any conversation he tries to strike with this guy? Len gave him fair warning that Mick wasn't the type to get along with anybody, really, but... well. Harry is Harry, which means he's determined to try anyway. "I-- yeah. I didn't really have anywhere to stay and didn't wanna be stuck somewhere by myself." Did that make him sound like a baby? Crap. Too late now. "So... he let me hang out here." A beat. "Is that... okay?"

Can you blame him for being jumpy? Harry's only exposure to this life has been Len. He has no idea what to expect. Like... now, for example. He takes the beer with some surprise, which is thankfully enough to distract him from wrinkling his nose at it. After being spoiled on finer alcohol, he's pretty sure this stuff would probably offend his tastebuds. It's a nice enough gesture, though, and he's not going to scoff at it. He does, however, pick up his stuff and promptly scoot over to remove himself from taking up half the couch.

"No, I'm more of a basketball kinda guy. My knowledge of hockey is limited to a bunch of guys pummeling the crap out of each other."