Harry's pretty good at noticing when people are watching him! It often leads to people punching or shooting him, so he keeps in practice. He looks at the watcher and arranges his face in a configuration that could be either "seduction" or "trying not to scream and run away".

"Well, you look fucking terrified," the watcher remarks. "Hi."

"...Hi. I'm... looking for a... someone you may have met?"

"Are you now. Who?"

"And why are you looking for this person? I bet it's not that you want to have a go," he snorts.

"Picked up on that, huh," he snorts. "No, it's just that they may have... witnessed a crime. And I'd like to find out what they know."

"Yeah? What crime?"

"You know," he says, "I don't think you're a cop. Dunno why. I just have this feeling."

"You'd be right about that. I work with them sometimes. Sometimes, not so much. And it's only for the big stuff. Stuff like people's hearts exploding out of their chests. Or showing up dead without a mark on them and a big smile. That kind of thing."

"...People's hearts explode out of their chests? That's a thing that happens?"

"Yep. Very gruesome. Happened a couple years back. Turned out somebody had used an obscure magical ritual to kill them in a big way. Magic being a thing that exists, as I'm sure you're aware. Now, the other thing, that's more common. Usually some White Court vampire loses control of their powers and sucks out some poor bastard's soul. It's apparently very pleasant for the victim, apart from the results."

"Wow. So that's what that is," he says. "Sucking out people's souls, really? You're not just messing with me?"

"Souls are weird. The effect on the body manifests as a massive heart attack, but it's because of that. Didn't anybody teach you about the vampire birds and the vampire bees?"

"Man, nobody even taught me about the vampires. Nobody taught me shit."

"My parents were assholes. I ran away from home. Anyway. Did you actually come to tell me off for killing that guy, or what?"

"I came to make sure you didn't kill anybody else. At the time, that looked like threatening or killing you. Right now, it's looking more like giving you your vampire starter pack and telling you to stick to third base or below."

"I mean, I don't go around fucking people to death for kicks," he says. "I've figured that much out. But, y'know, sometimes a guy won't take no for an answer..." He shrugs.

"That'd sure be nice of you!"

"Okay," Harry sighs. "I just... sorry. About that. There's other jobs you can get for feeding, you know. You could do massage, or something. At a parlor that isn't actually a brothel."

"I dunno. Most of the time I like this one. And it doesn't require, like, qualifications. It's easy."

"How can you like a job that gets you sexually assaulted on a regular basis?"

He laughs. "I like it when I'm not getting sexually assaulted, obviously!"

"If I had a job that I liked that got me severely injured all the time, I'd- wait, I do. That's a bad example."

"See, you do understand!"

"But I'm getting hurt in the name of justice! You're doing it in the name of- orgasms, I guess. It's not the same thing!"

"Orgasms are nice!"

"Yes, but it's not as noble as saving people's lives. I guess your mileage may vary on that."

"So that's what you do? Save people's lives?"

"Well, generally I find lost cats. But in between that, I save people's lives, yeah. I did stop that heart-exploding guy, if you'll recall. And the enormous wolf that was devouring people, and the ghost that was destroying people's brains. All in a day's work. Citizen."

"I don't know, it compares favorably. At least in my experience."

"You're adorable," he says. "Let's be friends."

"Hi! I haven't found a name I like, but apparently I'm some kind of soul-sucking sex vampire!"

"Some of my best friends are soul-sucking sexpires. Want a name? I'm good at those."

"Sure," says the soul-sucking sexpire. "Why not."

"How about... Captain. Captain Hook," Harry giggles. (It's not a mocking laugh, he's just really pleased with his awful pun.)

"That's terrible, I love you," he giggles.

"Aww, don't freak out, adorable wizard! It's not that big a deal, I just think you're really great is all."

Harry effortfully resumes normal breathing. "Interesting word choice. Sorry, I'm- jumpy, I guess."

"Why is that something to freak out about...? Never mind, I guess. I don't know, is the word choice that weird?"

"Love is... a big thing. I don't like throwing it about lightly. I mean, honestly neither should you, but for actual reasons, love burns lust vampires."

"Oh, is that what that is. Wait, what do you mean exactly?"

"Touching someone who is in love- true love, for whatever definition of 'true' - burns. Like hot metal. Tokens of love, too, engagement rings and roses and that. I guess you've encountered that?"

"Yeah. But I mean, it pretty clearly doesn't matter who I fall in love with."

"Not a bit, for which you can be very thankful."

"I guess."

Harry raises his eyebrows. "Unless you'd rather be in constant burning pain?"

He giggles. "Well, touching people who are in love is kind of nice!"

Harry considers him. "You're weird. It's endearing."

"Thanks!"

"Just to confirm, do you, like... have somewhere to live? Or are you sleeping under a bridge or something?"

"We-ell, not literally under a bridge... but not, like, in a room with a bed, no."

"You're a sweetheart! Can I hug you?"

Harry notes the smoke rising from Hook's arms and breaks away quickly. "Sorry- well, you're welcome, I guess, but I'd really rather not aid and abet burning the living hell out of you."

"Suit yourself."

"Aww, you have a puppy. A tiny angry puppy. I promise I won't hurt your wizard, tiny angry puppy!"

"Is tiny angry puppy not supposed to do that?"

"Maybe he's a magic puppy, how the fuck should I know?"

"Your tiny magic puppy is adorable."

"He is! It's a pity he seems to be vampire-racist. I'm sorry for my magic puppy's terrible behavior. Do you want to try petting him? He might warm up to you."

"Sure!"

Mouse is proffered! He growls very quietly, but does not explode into barking.

"Ow," he says, giggling and pulling his hand away. "Okay, tiny magic puppy still doesn't like me, got it."

"Are you alr- well, that's a stupid question. I'm sorry. For the fact that he doesn't like you, if nothing else."

"Aww. I'm fine. But do you still wanna offer me your spare room even though I piss off your magic puppy?"

"Oh, no, the puppy has a veto on any housing decisions. He's a wonderful judge of character, you see, and he explains his opinions so well."

Giggle.

"So, Captain, do you want to see the apartment and maybe move your stuff in, or should it wait?"

"Huh. Do you want me to try to figure out a name you can use with other folks too, then? I'll give you as many names as you like, I've got reserves. And I believe I can get you a fluffy sweater from my friend the Fist of God."

"Yeah, sure! You have a friend called the Fist of God? Did you come up with that, or did somebody else?"

"That's adorable! You're adorable! I'm not sure I'm keeping it, but man, do I ever want that fuzzy sweater now."

"I'll keep trying, just you wait and see. By tonight I'll have a list on legal paper. Oh, uh- what's your situation with regard to... technology? In general? Like, do you have a phone or a computer or anything like that?"

"I have these clothes," he says, gesturing to himself. "That's pretty much it. I don't accumulate, like, stuff very much."

"Good, because around me tech tends to, uh, go wrong. I've seen a PC tower burst into flames at fifteen paces. Rather not have that become a repeat incident."

"That's fucking hilarious."

"It kind of was, I guess. Except for the part where I had to pay to replace Murphy's computer. You'd like Murphy, I think, she's very likable if she doesn't peg you as criminal scum. She's tiny and policey and she broke my arm this one time."

"I'm sorry she broke your arm! But you're right, that totally makes her sound like I'd like her."

"Don't worry, I deserved it. I'll see about introducing you. So, do you want to go back to the apartment?"

"Yeah!"

Harry leads him back to what could charitably be described as a "vintage" Volkswagon Beetle, and could be uncharitably described as an absolute wreck. "This is the Blue Beetle. It does its best."

"It's cute as hell."

"The Blue Beetle is not 'cute!' It is a valiant warrior in the battle against fuel efficiency." Harry gets into the driver's seat and, after some effort, pops the passenger-side door.

"The other adjectives are disallowed. Love is acceptable." Driving begins. Chicago traffic is Chicago traffic.

"Okay, fine. I love your car."

"Awwwwwwwww."

"You're adorable."

"Am not!"

"Are tooooo."

"Am n- okay, I'm not actually ten years old. Fine, I'm adorable."

"Adoooooooooorable. I need that fuzzy sweater so I can hug you all the time."

"If you start wearing a big fuzzy sweater around all the time I might have to call you Velma, fair warning."

"Then I might have to hug you even more."

"Maybe I'll call you 'spider monkey'. With the clinging and all."

"'Koala'," he suggests.

"Koala works. D'you want to be Koala? I'll call you Koala. Captain Koala. Or just Koala if you want."

"I don't wanna be Koala. Well, maybe I wanna be Koala. I'll think about it. You can keep trying in the meantime, all your nicknames are fucking delightful."

"As you wish. Buttercup."

...Koala/Buttercup/Captain/Blanche grins.

"You totally didn't mean that how it came out, did you."

"Please don't have a heart attack from sheer embarrassment, I like you and I don't want you to die."

That's okay. The blushing is adorable. Buttercup derives immense enjoyment from the blushing.

Eventually Harry starts breathing again. "Uh. Sorry about. Freezing up like that. You're, uh, very pretty, but I wouldn't be... 'as you wish'ing about it yet."

"I figured. You're adorable."

"Thanks. I've been getting a lot of that, lately."

"What, from people other than me?"

"Not as such. People don't generally use words like 'adorable' about seven-foot-tall homeless-looking men with big sticks. It's the strangest thing."

"I don't get it. You're totally adorable."

"Feel free to spread the good news. Maybe you'll get people to stop calling the cops on me when I'm trying to save them from horrible monsters."

"That sounds inconvenient, does it happen a lot?"

"More than I'd like. I mean, it's understandable, I guess. Enormous man shouts 'Fairies are attacking! Get down!' and starts shooting things, there's some natural assumptions there. But it'd be nice to get the benefit of the doubt."

"Maybe find something slightly more plausible to shout?"

"I have tried that! I'm, uh, not very good at lying outright. I mean, I could lead with 'look out, he's got a gun!' but that doesn't exactly lead to fewer cops being called. And half the time they think I'm the one I'm talking about."

"...I can follow you around and lie to people for you?"

"You know, I might consider it. How are you at killing things? Because that's also part of the job."

He shrugs. "I don't suck."

"Well, there's an opening in my 'punching monsters and lying to cops' department if you want it. Pay would probably be kind of anemic, but you get to save people's lives and all."

"Sounds like fun, I'm in," he says cheerfully.

"I'll test run you sometime, maybe next time there's a ghost infestation in O'Hare and I have to carry a bag of depleted uranium and iron filings through airport security. Trial by fire and all."

"Is that a thing that happened? That's amazing."

"Oh yeah. Cavity searches, a thrilling adventure. I ended up getting my ass saved by the poltergeist manifesting and needing to be slain. The TSA guy apologized afterwards, I gave him some of my ghost dust in case another one showed up. That's the depleted uranium, it helps with the killing of ghosts."

He giggles. "Good to know, I guess. Are ghosts a big problem or something?"

"Not typically, no. They're usually pretty quiet, but when they are a problem they're very nasty and damn near impossible to kill without ghost dust or some enchanted weapon or other. There was this ghost that went around smothering babies, it was unpleasant. That's generally the kind I kill."

"Why the fuck did this ghost want to smother babies so badly?"

"Her husband was an abusive creep. Her baby started crying one night and she put her hand over its mouth to quiet it down so he wouldn't get mad, but she suffocated it by accident. That pushed her over the edge and she murdered her husband with an axe, then chopped off the hand that smothered her child. She was put in the chair, she popped back up again, but she'd already gone off the deep end, so all she remembered was her last moments. So she went around the maternity ward suffocating all the babies that cried."

"Nasty."

"Yep. Most ghosts are just sort of wispy and don't do all that much, though. I know a guy who works with ghosts, he knows a lot more than me. I just know how to kill the ones that go bad." He sighs. "That's kind of the extent of a lot of my knowledge."

"Why are you the guy who knows all about killing stuff?"

"Some stuff needs killing. I'm here to protect this city however I can. If that was tea parties and rainbows, I'd know a lot about tea parties and rainbows. Unfortunately, it's usually more about killing things."

"Makes sense."

Harry pulls up outside a nice-looking old wooden apartment complex. "Home, sweet home."

"Your place is cute. Why is everything about you so cute?"

"I feel like that's unfair. What about my air of masculine ruggedness?"

"What about your air of masculine ruggedness? It's cute too," he says. "And kinda hot."

"It is so adorable when you squeak like that."

"I don't squeak!" squeaks Harry.

"You squeak. It's adorable."

Since he is apparently not there, Buttercup doesn't say anything.

...Buttercup shrugs helplessly.

He giggles.

Buttercup obeys the frantic gestures very cheerfully.

"What're you squeaking about?"

"You- winked. Salaciously. I object."

"I did not wink salaciously," he giggles. "Okay, maybe it was contextually salacious."

"That was salacious in every way. Very upsetting."

"Aww, I'm sorry. It's so cute when you squeak though."

"I mean, it's, it's not that bad, I just- squeaking," Harry says helplessly. "It's bad for my reputation, you know."

"Maybe if you're less intimidating and more adorable people will call the cops on you less?"

"A fringe benefit of taking you on monster-hunting missions. You'll make me squeak adorably."

"It'll be so cute!"

"Get me that fuzzy sweater, I need to hug you like a million times."

"Awesome. What the fuck is up with your phone, is this because you make things explode?"

"Eeeeyep. The older something is, the less likely to go kablooie. Hence the car, hence the phone, hence the candles and fireplace and lack of water heater, sorry about that last one by the way."

"Whatever," he says, shrugging.

"That's the spirit. Let's see, what was I going to do with today... hm. I was going to work on some of my enchantments, but that might literally be the most boring thing to watch in the world."

"Wow, that's really boring. I may not believe you that it's actually that boring."

"I'll show you a few minutes of it, I guess. See for yourself." Harry moves an interesting (but cheap) rug out of the way and pulls up a trapdoor in the floor. He starts down the ladder.

Buttercup shrugs and follows him.

"Is a blasting rod basically what it sounds like?"

"Yep! Fire, fire, and more fire. Also a good friend of mine. So, d'you want to see the exciting process of enchantment?"

"Sure!"

Harry holds the staff in front of him. He breathes in a level, even rhythm. The runes glow and fade in time with his breath. A slight draft runs through the room, similarly timed.

...Yep. That's pretty boring. But it's not like looking at Harry is exactly an unpleasant activity on its own merits, so whatever.

"That was not remotely the most boring thing in the world," says Buttercup. "Let's go get my sweater!"

"Glad you think so, I guess." Harry starts up the ladder.

Up they go! To the fuzzy sweater! It had better be fuzzy.

"Yessssss," says Buttercup, upon beholding the fuzzy sweaters.

"Thanks!"

"Ow," he giggles, "what the hell're you? I'm fine, I'm fine. I like the sweaters. Cozy."

"I so do not mind," he agrees cheerfully.

Michael's eyebrows remain high. "Well, it would be an odd world if we were all alike."

Snicker.

"Too bad, that would be adorable."

"I'll bring it up next time I have a performance review with my namesake archangel."

Giggle.

"...Okay, just make sure you don't, like, nuzzle my neck and get seared or something." Harry holds out his arms. (His body below the neck is safely ensconced in clothing and, in most cases, leather duster.)

Harry hugs back appropriately. (Buttercup's hair! So fluffy! The sweater! So fuzzy!)

"Awesome," says Buttercup. "You're very huggable. I approve."

"Uh. Thanks. That's reassuring, I'm kind of out of practice."

"I can fix that."

"Is that a threat?"

"Yes."

"I don't negotiate with terrorists. Or pirates."

"Not even cuddle pirates?"

"Dear God, you're adorable." This merits further hugging.