KILLSHOT // [H.S]

014. PITY

014. PITY

Rory glanced over her appearance in the entryway mirror. 

Coating her lips with gloss, she leaned forward to inspect her makeup for one final check. She had no explanation for the sweat in her palms or her insistent need to continue fixing her hair and outside, but she knew it wasn't like her. 

"I am fine," she tried to convince her reflection. "It's only dinner. I go out for plenty of dinners - it won't be any different. Besides, it's not like it's a real date."

She reached for the list of questions written down in her notepad and read it over once more.

Are you a dog or a cat person?

How do you like to spend your weekends?

What were you like as a kid?

Are you close with your family?

What causes or charities do you care about?

Do you have an odd talent?

What are you looking for right now?

"He's probably looking to kill me," she mumbled, answering the last one on her list.

Rory made a mental note to ask how old he was. It wasn't a question that came up in any of her research on what to ask on a first date, but she wanted to know. 

Rory knew in the back of her mind this date was more of a way for Harry to feel better about his outburst, but she still couldn't help but get excited. Her first date - who would have thought she would go on one of those? Not her. And definitely not with Harry.

She had entertained company for dinner in the past - it wasn't like no one had ever asked her out before. But all those times, she was playing a game. The person sitting across the table from her was always her target for the night, never someone she was genuinely interested in getting to know better. Her lines were repeated and rehearsed, she always knew exactly what to say to get the information she needed. How fast she could get a man to give up the code to a safe or tell her where he kept his watches was humorous.

Tonight, Rory wasn't playing a game.

There was nothing for her to win. She needed to be on her best behaviour since the whole threatening to kill at the drop of a hat thing was still going on.

No games. No con. Only dinner.

That was fucking weird to think about.

At precisely seven o'clock, Rory heard a knock. Running her hands down the silk material of her blue slip dress one final time, she took a deep breath and opened the door.

Harry stood with his hair perfectly tossed to one side, dressed in a pair of dark slacks and a crisp button down shirt. She parted her lips to make a joke about his inability to button his shirt up all the way but was interrupted with an abrupt,

"Ready?"

His points for punctuality were immediately taken away by the lack of greeting.

"No flowers?" Rory asked, noticing his empty hands.

"I didn't think of it."

"I bet Dallas would have brought me some."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Is this going to be a big problem for the entire night?"

"Oh, would you relax?" she said, rolling her eyes and shutting her apartment door. "I'm just teasing you. Besides, I hate flowers anyway." Double checking that her front door was securely locked, Rory dropped her keys in her purse and forced a smile. "Ready."