It was a calm night-a calm, star-dusted evening with the light of the sun melting away at its usual hour. It was darker than usual, save for the lights of the tall buildings and the lamps at every street corner. The hurried rush of daytime tourists has long diminished, and now night was left with its tourist-speckled maze of a city.
Harry stared blankly into the hallway mirror and struggled to tie his bowtie with the look of a champion plastered on his face.
He sighs, giving up all hope that he'll be able to fix the knot somehow, and drops his arms to his sides as he laboriously evaluates his situation. It was a quarter til seven o'clock and if Liam wasn't yelling from the living room, Harry wouldn't have given the time a second thought.
"I'll be right there," Harry calls back, returning his stupefied gaze to the exasperated boy in the mirror. Had he been so out of it that he can't even remember how to make a bow? Though, despite the trivial crisis, he managed to remember in the nick of time just as Liam grabbed his arm unexpectedly.
"You have less than fifteen minutes to get there, Harry, and it's a five minute drive," Liam warned.
"Splendid, so I have ten minutes to kill, then?"
"Have you forgotten you lived in London of all places?" Liam gaped at him, "The traffic, dear Harry, never forget."
Harry laughed at the sight of him trying to be intimidating, but Liam couldn't hold the stare long enough to be effective anyway, which to Harry was a short lived moment of relaxation, because as soon as he stepped into the glass elevator, his heart dropped.
Tonight really was the night. It was the meeting that Harry had been working his way up to, and this time, he had top-secret cargo with him.
His fingers tightly clenched the handle of the briefcase at his side and Harry was sure the warmth in his clammy hand was going to melt down the leather completely. He cleared his throat as he tried to shake any lingering thoughts about anything other than negotiating business, and ducked his head to take his seat in the cab.
"Everything will be fine," the older boy reassured when he had taken the seat next to him.
"I would hope so," Harry mumbled. He crossed his feet in front of him and tried to get as comfortable as he could for the drive.
They weren't going to meet at the same restaurant; instead, Accuracy's executive assistant, in this case, Dalton's right hand man, had emailed Liam the day after their previous meeting and said that they were to rendezvous at the restaurant around the corner.
It certainly wasn't as grand as the last restaurant had been for the last few meetings and it wasn't as discreet, but it was much more of a calming atmosphere. It was quieter, too, and Harry used that to his advantage and promised himself that he'd keep his temper; else he'd disturb every other customer and get kicked out.
"Bye, Liam, see you at home," Harry quickly whispered as he got out of the cab.
"Knock 'em dead, Harry," Liam responded.
Harry actually snorted at the quickly formed image in his head, "If only."
The front of the restaurant had several steps going up to the entrance before he's met with a large revolving door, and with a few moments of recollection, Harry swung through the turning doors and walked up to the greeter.
"Has Mr. Dalton arrived?" was Harry's scripted line.
And as if it were a flashback, the man behind the podium surveyed Harry's attire and quickly judged him with the beginning of a smirk on his face.
