rum chocolate souffle

"On the contrary," Harry argues, resting his arms back against the table, observing the fight breaking out across the room between two people, "I believe it's those who claim to be smart that are more dangerous. Because ignorance comes bliss, and if smart people can screw over stupid people, then they can blame the stupid people for all the problems and get away with it as they have the wits and smarts to back them up, while the stupid people have nothing in their corner but their stupidity."

"I don't recall needing you to make my decisions for me, ay?" He chimes in, turning his head slowly to face William, his body following the movement to make it even more menacing. "And as ye'r missin' a whole bloody crown to be making these kind of declarations, darling, I'd like to see ye try to stop me."

Banter. It was always in his wheelhouse. Not being fronted by the insult in the slightest, Harry casually twists his body around to better face the other. "Well, well, well - If I didn't know any better, duckling, I'd think ye were flirting." Grinning wide, he takes a step closer, seizing them up with a thoughtful hum. "If ye wanted to get a date out of me, all ye had to was say so. How does tonight sound? Somewhere around eight. Dinner, dancing, a leisurely stroll."

A maniac giggle escapes the man, and he isn't even under the influence to inflict the response. Causing trouble. That was something he was also all about. For the last few months he had been purposefully making his neighbors annoyed with juvenile pranks, as it felt natural to do. Cause the groans of disgust, disdain, and overall anger. It was music to the ears. "Is that a promise I can hop on board of?" Harry asks, almost bouncing in place, eyes sparkling with ill intent. "I'm sure I could find a weapon of some kind!"

"Why? Is that on ye'r list to Santa, mate?" Harry asks, just about resisting invading personal space. This was something he told himself that he'd work on. Why he felt the need to just get in everyone's personal bubble off the get go to either intimidate or flirt was still unclear. Instead, he crosses his arms, leaning against the wall, looking the other man up and down, brows raised. "I wouldn't be against it, if I know what I get out of it, duckling. Don't be shy and speak up."

After a moment, he glances up towards Hank, coming out of whatever trance he had been stuck in, flashing the usual Harry Hook smile. "Admiring the view? Stare away."

"The thing about slugs, duckling," he purrs, leaning against the nearest solid surface, "is they always leave a noticeable trail behind. Whether it's out of making a positive impression or not, one only has to put the salt away to find out." Somewhere, Gil is proud. "So is that a no to sharing hot cocoa?"

"Is this ye agreeing to a date?" Harry practically taunts, giddy like a total child as he prances over towards Noa, hands on hips. Did he know what an ugly Christmas sweater even was? No. But the idea that he would get to match with a pretty girl to a party had to mean something. Somewhere in his gut was telling him so. And honestly, with the amount of people he liked to flirt and ask out, it wouldn't be too far off that he didn't get around to actually asking her on any kind of date, but he'd be damned to pass this up by taking the opportunity when it was offered. Right? "Consider me on board, duckling! Let's go for something red or black, those feel like my signature pallet."

"Why? Would it ruin ye'r enjoyment of this sledding experience if I wasn't there?" He says instead, flashing a grin towards the other only to exaggerate a wink.