In the Hawkshaw Seat

Harris set his phone back in his pocket as she called out, looking over at her and smiling in a friendly way.

He waved back with the hand holding the plastic bag, and headed over to her.

“Hey Hilly, nice ta finally see ya in person.” The giant of a man leaned down a bit so they were closer to being eye to eye.

“I hope vanilla is alright, here,” He held out the cake to her, balancing it on his palm.

“Oh! I also picked up these fer ya, I hope the colors are alright.” The plastic bag was held out to her as well.

Hilly was surprised as the gifts were offered up to her, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to turn them down! She looped her wrist through the bag holding the nail polish, so both her hands would he free to hold the cake.

She’d need them both, since her hands were so much smaller than Harris’s.

“Well, geeze! I didn’t know you’d bring the whole five ‘n dime!! C'mon in, sweetheart!”

Hilly laughed through a beaming smile, ushering Harris inside. Her apartment was small, but cozy, in perhaps a bit of a cluttered way. The pitcher of margarita sat on her counter, refreshing and green against the summer heat. The second he was sat down, she brought it to him with a slice of the cake.

Her own hands were busy with a manicure kit, and the bottle of rose red nail polish.

You have picked up a nice vanilla bundt cake, as well as a few nice colors of nail polish. Some pastels and metallic ones, as you have big hands and you’d feel bad if she had to use all the rose nail polish without compensation.

With these in hand, you head to the nearest transportalizer and punch in her coordinates.

In a flash, you are no longer in the grimy Derse streets, instead finding yourself in a pleasant looking courtyard. You feel even more out of place than you usually do now.

Well, now you’re just unsure of where to go from here. So you do the smart thing, and text Hilly.

>[Hey uh, I’m here] >[In a courtyard?] >[Where do I go from here?]

She hadn’t met this Boxcars yet, but she already liked him. There’s just something good about people who offer to bring things along when they visit; it’s a kind of homey mentality shared on Prospit. It’s something trustworthy that you can get behind.

She stopped to taste the pitcher of margarita she’d been mixing. More triple sec? More lime…?

More both. She had turned her bottles up over the pitcher, the drinks softly glugging as it poured out in gluts. Her phone buzzed.

Hilly sat the drinks aside and checked, and felt a flush of embarrassment. Idjit, you didn’t tell him which apartment was yours. But since he was just outside, she tucked her phone in her pocket and went to open the door.

There was no mistaking the swarthy giant that stood in the complex. She had no idea how he was going to get through her door, he was so tall. She waved an arm to catch his attention before she called,