knowthyexits | (no subject)

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hank

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Sarah is starting to think that she's going to do something very stupid soon.

She's supposed to be going to a music hall with Coulson and she's milling around an avenue filled with shops and peeking in the windows of clothing stores and wondering if she's supposed to be getting dressed up and if she does have to get dressed up, she needs to find something. Or? Or she could not show up.

That would be terrible though, and she's not perceiving any kind of threat that would make her bolt, so this is nerves talking and Coulson has made it clear that they're not going on any kind of date, so why the hell is she nervous, god damn it.

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"Really?" Hank asked, feigning surprise, though he was also kinda checking, just to be on the safe side. There were plenty of nights on the island that were filled with black holes where memories ought to have been. Those nights were usually due to Lew and/or blessed white nose candy. "I coulda sworn..."

Teasing put aside for now, he slung an arm around her neck as he passed. "So. Tell me more about this twatty fucking cunt who's trying to steal you from me? Aside from his name and the real possibility that he might be gay, he sounds swell."

"Honestly, I barely know him," Sarah admits, which is part of the reason she's so nervous about this whole thing. "We've talked a few times, but as far as I know, he's on the ITF and we've exchanged pleasantries." That's all she's got to go on, so she's understandably nervous. Right?

"You ask him whether he thinks the Stones are better than the Beatles and then report back to me. I'll let ya know whether he's a keeper," Hank offered. "It's a fool proof test, trust me."

"How about you ask him on some date you have with him, since you seem to care more about how this night's going to go," Sarah suggests, taking the dresses to the cash -- still going through the motions even if she doesn't seem to be expected to pay.

"Excellent idea." Hank hung back to wait for her. "What d'you think he'd prefer? Candle-lit supper by an open fire or getting down and dirty on the dance floor? Totally up to him." Hank was pretty flexible as to where he vetted him.

"I think he'd prefer you to be charming and debonair," she deadpans, taking hold of the bag of dresses and peering inside to try and figure out which one she was going to wear. "You're very strange. Has anyone ever told you that, Hank?"

"I've been called much, much worse, honeybunch." Strange was a compliment in Hank's book. If normal was what every woman wanted, then he was shit outta luck. "But you're right. I am kind of strange. I'm also kind of really fucking awesome."

"In ways," Sarah agrees, even though it takes her a while to ground out the words. She likes Hank, even loves him as a friend, but he's so frustrating that he makes her wish she had more ammunition to spare. "More of the strange."

"That's when you're meant to say 'How do I think thee awesome? Let me count the ways'." That would have been a much more satisfying (for him) response than the infinitely enigmatic 'in ways' reply that Sarah had given.

But then some people did say that satisfaction was the death of desire, so on his toes Sarah should keep him.

"Although, personally, I don't think anyone could count that high. I don't even think a number exists for how awesome I am."

"That's because it's a negative thing," Sarah informs him, aware that she pokes a little too much fun at him, but she can't help it. "You're ...okay," she finally decides. "That's what I'd say."

"I'll take it," Hank replied easily. If 'okay' was where you got to after a couple years of friendship, then it had to be pretty good by her standards.

"Might I suggest that you're a little more forthcoming with the compliments on your non-date? Y'know, if you want there to be a second non-date."

"What, about you?" Sarah replies, curious. "I'm not going to be talking about you when I go out with Phil," she says, slightly oblivious to what Hank means.

"Yeah, about me," Hank drawled, giving Sarah a look like she was the one who had puffed a few too many spliffs earlier. "About him. Oh, you smell so nice," he continued, putting on a generically female voice, "you look soooo handsome. My, what big hands you have."

"I will try to make sure I say one or two nice things about him over the course of the night," Sarah says, but she can't guarantee it. She can only do her best to try and if that falls apart, she's tried.

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