Movement

Chapter Seven.

An hour into their dinner, a few shared plates of fried rice and spring rolls and sautéed vegetables and two beers later, Brady and Harry sat on opposite sides of the table- elbows on it with their hands in their palms, smiles reaching their eyes. It had been light conversation for the most part; talk about his recent field mission, and her catching him up on what had been happening in the office while he was gone.

"Karen, once again, had fish for lunch yesterday. Don't you think she's gotten the hint?" Brady asked incredulously, hand holding the bottle of the beer by the neck. Harry fought back a grin as he rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"Fu.cking evil, that lady. How dare she eat fish in the office?" Harry mused, and Brady chuckled at that, swelling Harry's heart with pride. He'd been making her laugh more often lately and he felt as though he couldn't get enough of it.

The laughing between the two died down shortly after and Harry's eyebrows pulled together in thought. He began to realize all of the sudden that he knew, in all honesty, absolutely nothing about Brady Allen. He knew her middle name began with an 'R', he knew her dog's name, he knew how he liked her coffee in the morning and he knew vaguely of the type of music she listened to. Other than that, he'd known absolutely nothing.

And so, clearing his throat and bringing his eyes to hers, he frowned and asked, "Brady, what's your middle name?"

Brady's eyebrows raised and she set her beer on the table, her hands folding together. "Rita," she answered, "after my Grandmother."

Harry's lips pulled up into a gentle smile, his shoulders slumping as he nodded. Brady Rita Allen. It was like finding the last piece of a puzzle. It was... Correct, in his mind. Satisfying.

"And yours?" She asked, bringing his attention back to her. Harry's nose crinkled.

"Edward," he said with moderate distaste, "sounds like a posh-y English tw.at, doesn't it?" He asked. She snorted at that, crossing her arms and leaning back against the booth.

"A bit," she grinned, earning a huff from Harry. Her eyes rolled and she moved her foot out, nudging his ankles with her foot. "I'm kidding, Harry. Sounds pretty nice," she said sweetly.

He smiled at that, his hands folding on the table and his thumbs twiddling together. All of the sudden, a loud ringing noise broke the silence and Brady's cheeks flushed as people cast their glances towards her. The name 'Mac' popped up on the screen and she sighed, sending an apologetic glance to Harry which he shook his head at with a wave of his hand. She accepted the call and brought the phone to her ear.

"Yeah?... No- I don't- I don't have anything for you, Mac..." she said quietly into the phone, her eyes shutting and her fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose. Harry really did try his best to keep his eyes off of her and give her the space she probably desired, but he couldn't help but listen in.

"I told you not to call me anymore," she said sternly into her phone, and he noticed her heavy New York accent that often came out when she was getting upset. His brows pulled together as he frowned.

"Lose my fu.cking number, would you? For fu.ck's sake, I don't owe you sh.it," she spat, taking the phone away from her ear and ending the call. She dropped the phone on the table and inhaled deeply, breathing out a quick sigh. She opened her eyes again then and pulled her lips together into a tight smile, her eyes meeting Harry's again.

"I'm sorry about that, it was rude," she said to him in a much softer tone. He frowned as he realized how quickly she was able to switch her moods. He was sure whatever anger was triggered by that phone call was still swimming in her head but nevertheless, he smiled and shook his head.