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“Here,” Henry says, sliding a envelope across the table. “I heard you were a Penguins fan so I got two tickets.”
George glances around the coffee shop but taking the envelope in his hand. He opens it and yeah, it really is two tickets to the Leafs-Penguins game.
“Who you hear that from?”
“A little birdie told me you’re friends with Eddie Driscoll, figured you’re the type of guy to be more loyal to your friends than your hometown.”
George shakes his head. “I’m from Newfoundland not Toronto,” He waves his hand around in front of him. “In case you couldn’t tell from the accent.”
“Newfoundland, huh,” Henry puts his chin on his hands, elbows just missing hitting his plate. “Always wanted to visit there.”
“It’s pretty boring, actually.” George smile. He’s tempted to talk at lengths about his aunties and the town, their lovely house on the hill but they’re in public and he really shouldn’t be talking to Henry right now.
Henry grins and tilts his head, a strand of hair falling in front of his eyes. George can make out the faint scars on Henry’s jawline. He can’t ask about them but he wants to, he desperately wants to. “I think I should be able to make up my own mind about that.”
George fiddles with his cup, puts the envelope into his jacket pocket and catches the edge of his badge, where it’s clipped to belt. He shouldn’t be here, Murdoch will be wondering why he hasn’t returned from lunch yet.
Henry’s eyes are soft though and the sun streaming in gives him a glow. George figures when he gets back he’ll just knock over the case files on his desk and that will distract Murdoch.
A car alarm goes off in the background and George turns towards it. He sits up straight and looks at Henry out of the corner of his eye. Henry hasn’t moved.
George darts his eyes around the coffee shop. Nothing seems out of place and a man from the counter turns around and angles his charley towards the window. The beeping stops.
He can’t be around Henry. It’s a ploy to trap him. The soft sun and smiles a plan to lure him into a false sense of security. He’s going to trip up one day and mess everything and it will all be his fault.
“So since you have two tickets, who you planning to bring?” Henry asks and the envelope burns in George’s pocket. He should give it back.
“Jackson, probably, he likes sports.”
Henry smirks and George thinks that might be the most dangerous thing about the two of them. “But does he like the Leafs?”
George could lie. He wants to lie. He shakes his head. “He’s a Sens fan.”
“Poor thing,” Henry tuts. “Me, on the other hand, have always wanted to see the Leafs play.”
Henry brought the tickets. He has the money, he could go himself. George shouldn’t ask. “Do you want to go with me?”
“I would love to.” Henry grins.
George’s phone beeps. He knows it’s Murdoch without checking it. He needs to leave.
Henry’s eyes go to George’s pocket and back to his face. “Duty calls?”
He nods, then grimaces. Him and Henry don’t have the same type of duty.
“See you Thursday then.” Henry says.
George stands up, gives Henry a weary smile and says goodbye.
He pointedly doesn’t look towards the black car that he passes in the alleyway next to the shop. He doesn’t want to know who else is involved with Henry Higgins.