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Summary
"Made it sweet, just how you like it. Fits you well." He says, sitting back in his chair with a charming smile.
Hal doesn't know what to say. As much as he loves keeping his nerves intact, this is the lesser of two evils, the greater evil being actually responding to this... flirting.
Pliskin is flirting with him. Randomly, stubbornly, laying it on completely thick. Pliskin had to have an ulterior motive, or a reason, or something that justified this.
(David uses his alter ego for nefarious purposes. Hal doesn't really mind - not when it gets him this riled up.)
