PSL: for necrozoetic

[fucking_gentleman]

For an organisation like the one which Harry headed, locating a single individual who was previously famous took very little effort.

He sat on the information for a while, because he really did have other things that needed doing, follow up surgeries and calibrations, actual work, overseeing the rebuilding of the organisation, though it was that very fact which took him on his travels, scouting possible recruits, cleaning up loose ends while he was there, sometimes with his bodyguard, more often not if he could escape the clutches of the young American.

When he found himself in Hargreeves' old stomping ground, he was on business, had a week in town and nothing like a week's worth of work.

Which was when he sent a text off, with a simple invitation, with a time, date and the location of a high end coffee house.

Not a queen, but maybe you'd join me.

Comments

[fucking_gentleman]

Harry looks for all the world like he should be a snob. An upper class, wanky snob. Maybe a banker.

Now, the fact that one of his dearest friends is complete chav in his personal life would abuse that notion if it was known, and his conversation about queens and dicks was fairly decidedly not of his social standing, but to look at, initially, he's easy to dismiss as being the man who sent those texts.

He's wearing a three piece, tailored suit in a dark pinstripe. His legs are crossed like a proper English gentleman and there's an umbrella hanging off the back of his chair. he's reading off a tablet and sipping at a coffee.

There's also a hair comb on the table. A bridal hair comb, with sparklies and fancy curls in the metal, shaped like a mini tiara. If he makes the connection, then he gets to make the connection.

[substances]

Klaus' green eyes skim over the various guys in the place - there's a guy in some head-to-toe designer stuff with a Luis Vuitton bag who looks too young, a guy who looks super classy but is totally picking his nose who is probably a good time but not the one who texted him, and then there's a guy in a three piece suit with pinstripes and some kind of fancy tiara on the table.

Wait, tiara?

It totally does not go with the guy's suit, that's for sure. And there's something familiar about...

Oh.

Right.

Queen.

Grinning, Klaus crosses the coffee shop and leans down a little, eyes locking on the older man's face (he is hot, yep), hands on his hips, lower lip still between his teeth in what he hopes is an enticing expression.

"May I have the pleasure of this second chair at your table?"

Totally smooth. Totally.

[fucking_gentleman]

When Harry lifts his head, it does show the scarring around one eye and temple, well repaired and healed but it's clear there's been some heavy trauma there. The eye tracks and focuses, but for someone used to the extraordinary, high quality cybernetics are discernible and Harry's eye in one such example. But he smiles warmly at Klaus and gestures to the chair, closing the cover on his tablet. "By all means, it's been some time since I had some charming company."

He offers out his hand, a gold signet ring on his right pinky catching the light briefly. "Harry Hart. A pleasure to meet you."