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Summary
You said I'll know where to find you, and I do.
(Or: the Leverage team has something Harold wants.)
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Bookmark Notes:
Quote:
There’s an actual limousine picking them up. John knows he’s smiling like a weirdo, and he doesn’t care. Only Harold.He’s not expecting Harold to be there in person, though, and he tenses up immediately. “Don’t taze him,” he tells Parker, low and threatening.
Parker seems unimpressed. “Don’t give me a reason to.”
Hardison and the first guy (whose name turned out to be Eliot) look wary. “Why do I feel like we just got in a car with Jabba the Hut?” Hardison says.
Harold frowns at him. “Is this a comment about my weight?" He shakes his head. ”I normally don’t meet our, ah, marks, in person. Your team is a special case.”
“Special like special ed?” Parker says, eyes narrowed.
Eliot asks, “Who are you guys, anyway?”
“A concerned third party,” John says, purely for the annoyed look Harold gets when John beats him to the catchphrase.
“I’m interested in your subcutaneous transponder,” Harold tells Hardison. “Normally I just buy the company, but as it appears you’re not going commercial....”
“What do you want to do with it?” Hardison doesn’t reach for his own collarbone, but John can tell he wants to. Eliot, by the look on his face, caught it too: he’s wincing. John feels a flash of sympathy.
“The same thing you do,” Harold says. “Allow tracking in the event of kidnapping, or similar.” He dips his head a little. John wonders if Eliot noticed that Harold’s breath sped, too, or if the change was too subtle to notice unless one knew him.
John might be breathing faster, too. He doesn’t like to even think of the possibility of losing Harold again. The idea of a homing beacon on Harold is tempting, of course it is. At the same time... does Harold think John couldn’t track him? That he wouldn’t?
Hardison’s brow furrows as he looks at John. “What, you just gonna chip this fellow like a dog?”
“Hardly like a dog,” Harold says. “Dogs can’t give informed consent.” His expression shifts. “Of course, I haven’t asked for it yet, but we can always discuss it-- John?”
“Yes,” John says, dazed. There’s not a lot of room between the seats, but John wants to slip down into it anyway, to go liquid and put himself under Harold’s hands.
“...I’m not sure I’d call it informed consent.” Hardison sounds doubtful. “Guy looks higher than a weather balloon.”
“I’ll discuss it with him later,” Harold says. “At length. But if you’re willing to give me the blueprints, I will be most grateful.”