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"So Harry, tell me about your love life. I don't need specifics; I'm just wondering, like, how often I'm gonna be sexiled." Freddie finished her question with a soft laugh, but upon seeing Harry's astounded expression, Freddie tried to soften her demeanor just a little bit. She knew Harry was shy, but sometimes she forgot that he was not accustomed to her bluntness. "I'm sorry if that's like, really personal, but I had a crazy, horny roommate in college, and like, good for her, but I wish I had known when to not show up to the room, you know?"

"You're damn right it's personal," Harry scoffed at Freddie, for the first time revealing a harsher side of himself to her. She was honestly shocked that he would respond this way; if he didn't want to answer her, all he would have had to do was say so. Instead, he had responded somewhat angrily, and Freddie took note of the fact that this was the first time Harry had ever cursed in front of her. It was because of this that she supposed that Harry's love life was a particularly touchy subject. She wondered whether there was some unresolved heartache that Harry hadn't quite learned to deal with that prompted him to react so strongly.

"I-I'm sorry, Harry," Freddie tried to correct herself. "I didn't mean-"

"It's whatever," Harry said grumpily, turning his head away from her and waving the bartender over.

Freddie fell silent as she watched Harry order himself several shots, his entire demeanor shifting to become rather cold and closed off. Freddie sighed defeatedly and ordered a water after finishing her bourbon, watching as Harry downed several shots and ordering some more. She hadn't expected Harry to be such a drinker, considering his rather shy and nervous demeanor, but she supposed that she had misjudged him. It wouldn't be the first time.

After making several failed attempts to talk to Harry again, Freddie eventually gave up, pulling out her phone and texting friends from back home. One of them was planning a wedding, and apparently, there was such thing as a flower emergency, so Freddie spent her time calming down her friend while Harry got drunker and drunker beside her.

Eventually though, her friends stopped responding, so Freddie decided to join in on a game of pool against some scary-looking men, not really minding when they would whisper rude things about her as she bent over the table to make her shots. She knew what she was doing, and if her ass distracted them from winning, then she really didn't care what they said to her. 

After beating them soundly, Freddie sat down beside Harry, who had apparently had more drinks since she had gotten up to play. She hoped that he was drunk enough to talk to her now.

"Harry?" Freddie began cautiously, trying to get his attention. He didn't even acknowledge her, so she touched his arm lightly, "Hey, Harry, I think we'd better go now."

Harry looked lazily over at her, his glassy eyes seeming to have trouble focusing on her face. Once he did look at her, he shook his head and turned his face away, hanging his head ever so slightly in such a way that Freddie knew he was absolutely trashed.

"Harry, please," she nudged him slightly, and he nearly fell from the barstool, catching himself against the counter before he could lean too far over.

"What's your problem?" Harry asked her harshly, now glaring at Freddie. This caught her by surprise, so she genuinely was unsure of what to say; however, Harry took her silence as an opportunity to continue berating her. "Are you always this bossy?"

Freddie was really taken aback now. She could deal with her drunk friends in college, but this was different. This was a grown ass man who she didn't know very well, and though generally, people didn't scare her, she knew better than to think that Harry was incapable of hurting her, even if he did seem super sweet.