"Is nobody seeing the issue in this?" he plows on, quirking an incredulous brow. "That he's currently in possession of a bird of prey? I'm almost certain that's against the law."
"No, no. I'm actually good friends with the president of PETA, so he should be fine," Liam smiles effortlessly. He belongs in a toothpaste commercial.
Louis continues to stare. "You're good friends with the president?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Naturally." His tone is flat. "That makes sense."
"He's a wonderful man."
"All right."
Zayn smirks. "Liam's friends with everyone over forty."
"I am not!"
"Yes you are. You can't help it, love." Zayn's eyes slide to Louis. "But don't worry about the bird. I'll make sure he's given a proper home."
Louis smiles at that and nods, genuinely surprised. Wasn't Zayn supposed to be this terrifying force of beauty and power? For the most part he seems like a gentle soul, mild mannered and observant. He also has a brain.
Then again, Louis still doesn't really know the boy at all.
But, no matter, because Louis currently has far more pressing issues at hand.
"Fuck, he's coming over," Louis breathes, watching as Harry spots them and begins sauntering forward, falcon in tow. A sentence Louis had never thought he would say in his life.
"Louis Tomlinson," a deep, husky voice purrs, and the words spread over the trio like molasses, catching under Louis' nails and clogging his ears. "Hi," he greets cheekily, dragging out the word in lilting tones. All the while as the beady eyes of the falcon peer nervously into Louis' soul.
"Hello," Louis greets distastefully, and gives the bird a once over.
"Lads," Harry nods to Liam and Zayn, before returning his cutting stare back to Louis, his fake, toothy grin in place. "And how are you this afternoon?"
"You know what, I would be a lot better if you didn't have an endangered species sat on your arm."
"They're not endangered anymore. His species is well on its way to recovery."
"Even so, you've still got a fucking bird sitting on you."
"Cleopatrick."
"Sorry?"
"His name is Cleopatrick," Harry clarifies, and his grin is so wide and goofy, Louis could almost believe it to be genuine if it weren't for the emptiness in his gaze.
"Cleopatrick? Are you serious?" Louis deadpans, staring him--and Cleo-fucking-patrick--straight in the eye.
"He's thought of worse names," Zayn says mildly with a bemused smile, hand on Liam's back.
"He named a cactus 'Chlamydia' one time," Liam explains, and Harry's grin widens, teeth glinting under the rays of sunlight streaming through the skylights.
"It's a beautiful name," he says softly, turning to stroke Cleopatrick on the head. Its wide, black eyes blink momentarily in contentment, apparently accustomed to human touch, and it almost actually looks to be enjoying the caress.
Even so, it's a fucked up situation, so Louis just glares. "It's still a ridiculous name."
"Really? I quite like it," Harry says absentmindedly, still stroking the bird. And fuck, does it take him all day to carry on a full conversation? Each word is said so painfully slow, Louis could run verbal laps around the git. "A girl over there named him."
Chapter 8
Start from the beginning
