FicWad

Murphy’s POV

I gave Harry a quick call, and he answered with a grunt that sounded as if he was pretty sure I was actually someone else and he was going to have to yell at me. His tone changed the moment I spoke, however, and I’d have seriously considered in investing in caller ID for him if I thought it’d last him five minutes.

“Oh, hey, Murphy! Sorry, Marcone came by, got me a little annoyed. I figured you were him, since, you know, he usually doesn’t just give up because I threw him out.” I nodded because that sounded more true than pretty much anything. He was, after all, Marcone; I was pretty sure he never gave anything up.

“It’s fine. Look, I know this has all gotten you a little upset, so I was thinking, I’m off work, you don’t have a job, why don’t we do something fun for once. No end-of-the-world stress, no bodies, no nothing. I heard there was a carnival in town; why don’t we spend the day there? You can watch me ride the rides, if nothing else, and I know you like carnival food.” I could hear the indulgent smile in his voice, the, ‘oh, well, she’s just trying to cheer me up, I guess I’ll go along with it this one time’ smile he always seemed to get after a big case or a failure or anything else that didn’t go off without a hitch.

“Yeah, okay! When do you want to go?”

“Tomorrow? I’ve got to wrap everything up at the precinct and the guy who deals with the roses is supposed to come by in an hour or two.” That was only partially a lie; both of those things were happening, but mostly I needed to make sure Marcone knew where to show up so I could ditch Harry with him and run off on my own to watch the fireworks.

“Alright, I’ll see you then. You can just drop by my place and I’ll follow you there.”

“Sure thing, Dresden. Have a good night,” I told him, and he wished me the same. From there, it was easy to let Marcone know, and while he didn’t sound totally confident in my plan, he didn’t argue with me. That was, if nothing else, refreshing, and that night, I slept well with the knowledge that maybe soon I’d be able to stop dealing with all this matchmaking shit. It was getting kind of dumb; I had no idea how some people actually managed to do this for a living.



The next morning was crisp and clean, the early air cool and fresh feeling. It was a good morning, I decided, and if I believed in omens, that’s what I would’ve called it. The just barely chilled air felt good on the ride to Harry’s, and for once he was actually awake before noon. Maybe he was actually excited about this; it had been a while since we’d done something fun just for the sake of doing something fun. Maybe I’d have to actually do something with him, once all this was said and done.

He even did his version of dressing up where he wore a t-shirt that lacked both stains and some crass slogan, as well as a pair of jeans that covered his ankles and that he didn’t have to yank up his hips every five minutes. He greeted me with a suitably ridiculous wave and I partook in my part of the ritual by rolling my eyes.

“Hey, Dresden. Ready to go?” He nodded, and he didn’t even have his coat on when he shut his door behind him and climbed into his car. That made me smile, even if only a little, as I drove off on my bike, him just behind me until we pulled up to the bright, flashing lights that signified the carnival’s entrance. We walked in side by side, bought ten tickets each even though we probably wouldn’t use them for anything, and began simply wandering.

Kids ran by us often, sometimes crashing into one of our legs and sometimes steering around us in wide circles, haggard but amused parents generally right on their heels and throwing apologies our way. In addition to that, we saw teenagers on benches, boys dragging girls towards the wildest rides and all of them smiling, clumps of friends sharing copious amounts of fried junk food that Harry stared at longingly. I bought him a funnel cake since I felt so bad and I don’t think he could’ve looked more grateful if I gave him one of my organs. He sort of ruined the moment by making a joke about how I couldn’t go on any of the rides because my mommy wasn’t with me and I was too short. He did agree to take a picture of me on the carousel for her before I punched him hard enough that he shut up, though.

We had just come across the fun house and were about to walk through it (mostly because I wanted to see Harry go through that tiny little tunnel those things usually have; it’d serve him right for the too-short-to-ride cracks) when Johnny finally came across us, dressed way down in a tight t-shirt of his own and jeans that fit perfectly. I couldn’t help but imagine the gargantuan price tag that was probably still attached to the clothes. Hendricks, who was wandering around behind him, his arm over the shoulder of the blonde amazon, looked way more common, natural.

“Harry?” he asked, as if he were really surprised, and Harry jolted around to see him. “How nice to see you here,” he said softly, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Whatever you say, Johnny. Since when does the outfit go to carnivals?” He chuckled, and Hendricks gave me this look, slowly turning and wandering off with Gard. I stepped very slightly sideways, getting ready to make my own great escape.

“Even myself and my people need a break sometimes, and coming to places like this is quite relaxing, as well as surreptitious.” Harry shrugged and scuffed his boot against the ground, looking to me as if he thought I held all the answers to life, the universe, and why in hell Marcone was standing in a carnival making small talk with him. I had the answer to one third of those questions, but I didn’t feel like giving it, so instead I just gave him a quick wave.

“Hey, Dresden, I see an old friend of mine over there, yeah? I’ll catch up with you in an hour or so, okay? Meet me by the exit and we’ll come back here.” I ran off before he could respond, and even though I felt his gaze burrowing into my back, I didn’t turn.



Harry’s POV

I had absolutely no idea what was going on. I know, that’s a big surprise, huh? I’m sure no one would ever think that anything could possibly confuse me, of all people, to that degree. Anyway. Since when did Murphy ditch me with criminal scumbags? Hadn’t she invited me out because she thought I was upset or something? And since when did she have old friends that I hadn’t met before? I was about to chase after her, but Marcone caught me easily by the arm and kept me where I was.

He wasn’t acting much like himself either, pretending to be all nice and normal and stuff. Hell’s Bells, he didn’t even look like himself just then! No, he looked more like the teenagers Murphy and I had seen. It really wasn’t fair that he had as much to show off as he did. No man of his age should be allowed to wear t-shirts that tight and look good in them; it just makes guys like me feel even more inadequate.

“Can I ask why you have something against me following my friend, Johnny?” I asked, and he let out this warm laugh.

“She didn’t seem to want to. I promise I won’t let you get kidnapped, Harry; you don’t need your keeper at the moment.” I might’ve pouted, but only a little.

“Asshole. Looks like your pals ditched you too, so I don’t know why you sound so smug.”

“I can’t be angered with Ms. Gard and Mr. Hendricks for wanting a bit of privacy; they don’t get enough time to go out together, and I can’t begrudge them for taking this time. Besides, I’m sure they can think of far more interesting things to do at a carnival with just one another than they can with me tagging along.” He waved the words off as if they were meaningless, and I sighed.

“Whatever. I guess you probably won’t kill me in the middle of a carnival, kids around and all that. Where were you heading, anyway?”

“Honestly? I wanted to play some of the games,” he told me with a smile, and no, just no. Criminal lords are not allowed to want to play carnival games. It goes against all laws of nature. I stared at him and gaped, hoping the whole time that he would tell me that he was just joking, and wow, wasn’t I stupid, thinking that More-Evolved-Than-You Johnny Marcone would stoop to the level of carnival games. That didn’t happen.

“Oh. Oh. You’re serious, aren’t you?” He broke into a surprised laugh and began walking away. I trailed along after him, but only because I was so bemused.

“It really shocks you that much? I am human, Harry, surprising though that might be. I used to play those games constantly; I’ve gotten quite good at them over time, if you’d particularly like a teddy bear or something.” I blinked slowly as we came upon the row of games with colorful prizes lining the rows, most of them representing bizarre mixtures of animals that I had no names for. Honestly, the only thing there that I had a taste for was the fancy pinwheel. I’ve always liked pinwheels, no idea why. I mean, it wasn’t like they were particularly interesting, or complicated, I just… liked them. John saw me looking at it, somehow, and I just called him John, didn’t I? Oops. Anyway. “You want that?” he asked me, and it didn’t sound judgmental or anything, just, you know, querying.

“I can win my own prizes, scumbag,” I said, striding towards the booth. He followed me with this really amused expression that really, really pissed me off, and we each got into one of the two separate lines that was running, both of us standing behind some teenaged boy. Apparently this booth was full of boys who wanted to show off for their little girlfriends, and win them prizes, and stuff. I wondered how much Murphy would kill me if I won her that weird pink elephant. I was guessing a lot. Anyway, eventually the line progressed and Marcone and I were standing in front of the counter. We both handed one of the people working the booth (which contained a dart throwing game) a ticket. The boys who’d been in front of us had gone back to their respective girlfriends’ sides empty handed, and were now behind us to try once more. Poor kids. It was then that I realized how stupid I probably looked, playing a children’s game. For a pinwheel. Damn it.

Oh, well, I guess; in for a penny, in for a pound, and I’d already given the guy my ticket. He handed me three darts, and I balanced the first one carefully in my hand, testing the weight of it. I flung it towards the balloons with a quick flick of my wrist, and it proceeded to thud into the corkboard from which the balloons hung. From beside me, I heard a satisfying pop as Johnny’s dart met its mark. Well, obviously that meant I was going to have to hit the next one. No way was he going to better than me at this! I decided conveniently forget the fact he probably threw sharp pointy things all the time in his day to day life, just for kicks, as I picked up the next dart. I tossed it with another flick of my wrist, this time concentrating more on aiming it than throwing it super-duper hard. It hit one of the balloons, yeah, and for a second I thought I did it because I heard a pop, but then I realized that my dart had fallen to the ground, having not been thrown hard enough, and the pop I heard had come from Marcone’s side. Again. Because he’s a bastard.

I picked up the third dart perhaps a bit more roughly than necessary, but I don’t think I can be blamed. I aimed quickly and proceeded to throw it as hard as I could, and I was almost certain I’d hit it because it was heading right for one. It proceeded to hit the corkboard maybe a millimeter beside one of them. The noise of that was drowned out by a third and final pop. Of course.

“I really hate you, John. You know that, right?” He only smiled and informed the guy working his side that he wanted the pinwheel. I figured he was just being an ass until he handed it to me, a soft smile curling his lips. The girls were staring at him as I took it, for some reason honestly worried that he’d managed to booby trap it in the ten seconds it had been in his possession. Nothing happened, though. The girls continued staring, except for now they were whispering to each other and pointing. I cleared my throat and got out of the way so the boys could take their next turn. Once again, they failed miserably, and proceeded to glare at John. We left after that, I assumed so the children wouldn’t be tempted to punch the smug asshole in the face. We didn’t go far, though, instead just a couple booths down, where John saw what he said was his favorite game, the milk bottle thing. I knew I was absolutely awful at that one, though (once upon a time, I’d played the damn thing all the time, but I’d only one maybe once before) so I decided to just sit it out and wait with the girls who were also watching on the bench.

They stared at me as John got in line, and I felt kind of stupid holding my fancy new pinwheel (it really was pretty; it had this cool, spirally design on it, and all the colors were new and vibrant) so I settled it across my thighs, one hand draped on it to keep it from sliding off or blowing away.

“Is he your boyfriend?” one of the girls, a really thin redhead, asked me. I blinked.

“What? No! We’re hardly even friends.” I don’t know why I got that defensive with a high school girl, I really don’t. I couldn’t even use the excuse that she reminded me of Molly, who I’m allowed to be all defensive at, because they looked absolutely nothing alike. She laughed.

“You don’t have to lie about it! He’s really hot,” she said, and oh, Hell’s Bells, I did not hear that. I didn’t. Nope, nope, nope. That high school kid absolutely did not call Marcone hot. I just imagined it. Yup, yup, yup.

“Not lying,” I might’ve squeaked, and suddenly all of the girls were surrounding me. The boyfriends got kind of annoyed because their girlfriends, who they were trying to impress, were now looking elsewhere.

“Aw, he’s so cute!” one of them said, and she had the nerve to scruff my hair.

“I see why they’re together now! Oh, look, look, the boyfriend is going up now! Do you think he’ll win?” He probably would. He’s an ass like that, you see. He had said he liked this game, after all, and I was pretty sure that he was the sort of guy who insisted on being good at everything he liked. He let his eyes flick over to me and my new coat of teenage girls, a tiny smirk curling his lips, and oh, Stones, he was showing off, wasn’t he? He was. I sighed because of course. How could he possibly do anything else? He tossed the first ball from hand to hand lightly, and then turned his steady gaze back to the game. Needless to say, he toppled the towers with truly embarrassing ease. All the high school boys around him looked really, really bothered by this, especially when they looked over at the bench and realized that their girlfriends were giggling. Marcone got a stupidly large prize, a penguin, and I had to admit it was cute, with its fluff and its… well, it was a penguin. I am a human, despite being such an amazing badass; I have to find penguins cute. He tossed it to me and I caught it on reflex.

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” he asked me, and I’m enough of a man to admit that I blushed. Anyone would, really, when someone who looked like Johnny did threw them a stuffed animal and called them sweetheart. He was still an ass, though.

“Fuck off, scumbag,” I grumbled, and it was then that I wondered why I didn’t just leave. It wasn’t like I had to hang out with him or anything. And yet here I was, still following him, still sitting around and watching him play games and win prizes (all of which, beyond the pinwheel, got given to some wandering kid who also couldn’t beat the games) and he got showier and showier the farther down the game row we went. I mean, he actually had the gall to do some kind of trick shot on the basketball game, and I’m pretty sure he almost made some of the teenagers cry.

“You know, Harry, you could play a little yourself,” he said, his walk slow and easy beside me.

“Nah; I might be tempted to cheat, kind of like that kid at the last game was.” He tilted his head a little, raised his eyebrow to display curiosity, but while I’d gotten used to his particular brand of annoying, silent communication, I didn’t feel like indulging him just then.

“I’ve run enough scams on these games, Harry. I’m quite sure I’d notice him cheating.” Of course he’d run carnival scams. Of course. I don’t know why I would possibly think he wouldn’t. I sighed.

“He didn’t realize he was doing it, Johnny; he was a minor talent. He probably doesn’t know that either. Have you ever met one of those kinds of people who good things seem to happen to a lot? Or they’re good at something just because they really, really want to be? Most of them have a little magic; chances are, he was accidentally exerting a little will on the ball. He wanted it to go where he wanted it to go, and it did. I felt it, a little. Once again, he wasn’t throwing out enough for it to be exceptionally obvious, but then, he doesn’t have that much to throw around.” John nodded.

“It must be strange, to notice that sort of thing so easily. Sometimes I think I’d love to see the world you do.”

“And other times?”

“Other times I count myself lucky that I don’t.” He offered me a quick, easy smile, loose and bold across his mouth, flickering in his eyes. I snorted. “So, Harry, you say you’d be tempted to cheat; have you ever done it before?” I didn’t tense and I give myself credit for that.

“Just once, years and years and years ago.”

“Teenager?”

“Yeah, about. I’d turned thirteen maybe a week before. We were living in northern Michigan, on some big property in some big house. I think the both of them had a name, but I don’t remember either of them.”

“Too long ago?” He looked like he didn’t believe that, and he was trying too hard to sound indifferent. He was interested and he wanted to keep me talking. The funny thing is, I don’t know if this was really an accidental reveal, or if he wanted me to see. Maybe that’s one of the things about him that annoys me so damn much.

“Maybe that’s part of it, I don’t know. Mostly it just never seemed all that important. I might’ve gotten told what everything was called once, my first day there. Anyway, the cheating was kind of a test; if I could get a prize from every booth playing with my magic, then we’d go out for dinner.”

“We?” Still that same, forced indifference. Sometimes he really made me want to hit him. I still wondered why I wasn’t leaving.

“My Master and I,” I said, and the word slipped out even though I didn’t mean for it to, even though I knew that it made Vanillas uncomfortable, “so I wouldn’t have to make dinner that night.” He took it… weirdly well, with nothing but a subtle widening of his eyes that quickly faded back to normal.

“One of your foster parents then?” I nodded, slowly.

“Yeah. He was a Wizard, too, big game and all. We did that maybe a month before he adopted my foster sister, and she ended up taking over the cooking after that. I never was very good at it, you know? He wasn’t either, though, so it was generally me or nothing, until she came along. Justin wasn’t ever good at much that didn’t have to do with magic.” He didn’t appear certain whether or not it was appropriate to smile, whether or not I found that fact amusing or not. I could see the process unfolding behind his eyes, the tick marks and the folder checks, as he digested my words.

“True to his craft then?” I shrugged.

“That’s one way to put it, I guess. Anyway, those were the good times, before everything else. He was good to me back then.”

“But not later.” And of course he picked up on that. I don’t know why I keep trying to get around him with words; he’s got a fairy’s understanding of the damn things.

“Is that really any of your business? Whatever, no. He wasn’t the best teacher. As a matter of fact, he was everything I’ve always strived not to be with Molly. I hated him. And then he died.” Apparently Marcone did have some sense of tact, because then he shut up. Or, at least he shut up about… that.

“Alright. Well, Harry, shall we go on the Ferris Wheel? It seems we’ve just about run out of games.” He gestured vaguely towards the looming monstrosity a little ways in front of us, the focal point of the whole event. I stared at him.

“Are you stupid? Me and a giant murdering wheel of death and destruction that runs on mechanics? Yeah, no, that’s not going to mix, Johnny boy.” He sighed.

“Harry, you’ve been on television before, even if only briefly. You’ve ridden in my cars. That is a very old piece of equipment, much older than either of those things, and you will be on it for less than ten minutes. I’m quite certain that you will be perfectly alright for that period of time.” I really hate it when people get all logical on me like that. My walk got a little shifty and sway-y and I’m pretty sure he knew he had me because he took me by the wrist and dragged me into the line. He then proceeded to give the guy running the thing two tickets before I could say anything and drag me into the gently swaying basket before I could protest. Admittedly, I was maybe a little disgruntled by this. I hold that as the excuse for the stuff that went on after that.



Okay, so, the ride started to move and I was concentrating really hard on keeping my magic in check so it didn’t break, and as such, I didn’t notice when John moved from his side to sit beside me. I jumped when he spoke.

“Settle down, Harry, please,” he mumbled, and then his hand was on my face and he really did have the greenest eyes I’d ever seen.

“Don’t call me that,” I finally managed, and he laughed, the sound of it low and almost hoarse in his throat, and no, no, we weren’t doing this, not right now, no. I should’ve known better than to not shove him away. I should have, I really should have. I didn’t, though. No, instead I let him worm his way farther into my space and then, oh, then, he was kissing me. Like, full on, lip to lip, kissing me. And I let him. As a matter of fact, I even let him put his arms around my waist, and then I put my own on his shoulders, very slightly around his neck. And I kissed him back. The little basket thingy swayed with the breeze and suddenly I realized we weren’t moving anymore. That seemed really unimportant in the grand scheme of things, so basically I just kept doing what I was doing. At least until he realized that we’d stopped moving, and oh, yeah, there was a guy on the ground yelling that they’d fix the thing as quickly as they could. And if you want one more cliché, we were right on the top. Obviously.

“Harry,” John said, this funny smile on his face, and I knew exactly what he was thinking right then.

“No. Shut up.” He chuckled and his eyes flashed with a mischievous light that quite honestly petrified me.

“I’m flattered, really; I had no idea that I could make you lose control of yourself like that.” I flamed red, absolutely crimson, I felt it.

“Shut up, that wasn’t you. Could’ve happened with anyone. Maybe it just broke naturally.” And so I spouted off three entirely different excuses within a minute. Go me. John kept smirking, that light staying in his eyes, but at least he was polite enough not to mention it again. You know, right at that exact moment. I hold no delusions that such an embarrassing faux pas will not go unmentioned forever.

“Whatever you say, Harry. Might I ask if perhaps that was at least a sign of mutual interest? I should hope I’ve finally made it obvious enough that I want to be with you.” Oh. Oh. Yeah. Maybe I short circuited a little, then, because those were the only thoughts cycling through my head for a bit. I couldn’t trust him, I knew that. I’d be a moron if I did. He only wanted to use me, to make me a weapon, to train me to his hand and point me where he wanted me. I wasn’t going to be that again. I wasn’t going to fall for someone showing the slightest interest in me again. It hurt enough the first twenty times, thanks a bunch. I wasn’t doing it again.

“You don’t want me.” I said it quick, clean and clear, so he’d know that I knew, so he’d give up. He settled a hand gently on my thigh and I couldn’t look at him because the look in his eyes, the hurt, the stark desperation, the affection, were too obvious and I didn’t want to get sucked in by them. This was Marcone, I had to remember that, Marcone the criminal, Marcone who’d always, always wanted me to work for him, under him.

“You don’t really believe that, Harry. Come now, look at me. I’m not hiding from you, you should feel honored. I’m letting you see, I’m not hiding anything. I hate her for what she did to you, Harry, I do. She hurt one of mine and I don’t stand for that. I love you, Harry, I do. I want you to be happy; I’d give you the universe if I thought you’d take it, if I thought there was the slightest chance it would put a smile on your face. I want to be the one to help you, to fight at your side, to patch your wounds, whether they be new or old. I love you so damn much and I despise how weak that makes me. I’ve worked for years to strip myself of weaknesses like that, Harry, and then you come in and you throw them all back on me like they were going out of fashion. That’s you, Harry, bad for business, frustrating, pain in the ass. And I love you more for that, no matter what Mr. Hendricks says.” I looked at him, like he asked, really looked at him, and I felt a twinge in my heart.

I don’t know why, but I felt like he was telling the truth, being honest with me. It was stupid of me, I know, and maybe I just wanted it to be true. Maybe I just wanted someone to love me like that, beyond friendship, with no ulterior motives. You know, I’ve always thrived on being stupid.

“You hurt me, John, and you know I can throw you through a building, right? I did it to a Loup Garou, I can damn well do it to you. Probably could make you go even farther. I’ve leveled up a lot since then, you know, and you weigh a whole hell of a lot less. Plus you couldn’t come at me with the teeth and the snarling and the claws and all those other implements of murder.” He cupped his forehead in his hand and just simply laughed.

“Shall I take that as a yes?”

“If it helps you sleep at night.” And then he kissed me again. The Ferris Wheel started moving again about an hour after that. Ahem. He did at least leave the mechanic a fifty, though, so hey. Bonus for him. We were wandering towards the exit when I finally thought of something else. “Hey, you know I’ve had an equal number of relationships in the past two weeks as I’ve had in my whole life up until now?” I saw his ego again, then, the same one he’d displayed while showing off at carnival games (and I still couldn’t get over all those poor disheartened boyfriends).

“Is that so? I suppose four is going to be your maximum, then, because I must say you’re quite stuck with me at this point.” I had to snort, I really did.

“Cocky aren’t you?”

“No, just honest.” I stared at him because I wasn’t sure if this was adorable or just dumb. I decided to settle on a comfortable amusing and shake my head.

“Wow. Just… wow, Johnny.” And wasn’t that all there was to say? He was a good guy (sort of, in his own way) and I did… I’d always liked him. I’d never particularly liked liking him, and maybe I never would, but I could live with it. It was something to try, though, this thing between us, something to explore. It was a new thing for me to poke, a new experiment, a new trial, and maybe I could find someone to make me happier on the way, someone to hold and touch and grin at and make jokes with and all that other good stuff. Maybe, in the long run, that was all I could ever really ask for anyway. I reached out and held his hand, and he didn’t even yell at me when I swung it back and forth in mine as we walked. Yeah, I decided, yeah. I could get used to this.



Murphy’s POV

Hendricks and I were hanging out by the exit, his Amazonian having gone to fetch more fried chocolate bars because she’d developed an almost obsessive enjoyment of the things. The red head seemed to be pointedly not mentioning that, so I decided to do the same. Finally, though, he turned to me and spoke.

“I knew there was a reason Boss had us come out here today. You’re trying to get him with Dresden, aren’t you? Never thought I’d see the day he got a man on the inside for an operation like that.” I scratched my head and shrugged.

“Yeah, well, he was throwing temper tantrums. I had to do something; hell, if I’d let that shit go on, he’d have probably started robbing banks and leaving Valentines with Harry’s name on them as calling cards just to get attention. Hendricks got this distant, considering look on his face, and then shuddered, obviously having the same opinion on that matter as me. That was when I thought of something. “Wait. You work with the guy. Have you been dealing with his moronic attributes for as long as I’ve been dealing with Dresden’s continued suicidal idiocy?” He gave me this flat look that I really wanted to master, and then nodded once, slow and precise.

“Since he was about eighteen.” Oh. Oh, hell. I clapped him once on the shoulder because hey, at that point, we were kindred spirits.

“And I probably just got them together. If they were annoying before, how bad do you think it’s going to be now? I mean, Harry’s probably going to go into snits every other week about how he isn’t Marcone’s girlfriend and can’t be bought and all that other shit.” Hendricks went wide eyed for second, this truly pathetic look crossing his face.

“And Boss is going to get weirder about protecting him. And getting him presents. And oh, fuck, the pet names. And the jealousy. Christ. I need a drink. I need a good, stiff drink.” I thought about that for a minute, and then nodded slowly.

“Yeah. I think I need one, too. Let’s wait for Gard, and then we’ll go. I’ll leave a note for them with the ticket guy.” Hendricks nodded back.

“Sounds good. You wanna exchange tips on how to deal?” Uh huh. Definitely kindred spirits. Criminal or not, I was pretty sure I could learn to like that guy.