Harold Finch stood patiently outside the restaurant and was texting Mister Reece who had been checking if they had another Number or not. Harold sent back a quick 'no, Mister Reece. Get some rest' before he paused, thought about it and then added that he might want to visit Miss Morgan. He really did try to avoid keeping tabs on Reese's love life or lack there of but he could nudge when he thought it appropriate.

Harbor magically appeared at his side then and Harold had to remind himself to breathe as his eyes ghosted over the long, royal blue, silk dress she wore. It didn't show off her cleavage, had three-quarter sleeves and frankly covered most of her up except for the slit in the skirt. Harbor was the perfect display of elegance and utterly stunning.

"Hi, Hank."

The way her long hair had been pulled over one shoulder had him taking notice of all that lovely porcelain skin.

"Hello, Harbor, you look wonderful."

She flashed him a smile. "Thank you, turns out I can dress for any occasion." Oh she most certainly could. "And I wanted to look nice for you."

Frankly, Harold believed she could have worn a sandwich board with 'the end is nigh!' scrawled on it and people would have still stopped to admire her beauty. Harold guided her inside the restaurant where they were quickly seated and each took up a menu. He couldn't help watching her for a time as her eyes passed back and forth.

"Why do you do that?" He asked before he'd fully realized his mouth was moving.

Harbor's brow furrowed. "Do what?"

"You're looking over the menu." He pointed out pretty obviously.

She chuckled softy. "Are you going to insist on ordering for me like it's the fifties?"

"No." He shook his head knowing her teasing knew no bounds. "However you've got a very unique mind and if it's as amazing as you say then you committed that menu to memory the second you saw it and yet you're still pretending to read it."

Caught, she put the menu down.

"Sorry, force of habit I suppose." She lifted a shoulder just a little for a tiny shrug. "Most people don't know about my mind and they don't want to know. They want girls like me to be pretty and be good with their hands not their heads."

He could understand that but he needed her to know with him it wasn't necessary.

"I am not a client, Harbor, you do not have to hide your intellect from me."

Truthfully he'd welcome seeing it. Damn, she's got a beautiful smile.

"No, I don't, do I. That's part of the reason I like you, Hank."

They chatted for a while and Harbor couldn't help teasing him about who he'd had to bribe or have sex with to get them a table on such short notice. They mostly conversed about literature until Harold was halfway through his fish and asked of her childhood. Yes, he'd already been through her history but details weren't like a first-hand account. He relaxed when she answered him honestly.

"I wonder how much you've already figured out for yourself, Mister fake identity maker." It was the first time someone knew he'd looked into them and didn't get, at least a little, irritated by it. Even Reese had expressed annoyance at first. "I never knew my mother, no siblings and my father raised me alone. He died when I was sixteen and it's been just me ever since. I'm not really that interesting." Oh he highly doubted that. "I'd ask about you but I don't suspect I'd get an answer."

There wasn't any malice or disgruntlement in her tone, while he knew she'd want every answer she could get she wouldn't push him to tell her, probably why what he said next was so out of character.

"How about I answer a few questions, if it's safe for you to know of course."

Harbor's eyes lit up at that and he never wanted that expression to go away. She tapped a finger on her bottom lip to make a display of thinking over her questions before her green-eyes locked on him again.

"Do you have any siblings? Ever made friends with a whore before?"

Not questions he'd expected but then again Harold had started to realize that Harbor wasn't someone he could fit neatly into a box.

He breathed out a laugh. "Yes, I have siblings, two brothers, both much older. No, I won't tell you their names." He took a drink of his wine before he continued. "No, I haven't befriended an escort before, yet I think you had already guessed that."

The fact she accepted what he was willing to tell her without complaint still astounded him. Reese had followed him for a week just to try and figure out if he ate Falafel; Harold did.

It had been so long since he'd gone to diner with someone and it not been alone, or so he and Reese could watch a Number. Then again, if one didn't have friends one couldn't go to dinner with them.

When it came time for him to pay the bill he wondered if he shouldn't have chosen a restaurant such as Jungsik, of course he could ford it without a single pause for concern but Harbor didn't know that. Bespoke suits didn't mean a practically endless supply of wealth. There were women out there that wouldn't have paused, just let a elder man pay for their expensive meals without a word but Harbor wasn't like those women. Men paid to have sex with her, didn't mean she was frugal. Still, he navigated the conversation and they made it out of the restaurant without another word said on the subject.

The night air was cool and refreshing, the street almost unusually quiet and the stars shone high above; or maybe they were just planes zipping about the cloudless sky. A gentle breeze ran through Harbor's long hair and cooled her heated skin nicely.

"Would you like a ride home?" He asked curiously and she quickly nodded in acceptance. "Shall I pretend I don't know where you live or just drive?"

Harbor smirked. "You can just drive, unless I'm getting into my stalker's car."

He looped their arms together and led her towards his Lincoln Town Car. Like a perfect gentleman he held the passenger door open for her and then limped around to the driver's side.

"This is a really nice car." She mused aloud.

Just wait until she learns about the armored body and bulletproof glass, muttered his brain.

They didn't really talk on the way to her apartment, just sat in a comfortable silence as they digested. The moon was full and lit the sky nicely, he couldn't help but notice the way it made Harbor's skin glow. As he drove he realized just how relaxed he was, he'd talked of his interests, he'd laughed and eaten at a reasonable hour without there being guns and unquantifiable levels of stress involved … or someone talking in his ear. Harold had – amazingly – enjoyed himself.

When he pulled over outside her apartment building they turned to face one another, though his movements were stiffer than Harbor's.

"Care for a nightcap?"

Normally he'd decline politely but Harold had to admit he was curious about how a woman such as herself would decorate her apartment, he'd put money on their being a stack of books somewhere. He held the door for her when they went in and led him up to her apartment on the third floor. Her apartment was right at the end of a long hallway and Harold felt a spike of pain in his neck when they finally reached her door.

As expected her place wasn't very big a smallish living area with two doors, one to a bathroom, one to a bedroom and a small kitchen at area at the very back. It was modestly decorated with grey-lilac walls but nothing too eccentric or expensive; the upkeep on how she had to appear wasn't cheep, then there was all that running around the city. It wasn't like Harbor was nearly destitute or anything, just that Harold hadn't lived anywhere so small since he'd been fresh out of MIT. Directly opposite the couch was a wall of bookshelves all packed with books and in front sat two stacks of novels on the floor; which he was happy to be right about. Every single one looked old and repeatedly read.

Harbor headed into the small kitchen and came back a few moments later with a glass of wine to find him still raking his eyes through her book collection.

"Take it you've noticed my obsession then." She handed him a glass. "It is kind of obvious."

Harold shook his head. "Not to worry, I have a library."

The raven-haired beauty thought he'd meant it as a joke – of course she did – but it wasn't a joke, long ago he'd made Nathan buy up a load of them and without going back over the purchase records Harold himself wasn't a hundred percent sure how many he had.

"Thank you for dinner, Hank. The wine isn't as good here but it's passable."

They each took a sip. He could tell a lot by just looking around her living area and he decided that though she might have first presented as a girly girl Harbor really wasn't. She had a Gothic streak to her and really was a bookworm. Most of the wall between her bedroom and bathroom doors was taken up by a gargantuan black and white poster of a suit clad man with a guitar, Harold had no idea who he was but clearly Harbor was a fan. Over by the kitchen was another poster of a blond man a little younger than himself and why Harold again didn't know who the man was he did at least seem more familiar.

Harold drew his attention back to the mass of books though and away from her taste in men as he sipped at his rich red wine.

"If you memorize everything so quickly why are the books so worn?" He inquired casually.

"People remember everything that happens in their favourite movie but they still re-watch it."

Finch honestly couldn't argue with that. "Touché."

She gestured to the bookshelves. "I like the feel of a book, the pages, hearing them cruch and crackle. It gives it ambiance. It's more fun to just sit down at night in my pyjamas and enjoy a good story even though I already know every word."

A soft smile pulled itself onto Harold's face, a woman after my own heart.

The pair sat down on the love seat then and Harbor kicked off her heels; something she'd wanted to do for almost an hour. The place was quiet, he couldn't hear anything from her neighbors, it seemed like a hush had descended on the world.

"So, what will you be doing tomorrow?" She asked in that lyrical voice of hers.

Harold breathed out a laugh. "I can't tell you that."

"Oh, come on! You have to give a girl something."

Finch paused as he pushed his thick-rimmed glasses back up his nose where they belonged. Harbor was a sweet, kind woman and for the first time in over a year wasn't a woman who wanted to ether kidnap him, shoot him or just plain yell at him. All Harbor Caldwell wanted from him was his friendship and he respected and thanked her for that. Still didn't mean he could or would tell her anything about his and Mister Reese's operation. Safer for everyone if she didn't know.

The elder man and younger woman chatted a little longer and if asked later he'd not remember what about precisely, somehow everything and nothing. Throw away comments and why Thomas Edison was a monster despite what everyone thought; Bastard Edison she'd called him, yes, Harbor was firmly on Team Tesla.

Eventually though he finished his wine and glanced down at his watch. He couldn't linger around her home forever.

"I should leave." He set down his empty glass. "Thank you for the nightcap, Harbor. Tonight was … fun." Mister Reese was right, he didn't have nearly enough fun. "Unfortunately I won't be able to meet you for breakfast tomorrow morning, I need to attend to something." By which he meant he needed to be Harold Wren for a while.

She waved him off. "That's okay, I'll get fat if I eat any more pancakes anyway." A cursory glance revealed she'd not be getting fat any time soon.

Harbor copied him and set her glass down beside his on the coffee table then leant in to kiss his cheek, just on the corner of his mouth. Harold went rigid at that – well, more so than he naturally was already – and looked at her as she smiled shyly; he'd never seen shy from her before. Green eyes the color of emeralds sparkling in firelight, skin so smooth and porcelain it looked like a painting and hair as black as night.

The next thing Harold knew he had a lap full of Harbor, she'd straddled him with such ease that his brain had to play catch up. He could feel her warmth drifting through his suit and into his chest as her body pressed against his own. Her arms wrapped around his neck but applied no pressure no as not to hurt or aggravate his injures and by the time his mind had caught up his body had taken over on autopilot to rest his large hands on her slender hips.

Harold opened his mouth to speak but he got too eager in tilting his neck to kiss her and hissed in pain.

"Shhh, it's okay, I'm sorry."

She shifted a little then and hunched a bit so she could still kiss him without forcing him to crane his neck. Harbor took his hands and moved them from her hips to the zip of her dress and Harold took the hint. A voice at the back of his mind told him to stop, that this girl was too young and all the usual 'don't have sex with this girl because' things but his body was in charge now not his brain.

Slowly he pulled down the zip of her dress, the metal teeth quietly clinking as he did so and then her lips left his so she could shimmy out of it and toss it onto the coffee table. If he'd thought her stunning before seeing her naked left him speechless, smooth skin and a full chest but those eyes, he kept going back to those eyes.

With a grin she pulled his tie loose and opened his waistcoat as he helped her by ridding himself of his suit jacket that shared a similar fate to her dress. He'd go no further though, Harbor was a goddess and he didn't want to tarnish her beauty with his pudgy tummy.

Their lips locked for a time in a heated kiss. Their tongues met in a battle for dominance that Harold quickly won – or at least she let him win. Their foreheads touched every now and again when they separated for air before letting their lips brush against each other's once more. Her scent flooded his senses, their kiss wasn't innocent more like a tease, hot, fiery, passionate and demanding.

Harold's hands were running up her thighs. Harbor was intoxicating and addictive, her body supple and delicate. The bespectacled man's warm lips encompassed Harbor's own, which kept her in a blissful state of pleasure. The fingers of his right hand ghosted up her flank and into long raven-hair as their eyes fell shut and their tongues met letting passion begin to sizzle away in their blood. He pulled the girl closer and closer, until the only thing in between them is the thin layers of his suit. Her breath was ragged and heavy, she arched into his touch, revelling in the warmth and care of his fingers as they trailed from her firm thigh to the wet heat between her legs. Harbor continued to kiss at his neck now it was exposed by his loosened tie and let out a gasp when his fingers raked over the gusset of her panties.

Her hands slipped into his fluffy hair and nails scraped teasingly against his scalp causing his hips to buck without his consent; that got a purr from the stunning beauty atop him. Then she was at his belt and pushing herself up so he could pull her lace underwear off. That voice piped up again, something was wrong with this but the logic section of his brain had shut off in favor the 'Harbor's practically naked and on top of me' part. Finally he moved to her bra which contained her rather impressive cleavage he'd clocked on their very first meeting. Once it was off she leant back so he could see all of her, an ocean of perfect, porcelain skin straddling him while he was still fully clothes almost. If that was to make things easier on his injuries or because she didn't want to see him naked Harold honestly had no idea; he'd not got the processing power to figure it out in that moment.

"You're beautiful." He whispered.

At that her eyes changed, they softened and sparkled in the moonlight that shone through her window, but she didn't speak. Instead she reached into his silk boxers and took him in hand. Harold gasped as she pulled him free and skilfully worked him in her hand. Skilfully, sinfully, same thing. His eyes fluttered and his head fell back as much as his neck and all those metal pins would allow and then she reached away for something. Condom, if the sound of crinkling was any indication. Their lips met as she rolled it onto his length and in a burst of want that even he though was very unlike him, Harold gripped her hips and pulled her flush against him. Another deep kiss and she sank down onto his length with a delightful mew.

Harold slipped almost all the way out before slamming back in to her wet heat with such force. Every moment was pure heaven, his hands gripped her hips and Harbor's snaked around his neck once again, lips locked. He started slow at first more to test the strength of his leg and lower spin than anything else, but soon he built up into a punishing rhythm of hard and fast that had Harbor panting and moaning for release. A thick layer of sweat coated their skin and shimmered in the evening light.

Harold could die a happy man being buried inside this angel with her panting into his ear. Knowing he wouldn't last much longer Finch reached down to cup her sex, rubbing in circles in time with his hard thrusts. She was on the edge and he knew it, reviled in it. White erupted behind her eyes when she finally came like a tsunami wave that wiped out everything except her euphoria. Her nails dug into his shoulders leaving behind crescent moon shaped bruises, despite his shirt and waistcoat, similar to the ones that would mark her hips. When her muscles clenched around him Harold could take it no longer and found his climax as well, erupting inside her and sating his desire.

He went limp against the couch then and just panted seemingly endlessly. She collapsed against him, her body wrapped around his as she sucked in desperately needed air. Harold had no idea how long they sat there, a minute, five and hour, he honestly didn't know and couldn't bring himself to care.

Then she chuckled and laughed and his bliss faded. "Buy a girl dinner and get her to put out, I see how it is. I wasn't even on the clock, good job your loaded, Mister fancy restaurant."

God damnit! How had he been so stupid. His logic centre clicked back on and quickly started to berate him. Of course this had been a trick, she'd pitied an old man and then found out he was wealthy and played him. Money, that was the only way he'd ever get a woman as stunningly gorgeous as Harbor Caldwell. A woman that attractive wouldn't ever willing want to be with him, said woman would have to get something of worth out of it. It had all been a long con and now she she knew how to push his buttons as well.

Before Harold had even registered he'd moved he'd shoved Harbor off of him and struggled to his feet. He fascinated his belt after he'd quickly tugged himself away and tossed the used condom in a trash can by the couch. Harbor just watched him from the loveseat with a furrowed brow as he threw his clothes back on and quietly yelled at himself.

"I should have known. God, how could I be so blind? So wilfully stupid?"

"What?" She asked quietly as he all but stomped around her living room.

From his suit jacket – that still hung half off one shoulder – he tugged free his wallet which had Harbor's brow furrowing deeper; not that he looked at her to see it.

"How much are you?" Her eyes went wide. "This place isn't too expensive but still, and now you work for yourself so what a thousand? Two?" From the wallet came a stack of notes and honestly, who carried that much money around on a daily basis?

"You think I was playing you? That this was some con?" Harbor looked genuinely upset and as though she might cry. Harold would have noticed had he not gotten into his own head. "Well, I am just a whore. Get out!"

Harold didn't need telling twice, he shoved his wallet away and tossed the bills down on her coffee table.

"You're really had me going, Miss Caldwell, well-played. You can drop the act now."

"Get out!" She screamed again.

He limped out of her apartment then, the only indication he'd ever been there being the naked woman crying on her couch.

Harbor should have expected this, after all she was just a whore. Since when did a wealth, older guy want to spend time with a whore for her conversational skills?