"I suspect we may have a lot of shit similar between us," Harlow informed Adelaide with a cocky little smirk, as if he thought that made her superior to most other people. There was certainly no higher compliment he could afford someone than telling them that they were like him in some way.
Harlow couldn't help but grin at the little dance move she made. He'd spent quite a few nights in the bar by then, and he had never seen her really dance. That wiggle was likely the closest she had ever come to it, and Harlow just couldn't allow that to continue. He didn't often let people get away with not letting loose in his presence, with not dancing their asses off and partying the night away with him. When he came to the bar, he worked people up-- and those that refused to get into it, he either chased away with cruel words or focused his individual attention on for long enough to hype them up and pull them out of their shells. He'd left Addie alone for the most part, though-- this was her bar after all, and she could do as she liked. Plus, Harlow didn't think that she deserved the same sort of treatment he gave everyone else. But tonight would be different. He made a commitment to himself, right then and there, that she'd dance. She'd have a blast. She'd let go of that tight control she had on herself, even if just for a moment. Harlow wanted to see her let it all go.
He liked Adelaide. She was a classy, cool sort of girl; he liked her sense of humor and he dug her style. She had the right idea about things, in his opinion-- she didn't take herself or the world around them too seriously, she hadn't rode into the apocalypse on her high horse like everyone else seemed to have. She didn't seem the least bit offended by him, and he certainly couldn't be offended by her. He had a feeling that was sort of rare for the both of them-- she struck him as a no-bullshit type of girl, one who spoke her mind and sometimes got herself in trouble with the high-strung denizens of the safehouses. Still, despite all of that, there was something else about her that he thought needed addressing. He wasn't positive about it, but he had the feeling that she had never really gone a little wild before. She didn't come off to him as the type of girl who had a chance to be a teenager when she was younger, to make bad decisions and shed her inhibitions, to experience childhood the way most people did. And now, she didn't really allow herself to either-- she kept herself contained, even in the midst of the parties he riled up around her. Harlow didn't think there was anything particularly wrong with all of her self-containment, but he still felt like everyone should drop their inhibitions at least once in their lives and experience absolute freedom of self, even if only for a few moments. Harlow hoped he could coax that out of her, with a little of his brand of infectious wildness and the help of some good liquor.
"It's awesome, right?" Harlow laughed without a pause, as if his mind hadn't started to map out a plan of attack. He lifted an arm to look down at his side, and when he did there was a glimpse of words inked along his ribs, but the movement was too quick for them to be legible. "My favorite shirts are shirts that aren't actually clothes. Who really needs clothes anyway? Who needs decency?"
"Honestly, your Big Bear seemed the most pissed. Like, death threats pissed. But I saw that coming. I mean, just look at him." Part of the reason Harlow had put Cutter first on the list was because he knew the man wouldn't take it very well at all. Of course Cutter was extremely good-looking, but Harlow also couldn't resist the anger he knew it would stir in him. He just loved ticking people off, and the more angry he could make someone, the better. "Also, Lilah Stone, who threatened chemical warfare. No filtered posts really, though. Not to me anyhow. Just Rory, joking about the rash. Which I don't actually have, for the record. What the hell are you drinking?"