Daisy, the owner of The Dry Martini, has one of those faces and types of personalities that make one feel like you've known her forever. Her long, dark brown hair is tied back in a low ponytail with loose strands framing her kind eyes. Anna presumes she's in her late 60's but her style and persona communicate a more youthful soul.

"We're very excited you two came today," Daisy says, jumping up on one of the barstools. Her accent is strange. A funny mix of American and English. Anna makes note to ask her about the curious detail at some point. "I've known Harry for quite some time and when he called me he spoke very highly of you. You have the job, so take a big sigh of relief." Daisy squeezes Anna's hand and takes a deep breath with her new employee. "I like to meet everyone before officially bringing them onto the team is all. I hope you don't mind the formality."

"I don't want you to feel obligated to hire me though!" Anna digs into her messenger bag and retrieves a small stack of papers. "I prepared my resume for you. I don't have much experience but I'm really eager to learn."

Anna looks around the establishment. Bottles of every and any kind of liquor line the back wall of the bar. The color pallet is mainly black and gold. Very Great Gatsby. Just as Harry described. And he was right. The aesthetic is very much in her wheelhouse.

"I'll take a look but mainly because I'm curious about who this 'Anna' is that Harry's been telling me so much about." Daisy takes the papers from Anna and flips through the details.

A dozen or so lights dimly illuminate the small space as Harry stands in the background behind Daisy, speaking with the house band. Already staring at Anna, he sweetly and innocently waves. The bartender behind the counter passes a cup and saucer over to Daisy. Billows of steam rise of over the ceramic as she steeps the bag of herbs into the hot water.

Daisy turns and observes the interaction between her newest employees. "He's a sweet boy," she comments, blowing on her scalding beverage. "You know he called me from Shady Oaks?"

"Did he?" Anna asks, breaking her line of sight from Harry's.

"He did. He's had a job lined up here for years but he's never taken me up on the offer until his last discharge. His past is troubled, as I'm sure you know, but I told his mom long ago that I'd take care of him. As much as he'd allow, anyways. I swear, he's so bloody stubborn."

"You can say that again," Anna replies with a laugh. Her face turns solemn, forgetting that Harry's gaze is still on her. "Last discharge... how many times have you been through this with him?"

Anna's curiosity couldn't help itself. She's always been a fairly nosey girl and Harry's mysterious years prior to meeting her piqued her interest. How is it that she could feel so connected with someone but know so little about them? He's a rubik's cube in human form. A jigsaw puzzle with several pieces in the center hidden in dark corners of a house. Not unable to be solved. Not lost forever. But terribly difficult to crack.

"You see, when I first met his mom-"

"Alright, are we good here?" Harry suddenly interrupts with a clap of his hands.

"Yes! We were just finishing up." Daisy takes another sip of her tea. Her comfortable mannerisms suggest her and Anna's telling conversation never took place. She's a woman with a congenial personality, used to madness around her and okay with covering her knowledge of dark secrets. "You guys didn't put an address on any of the paperwork. I don't do direct deposit. I hope you know we aren't fancy enough here to have that yet."

Daisy chuckles and looks at Harry and Anna. The two fidget with their belongings, Anna with her bag and Harry with the collar of his now unbuttoned shirt.

"We're in limbo a bit right now, D," Harry answers.

"I planned to start looking for a place but I wanted to have a job lined up beforehand," Anna joins.

"Well, look no further than The Dry Martini! I just so happen to have a studio loft upstairs in need of a renter. Or two?" Daisy points to the ceiling and looks to Anna and Harry.

Number 12: Be willing to accept help when you need it.

"We'll take it!" Harry yells, bringing Anna in close. He squishes his face against hers. His big, green eyes look into Daisy's brown irises. She's proud of the place he's at in his life but is wary of what's to come. At least this way she can keep a closer eye.

"Here." Daisy pulls a key off her keyring and throws it towards Harry and Anna. The small gold piece falls perfectly in Anna's hand. "And I have this, too." Daisy throws another key with a black leather cover on the top. This key falls into Harry's hands like a magnet.

"YOU GOT BETTY?" Harry yells. The sound of his deep voice reverberates off the close walls of The Dry Martini. "Where is she?"

Daisy points to the front door of the bar. Harry runs in that direction, pulling Anna's hand, and subsequently her entire body outside. "I can't wait for you to meet her, Anna!"

Anna doesn't have time to process what's happening but the pit of her stomach churns in slight jealousy. Who is Betty?

A chrome and black Triumph motorcycle sits in the dreary street. In Harry's mind, the bike is lit by a heavenly spotlight. It's his favorite, and realistically, only possession. He restored Betty from the ground up. She was once a rusted chassis at a garage sale that he purchased to help distract him from his latest round of stunts. His life had been a broken down roller coaster as long as he could remember. His tracks were tarnished. His gears were busted. But Betty was the newly painted cart, sitting atop the broken down pillars and rails of the ride.

"I can't believe it, D," Harry says, slapping the leather seat of his motorcycle. "We have jobs. We have a place. I have my girls." He says the statement quickly but slow enough for Anna to take notice of his point. He straddles the bike and bounces with excitement. "C'mon. Let's go get our shit." Harry spins his key ring, complete with the gateway to Betty and their new home fastened securely, around his long index finger.

What a joyous feeling it is to see someone you adore so dearly at a high point in their life. Anna was making baby steps to freeing herself from her parents' tight grasp and Harry was making strides to bettering himself entirely. Her fair skin glows with happiness, like a young girl entering her first toy store. All the while, he sits atop the leather seat of his favorite piece of machinery, the feeling of vindication running through his veins and bones.

After weeks, albeit months, spent inside the institution, Anna and Harry are finally free.

* * *

"Okay, you bought breakfast. Dinner tonight is on me." Harry grins to himself. His smile quickly fades when he opens his wallet. All it holds is 10 pounds. His excitement to treat her is sucked quickly out of his body.

"What's on the menu, chef?" Anna sits inside the grocery cart. Much like Harry on his Triumph, she bounces up and down with excitement. She feels silly but it's something she's always wanted to do. A lady would never make such a spectacle of herself though. A lady, in the rare occasion that she would actually shop for herself, would walk elegantly on the side of the basket.

"We're going international. I'm going to take your tastebuds to the far east. I'm thinking noodles in a delicious chicken and pork broth. Some green onion. A poached egg." He scoops several packs of instant ramen into the cart. The freeze dried goods cascade onto her lap.

"Every time I've been in the grocery store with our nanny, I think about how satisfying it'd be to crash into those toilet paper stacks." Anna giggles, looking at a giant paper pyramid at the end of the dairy aisle.

Number 6: Act on impulse.

Harry leans in, his lips tickling the peach fuzz on the edge of her ear. "Number six..." he whispers.

"Do it!" She responds without hesitation.

"HOLD ONTO THE EGGS!" Harry runs, full speed ahead, his knuckles white as they grip tightly on the handlebar of the cart. Anna's laugh echoes through the back of the store as the plastic-wrapped rolls fall onto her like giant snowflakes mid-blizzard.

"HARRY!" Anna yells at the top of her lungs as an overweight security guard sprints towards them.

Harry scoops Anna into his arms. "ABANDONED SHIP! GRAB WHAT YOU CAN!" He throws her small frame over his shoulder as she frantically attempts to fill his backpack and her messenger bag. "TO THE MOTHERSHIP! YOUR CHARIOT AWAITS, M'LADY!"

He zips his backpack. She fastens her bag.

"ONWARD, STEED!" Anna points forward. The engine of Harry's motorcycle roars in the open streets of London as the modern day Bonnie and Clyde race to their new safehouse.

The lights of passing homes stream by her face as she looks through the visor of the helmet. She holds onto Harry's body closely as they speed through the avenues and alleys. She'd never been on a motorcycle before, yet she feels more protected than if she'd been in a fully covered automobile. They lean into the turns together. They smile together.

Mists of clouds sit above their heads. He feels her grip her arms around his waist tighter. The sensation is petrol to him. A substance necessary for him to push forward.

No matter how loud they both speak, they can't hear one another. Above all else, the experience is about physical contact. They feel alive. They feel accepted by the other. They feel at peace.

Finally at a stoplight, Harry takes his hand off the handlebar and grabs her forearm, which is comfortably linked around his midsection.

Everything is new. Everything is sweet. Everything is lit up in a way they never even imagined.

He turns his head to her, his helmet hitting the top of hers. He sees this moment through her eyes. He can see the lights of the streets reflected in her eyes' shield.

"Let's go home!" She yells over the rev of the engine. This he hears. And this he'll cherish.