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“No,” Eliot said simply, sparing little more than a glance at Parker’s laptop.
“But it’s his birthday! You have to do special things for people’s birthdays.”
“I ain’t dressing up like a troll, Parker.”
Parker rolled her eyes. “It’s not a troll, it’s an elf. And it’s Hardison! What wouldn’t you do for Hardison?”
“A whole bunch of stuff! Including,” Eliot poked a finger towards the offending image, “that.”
Eliot moved to the fridge, and Parker sat at the bar with a pout on her face until Nate and came through the door.
“Nate!” she perked up. “Tell Eliot he has to work with me for Hardison’s birthday.”
The mastermind sank down into an armchair absentmindedly and picked up a newspaper. “Eliot, go along with her.”
Parker looked back at Eliot with triumph while his face went through a wide range of angry expressions. He finally controlled himself enough to address the man in the chair.
“She wants to put me in a dress, man!”
This caught Nate’s attention, and he looked over at Parker.
“It’s not a dress!” she protested, “It’s a tunic. Or robe. Or…” she trailed off, trying to think. “Ok, so I don’t remember exactly what he called it, but it’s not a dress!”
“It is too a dress! Look at it!” Eliot gestured to Parker’s laptop screen. Nate’s interest had been piqued, and he got up from the chair to come inspect the item in question.
“Yep, that’s a dress.”
Sophie entered right as Nate made this pronouncement, and the word “dress” caught her attention.
“What dress?” she asked, moving toward Parker and the others.
Nate returned to his chair. “The dress Parker wants Eliot to wear.”
“It’s not a dress!” the thief protested yet again, but Nate and Eliot wouldn’t budge.
“Yes, it is,” they answered together.
Parker turned her laptop so that Sophie could see, and after a few seconds the grifter shook her head.
“I’m sorry Parker, but I’m going to have to agree with Nate on this one.” Sophie went and perched herself on the arm of Nate’s chair and made eye contact with him, “And you know how much I hate doing that.”
Nate smiled.
“Ugh. Fine,” Parker shut the laptop in frustration. “But you guys have to help me come up with something!”
“Parker, what’s the deal?” Eliot asked. “Have you even ever had a birthday party?”
“No, but that’s the point! Hardison usually goes home to be with his Nana on his birthday, but he couldn’t this year. So we—” she cut herself off abruptly as the door to the apartment opened.
Hardison came in, eyes glued to his phone. Everyone watched him cross the room and take a seat in the arm chair opposite from Nate before going back to what they were doing beforehand. Eliot, thinking the conversation was over, went to the couch. He was just reaching for the remote when something breathed in his ear.
“Please, Eliot.”
Parker’s whisper was a loud hiss, and Eliot had to keep himself from punching her by reflex.
He swore, whirling in his seat and rubbing a hand over his ear. “What was that?!”
“We weren’t done talking!” Parker was standing behind the couch, having leaned over the back of it for better access to Eliot’s ear.
The exchange had gotten everyone’s attention, and Hardison looked over towards the pair.
“Dang, Parker,” he said with a grin. “What’d you do?”
Parker and Eliot looked at Hardison and then back at each other. Parker still wore a hopeful expression, but Eliot’s face was hard.
“We’re done.”
That bought him a few moments of peace, and he turned back to reach for the remote. Hardison, still visibly confused, asked Sophie what was going on. She declined to answer, as did Nate. He was about to ask Parker again, but then she vaulted over the back of the couch, landing cross-legged and facing Eliot.
She stared him down for a moment, the wheels were obviously turning in her head, and she finally spoke,
“S'il te plaît, Eliot. Je veux juste faire quelque chose de gentil pour lui.” (Please, Eliot. I just want to do something nice for him.) Her eyes were big as saucers now, but Eliot wouldn’t look at her.
The sound of a foreign language made Sophie perk up.
“I didn’t know you spoke French, Parker!”
“Hold up, why’s she speaking French?” Hardison frowned in confusion.
Still focused on Eliot, Parker wasn’t paying them any attention as she said, “Aidez-moi juste à penser à quelque chose.” (Just help me think of something.)
With a frustrated grunt, Eliot got up off the couch and tried to end the conversation by going into the kitchen, but Parker turned and called after him,
“Tu ne veux pas qu'il passe un bon anniversaire?” (Don’t you want him to have a good birthday?)
Eliot spun around.
“You know what, Parker? I don’t care! So just-” he cut himself off, sparing a glance at Hardison, who was now frantically typing into his phone. Eliot glared back at Parker, “Faites ce que vous allez faire et laissez-moi tranquille.”
Parker huffed in frustration and turned back to look at Eliot’s empty seat on the couch. She finally seemed to be accepting defeat when an automated female voice spoke from behind her.
“Just do what you are going to do and leave me alone.”
Everyone turned and looked at Hardison, who had a very satisfied smile on his face.
“Ha ha! See, y’all think you so smart with your fancy languages, which you know I don’t speak,” he gave Parker a significant glance, “but I got the tech!”
He paused, waiting for them to be impressed. They weren’t. He cleared his throat. “So what’s Parker doing?”
Parker, still not giving Hardison the time of day, whipped her head back around and addressed Sophie, who was still perched on Nate’s chair. If Eliot wouldn’t help her, maybe someone else would.
“Sophie,” she started, “¿Me ayudarás?” (Will you help me?)
The grifter wasted no time shifting languages. “Me encantaría,” (I would love to) she said, casting a dirty glance at Eliot, who rolled his eyes. “¿Tienes alguna idea?” (Do you have some ideas?)
“Think you can catch me,” Hardison said, half to himself as he typed into his phone again. “Uh-uh. Think I don’t know Spanish when I hear it. Ah-ha!” he said triumphantly.
He held his phone out towards Sophie and Parker, making eye-contact with Nate. “See now, when they talk, this baby’ll give me a real-time translation of anything they say in Spanish.”
Parker cocked her head at Sophie. “Dieses hier?” (This one?) Sophie nodded and Parker continued.
“Ich denke also, wir können etwas thematisches tun. Vielleicht mit Elfen und Zwergen und so?” (So, I think we could do something thematic. Maybe with elves and dwarves and stuff?)
Hardison’s triumphant smirk disappeared. “Oh come on! How many languages do you know?”
Sophie just seemed to be considering Parker’s suggestion. “Das lässt sich machen,” (That’s possible) she said at length. “Aber ich denke, du wirst alle brauchen und Eliot will nicht mitmachen.” (But I think you’ll need everyone, and Eliot doesn’t want to join.)
“You got that right,” Eliot muttered from the kitchen, slamming a cabinet shut. Hardison shot him a frustrated glance.
“Oh sure, you speak this one too. Can you believe them?” he turned to Nate. “Leaving us out like this? Just rude. Look. Why don’t all of y’all,” he intoned, gesturing to the other three thieves in the room, “just go have a language convention and leave me and Nate here in peace.”
This finally seemed to get Parker and Sophie’s attention, and they turned to face him while he pretended to be busy on his phone.
“You know, Parker,” Sophie said, “that’s actually not a bad idea.” Finally vacating the arm of Nate’s chair, she gestured to the door, “Shall we?”
“Sure!” Parker hopped up from the couch, and the two women headed out of the apartment.
Just before the door closed, Parker spun around with a wide grin at Hardison. “Adios!” she said, and then they were gone.
There was blissful silence for a few moments, and Eliot finally returned to the couch in peace. But soon Hardison was grumbling again.
“See, why’d they have to do that? What were they even saying?”
Nate folded his paper and got up. “Hardison, you’re always bragging about how smart you are, figure it out.”
Eliot snorted.
“Oh sure, like you knew what they were talking about. If you’re so smart, why don’t you tell me, hm?”
Nate was crossing to the stairs, but he stopped by Hardison’s chair on the way. “Where’s that little gadget? The translator thingy?” Hardison pulled it out.
“Is it on French?” Nate asked. When Hardison nodded, he leaned over and spoke into the device,
“Je savais ce qu'ils disaient. Je ne voulais juste pas te le dire.” Eliot snorted again, and Nate passed by and went upstairs. The automated voice translated for Hardison.
“I knew what they were saying. I just didn't want to tell you.”
For once, Hardison had nothing to say, so he settled down further in his chair and hid behind his phone. Eliot just grinned.