Harry had spent the better part of his semi-adult life resisting the urge to tumble down one slippery slope or another. He'd even resisted the temptation of a fallen angel to take up her power. A bit of pheromones had been child's play. Sure, for a bit, he'd wanted to go looking for her, but it had been so subtle, it was easier to bargain it off as wanting to clear the air rather than scratch an itch. He rolled his shoulder in a shrug.

"Maybe. I am one stubborn bastard, after all." He reached up, bending the brim of his hat slightly in a gentlemanly if completely facetious manner. "Wait, you work out of a church, too? Is it still consecrated?" Because that is almost, not it is completely, poetic, and makes him like her all the more for it.