Their dates always end in what Hardison terms, "a crazy, dangerous fall. She throws me off a building. Again."
"She's always going to throw you off the building," Eliot pointed out, completely undisturbed in the slightest. If you're going to date twenty pounds of crazy in a harness, you should expect this kind of thing.
But Parker ignored the interjection and shot Hardison an offended, taken aback look. "No, they don't. They end in pretzels."
"Pretzels?" Eliot glanced between them.
"Uh, uh, yeah." Hardison was doing a rather poor job of trying not to blush as he looked anywhere but Eliot, then gave Parker a hinting look.
She shook her head, brows furrowed, expression 'What?'
'You know,' was Hardison's look back.
Eliot wasn't stupid. "Spare me the details, okay, and get a room."
Parker slugged him amicably on the shoulder and smiled smugly at Hardison with yet another altogether readable expression that went something like 'All mine.'