AU: Trinity Universe/FreakAngels crossover: First date

[aeons_crackshot]

OOC: Takes place not too terribly long after this thread.

After certain events at the Chicago harbor there had been considerable amusement within the Æon Society over the pairing up of Annabelle Newfield and Connor. (Whitley Styles had won the betting pool, despite Jake's claim that he cheated.)

As for the reactions of the other FreakAngels to the news, well, who knows?

There was a furious spate of trouble starting the very next day, of course. All of the Society's founders have been run ragged for the last few weeks. For the moment though, things are quiet. (Or at least, if things ARE going crazy somewhere, someone else is handling the problem.)

Annabelle and Jake got back in town at some ungodly hour this morning, whereupon she fell asleep on one of the couches near the fireplace. (Jake is probably off somewhere regaling a pretty woman or two with tales of said adventure, because that's what he does.)

Comments

[aeons_crackshot]

It's evening when she finally wakes up, neither sore nor stiff.

There's a moment or two of utter confusion caused by waking up in a strange place, but then things click. She blushes hugely. "I'm SO sorry. I can't believe I fell asleep like that...."

[leadinghome]

Connor gives a low chuckle. "Because of my bony shoulder?" Or close to bony.

[aeons_crackshot]

Annabelle gives him a Look and rolls her eyes. "Because I was looking forward to spending time with you, and falling asleep when you have company is horribly rude," she replies, poking him playfully.

[leadinghome]

"Well..." He blushes a bit. "I think it's flattering that you like me enough to just fall asleep like that."

Seriously, you do not nap on the shoulder of people you dislike.

[aeons_crackshot]

This is true.

"I hadn't thought of it like that," she replies, still a bit sheepish.

"I don't think I've been able to sleep that deeply in...oh, it must be years," she says with a shake of her head. "Not unless I was drugged, anyway."

Paranoia, what paranoia?

[leadinghome]

Okay, he knows she is likely not meaning anything like that, but Connor still has to hold back a frown... it's a reflex, from being hunted because people just assumed they would mis-use their abilities.

But, silence lingers a bit...

[aeons_crackshot]

"I said something wrong, didn't I?" Annabelle asks with a wince.

"I've never really felt...safe before, I suppose," she goes on, trying to explain. "Not since I was 12 and got shot for the first time, anyway."

"But I feel safe with you, better than I've ever felt, I...." Annabelle is not good with words.

[leadinghome]

He just nods, and draws Annabelle into a tender kiss.

Words can be deceiving.

This, can not.

[aeons_crackshot]

Annabelle is quite relieved when he draws her into a kiss. She was having trouble coming up with words, and now she doesn't need to!

(Possibly this is related to her preference for punching trouble in the face, who knows?)

She won't break the kiss until she starts getting dizzy from lack of oxygen.

[leadinghome]

Connor might take the initiative to stop the kiss when he feels Annabelle might need air: he's red-faced, gasping a bit and grinning himself.

[aeons_crackshot]

Lovely, lovely endorphins. "I think I got my point across," she teases.

"Still, I suppose a bribe wouldn't go amiss," she adds with a wink. "You mentioned ice cream earlier, I think?"

[leadinghome]

"I think I did." He grins and nods.

Ice cream might be an extra good idea since both skipped lunch...

[aeons_crackshot]

"Hm. There's an ice cream parlor not too far from here," she says, thinking aloud. "I think they're running a speak easy in the basement, but that could describe half the buildings in Chicago."

Illegal does not equal unavailable, as Connor surely knows.

[leadinghome]

He nods, getting up. "You want to take a shower first or anything?" Then he blushes realizing how it could be interpreted as showering with him...

The blush should be hint enough of the idea filling his mind.

Bad Connor, bad!

[aeons_crackshot]

"No, I should be alright. I had more than a little smoke and ash on me when the job was over, so I had to get it off before we left."

Then she sees the blush on his face, and blushes in turn as the possible interpretations sink in.

He may not be the only one with that mental image suddenly popping up. Stupid teenage hormones....

[leadinghome]

Chain reaction of embarrassment: seeing her blush, Connor blushes more... standing before Annabelle holding her hands.

Because you see, he is torn: knowing it's a Bad Thought, but since she's not slapping him or anything, it's not a Really Bad Thought?

[aeons_crackshot]

About 10 minutes later, Annabelle finally shakes off the escalating blushing by kissing him briefly and laughing. "We are a pair, aren't we?" she says with a shake of her head.

"I suspect it might be a good idea for us to not share whatever we were thinking, or we may never get out of here."

[leadinghome]

Connor suspects that if he did share, she would slap him. "Hm, yeah. let's... let's go, then?" He's still a bit... well, awkward.

[aeons_crackshot]

She probably wouldn't slap him. Gaping a bit, maybe, and spluttering quite a lot would be a more likely response.

Annabelle tries to ease the awkwardness as much as she can. If nothing else, navigating through the streets of Chicago on foot is likely to provide a bit of a distraction.

The ice cream parlor does seem oddly busy, especially considering that the number of people going in the door doesn't quite match up to the number of customers...

[leadinghome]

Ah, prohibition times. How quaint.

Connor just hopes there will be no gangster drive-by's.

Walking along with Annabelle, holding her hand (warm hand, strong, oddly comforting) is indeed a distraction: the Freakangel has been practicing keeping barriers up, feeling people but not what they're feeling.

He knows they are there, but he keeps the waves of mental energy at bay.

[aeons_crackshot]

It is rather quaint, isn't it? We also suspect that some of the other Angels might find it funny that pretty much every other recreational drug known to man at this time is perfectly legal.

There will be no gangster drive-by today. The Æon Society has made something of an...impression on the local mobsters. Annabelle in particular has but the fear of, well, HER, into the lieutenants of the major Families.

The shop is clean, if crowded, and the jerk (a soda-jerk, not the other kind) manning the long counter looks up at them when they enter. The tables and booths are mostly occupied by couples, if the human courting behavior on display is any indication.

"Any particular favorites?" Annabelle asks, still holding his hand.

[leadinghome]

"Hmm... I think I'll have a vanilla malt." Something simple, to start. "And you?"

[aeons_crackshot]

"Hm," Annabelle replies, pondering. "A chocolate malt, I think."

The jerk nods and starts working on their order.

Well, will you look at that? There's a table available! A daredevil's unnatural luck doesn't just apply to combat situations, after all.

[leadinghome]

Well, so they can get their shakes, Connor pays for them, and said empty table can be seized. Hm, shakes and the company of a pretty girl: Connor's day is getting better and better.

[aeons_crackshot]

It's good that his day is getting better and better, because Annabelle's is too.

Wow, these are good malts. Possibly this is a partial explanation for the crowd, along with the alcohol downstairs.

They'll linger over the shakes, making small talk and enjoying the company of one another.