aeons_crackshot | AU: Trinity Universe/FreakAngels crossover: First date

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.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

leadinghome

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

Words can be deceiving.

This, can not.

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

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?"

From:

leadinghome

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

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

From:

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.

From:

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!

From:

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....

From:

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?

From:

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."

From:

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.

From:

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...

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

leadinghome

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

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

leadinghome

Holding hands, drinking milkshakes, making small talk. Very peaceful.

Of course, we all know said peace can not last.

From:

aeons_crackshot

Of course not. Heaven forbid they have a normal day!

The butterfly effect's a funny thing, sometimes. In the universe that was, a young man named Thomas lost his younger sister and his father to scarlet fever. That's why he had to stay in Tennessee, instead of finding a job at a newspaper in Chicago, like he had dreamed. In that universe, Thomas gained his Inspiration only moments before his death.

In THIS universe, the sudden arrival of the Angels delayed the Founder's return to Chicago, causing a reshuffling of members. One of theirs with healing talents was, therefore, in the area when the epidemic started. Casie and his father lived, so Thomas was able to pursue his dream.

But it seems that some people are not destined for quiet, ordinary lives. His parents were getting him "settled in", and he was taking his sister to get some ice cream to give them a break from her barrage of questions. She'd darted ahead of him and the other pedestrians trying to cross the street, but one car hadn't stopped...

There had been no time to think, no time to move, but something...snapped, somewhere deep inside. The side of the car crumples, pushed squealing backwards and away from the little girl....

It's a little like a star being born, to more uncommon senses. A roar and a bright burst of light where there was nothing remarkable before...

From:

leadinghome

And of course, the energy burst is like thunder and lightning for a Freakangel: it's not the Package, but it is something that sends waves across the area.

Connor stands up in a flash, eyes lighting up as his senses expand and time slows to a crawl for him.

From:

aeons_crackshot

The source of those waves isn't putting out as much energy now, having spent the brunt of it all in one go. The energy output is sporadic now, nearly random.

Confusion and distress Whoever it is that's putting out that energy has has NO IDEA what the hell is going on.

Annabelle would ask what he's sensing, but time is still moving at its normal speed for her.

From:

leadinghome

Fortunately, Connor has a pretty good idea of what to do in a case like this.

Static Line.

He moves away from the table, walking around the people, heading to the street. Looking for the source of the distress.

From:

aeons_crackshot

It's more than a little eerie, seeing the world frozen like this. About a block away, a roadster sits half on, half off the sidewalk, it's front passenger side bashed in as if by the fist of a giant.

The cause of the disturbance is a young man about Connor's age in the middle of the street. He's holding an eight year old girl protectively, his right hand only just coming down from where it was pointed at the car. Their looks suggest that they're related, probably siblings.

Taken all together, the scene suggests a nearly tragic accident caused by a driver not stopping when he should have. The question, of course, is what averted this tragedy and whether it has anything to do with the mysteriously damaged car...

From:

leadinghome

Taken all together, it looks simple to him: the young man was protecting his sister... or maybe the girl was protecting both.

Hard to know for sure.

For now, he heads back inside to get Annabelle, add her to the Line.