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

[leadinghome]

He watches, and nods. "Not really different than how I do it... just you use tools." And he uses telekinesis.

[aeons_crackshot]

"I have to work with the hand I got dealt," she says with a wink and teasing grin. She's long since over any jealousy relating to other people having more dramatic powers, if she ever had any in the first place.

It helps that she has handed people with shiny powers their asses many, many times by now, of course. >.>

Annabelle gently starts to open the door. "Let's see how far up we are..."

[leadinghome]

He peers out: oh, stairs! "Looks clear... lets go." Connor scurries along, taking point, down to the alley and along it to the back street, away from crowds.

[aeons_crackshot]

Annabelle follows close behind, grinning. Well, other than the part where she skips the stairs and slides down the railing instead.

Why? Because she CAN, that's why. If they're lucky, they won't run into any...trouble as they make their way through the alley.

[leadinghome]

Trouble.

Trouble, maybe like the man who steps out of shadows, a knife in hand?

You know, that one over there, who starts to utter something about wanting money, and is flung back into the nearest wall by an unseen force? Well, unseen unless you happen to be looking at Connor and notice the glow on his eyes.

The man hits the wall and emits a single grunt before sliding to a dazed, seating position: the impact knocked the air out of him, beautifully so.

Yes, yes, it's not the usual way Connor handles things, but damn it, he's not in the mood to be too nice right now, he's on a date! The world better respect that for a while.

[aeons_crackshot]

Annabelle is instantly all business once she sees the knife in his hand.

It's doubtful that the thug is feeling terribly grateful at the moment, but Connor slamming him into the wall might well have saved his life. Lacking telekinesis, she's more inclined to aim to kill or maim when people pull weapons on her.

"I would suggest," she tells the man, "that you let go of that knife in your hand and stay EXACTLY where you are. He's a lot nicer than I am, you see," she adds with a glare. "If you so much as TWITCH in a way that I think is trouble you'll never get the use of your right hand back, for a start."

He's not the only one who's cranky about their date being interrupted, for the record.

[leadinghome]

Connor sighs. "Call police? Or what?" The world should give them a break.

[aeons_crackshot]

"The police aren't likely to be our best option," Annabelle says wryly. "Unless this fellow's poaching on one of the local family's turf, in which case he's likely to wind up in the river."

The chicago police department in the 1920s is notoriously corrupt and in the pocket of organized crime, you see.

Then she catches sight of a good, long, length of rope lying there in the alleyway. She smiles at the sight, and it's not a terribly NICE smile.

She grins to Connor, "I think we should leave an old acquaintance of mine a present. As I recall, his office isn't too far from here..." The acquaintance being a private eye of a rather cantankerous nature.

[leadinghome]

He nods. "Gotcha. Let's do it." Because they are burning date-time there.

[aeons_crackshot]

"Right then. Let's get this package delivered." No, she has no qualms about hogtying the thug and hauling him with a muffled curse over her shoulders. It wouldn't be in his best interest to COMPLAIN about it either.

She's....kind of forgotten that her boyfriend could help carry the guy. Habit, you see.

[leadinghome]

Well, Connor will not complain: help tie the crook up, and follow Annabelle are enough for now.

And once the delivery's made, they can resume the calm stroll homewards?

[aeons_crackshot]

That it can, once their problem is safely dumped in someone else's lap.

Well, after Annabelle "pins" Connor to the wall and kisses him like he kissed her earlier. "Fast thinking back there," she says with a pleased smile. "You probably saved his life, not that he'll probably appreciate it any time soon."

[leadinghome]

"I..." Give him a second, Connor needs a moment to gather his breath after that kiss. "...I was just annoyed. He appeared at the worst time possible."

Interrupting their date, how rude!

"Home?" Oh yes, back at the Society they should have to worry less with interruptions.

[aeons_crackshot]

"I was feeling much the same myself," she replies with a chuckle. She's also rather pleased that Connor needed that moment to gather his breath after the kiss.

"Home is good," she replies with a bright smile. It's good to hear him call it that, that he's at least beginning to feel like he belongs here. "Hopefully, our room will be unoccupied when we get there."

She really needs to think about expanding her personal space, darn it. A single bed and weapon storage isn't going to cut it for much longer....