Mjolnir

Camp Athens - Closed

^{#667c0c ....|..... outfit .....|..... idris’s cabin > his cabin}

"Well, my cabin is your cabin. Let's see if the gods know what I like," Idris chuckled as he approached the door to his cabin.

Wes lingered behind him and Rae, barely stepping inside behind them. He set down her bag, propped himself up in the doorway and hooked his thumb in the front pocket of his jeans. While he might not have known Idris… at all, his chosen cabin seemed to suit him well just based on the simple fact he mentioned enjoying cooking. The kitchen itself was big enough to house a small army. He couldn’t imagine why someone would need that much space or two fridges. It was beautiful and looked exactly like the kind of place Wes would never set foot in unless he was making a bowl of cereal. At least a place like that went to someone who could appreciate it, and not himself.

"Damn," Rae muttered. "This is like… Iron Chef meets Martha Stewart. I was expecting maybe, I don’t know, a hot plate and a dented kettle. Not this."

He was trying his best to be cheerful and accommodating but his thoughts kept drifting back to Trinity. Wes never liked when their conversations ended on a tense note. It constantly felt like he was always upsetting her when all he ever wanted was to share everything with her, including his High School friend. Maybe it was foolish of him to think the introduction wouldn’t be awkward. He didn’t know. Hell, he could even understand why his whole natural allure bullshit stressed her out. It wasn’t like he could control it. All he could was reassure her that he wanted no one else but her, which only made the whole thing more frustrating when that didn’t work. He was disheartened that one action messed up the entire night, ruined his plans, and pissed her off.

Maybe Mason was right… Maybe he needed to focus more on his own relationship rather than everything else. Wes sighed, lightly tapping the toe of his shoe against the door jam.

"It looks like I should be able to cook something from the restaurant!"

"Cooking sounds amazing. Seriously, if you can whip up even half of what you’re promising, I’m cashing in that raincheck. But maybe not right this second," Rae thankfully spoke up before Wes had to find a polite out. "It’s, uh… about to be the new year. First one at camp and all that for me. So… food some other time, maybe? Deal?"

"Yeah, I appreciate the offer, man," Wes added with a tight lipped smile. "But I have an angry girlfriend and I haven’t decided if I’m going to risk going back to the party or hide in my cabin." He laughed weakly as he pushed off the doorframe, picked back up Rae’s bag, and took a step back onto the porch. "Don’t stay up too late. Wouldn’t be surprised if there’s training tomorrow," he called back over his shoulder before he descended the stairs and made his way back onto the main path.

He waited patiently for Rae to say whatever goodbyes she wanted and rejoin him. "Your cabin is pretty much on the way to mine. I’ll help you find it." Wes started leading them in the right direction, still lost a bit in thought. It wasn’t until they were turning down the narrow path toward her cabin that he realized how silent and withdrawn he had been. He sighed softly and looked over at the red head beside him. "Sorry you won’t be getting all the stories I promised tonight." He flashed her a lopsided smile with a sigh.

"Now, don’t you start apologizing, Lewski… I know how you are," Wes chided her playfully as he set her bag down beside her front door. "It’s not your fault." He took a step toward her and wrapped her in a much more gentle hug than the whirlwind one he swept her up in earlier. "I’ll answer all your questions later. Promise."

Wes gave her a gentle pat to the back before he slowly started back down trail. "Cabin 21 if you need anything," he reminded her. "Happy New Year’s, Red." He gave her one last wave before he disappeared out of sight around the treeline.

It didn’t take long for Wes to find his way to his cabin. He couldn’t bring himself to attempt rejoining the party, not when it felt like he’d only dread the coming of the new year and whatever rant Trinity had in store for him. It was better for everyone if he just went to bed and attempted to get some sleep before the new leader unleashed whatever hell on them tomorrow. He trudged his way up the stairs to his treehouse cabin. Once through the door, he kicked off his shoes and climbed the spiral staircase to his bedroom. He barely managed to pull his shift over his head before he collapsed face first into his bed with a dramatic sigh. Happy fucking new year.

^{interactions ....|.... rae & idris ............... mentions ....|.... trinity & mason ............... collabs ....|.... none}

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^{#0bbdaf ....|..... outfit .....|..... #04ed42 ....|..... outfit .....|..... party > tappi's cabin}

"You know, it’s pretty rich for you to say that." Elias’s voice drew Tapeesa’s attention, but the warmth she was used to feeling around him felt like it had been sucked out of a vacuum. Her smile faltered as her brows knit together in confusion. "Considering you’re the one who bailed on me and Anissa to dance by yourself. Remember that? Right after you’d already dressed me down like I was some kid who couldn’t be trusted to handle himself."

Tapeesa flinched at his dry forced laugh. Whatever light had been behind her eyes slipped away with the darkness of the night. Her dimples disappeared as the corners of her mouth trembled and what smile she had a moment earlier threatened to vanish entirely. "I don’t know, Tapeesa. From where I’m standing, it looks to me like you’ve been doing just fine without any offers."

She parted her lips to try and say something but when he looked away and frowned, the words fell apart with a soft breath. Warmth flooded her cheeks as he made a jab at her happiness and the fun she was having with Nate. It felt personal, like she wasn’t allowed to enjoy herself with someone that wasn’t him. Anxiety twisted in her stomach as her gaze fell to a small clump of snow by her feet. Subconsciously, she took a small step to the side, placing herself between both of them as if the physical barrier would protect Nate from Elias’s ire. Her hands trembled slightly from her elevated heart rate as she picked at the skin around her thumb.

"...I would’ve joined you if you’d asked. You said should not want." His voice might have been softer but the difference was lost on her. Only his words and their sharp meaning resonated with her.

"I…" the words got stuck in her throat as her voice threatened to crack. "I didn’t realize… I’m sorry." Tappi’s voice was quiet and easy to miss beneath the upbeat party music that contrasted the tension of their conversation. She couldn’t bring herself to meet Elias’s gaze. She swallowed and looked back over her shoulder toward Nate, all the brightness gone from her face. "I’m sorry," she whispered up at him before she turned in the direction of her cabin and walked off the dancefloor.

Nate wasn’t particularly good at hiding the wave of emotions on his face. That smile he tried to maintain disappeared as Elias continued to speak. He recognized the look and tone of the guy, he had pissed off a number of them. He started off annoyed, but slowly began to simmer and steam the more Elias took digs at Tappi. His fingers strained, stretching out wide as he did his best to not curl them into fists at his side. Any swaying Nate was doing had stopped. He stood perfectly still, as if every fiber of energy he had was dedicated to figuring out what his next move was.

As she apologized and began to leave, Nate’s gaze trailed after her. He shook his head, his gritted teeth chewing at the inside of his cheek. When he looked back at Elias, the anger in his face was clear. He didn’t shout to cause a scene, but he spoke clearly over the music. "Are you an ass to everyone, or just women?" He let the insult sit for a moment, before he just shook his head. "Should sounds like an invite to me, bud. But honestly, for her sake, I’m real fucking glad you’re too dumb to realize that." He turned to Forest, offering an apologetic smile. "Sorry man… I hope you find better company. I loved the drink, you brought some good shit." With a small wave, Nate turned on his heels and left. While he’d certainly scrapped over less, getting into a fight with someone bigger than him didn’t seem like the best course of action.

He had more important things to do, anyways.

Nate jogged up behind Tapeesa, slowing down as he caught up beside her. He turned himself around, walking backwards just a little in front of her so he could swivel his gaze between her downtrodden face and Elias on the dancefloor. His cheeks were still hot from rage, but his expression had softened considerably as he got a good look at her. "Hey, hey… " He stepped in front of her, trying to stop her in her tracks gently as he bent over slightly to get his face in her field of view. "Where are we going?" He tried to keep the question light, but concern crept into his voice.

Tappi had been walking with her head down, fingers toying with the tail of her braid as she tried to calm her breathing. Her only goal was making it to her cabin before she accidentally cried in public, because the last thing she needed was another reason to be embarrassed her first night at a camp full of strangers. She was so focused on the crunch of her moccasin boots in the snow and the rush of her pulse through her ears that she didn’t notice anyone approaching. She gasped, stopping abruptly and holding out her hands so she didn’t run into him. Her hands quickly rubbed at her eyes, trying to catch any tears on her sleeves before they could slip out. A sad smile tugged at the corner of her lips at his question. Tapeesa wasn’t expecting either of them to follow her, but especially not Nate. The way he looked at her and the concern in his voice made her chest tighten.

"I was going to throw his stuff out of my cabin… And hide in my greenhouse," she confessed, the smallest hint of a sad, guilty smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she looked up at him.

Nate nodded, his eyes shifting back in the direction of the dancefloor. He considered backing off and giving her space, but he knew if he went back to the party he was bound to sock that smug dick and cause more problems. He shrugged his shoulders. "Ok… yeah, I'll join you. Mind if I grab my stuff first?"

Her eyes widened slightly at the casual way he offered to join her. While Tappi was embarrassed that he saw her that way and how Elias venom was pointed at him too, she couldn’t deny that the thought of company, his company, made some of the tension in her shoulders fade away. "Ok," she replied softly and nodded her head.

Nate shoved his right hand into his pocket, feeling the cold metal of the zippo. With his left he reached out and grasped Tapeesa's right hand, gently tugging her to follow as he spun around and made his way towards the table and chairs he had left his bag at. He glanced in Elias’ direction, glaring at him a little out of the corner of his eye, but mostly just making sure he didn't follow after them. He walked at a leisurely pace, making sure he didn't go too fast. When they neared the table, he let go of her hand to quickly shove his hoodie and jacket into his stuffed duffel bag before swinging the strap over his shoulder. Satisfied he had everything he needed, he spun around to face her. He held his left hand out, a clear sign for her to guide him this time. "Lead the way."

Tapeesa was prepared to stand at the edge of the party and wait for his return. She was not prepared for him to take her hand in a more intentional way compared to when they were dancing and pull her along with him. Even so, she didn’t fight it and followed along in sync with him. But when he glared at Elias, she very pointedly looked anywhere else, like the small dots of her tattoo that were barely visible where the tips of her fingers wrapped around the side of his hand. She waited patiently as he collected his things, the weird sensation of someone watching her tickling the back of her neck but she ignored it.

It didn’t take long for Nate to gather up his belongings before he was holding his hand out toward her. Three times wasn’t a coincidence, was it? Tapeesa’s cheeks grew warmer as she slowly slid her fingers into his palm once again. "It’s not far," she said while pointing in the general direction of her cabin next to the infirmary, nestled a little out of view behind some trees. While pulling him along with her gently, she weaved through the crowd, making sure to give the dancefloor an exceptionally wide berth.

Once they were out of range of most of the party’s festivities and noise, Tappi let herself fall back slightly, walking in stride beside him rather than in front of him. There was a part of her that wanted to apologize to Nate a second time. It wasn’t like Elias was her responsibility. On the contrary, she barely knew him. But it was embarrassing and ruined the fun they were having. Rather than dredging that up and dulling the small bit of happiness that returned to her with his presence, she tried to take a page from his book and turn things in a lighter direction. "I never asked who your parent is," she confessed looking over at him. "I initially would have guessed Hermes, but I don’t think Gods make a habit of getting matching tattoos with their kids," she added with a faint smile while pointing toward his chest where the quote lived beneath his shirt.

A small smile returned to Nate's face as he saw a little bit of joy return to her. He readjusted the strap hanging from his shoulder with his free hand as he took in her question, trying to think back to that strange woman he had met a year ago. "Yeah, no… dad's normal. Only really had him growing up. Woman showed up last winter claiming to be my mother. She said her name was… something like rival?" He clicked his tongue as his brows furrowed, trying to remember what she said her name was. "Adversary, maybe?"

She laughed softly and shook her head as he fumbled through trying to find the name of his mother, and failed. "You don’t know the name of your mom?" Tapeesa turned fully toward him as her brows tugged upwards in surprise. "Do you mean Nemesis?" She asked, tilting her head to the side slightly and squinting her eyes.

Nate shrugged his shoulders at her first accusatory question. "Dad never talked about her… and I never really met her. Just said he had met her when he was fighting overseas." His eyes widened as she offered up a name, though. "Nemesis… yeah, that sounds right. See, I was close." He flashed a grin, happy that he was at least in the right ballpark.

"I understand," she replied with a bit more softness in her tone. "My mom told me some stories but never the important ones… Like that he was a God." Tapeesa’s mouth pulled into a lopsided smile in reluctant acceptance. "I’ve known for–" Her lips pursed as she tried to remember what day it was and when Apollo showed up at her door. "Like four days. Give or take." She laughed awkwardly and shrugged her shoulders. "The harder part was giving myself a crash course in Greek Mythology."

Tappi studied his expression, curious as to how he could forget the name of the Goddess who bore him. Maybe it was just her, but ever since her dad magically popped into her life it was like she could no longer separate herself and Apollo in her mind. Nate said he never really met her… She didn't know how well she would have accepted the news of her parentage if she didn't hear it directly from her father's mouth. Either way, she flashed him a warm smile and lightly nudged his arm with hers. "You can get a gold star for effort."

Nate looked at Tapeesa like she had two heads, eyebrows raised fully as he cocked his head to the side in incredulity. "So.. Your dad shows up claiming to be a Greek god and you just… buy in immediately?" He kept a hold of her hand, his other seeming to instinctively reach for his back pocket. When he noticed, he lifted the hand to cling onto the strap of his duffel bag. He looked out in front of them, shrugging his shoulders. "I… I’ve known for a year, and I still refuse to believe it." His smile was still present as he looked back at Tapeesa, his expression relaxed. "You have me beat on who these gods are. The only ones I know are Zeus and Ra. And Jesus, but I don’t think he counts."

"Well—I—Yes?" Tappi’s voice squeaked slightly as she stumbled through the words. She looked up at him from the corner of her eyes, brows furrowing and tugging upwards in sheepish innocence. "My mom had this old picture of him and the guy standing at my door looked just like him, hadn’t aged a day." She started rambling and talking with her hands, which also meant she waved his hand around unintentionally as she tripped over her words while trying to explain. "And I had these weird abilities I couldn’t explain. So when he said Apollo—and I googled it—it added up. My mom always said he was special, and a God’s special." She finally paused and took a deep breath, having forgotten to breathe that whole time.

Her pace slowed as they neared a small iron gate in the middle of a short stone wall that acted like a fence around her cabin. Beyond was a quaint little home that almost looked more like a cottage than a cabin. It was the kind of place friendly witches or fairies lived deep in the woods in old fairytales or Disney movies. It was one of the smaller cabins compared to the other ones she’d seen, but it was still twice as big as her studio apartment and it had a little tower. She was content living like a little forest witch, especially when it came with a greenhouse. Seeing it again made her earlier giddiness return as her smile grew at the prospect of finally getting to explore her new home. This was heaven to her.

"How can you not believe it?" Tapeesa asked him as she turned halfway to face him while the fingers of her empty hand reached out to rest on the gate. "You’re here, aren’t you?" She leaned in slightly, looking around a bit paranoid-like before whispering. "Or are you a figment of my imagination?" Her slight smile and the subtle return of her dimples betrayed her terrible joke.

Tapeesa took a step or two forward, leading them into her yard? Is it a yard? She didn’t really know the specifics. But Nate’s comment about Jesus actually made her snort out a laugh. Her hand clapped over her mouth while her cheeks returned to the familiar shade of pink they seemed to frequently be when he was around. "Jesus," she echoed into her palm with a chuckle.

"You got me,” Nate teased, letting Tapeesa guide him along. "I've totally been a ghost the whole time." His eyes scanned her quaint little cottage, his mouth agape at the design. It looked like… like… "Though I could ask the same thing about you, Sleeping Beauty." He laughed a little himself, absolutely dumbstruck by how insane this all felt. Sure, she looked the part of a Disney princess, but they didn't usually live in a concrete compound from what he remembered. And the closer he got to the front door, the more concerned he was that maybe, just maybe, he was walking into a witch's trap.

Her smile grew as she nodded her head in silent acknowledgement. It did kind of look like the fairies’ cottage in Sleeping Beauty. "I don’t think there are ghosts in Sleeping Beauty." Her face scrunched up slightly as she looked over shoulder at him. "But you can have a second gold star for not taking the easy bait of Pocahontas." Although, to be fair, her cabin looked like nothing out of Pocahontas but she was always compared to her since she was a little girl. Sleeping Beauty was a new one, even if he was talking about her home rather than her.

Nate shook his head at that, rolling his eyes a little. "I don't think that deserves a gold star, Toppings. Different cultures.” He wasn't an expert by any means, but he knew enough to not make that comparison. Though, that never really crossed his mind.

"You’d be surprised how stupid people are," she whispered, leaning toward him slightly, like someone might overhear.

Tappi opened the door into her dark but cozy living room. She laughed awkwardly, forgetting how she practically stripped out of her winter clothes and tossed everything on the couch. It wasn’t like she was expecting another visitor before she ever got a proper chance to look around or unpack. Her gaze drifted over toward Elias’s things he left propped against the wall near the entrance and her smile faded. For a quick moment, his words replayed through her mind as her palm grew hot in Nate’s hand and the anxiety slowly crept back up. She cleared her throat and reached down, scooping up his jacket and the handle of his bag. She hesitantly looked up at Nate as she slowly pulled her hand free, disliking the cold emptiness she felt in his absence. "I’ll… be right back," she whispered before slipping back out the door.

She walked back up the stepping stones toward the closed metal gate that faced out toward the field and the party. Tapeesa stopped just shy of the wall as she caught sight of Elias. Her gaze fell as she leaned over the stone wall to set down his things beside the gate, then turned back around without daring to look in his direction a second time. By the time she reached the doorway to her cabin a second time, she was once again picking at the skin on her thumbs. "I was going to go check out my greenhouse. You should—" She paused, thinking back to the way her words were turned against her earlier. "I want you you to come with me," she corrected her wording pointedly even if it felt foreign and worded strangely. The last thing she wanted was Nate to get mad at her too.

Nate took a look around the living room, chuckling at the sight of her clothes haphazardly discarded on the couch. She had the same instinct he had, she just had the common sense to find her cabin first. She was probably excited to join the party like he was. Unless… no, given her reaction to his shirtless gambit, something told Nate that Tapeesa hadn't hooked up with Elias. Probably for the best, given how upset she seemed dragging his stuff outside. He'd need to get that guy's last name later. For now, Nate just pulled his duffel bag from his shoulders and plopped it down in the same spot Elias’ sat a moment before.

When Tapeesa came back, he noticed her hands. Combined with that slight correction in her words, Nate was nearly ready to charge back outside and start a fight. Instead, he did the only logical thing he could think to do. He raised a hand in the air over Tappi's head, holding it flat vertically. He brought his hand down softly in a very awkward karate chop to the crown of her skull. "Please don't do that,” he pleaded softly. "I know should and want are close enough. Or if I don't, I'm not gonna get pissy about it, ok?” He offered what smile he could as he looked down at Tapeesa, redirecting his indignation towards something a little more beneficial.

Tappi’s face scrunched up and she ducked her head between her shoulders as his hand came down on her head. While the whole interaction was a little awkward, the softness in his voice and reassurance in his words relieved some of her anxieties. There was a part of her that wanted to thank him for being kind and more understanding than Elias, but something else entirely slipped out of her mouth before she fully registered it. "You’re weird." While something like that could be seen as an insult to some people, the way her smile grew and the soft laugh that followed showed the endearment behind it. Tapeesa always found herself gravitating towards people who didn’t quite fit the mold, like herself. Sure, Nate’s corny dance moves and awkward karate hand thing were a little odd, but he felt authentic in his quirkiness. She liked his weirdness.

She tucked loose hair behind her ears before taking a small step backwards toward the door. "It’s around the back," she said while pointing in the general direction of where she remembered seeing the greenhouse. Then, a bit to her own surprise, Tapeesa held out her right hand toward him expectantly. It wasn’t like it was more than thirty feet away. Nate could find it just fine or follow her there. Yet her hand still hovered in the space between them, palm turned upwards awaiting the warmth of his touch. Her cheeks flushed as she held his gaze for what felt like an eternity, even if it was only a second or two. "Or I can race you there," she challenged him playfully with a soft laugh.

Nate scoffed playfully, dramatically lifting both his hands up to cover his mouth in response to her simple declaration. He then shrugged, his expression shifting back into his usual wide grin. But as she stepped away, he naturally took a step to follow. He turned his gaze down towards her offered hand, lifting his own to grab it. But she made a mistake.

She issued a challenge.

Nate's grin remained, his hand hovering above Tappi's. "I accept your challenge." He slapped Tapeesa a low-five, and immediately began to run toward the door, ripping it open and ducking out into the night air. He was quick and athletic, and he was obviously trying to win. A wild laugh escaped his lips as he sprinted around the side of the cottage, his entire torso leaning out away from the turn as he took it in tight. He was going to win. He was going to ask for another favor. He would ask her to—

The next thing Nate knew, he had fallen face first into the dirt, face covered with soft snow. His right ankle had finally given out, the twisted strain from earlier finally catching up to him. Nate didn't feel any pain, but his face was red with embarrassment as he started to pick himself up. Something felt wrong with his ankle, but he couldn't quite place it. He simply shook his head. "Damn it… not again."

Tapeesa’s face scrunched when he slapped her hand rather than taking it. She gasped as he ran past her and was out the door in a flash. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized how competitive he was and that she set herself up for failure. She tried to grab his shirt to slow him down but he was fast and agile, and she was not. By the time she got back outside, he was already rounding the corner and slipping out of view. Her boots were definitely not the right shoes for running in the snow and her lack of athleticism didn’t help anything. She reached out, grabbing the stone corner of the cottage to steady herself as she took the turn. But instead of catching a blur of red hair disappearing into her greenhouse, she caught the tailend of him falling to the ground.

In an instant her laugh was swept away in the wind as her eyes widened and smile vanished. Tappi hurried to his side, falling to her knees beside him in the snow. "Stop," she instructed him with a gentle whisper and pressed her hand against his chest to keep him from trying to stand up. "Here." She wrapped her fingers around his bicep, while her other hand slipped behind his back and helped him sit up. She met Nate’s gaze with a sympathetic smile, laughing softly at the mixture of snow and dirt across his face and in his hair.

She tugged her sleeve over the palm of her right hand before lightly grabbing his jaw with her left and turning him to face her. Using the heel of her hand and the side of her wrist, Tapeesa gently tried to clean his face with the fabric of her shirt. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and brows furrowed as she focused. Her hand slipped from his jaw as she finished but before she pulled away, she ruffled his red hair playfully while knocking out any snow or dirt that lingered there. "You might be a little too competitive for your own good," she teased him quietly, pulling away to rest her weight on her bent knees.

Nate's heart rate skyrocketed as she touched his face. Her suddenly serious expression left him somewhat speechless. He had, foolishly, anticipated a kiss that never came. He had even closed his eyes, only to feel her rub away the lingering dirt and snow. Her fingers in his hair and the slight barb left him feeling disappointed, but he didn't let it show. He merely shrugged, speaking softly himself. "Nah… not possible. I'll be fine, doesn't even hurt." In an effort to heal his bruised ego rather than his ankle, he placed his hands on the ground behind him to begin pushing himself up to stand.

"Nate, stop." Her voice was more serious as concern laced her words and furrowed her brows. Tapeesa leaned forward, placing her hands on his shoulders in an attempt to keep him seated. If he really wanted to get up she couldn’t stop him. Nate was stronger than her, but she hoped he’d listen. She kept her hands firmly in place and held his gaze, silently pleading for him to trust her. "Let me help you… Please."

He relented with a sigh, settling back into a sitting position. "Fine… fine. Do your thing, Doc." He offered a small smile as he waited for her to go grab ice or something.

"Thank you." Tappi smiled at him and gave his shoulders a gentle, reassuring squeeze before she pulled away. Instead of getting up and walking away, she shifted across the snow until she was kneeling by his feet. "Which one?" she asked, looking over at him from beneath the loose hair that fell from her braid. When he motioned to his right foot, she effortlessly shifted into her problem solving nurse mode that had become second nature to her over the years. Her fingers pinched the cuff of his jeans and carefully inched it up, making sure to be as gentle as possible. She scooted forward so she could rest his foot in her lap while she worked on unlacing his high top sneakers. When it was loose enough, she slipped it off and set it beside her in the snow.

As Tapeesa tugged down the edges of his sock, her eyes went wide at how bruised his ankle already was. "Nate!" her voice squeaked as she looked up at him. "How were you walking on this!?" She didn’t wait for an answer before slipping her left hand along the back of his ankle and her right hand cupped over the top. After a silent moment, a soft golden glow emitted from her hands radiating a soothing warmth that seeped through his skin and spread through his inflamed joint.

Nate shrugged his shoulders at her shock, grimacing a little as he caught a glimpse of his purple ankle. "It didn't feel that off." He wiggled his foot slightly, seeming to be completely oblivious to whatever pain would come from a sprained ankle. "I don't really feel pain… doctors said it must be some kind of congenital thing. Freaked my dad out once when I broke my arm as a kid." Nate held an arm up, keeping it limp as he waved it a little. "I was swinging it around and laughing." His grin made it clear it was not a particularly painful memory.

He glanced over towards Tappi as he felt a strange sensation in his legs. The slight glow, the warm feeling… Nate was left speechless for a moment. He looked briefly at the cottage, then back at Tapeesa, then back at the cottage. She was using magic, clear as day. The dawning realization that this was all, in fact, real hit him like a freight train. His mind reeled at the words. He was the son of a goddess of… what was it, revenge? Was his luck a tangible thing? Why did his dad know a goddess? What did that make him? As the questions swirled around his mind, one question kept popping up in his head. The most pressing one he finally blurted out. "You aren't… a witch or something, are you?"

"Oh, great," Tappi mused quietly with a soft laugh as she adjusted how she sat knowing it was going to be a minute or so before he was back to normal. The more severe the injury the longer it took to heal. Salves and things helped, and unbroken concentration but she could sacrifice a couple seconds of faster healing for the conversation. "So I just get to live in a constant state of panic now, thinking you’re hurt all the time." Her fingers idly tapped against his ankle as the healing waves continued to pulse out from her palms. "I’m going to have to start strip searching you."

Then her eyes went wide and her cheeks turned the brightest shade of red they had been all night. "No—I—to check if you are injured, not… oh God." That would have been one of those moments where she would have just turned and walked away from embarrassment, but there was still some faint bruising visible over the top of his sock. Tapeesa’s head fell slightly as her face twisted into a bashful grimace. "No. I’m not a witch," she quickly tried to move the conversation onto something, anything else. "My dad’s Apollo… God of the sun, light, archery, music, poetry," she rambled off the list as a way to distract herself but eventually lifted his foot a little as if to drive it all home. "Healing."

Nate's eyebrows were already raised when she made a comment about worrying about him. He didn't understand why she would be. They were two strangers. He wouldn't mind being friends, she was the kind of person he got along best with. Hell, he wouldn't mind something—

His eyes went wide when hers did. While she panicked and back-pedalled over her words, Nate's wide open smile grew a little second by second. Her flustered reaction to him being shirtless, her awkward course-corrections, constant tucking of hair behind her ear, the current slip of the tongue… he knew what it all added up to. More than that, he couldn't let the words go. He took in her explanation of her powers with much less interest than his slow attempt at forming a response. He could be kind and let things slide, or he could take a risk. "Don't threaten me with a good time." His words dripped with his usual jovial humor, but his smile was genuine and authentic. His next words were joking, but just barely. "Of course… if you wanted to see me naked, you could just ask nicely."

Tapeesa’s eyes remained wide and intently fixated on his ankle, nothing else. The flush had spread to the tips of her ears, down her neck and across her collarbones. She chewed on the inside of her cheek trying to focus on healing and only healing. Unfortunately, her heart, while beating faster than the energizer bunny, wasn’t loud enough to drown out Nate’s words. For the briefest of seconds, she looked up at him, then immediately back down at his ankle. Her mind frantically tried to find something to say but all of her logic felt like water in her hands as she tried to grasp for anything.

The second his bruises were gone, the glowing light dissipated. Her fingers awkwardly fumbled, missing the delicate precision they had before as she pulled up his sock. It took her multiple tries to get his shoe back on and laced up. She was so flustered that she entirely forgot to fix his pant leg before she pushed off her knees and went to stand. "I’m sorry. I uh… I’m not that type of girl," she confessed barely above a whisper as she dusted the snow from her jeans. The denim from midway down her thighs all the way to the tops of her boots was damp, but considering how hot she got from embarrassment, she didn’t mind the cold. Tapeesa took a second to try and calm her nerves before she held out her hand to help him up.

Nate knew in an instant that the chips did not fall his way. He let her do her thing, not wanting to touch her. This wasn't the first time he had said the wrong thing in a tense moment, next usually came a slap or insults. He wasn't prepared for Tapeesa's quiet and withdrawn demeanor shift. It wasn't that dissimilar from her reaction to Elias. That was the most disheartening part. She apologized for something she shouldn't have to, but she didn't leave. That much was a good sign. He unfurled his pant leg and brushed off his dirty hands on his thighs.

He took her hand for some help standing up, but did most of the work himself. The ankle seemed fine, though it was hard to tell when he didn't feel pain in the first place. He let go of Tapeesa's hands once he was up and standing, his hands sliding awkwardly into his back pockets. He felt the dwindling pack, but fought the urge to pull it out. He shook the thoughts from his head, letting out a half-hearted laugh before speaking. "Why would you be sorry?" He shrugged his shoulders, trying to keep an awkward grin on his face. "I'm not… that's not…" He sighed, removing his hand from his back pocket to comb through his hair awkwardly. "I don't care if you are. Or maybe… uh, it's more that I…" He wasn't going to lie to her, but the last thing Nate wanted was to make things worse. He needed to thread that needle. "I enjoyed talking and dancing with you. The girl you are is cool with me. Weird, but cool." His smile was more genuine with the last line.

Tappi’s hand remained frozen in the air where he left it after he pulled away. She blinked slowly as the overwhelming feeling that she messed everything up played across her mind. It wasn’t often that she found herself saying or doing the wrong thing, but now she had done it twice in one night. She cleared her throat as she finally moved her hand and busied her fingers by playing with the tail of her braid. Her lips parted for a second to answer his question, but then Nate started down his own awkward spiral. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why, but watching him stumble through his own explanation eased some of her tension and even teased the subtle return of her smile. The faint shadows of her dimples ghosted against her cheeks at Nate’s last comment about her being weird.

She took a small step forward, holding out her hands slightly as a way to try and calm his own anxieties, finding it easier to relax when she focused on someone else. "It’s ok. I don’t judge," she reassured him gently. Tapeesa never had a problem with how people lived their lives as long as it wasn’t at the expense of others. Nate was free to do whatever or whomever he wanted. The brief thought made something almost imperceivable tug at her stomach in a way that she didn’t quite understand. She mentally tried to shake off the feeling and focus on what she was trying to say. "I like you too," she admitted easily without any hesitation or averting her gaze elsewhere. Tappi always found it easiest to be honest and straightforward, even if it was sometimes offputting for the people around her. While she could be awkward about some things, being truthful was not one of them. "I just… I’ve been pretty good at saying or doing the wrong things tonight. I didn’t want to mess this up too." She laughed softly at herself as she hooked her thumbs into the back pockets of her jeans and shrugged her shoulders.

Nate nodded, his eyes focused on her as his brain tried to process what she meant. As far as he could tell, it seemed like a confession of feelings. He liked her too, obviously. She was far more interesting, genuine, and sweet than those he had seen earlier. She just wasn't interested in anything risqué. He could work with that. He spoke softly, "I don't think you've been saying the wrong thing." He rotated his formerly injured ankle, testing to make sure he had full movement again. "But… well..." He gave a warm smile, lifting a hand to pat Tapeesa's shoulder. "I've got a race to win." Without further warning, he was back to a full sprint around the back of Tapeesa's cottage, looking for another structure that could fit the description of a greenhouse.

She exhaled softly letting the last bit of anxiety that twisted in her chest slip out with her breath knowing that she wasn’t somehow fumbling a second friendship in a single night. Tappi’s gaze fell to his ankle, watching the movement intently to make sure it looked normal considering he wouldn’t have a clue how it felt. Her nose scrunched dreading how often he’s likely to get hurt in a place like Camp without ever noticing. She didn’t know what was worse, someone who was accident prone or someone who didn’t have a clue they were hurt in the first place. Nate’s hand on her shoulder pulled her out of her thoughts as she looked up at him.

Tapeesa didn’t know what she expected, but she should have known better. She stood there dumfounded for a second time as he took off in a sprint. If he somehow managed to hurt his ankle again she was definitely finishing the race before healing him, little cheater. Of course, after fixing his sprain, he was even faster than before. She was barely halfway there when she saw his mess of red hair duck into the greenhouse. Her pace slowed, defeated as she took the last few steps over the threshold and threw her head back with a sigh. "You don’t play fair," she spoke between heavy breaths while jabbing him in the chest with her index finger.

Pulling her gaze away from Nate, that was the first time Tapeesa really got to take in her greenhouse. It looked like the type of shed someone built out of salvaged windows. Greenery, even in the dead of winter, practically exploded from it. Her face lit up, smile growing and dimples prominent as she stepped back inside. She couldn’t contain herself from running her fingertips along the various leaves and foliage as she walked a small lap around the small room. Every plant and herb she could ever need for medicinal purposes was present, potted, and thriving. "This is so much better than what I had at home."

Nate stayed in the doorway, his head cocked back as he focused on regulating his breathing. He had been on his feet and walking for hours, so sprints late at night were not the smartest of moves. He huffed out a simple response to her allegation. "You need to… start setting rules." When he had regained his breath, he watched Tapeesa take in the space as he leaned against the door frame. He shoved his hands into his front pockets while smiling at her. He didn't exactly know much about plants, but he was pleased she was happy with the selection. "Yeah?" It was less a question and more of a poor attempt at offering a response to something he knew nothing about, giving Tapeesa space to take in her accommodations.

Tappi glanced over her shoulder at him with squinted eyes. Knowing now how fast he could run it was likely she wouldn't have beat him even with a head start, but a fair start would have been nice. Either she was going to get paranoid like she was making a deal with a genie or learn to look for loopholes like he did. Seemed more likely she was going to be continuously duped until she was forever indebted to him. "So, what do I owe you this time?" she asked, turning to face him while pinching a velvet-like leaf between her thumb and index finger.

Nate shrugged with an impish grin. "I was thinking another favor." He let out a slow exhale, making a show of mulling over ideas in his head. "But we can worry about the specifics later. I'm just trying to enjoy the here and now."

"You’re going to turn me into an indentured servant if I’m not careful." Tapeesa looked over at him rolling her eyes dramatically. "Because you’re having so much fun surrounded by plants," she teased him with a soft laugh. Nate lingered in the doorway observing rather than joining her or exploring himself. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to connect the dots that it wasn’t really his thing, but she appreciated the company nonetheless. Even if her cheeks flushed slightly as she became more aware of how he watched her rather than looking at the plants.

As she walked around slowly, she stopped by every familiar plant, leaning in to smell them or lightly run her fingers along the leaves. "When I was little my mom had one of those like greenhouse window box… things." Her nose scrunched and face contorted as she used her hands to try and mime the general size and shape of the window box. "She kept all her medicinal herbs there in these tiny little pots and the leaves overgrew so much that they hung in the sink." A nostalgic smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she got a far off look in her eyes. "My studio apartment was hardly big enough for me so—"

Tapeesa stopped in the middle of the greenhouse looking up. Tied to the crossbeams were various plants and herbs hanging to dry. But one plant in particular caught her attention more than the others. "No way," she whispered. She reached up her right arm so high that the hem of her shirt lifted, revealing a small glimpse of her midriff. She grimaced and jumped, but still came up a few inches short. Her gaze fell to Nate with a playfully innocent grin as she held her hands behind her back and turned back and forth like a child asking for sweets. "I know I owe you two favors already, but could I steal a freebie and borrow your height?"

Nate bore an amused expression as he watched Tappi move about the space. It was true, he wasn’t super interested in plants before. Even now, he was less interested in the greenery than he was in Tapeesa’s story. The smell was a nice olfactory collage wafting from the space and buffeting his nostrils. It smelled a lot better than he did, tobacco and old spice wasn’t a particularly refreshing scent. He listened close as she spoke of her mother and her home. When she got particularly excited, Nate naturally stopped leaning and took a step into the greenhouse. He tried hard not to stare as the hem of her shirt pulled up a little, figuring she wouldn’t appreciate it. He met her eyes as she asked for help, warm smile greeting her. "You can borrow me al-" His words stopped cold, his automatic response cut short as he refocused his efforts. Was he always this flirty? Nate shook his head, walking over towards her and looking up towards the rafters. "Yeah sure… which one was it?" He was already leaning up on the tips of his toes, hands reaching up and brushing some leaves aside.

Tappi took a half step toward him, accidentally bumping his arm with her shoulder as she tilted her head to the side and squinted an eye to try and see from his perspective. She subconsciously shifted to her toes, leaning in slightly closer so she could grab his forearm and redirect it toward the correct plant. "That one." She guided his hand so his fingertips brushed against the dried buds. "The weed," she confirmed with a soft laugh as she looked over at him. There was a second where heat flooded her cheeks as she noticed how close they were. Her smile grew slightly before she released his arm, lowered herself flat on her feet, and took a small step backwards.

He completely forgot what he was there for as Tapeesa guided his hand towards the right plant. His other arm had instinctively wrapped around her to help steady her as she stretched up. His hand held her gently near her ribs, his body twisting slightly so it almost looked like they were dancing again. But as her head neared his, he stopped looking up at the plants above him. He could only look at her for that brief moment. Even in the dim pale light of the moon refracting from the glass panes, Tapeesa shone bright. She confirmed he was touching the right plant with his other hand, but he couldn’t process the words. When she looked back at him and her cheeks brightened as they complimented her widening grin, Nate moved on instinct.

He was a fraction of a second too late. She let go and backed away slightly just as he began to lean in. It was just his luck. His hand on her side loosened as he let her step away, quickly turning his head up and away to hide his quickly fading smile. She just needed to borrow his height, after all. He reached up with both hands to remove the familiar plant. He lowered it back down and vaguely in Tappi’s direction, his head still turned away as he pretended to look up at the stars through the glass. "RIght, uh, yeah. Guess you had some."

Tapeesa’s smile faltered as she noticed the way he turned away from her slightly. It wasn’t until she was flat on the ground again, with the small bit of space between them that some of the pieces started clicking together. All of this was out of the realm of what she was used to and she was learning, a little too slowly, that she was always three steps behind. A small knot twisted in her chest when he wouldn’t look back at her and the light in his face had seemed to fade. She slowly reached out both of her hands to take the dried plant from him, letting her fingertips intentionally brush his. "Thank you, Nater-tot," she spoke quietly, hoping the stupid nickname might bring back a fraction of his smile.

There was a moment or two where she hesitated, not entirely sure what to do. But then her demeanor shifted with a resoluteness as some semblance of a plan started forming. Tappi held the bundle of weed in her right hand while her left hand took his. "Come on." Her voice was still gentle but held a bit more conviction as she lightly tugged him toward the door.

A small smile did return to Nate’s lips at the return of the nickname. Somehow, that gentle voice and soft movements had a way of cutting through the noise in his head. He felt powerless to stop her from pulling him along for whatever game or mission she had planned next.

^{interactions ....|.... elias & forest ............... mentions ....|.... none ............... collabs ....|.... @webboysurf}

Descendants

Ronnie slipped her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants before stepping out of the elevator. She vaguely remembered that floor from her slow climb up the tower the night before. She didn’t think much of it then, nor did she now. It seemed that her and Aria were some of the earlier arrivals along with two of the more broody bunch that haunted the tower. There was the one with all the tattoos and muscles that was definitely the more attractive of the two. She probably would have flashed him a flirty wink or something if he actually managed to look in her direction, but he seemed more wrapped up in his own thoughts. The other guy sat silently in a chair off to one side, his gaze locked on her for a second or two before it fell to his hands in his lap.

She spared a glance back over her shoulder toward Aria. Ronnie plastered on her usual confident smile and forced herself to take a step forward. Without saying a word, she slid onto a bench toward the back of the room and coincidentally about as far away from James as she could manage.

Zaria hesitated for a moment, guilt churning in her stomach and making her feel sick. This was…new, she’d never felt like this before, not in this context. There were other times, times where her father made her and her brother do unspeakable things in the name of his training but this was different, this was undeniably her fault, her actions alone had made James look so sad, and she didn’t know what to do. She twisted her hands together anxiously for a moment, shifting her weight uncomfortably, and then she sucked up the dredges of her courage and made her way toward him.

The guilt and uncertainty was as clear on her face as it was in her voice, and she chewed on her bottom lip until it very nearly bled before she found the words she needed to say, but even simply saying them felt inadequate. Words alone didn’t feel like enough, but she wasn’t sure if there was anything else she could do right now. She stood beside James, leaving a respectable amount of space between them as the nail of one thumb dug into the cuticle around her other thumb. "I’m sorry," her voice was soft and strained, her eyes set on the ground. This was an awful, awful feeling, and she never wanted to see him look so crestfallen because of her again, which was just as confusing as everything else. "I didn’t mean to…I-I should have let you know, you deserve better." That much she knew was undoubtedly true, James deserved better of his friends. Aria swallowed hard, nose tingling as her eyes burned. "I’m sorry." It was all she felt she could say, but the sick feeling persisted.

James adjusted in his seat as he saw Aria approaching. He did his best to put on a smile, but he knew it looked forced. He could feel the way his muscles strained to tug at the corner of his lips or how his eyes didn’t squint the right way. His hands ran along his jeans as his gaze locked onto a dried splatter of mud along the toe of his boot. "It’s… it’s fine." He cleared his throat and ran his fingers back through his hair before finally looking up at her. For a second his gaze flicked over to Ronnie, then back up at Aria. "I’ll uh… Teach you how to make burgers and mac n’ cheese another time." He nodded his head and looked down at his calloused hands as he picked at a hang nail.

"It’s not fine." Her voice wobbled a little at the end there, stomach seeming to flip over on itself as nausea made her throat constrict. She took a slow breath in, steadying herself, and glanced toward James. She took care not to look away this time, because he deserved to see how earnest she was in her apology. "I’m really sorry James, I won’t…I won’t ever do this again, you deserve better." And she meant it with every fiber of her being, because now what she was away from Ronnie and could think clearly, think back on how it all unfolded, she knew what she’d done was closer to something her father would have done, and she never, ever, wanted to be anything like him. She was disgusted with herself, because she could have at least sent a message to him through J.A.R.V.I.S. but she hadn’t. It was as much a promise to him, as it was to herself. She would be better.

He swallowed and nodded his head, acknowledging her words. James didn’t know what to say or how to respond. While his feelings were hurt and he felt a little stupid for waiting around, it was also nothing new for him either. People had left him hanging before. There was just a part of him that thought maybe Aria was different from them. But in the end it was like he said, she didn’t owe him anything… That included her time and friendship. His chest rose as he took a deep breath and strummed his fingers against his thigh. "I’m ok," he said only a fraction more convincing than the tight lipped smile he flashed up at her. "Judge is the one you really upset anyway," he lied, deflecting the conversation in any direction that took the heat off his own emotions.

Don’t drag me into your petty squabbles, the spirit hissed behind his frontal lobe.

James ignored the voice in his head as he adjusted in his seat. "Do whatever makes you happy, Aria," he said quietly, his voice muffled beneath his fingers as he rubbed his mouth. There wasn’t much else he could say.

"He’s—" the voice started to scratch its way up his throat, but James coughed and forced it down like choking back sickness. Before she could ask or pry into whatever the spirit was going to say, he got to his feet and slipped past her. James beelined for the restrooms and slipped behind the door labeled ‘men’s’ without another word or glance in her direction.

Zaria watched him go, face twisting as an emotion that felt an awful lot like hurt swelled up in her chest but…it was her fault, and she had no right to feel upset over how she’d hurt him. She looked down at her feet, the largest part of her wanting to slip back into the elevator and leave, Stark’s words from yesterday spinning around her in head. She really didn’t belong here, did she? She moved once the men’s bathroom door shut, finding a seat far away from where James had been sitting, away from the others as well. It was better for everyone that way, especially James. She still wanted to find a way to make it up to him but…did he even want that? Aria was pretty sure she knew the answer.

The elevator doors slid open again and Myla slowly stepped out just as James walked past, disappearing into the bathroom. She took a single step forward but was stopped dead in her tracks by the familiar scent of cashmere, jasmine, and orange blossom. Ronnie. The tips of her fingers curved into her palms, nails slipping into the dips of crescent shaped scabs along her skin. She knew the woman was unavoidable, but there was a part of her that hoped, in a fifty story tower, that she could avoid running into her more than once a day. It was dumb, they were all requested for training but… She sighed. Maybe Myla hoped her threats were a little more effective and Ronnie would have just left, as terrible as that sounded.

Theo glanced around the room briefly as they stepped in, eyes sliding over Ronnie like she wasn’t even there. One of his hands was still interlocked with Myla’s and he used that hand to gently guide her across the room, toward the opposite side of where the woman was sitting. He nodded to Tobias as they passed, offering Zaria a brief smile when she glanced at them, a little confused by the conflicted expression on the blonde's face and how she subtly edged away from them as they sat down on a bench nearby. He shrugged it off, refocusing on Myla, his thumb rubbing across the tops of her knuckles. "We could still skip," he whispered to her, ducking his head closer to her ear so no one could overhear. "We haven’t even checked out my penthouse yet." Myla could feel the smile that tugged his lips upward as they brushed faintly over her ear.

A subtle smile tugged at the corner of Myla’s mouth as his words tickled her ear. Her cheeks flushed slightly, but luckily, and unknown to her, the bruises hid most of it. She opened the hand that wasn’t being held by Theo, revealing the small tape resting in her palm. "I have to give this to Jim," she replied. Her brows then pulled together curiously with a bit of amusement. "Do you actually think you’ll stay there?" she whispered the tease back at him with a faint smirk.

He snorted before sighing in resignation, he wasn’t sure why but something about training felt off, he was pretty sure everything about this was going to suck in some way…probably the spidey-sense. "Not unless you’re there too." He conceded, tugging her hand into his lap so he could trace soft, nonsensical patterns over the palm of her hand, dedicating every line to memory.

Tobias hadn’t been paying that much attention as others slowly filled the room, his thoughts sifting through anyways he could try to find the lost Drake girl without driving down every street in the county. He nearly missed Theo’s nod. As he went to return it, his eyes went wide, noticing the state Myla was in compared to the night before. Deep shades of purple and blue circled under her eyes, ran along her nose and blossomed across her abdomen below the hem of her shirt. She walked with a slight limp, favoring her right leg and he could have swore he caught a faint glimpse of stitches beneath the mesh fabric that covered her thigh. There was a moment where he considered asking but he kept his thoughts to himself and turned his attention forward.

When the elevator doors next opened, Jim Stark stepped out with his hands shoved into his pockets. The bags under his eyes made clear that he had not exactly slept well last night, nor the weeks before. His eyes briefly scanned those who were gathered about. He was sporting a simple outfit: red hoodie, gray sweatpants, white sneakers. The collar of the undershirt under his hoodie was clearly gold in color. He shuffled towards a bench away from the couples, his fingers toying with a small metal card in his pockets. He kept glancing over towards Myla, noticing just how battered she looked. June wasn’t the only one targeted, that much was very clear.

Myla’s head turned slightly and cocked to the side like an owl when she heard someone approach from the elevator. She hadn’t been in the tower long enough, been around the others long enough to learn all of their scents, the way their bodies shifted as they walked or the soft unique sounds of their breathing. She couldn’t place the person at a moment’s notice like she had with Ronnie. Something about them made her think it was Jim, although she couldn’t put a finger on why. She could feel their eyes on her, but considering how Theo acted she looked like shit… So that wasn’t much of a tell. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze to get his attention as she leaned her head close to his and whispered, "Is that him?"

Theo looked up from her hand, distracted from his thoughts about what to pack for their picnic and how cute her fingers were, to look up toward the group's newest waiting member. He grunted, voice a little gruffer than it had been before. "Yeah, that’s the…uh, Stark." He glanced back down at her hand, letting out a slow and deliberate breath. "Want me to give it to him?"

The elevator doors slid open again, and out stepped June. Her shoulders were slumped some, hands shoved into the pockets of her sweatpants. She didn’t bother with an actual shirt, her entire side felt raw to the touch and the brief rub of fabric against her side had made her throw up. Instead, she’d cut one of her old t-shirts into a sort of crop top, the bruised skin around the injury left exposed with a single bandage hiding the actual stitches from view. She glanced around, gaze bouncing away from Myla and then back with raised eyebrows, before she made a beeline for Jim. "I can’t prove it yet," she muttered once she’d gotten close enough to whisper to him, not sitting quite yet. "But I think Phil is using training to get back at me for ruining his car and interrupting his beauty sleep." Despite her joking tone, her gaze caught Jim’s, flicked toward Myla, and then back to him, an eyebrow rising. There was a silent question in her gaze, wondering if he was thinking the same thing she was.

Jim nodded, his tone flat and tired. He looked over the wound on her side. "I still do not understand why someone so reliant on technology is so adverse to letting a machine fix you up." He shook his head disapprovingly, the smallest smile tugging the corners of his lips at her presence regardless. He glanced back towards Myla, lowering the tone of his voice despite knowing it wouldn’t help. "They tried going after single targets with relatively little defense. Not the move I would have made… they lost the element of surprise."

"Those things are evil, I just can’t prove it yet, you’d hate them too if you got tricked into having one reset your shoulder." She muttered, pouting only a little as a small smile tugged at her lips, despite the banter she was just happy to be back beside him. June hummed in agreement at his assessment, eyes flickering back toward Myla. As bad as June felt, the other woman looked awful. "She has defense, I’d bet the numbers were stacked against her. I have a feeling if they were targeting me instead of Phil they wouldn’t have only sent one. It was bold to only send one for Phil too, but that guy was…" She trailed off, eyes sliding to the ground as a shudder rolled down her spine. She was trying not to think of it, but it was hard not to remember when it was all still so vivid, and she hadn’t explained how it happened to Jim yet.

"They lost more than we did last night. I heard the Drake girl is still missing too. Alfred left me a post-it note, five of them actually. I’m not allowed to go looking for her." June rolled her eyes, sliding down onto the bench beside him with a grimace of pain.

Myla’s ears were burning as she heard them talking about her, but she tried her best to ignore it. She gave Theo’s hand another squeeze. "No. It’s ok. I got it." She sighed softly, slipping her hand from his and used his shoulder for support as she stood up. Her first step was unsteady, the wound in her thigh twinging in protest. She clenched her jaw and took a deep breath before pushing through it. She made her way directly toward Jim, stopping a few feet away as she held out a small tape pinched between two fingers. "I was recording the meeting in case it was a trap and conveniently recorded my attack as well. I uh…" A soft sigh escaped her lips as she swallowed her pride. "I figured if anyone could make something of it, you could." She shifted her weight off her bad leg with a slight wince. "Sorry for what you might hear."

"Are they dead?" She surprised herself, though June didn’t let it show outwardly. Her voice was monotone with an edge to it, but seeing Myla in so much pain made the hair at the base of her neck stand on end. They’d moved on from targeting their families, none of them were left to target anyhow, but now the team was in danger and they’d barely even formed. "I mean," she cleared her throat, trying to sound a little softer. "The one that attacked me last night is, so…"

"Yes," Myla replied plainly, turning her attention toward June. "I forget the exact number." She went quiet for a second, counting on her empty hand: Roger, batons through the gut, fell through the window… Was there another one? "There were at least ten, most died fast… One didn’t," she added the last fact like someone would mention needing eggs, like it was nothing but a drop in the bucket. "I don’t know how much you’ll get from just audio, but if you need me to give context… Just ask." She shrugged her shoulders. Myla didn’t love the idea of spending a couple hours with Jim but this wasn’t about her pride or his. They were there to solve this bullshit, which meant working together. Plus, she’d take him over Ronnie any day of the week.

"Good." There was that same part of June from last night that was sickeningly pleased to know that they were all dead, but she didn’t dwell on it. "Are you okay? Have you been to the infirmary?" She glanced at Jim, a warning look to not mention her own dislike for the place. Their conditions were drastically different, and Myla looked like she genuinely needed a checkup.

Myla’s brows rose slightly, surprised to hear the daughter of Batman pleased with death. It reminded her of herself, and the way her own ideals differed from her father’s. While she preferred to shoulder the burden of murder alone, there was some solace in knowing that some people knew when killing was necessary. "Yeah, well…" her voice trailed off with a sigh. She didn’t feel guilt for what she did, only that she wasn’t strong enough to handle them all herself. "No, I haven’t. Theo’s mom fixed what she could. The rest will just take… time."

When Jim took the tape, he turned it over in his hands like he was looking at alien technology. It was an honest to god compact cassette tape. He flashed a weak smile, before quickly dropping it when he remembered she wouldn't see it. "I'll do a spectrographic scan and see what H.E.L.E.N. can put together… after I order something that can play this thing." He slid the tape into his pocket, feeling the metal card again. He held it between his fingers as he pulled it out, holding it out in Myla's direction. "I pulled a few strings after… yesterday." He cleared his throat, the words sticking in his throat. He hated apologies, especially when it came to stepping over feelings he didn't quite understand. "I thought of wrapping it, but that just seemed excessive."

Her brows furrowed, confused as she hesitantly reached out to take the metal card. At first, Myla thought it was some fancy credit card or something. She ran her fingers along the top, trying to read engravings when she noticed braille, and paused. Her head turned towards Jim slightly as she read the various dots slowly. Stark Industries employee? Dozens of questions raced through her head. Did he need a lawyer? There had to already be several on retainer with a lot more experience under their belts than her. How did he know she lost her job? Dumb question. The same way he was able to figure out who she was. Was this out of pity? Was it just for cover or legitimate?... Why?

The confusion that plagued her mind was evident across her face as she lightly tapped the card against her palm. "I…" Myla started but could form a sentence. Her lips pursed as she chewed on the words. "I’m not calling you boss," she finally replied. While her voice still held the familiar weight of seriousness and melancholy, there was the faintest hint of sarcasm that laced her words. Her lips tugged into a tight lipped smile as she gave a small single nod of her head. Then, without another word she left them and returned to her place beside Theo. Once seated beside him, she let out a sigh, releasing the tension that tightened across her shoulders. Myla swallowed and held out the card toward him silently.

Theo had been listening in, it wasn’t his fault, superhearing and all that, but he was confused until Myla handed the card to him. It only took one glance down for his eyebrows to shoot up, throwing a surprised glance toward Jim. He’d expected maybe something like this from Wayne but…Theo glanced down, begrudgingly feeling a newfound sense of respect for the other man. "Well, damn." He sighed, handing the card back to Myla and chuckling to himself, sliding his hand back into her own out of reflex. "You’re officially the breadwinner, I suppose I need to invest in a cute apron and start making you dinner after you get home from...what do you even do? I’d imagine if he hired you on as a receptionist you’d have shoved the card down his throat." He was grinning a wide, stupid smile that Myla could hear in his voice. For the first time in months, Theo felt like maybe things would be alright.

She ran her thumb along the braille idly, her brows still furrowed a bit as she tried to wrap her mind around all of it. Theo’s comment cleared her mental fog and pulled a genuine laugh from her. Myla couldn’t help but smile at the thought. He wasn’t wrong though. "I’m a lawyer. That’s how I meant Roger," she added barely above a whisper. "He is also the reason I got fired… Well, that and the increasing crime rates. I couldn’t juggle both. I lost my apartment shortly after, which is why I was staying with Foggy. Uh…" She sighed softly as her thumb traced circles on the back of his hand. "The money I gave to the cabby yesterday was all I had left to my name," she confessed with a defeated smile of acceptance. Foggy would never let her go hungry or live on the streets, but it wasn’t easy to admit either. "I’m sure Stark was able to figure that all out whenever he figured out my identity. Just haven’t decided if it’s pity or an apology."

Theo glanced over at where Jim and June sat, watching as Wayne muttered quietly to the man about evil robots, or something, and the brief but unguarded look Stark gave the woman, the slightest of smiles ghosting across his face before it was wiped clear, and Theo realized a few things about the other man all at once. Fuck, was he actually going to end up liking the bastard? "An apology," he decided, glancing back down at Myla instead of allowing himself to be annoyed at a man he’d barely ever spoken to, or thought about, until this moment. "We’re all part of the same team now, even though he’s kind of a prickly asshole, I don’t think Wayne would waste time on him if he was completely hopeless." Theo snorted, lifting Myla’s hand to press a soft and fleeting kiss to the back of her knuckles. A lawyer, he should have known, she was way too smart and way too good at winning arguments to be anything else. "I get to be the trophy hu–boyfriend, I think I could get used to that." He laughed, recovering from his almost blunder quickly enough even if his cheeks flushed some in embarrassment. "What do you want for dinner, darling?"

Her head fell slightly as her cheeks grew warm at his slip up. "I’m still broke," she laughed softly. "Something that won’t stick to my ceiling," she teased with a gentle bump to his shoulder. Myla spun the metal card between her thumb and index finger as she mulled over what Theo said. An apology. Traditionally, she would have just preferred Stark said it versus an ambiguous gift? that she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with. While she would over think it for the next week, she could worry about it later when she wasn’t about to be tossed into some unknown training. There was a second where her brows furrowed realizing she had no where to put the card. Then she reached over and slipped it into the front pocket of Theo’s jeans. "Can you hold this for me?" she whispered and gave his thigh a little pat. "I don’t have pockets."

"Of course," Theo’s voice was a little strangled as a tingle shot from his thigh to his—no, no, he was behaving. He coughed, shifting in place a little as her hand patted his thigh, cheeks dark with the heat of his blush. "Maybe spaghetti for dinner." He grinned, thinking that he could certainly get the pasta to stick to her ceiling.

Meanwhile, Jim turned his gaze towards June, his eyebrows raised slightly. "No thank you, didn't bother to listen about the benefits, that this gives her a cover… How am I the rude one?" He shook his head, rolling his eyes as he settled back in his seat. He wasn't doing that again.

June chuckled, patting his arm sympathetically, unable to help how soft her smile was when she glanced at Jim. "You aren’t rude, honey." Well, he wasn’t today at least, and it was never very intentional. What mattered is that he’d tried, and while the levity of that was lost on Myla, it wasn’t lost on the people who really knew him. "That was…it was really sweet of you, and a good idea. I’m sure she understood that, you just surprised her." June shrugged, winced at how it pulled at her side, and looked up at the ceiling instead of Jim. "You’re pretty smart, Mr. Stark." Her smile was a little coy, despite the pain, as she glanced back at him.

Jim shot a confused look towards June as she spoke. "We… we're using ‘honey’ now?" He lifted his arm awkwardly, swinging it around onto the back of the bench where June was sitting, but refused to actually loop his arm around her to pull her in. He shook his head. "I wasn't being sweet, just practical. We need everyone focused… and we need to keep the family we have safe. Making sure her uncle is taken care of is just business."

June’s lips twitched into a small smile, and she looked back up toward the ceiling, a small hum escaping her as she seemed to contemplate his words for a moment. "I’m trying to find one that feels right," she admitted quietly, pulling a small, circular disk from her pocket. She weighed the item carefully for a moment, before tilting her head to look at Jim. "Can we meet on your floor, after training? I have a few ideas I need to run by you, for the team." She shoved the disk back into her pocket, smile broken by the more serious note in her voice. She trusted Jim to understand this particular idea more than anyone else.

"My floor? Just the-" Jim didn’t even finish the sentence before he looked away, a slight blush burning his cheeks. Of course, it would be normal to just work on something, just the two of them. It didn’t have to be weird, he was the one with the private workshop. He was working on a few projects already anyways, so it made sense. Especially now that he knew some people were still walking around with weapons from the 1980s. They could keep it professional. "Right. Of course."

The elevator slid open again, and the tall blond man from the day earlier stepped out. Gone was his suit, he was wearing a muscle shirt and grey sweatpants, the muscles in his arms on clear display in a way that bordered on egotistical. Theo watched as the man’s gaze slid around the room, lingering on Veronica, then Tobias, then June, then Myla, making him tense some, and finally landing on Aria, a small and confident grin sliding across Luke’s face. He wasn’t sure why, but something about the other man set him on edge a little, it was the way his eyes slid across the women’s, and Tobias’s, bodies made him uncomfortable. He had the air of someone who wasn’t familiar with being rejected as he made his way toward the Doom heiress.

"Hello there," a smooth voice cut through her thoughts, and Zaria looked up, startled at the man's sudden approach. Her mind had been circling around James, and what she could do, a vague idea taking shape, but it slipped away from her before she could process it fully because of Luke. "I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting officially, I’m Luke." He held his hand out to her, and she…hesitated. The way he looked at her reminded her of the man from her arranged marriage, lecherous and hungry, and Aria shrank away from him instinctively.

"Uh, hi?" She glanced around, eyes searching but for who Zaria wasn’t sure, it…didn’t matter. She cleared her throat, crossing her arms instead of taking his offered hand. "Nice to meet you."

Luke’s smile widened, clearly not put off by her hesitance to take his hand, dropping it back to his side easily. "Are you shy?" One of his hands slid into his pocket, posture relaxed as he stood over her. "I promise, I won't bite. I figured we could get to know each other, I’m always happy to make new friends."

Anxiety coiled in her stomach, and for the first time since she’d come to the tower, Zaria didn’t feel safe. She felt like she was a hunk of meat hung out in front of a hungry animal, the way he said friends leaving little to imagination for his intentions. She squeezed her arms around herself a little tighter, offering a tight smile. "That’s nice."

James stood in the bathroom with his hands tightly gripping the porcelain sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. "Can you behave, please?"

Stop lying and using me as your scapegoat, then sure, the spirit replied less than amused and even less convincing.

"Liar," he muttered under his breath before turning on the water. James let it run cold, dipping his hands into it then ran his palms over his face with a sigh. As he shut off the tap he heard another ding of the elevator and muffled voices. At least he might be able to disappear into the group and avoid socializing. He sighed and pushed open the door, rejoining the others. While he was trying not to look for Aria, his gaze immediately snapped to her regardless. This time an entirely different blond sought her attention. James couldn’t remember the guy's name but it didn’t really matter.

As he walked past, heading back to his isolated seat, he couldn’t help but notice the way Aria looked uncomfortable hugging herself while a tense smile crossed her lips. James paused, his gaze lingering on the back of the man’s head. It’s not my place, he tried to tell himself as he took another step forward. He nearly made it to his chair but stopped again to pinch the bridge of his nose. Mother fucker.

Just go. We both know you want to, the spirit mocked him. James sighed, glancing over his shoulder toward Aria. He didn’t know what exactly he was looking for. Untoward advances or maybe a pleading glance that asked him to intervene. He was still hurt and mad, but even locked in his own misery his protectiveness didn’t just switch off.

"So?" Luke went on, not noticing James, or how uncomfortable Zaria seemed. He shifted his weight, leaning a little closer to her, and she leaned back against the wall, eyes sliding away from the man, gaze catching James’s for a moment before another wave of shame and guilt made her look down instead, jaw clenching. The blond man held out his hand again, insistent. "Friends, right?"

Across the room, June paused in talking softly to Jim, eyes catching on the scene in front of her, a frown tugging at her lips. She glanced around at the others, at Theo who was looking at Myla’s hand, Ronnie who seemed uninterested in the room at large, and at Tobias who had been subject to Luke’s advances the night before. She grimaced, shifting on the bench, considering getting up and interrupting. Luke was…nice, she supposed, but he was dumber than a box of rocks and couldn’t take a hint, clearly.

"I don’t really know you well enough, but we’re teammates." Zaria’s words were stiff, back ramrod straight but eyes looking anywhere but at Luke, her hands clenching against her sides. She felt the raised and healing skin of her burn beneath her shirt, and her gaze automatically tracked back to James.

"That’s why we ought to get to know each other better," Luke chuckled, like she was being silly.

When Aria’s gaze found James’s he cursed under his breath. "Damn it." He looked forward for just a second, taking a deep breath, then spun around and beelined straight for them. With a practiced fake smile and a false sense of bravado, he slid onto the bench right beside the blond man and took his outstretched hand before he pressed Aria further. "Hey man. Didn’t get to meet you properly last night or maybe I did, I was half asleep." A forced chuckle rumbled in the back of his throat as he shook the guy’s hand. "James."

Zaria’s mouth dropped open, surprise as clear as day across her face, and across the room June relaxed, leaning ever so slightly against Jim. Luke looked flummoxed for a moment, blinking down at the other man’s hand, before he cleared his throat and gave him a firm handshake. Aria’s eyebrows rose a little, looking between the two of them, before she looked back down at the ground. It wasn’t personal, James was just…that good of a person, he probably would have done it for anyone in the room, but it didn’t change how much she appreciated it, or how much more guilt the simple action dripped into her chest like acid on an open wound.

"Uh, yeah man, nice to meet you." Luke pulled his hand free, looking James up and down for a moment. Whatever he saw, clearly it wasn’t something that interested him. "Remind me," his smile was tight, but friendly, a little put off about being redirected so…directly, but not quite able to find offense in it. "Are you the one with the demonic sidekick?" He grinned, clearly joking.

"Vengeance spirit," the deeper voice corrected, rattling around his chest and slipping out of James’s lips like embers jumping out of a flame.

James chuckled, flashing an innocent enough smile. "He gets a little touchy." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and rubbing his hands together nonchalantly. His gaze flicked to Aria’s briefly before looking back to Luke. "And you’re Cap’s boy, right?" he asked, pointing at him casually. "So, what does that make you? Like First Lieutenant?" While the question could have been a little passive aggressive, James’s face never shifted from genuine curiosity. It was just a simple question. He wasn’t familiar with how military rankings worked for superheroes after all.

Zaria was trying, very hard, to keep a level of composure. It almost cracked when Judge spoke up, her lips twitching, but James broke it in an instant. She coughed, covering a pointedly choked laugh, and stood up abruptly. "Excuse me," she said, voice perfectly polite, lips pressed firmly together to stop the smile that was threatening to break free, and she turned on her heel and marched into the women's bathroom. Across the room, Theo smothered a laugh as he caught the sound of her laughter in one of the stalls, knowing only a few of them would have been able to hear it, and one of them was Luke of all people.

For what it was worth, Luke laughed at the joke. His posture was loose and open, but a muscle in his jaw twitched, a minuscule tell about how he actually felt in regards to the other man’s question. "That’s right," his gaze turned, appraising as he looked James over once more, though it was clear he still wasn’t very impressed by the other man. "Lieutenant Colonel, if we’re being official. Still a rank beneath my father, but certainly better than First Lieutenant, and you? Did you… work for a circus or something, I can’t quite remember, it was bike tricks, right?" His tone was perfectly polite, an easy going smile still set on his face, eyes bright at the banter.

The longer James sat beside Luke the warmer his chest grew, and not the kind of warmth from when a cute girl touched his arm or batted her eyelashes at him, but the kind where the spirit grew restless, clawing at the walls of his cage. He shifted in his seat, feeling the steam billowing up his back beneath his shirt, but his smile never faltered. He even managed a small chuckle and lightly clapped his hands together. "True," he agreed with a nod. "Nepotism doesn’t always pan out the same for everyone." His hands ran along his thighs as he sat more upright. "Technically we call them stunts. Not as glamorous as Lieutenant Colonel but I hold over half of the world records for motorcycle stunts… On accident. Just kinda happened." He shrugged his shoulders, holding up his hands innocently with an unbothered downward tug of his lips.

Luke chuckled, smile never slipping even as he watched the steam rise up in the air. He stretched slowly, in a leisure way that reminded one of a cat, before pushing up to his feet. "What would you know of nepotism, Jamie?" There was an edge of something mocking in his tone as he glanced down at James, utterly relaxed. "Our records indicate that you’ve been disowned by your entire family, which puts a damper on your world record, I’d imagine." He glanced toward the bathroom doors, eyes sliding a little to the left until he caught sight of Veronica. "I guess I’ll have to get to know Aria later." He hummed, turning away from the other man and crossing the room without a glance back, only the slightest line of tension lining his shoulders gave away how much he disliked the conversation, but he sat down beside Ronnie with confidence and swagger.

Zaria emerged from the bathroom a few seconds later, glancing toward James, then at Luke and Ronnie, who seemed unbothered by the man's attention, and her shoulders relaxed some. She hesitated for a moment, before walking back to James and sitting with enough space for two between them. "Thank you." She whispered, just loud enough for James to hear, before tucking in on herself and facing one of the walls. She could feel Luke’s gaze from across the room, but resolutely looked at no one. She needed to make it up to James, that was the only thing Aria knew for certain.

James leaned back on the bench, letting his back rest against the wall as he let his fingers lace together in his lap. He didn’t say anything to Luke as he walked away, but kept up the false smile for a few more seconds even if the comment about his family made his blood run cold. He watched Aria return to her seat while leaving an ample amount of space between them. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was thankful or disappointed that she missed the pissing contest between him and Luke. He had a feeling that if she heard the comment about his family she might have gotten sassy, which wouldn’t have helped anything… Even if it would have made him feel better. His gaze drifted over to her from the corner of his eyes. While he was lost deep in thought, his expression was soft as he nodded his head toward her in acknowledgement before shifting his attention to a spot on the ground.

When the elevator next opened and Jules stepped out, she quickly made her way towards an open bench. She wore a simple black tracksuit, her medium-length hair tied up in a neat bun. Her face was blank, as she was accustomed to these sorts of functions. She did offer a small smile and wave to Zaria and Ronnie as she made her way to an empty seat closer to Ronnie.

The blonde had remained quiet and mostly observant. Ronnie watched as Aria practically recoiled at Myla and Theo as they walked by which made a small smirk nearly spread across her face. The lovebirds were being disgustingly wrapped up in one another, for the most part aside from some brief interaction with the rich brains. But nothing particularly caught her attention until she watched Luke attempt to flirt with Aria only to be intersected by the biker Jack? John? Ah, James. That’s right. Her brows rose curiously at the final jab before Cap junior made his way right over toward her and took a seat. She caught a quick glimpse of Jules, returning the woman’s wave with one of her own before turning her attention solely on Luke. She crossed her legs, resting an elbow on her knee and her chin in her palm as she studied him. "Rough morning, handsome?"

"It’s better now," Luke grinned lazily at Ronnie, leaning back some, before he offered his hand to her. "Lucian Rogers, may I have the pleasure of knowing your name, beautiful?" He seemed to rebound quickly enough, brushing off the more or less subtle rejection, and subsequent pissing match with James, in order to set his eyes on a better prospect…for the time being, Luke could be tenacious at best and bullheaded at worst. Of course, he remembered her name from yesterday, but it was only polite to do actual introductions before he tried to do something more fun, like invite her back to his room after the day's activities for extra training.

Ronnie pivoted where she sat, turning her body to face him with an impish grin. She slipped her hand into his and gave it a brief shake. "Veronica Hardy. Ronnie." She found it almost endearing the way he just flitted from one denial to pursue something else, although he lost points for not approaching her first. But if Luke was determined enough she could think of a couple ways he could make it up to her.

Instead of shaking her hand, he brought it to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her knuckles, smirking ever so slightly before he pulled away and let go of her hand. "It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ronnie." Luke, more confident than usual in an attempt to save face after the rejection, very casually rested his arm on the back of where she sat, not close enough to touch but Ronnie would be able to feel the heat from his bicep as it brushed over her shoulder whenever she moved. "Are you ready for training?" He waggled his eyebrows at her playfully, clearly not quite taking it all as serious as some of the others.

While Luke might have been trying to be a little more respectable, Ronnie was not. The moment his arm rested across the back of her seat she leaned back casually so her bare shoulders brushed against the exposed skin of his arms. Her hands casually rested in her lap as she idly bounced her crossed leg. She shrugged her shoulders. "Sure, why not? Can’t wait to see how completely incompatible we all are as teammates. It’ll be entertaining if nothing else."

"I wouldn’t say we’re all incompatible." Luke offered her a lopsided grin, his eyes sliding down her body before meeting her gaze once more, one of his fingers brushing a trail from her shoulder down her arm a little, enjoying how soft Ronnie’s skin was beneath his calloused hand. "In fact, I’d say you and I could work together quite well. Maybe we should put that to the test later, hm?"

"That depends," she whispered, slowly turning her head to face him with a confident, knowing smirk. "Do you plan on making it up to me for not coming to me first?" Ronnie blinked slowly, tilting her head down a fraction to look up at him from beneath her lashes. "Because I’m no one’s rebound or second choice." While her tone was flirty and light there was a faint sharp seriousness that hung on every syllable like a blade held to his throat, tempting him to say one wrong word.

Lucian titled his head to the side some, really taking in Veronica for the first time, eyes half-lidded. If he was being honest, he truly enjoyed a woman who could look him straight in the face and offer up a vague threat without even blinking, it did things to him that were a little too obvious in the sweatpants he’d chosen, so he crossed one leg over the other, shifting a little in his seat. "I can think of a few ways I could make it up to you," his smirk was verging on cocky, but it wasn’t without merit. "Haven’t you ever heard the expression save the best for last? Don’t worry sweetheart, I don’t do rebounds, and I don’t imagine you’d be any man’s second choice." Luke paused, licking his lips, before tilting his head up toward the ceiling. Was he only going to strike out here? What a drag. "Up to you, of course. I’m more than happy to work for my redemption, beautiful."

Ronnie’s gaze fell to unabashedly look at his growing problem as he crossed his legs. A pleased hum echoed behind her smirk. She reveled in it for a moment before letting her eyes slowly trailed back up his body with a soft sigh. "Good," she purred, a fiery dominance igniting behind her intense stare. "I’m sure we can work something out." Her hand fell to rest on his leg, the tips of her fingers slipping between his thighs, temptingly close.

Luke’s eyebrows rose, the slightest bit of color dusting his cheeks as Ronnie’s hand slid over his leg, and he cleared his throat, trying to mentally distract himself from the rising excitement he was feeling at how forward and domineering she was being. He took a moment to think about less pleasant things, like James’s face, and only spoke again when he felt he was a little more under his own control. "In that case," he sat up, uncrossing his legs so he could lean closer to Ronnie, his chest nearly flush with hers as he spoke against the cusp of her ear. "Why don’t you come to my room after training, we can go over our…options. I’m on floor 31."

She turned her head slightly, angling herself so her lips just barely brushed against the cusp of his ear as she spoke. "I don’t make house calls," Ronnie whispered, the warmth of her breath caressing his skin. "You will take me there yourself," she informed him, not open to bargaining.

Luke laughed, grinning at her. "Yes ma’am, whatever you say." He leaned back just enough to lean his face closer to hers, their lips just barely touching. Luke’s eyes lingered on her lips, hesitating for a moment, waiting to see what she would do. He wouldn’t try taking what he wanted, not quite yet, this was too much fun anyhow. "Whatever you want, I have a lot to make up for, afterall." Luke murmured.

Ronnie’s smile shifted into a devious smirk. "Good boy," she whispered, her lips brushing his lighter than a feather with each word.

Meanwhile, Myla shifted uncomfortably where she sat, tugging at the hem of her shirt then tucking her hair behind her ears. Anything to try and distract her from what she was hearing. Her face twisted in visible disgust, most of her discomfort stemming from the simple fact it was Ronnie. There was a fleeting moment where she wondered if that’s how she was with Theo. Her cheeks grew hot at the thought. She cleared her throat and tried to focus on something else, but in the silence of the room it felt like they were shouting and broadcasting it for everyone else. "Jesus," she muttered under her breath.

Theo grimaced, having tried desperately to block out and ignore the fact that Veronica was there, but he felt the same prickle of discomfort as everyone else, moving a smidge closer to Myla out of reflex. "She’s…different." he muttered, low and quiet so only Myla who was right beside him could hear. "This is weird."

"... Yeah," was all Myla said as she remained facing forward with a stoic, bordering on cold expression.

James, on the other hand, was less subtle. His head rested back against the wall, brows furrowed as he stared over at Ronnie and Luke from the corner of his eyes. He kept his mouth shut and his judgments to himself… Until they were practically kissing. "For fuck’s sake. Can you guys keep it in your pants until after training?"

Ronnie slowly pulled away from Luke, cocking her head to the side as she looked across the room toward the grumpy biker. "Just because you’re the only person in this tower not getting laid doesn’t mean you can take it out on me." She leaned forward slightly, dropping her voice like she was sharing a secret, even if everyone in the room could hear it. "Jealousy is an ugly trait." She smirked then leaned back in her seat against Luke’s arm, keeping his large frame conveniently blocking James from view.

Zaria’s head snapped toward Ronnie, brows furrowed and lips tugged into a frown as she looked at the woman reproachfully, but all she really saw was Luke who was smirking at her as if he’d known her reaction would be conflicted and therefore amusing. She didn’t know what to do, and it made her feel restless, Luke’s confidence made her angry, and the urge to speak up made her anxious. "Ronnie," Aria surprised herself, and she shifted in her seat uncomfortably as she felt multiple people look at her. The confidence she usually had seemed to deflate like a popped balloon, and she ducked her head some. "Please don’t talk to James like that." This was new, and one of the most uncomfortable social situations she’d been in thus far considering Zaria was unfamiliar with the whole friend thing. She just hoped that Ronnie wouldn’t take offense in the small request, she didn’t care what the other woman and Luke did, Ronnie had made it clear she was the sort to not commit and that was fine, but hearing her snap at James made Zaria tense. She curled in on herself further, tucking her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

"Jesus Christ," James grumbled at the woman’s defensive response. He honestly didn’t give a shit about her jabs, even if they were true. It only made her look more like an asshole than him. He sighed, shook his head and rolled his eyes. James’s gaze drifted over to Aria when she spoke up in his defense. He pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek while adjusting awkwardly in his seat. It wasn’t his goal to get her involved. He exhaled then found a place on the floor to stare at. He couldn’t begin to understand what the fuck she saw in that woman. Maybe Ronnie was different behind closed doors or maybe they didn’t talk much. Either way, he wasn’t going to lose sleep because he missed the opportunity to be friends with her or Luke. He wasn’t the only one who looked uncomfortable because of the whole exchange, he was just the one who decided to say something about it.

The quiet ding of the elevator was muted throughout the room behind James’s and Ronnie’s exchange. Imogen had slipped from beneath Magni’s hold but she kept his free hand gently clutched in her own. She took two steps forward then paused, picking up the tail end of the heated conversation. She flashed Magni a confused expression before leading them further into the room. Without a word, she led them toward one of the benches and took a seat beside June. Her expression showed her bewilderment but she didn’t ask.

June smiled brightly at Imogen and Magni, unnecessarily scooting just a little bit closer to Jim to make space for them. "Welcome to the shitshow," she offered Imogen her thoughts up on a figurative silver platter, rather than speak aloud. "Those two," her eyes flickered from James to Luke. "Had the closest thing to a dick measuring contest I’ve ever seen, and now Luke and Veronica are two seconds from giving us all a show." June made a face at that, wrinkling her nose and sticking out her tongue for full effect. To anyone else, she looked ridiculous, but trying to get Imogen to laugh lightened her own mood considerably.

"Oh great," Imogen muttered under her breath as she ran her bandaged hand along her thigh.

Before she could say anything else, the elevators slid open a final time as Phil, looking grumpy and annoyed, and Alfred, with a warm smile, joined the rest of them on the training floor. Both men made their way to the front of the room, facing everyone while standing before the large window.

"Good morning, everyone," Alfred beamed at everyone with his usual friendliness.

Phil, on the other hand, decided to get straight to business, as he often did. "Before we get started." He sighed uncomfortably like he’d rather jump into the simulation himself rather than say what he was about to say. "While we are all adults living under the same roof, I feel the need to remind everyone that public areas in the tower are under 24/7 surveillance. That includes the elevator." He exhaled deeply, looking a little scarred and very unamused. "I suggest keeping your sexual exploits contained to private quarters… Ms. Frost and Mr. Thorson."

Imogen curled her lips between her teeth as her cheeks quickly flushed. Her eyes went wide as she focused on a very interesting spot on the ground. Even slightly embarrassed there was also a faint, almost proud smile that tugged at the corner of her lips as she peeked over at June from the corner of her eyes. There was a long awkward silence like Phil was waiting on some sort of response or acknowledgement. She sighed softly and gave him a thumbs up. "Next time I’ll delete the footage," she replied with a soft laugh.

June was trying very, very, hard to not laugh, but the second she caught Imogen’s gaze from the corner of her eye she had to smother the snort of amusement, turning it into a cough that pulled at her side and made her wince. It felt a little like karma, so she slid down in her seat some and didn’t look at the blonde again. It felt a little bit like they were in high school getting lectured for something dumb, which was ridiculous considering they were grown ass adults, but it felt nice to know they could still find humor in the little things.

"Ms. Frost," Alfred chimed in, looking slightly like a disappointed parent.

She exhaled, looking away rather than feeling worse about herself after catching his tone. "Sorry, Phil. I will try to refrain from having sex in the elevator," Imogen’s voice was flat in the way a child’s would be when they were forced to apologize. She forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and hoped that was sufficient enough to move the conversation to literally anything else.

"Huh, there’s an idea." June muttered to herself, not having considered places like the elevator. Shame Phil was so vigilant with the security cameras. That couldn’t have been comfortable though…right?

"You’d be surprised," Imogen whispered with a guilty smile.

June couldn’t help it, she actually laughed, raising a hand to smother the noise, throwing a guilty look toward Phil and Alfred and trying very hard to look as innocent as possible.

"Ladies," Phil called out, somehow managing to look more annoyed than he sounded.

"Sorry, sorry," June raised both her hands in mock surrender, grinning at the older man in a way that suggested she wasn’t actually sorry in the slightest. "We’ll behave."

"Sorry," Imogen spoke in sync with June and crossed her heart for extra measure.

Jim shot his sister a dirty look while shifting away from June on the bench an inch. His thoughts mostly consisted of self lobotomization and deep cleaning of every surface in the tower. He briefly glanced at June between them, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Alright then. Back to the matter at hand," Phil sighed and pulled out the same clipboard he wielded relentlessly ten years ago when the academy was still in full swing. "For anyone unaware, three of you have been attacked recently: Tobias, June, and Myla. That is a fourth of this team. June and Tobias were lucky because they were not the intended targets. While the circumstances behind the forming of this team are severe, things are far more dire given that two of these attacks happened just last night, catching both June and Myla when they were isolated and away from the academy." He pinned the clipboard to his chest as he crossed his arms. "Because of this we felt the need to expedite training and focus on preparing you for the likelihood of being attacked. Alfred and I also feel the need to implement a new rule moving forward. No one leaves the tower alone. The only reason Myla is still with us is because of Theo’s proximity and intervention. There is safety in numbers and we should exercise that extensively."

Phil scanned the room, making eye contact with each and everyone of them as if to drive the point home or coax out any arguments and get them over with. When no one said anything, he nodded his head and checked his papers to put himself back on track. "Before getting to training we feel it is prudent for Tobias, June, Myla, and Theo to recount their experiences and share anything that they feel is important for everyone else to know." He turned his attention toward Tobias who sat closest to the front, stoic and silent enough that he went unnoticed by most of the others. "Would you mind starting?" he asked with the faintest traces of sympathy lacing his words.

Tobias looked up with furrowed brows and a slightly uncomfortable expression. He ran his hands along his shorts with a sigh. "Yeah sure." He looked back and forth between Phil and Alfred. "I don’t have to stand up, do I?" he muttered quietly. The thought of standing up in front of everyone like giving a speech already setting his nerves on edge.

"No. Just make sure to speak loud enough," Alfred reassured him with a gentle pat to the shoulder.

"Um, alright." Tobias sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Two weeks ago I was in an Italian hostel with my niece, Helena. We had been following leads about my sister and brother, and any other heroes that went missing across Europe." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and cupping his hands together. His gaze traced the outlines of tattoos along his fingers while he spoke as a way to ground himself and keep his emotions locked away. "We were attacked in the night while we slept. They put this…" He motioned at his neck. "Collar thing on me that blocked my powers. I don’t remember how many men there were. I killed a handful before they were able to shoot me and get me on the ground. Some of them took Helena away and sedated her." He sighed, rubbing his palms together. "I managed to get one of their guns—plastic or carbon fiber, I’m not sure—I killed all but one. Kept him alive for over two days. Tortured him. But I got nothing useful. Just that they were under strict orders not to kill or apprehend me because of Magneto."

Tobias clicked his tongue and looked up at the ceiling like he was trying to remember anything else useful. "None of them had any metal on them. So they knew I was with Helena. I didn’t keep the collar… I should have. But there were magic runes along the inside. I think that’s how it worked, but I don’t know anything about magic." He shrugged his shoulders and clapped his hands together. "That’s about it."

"Thank you, Tobias." Alfred spoke softly with sympathy as he gave him another gentle pat to the arm.

Phil’s attention scanned the room until it fell on Myla and Theo. "And what about you? Myla? Theo?"

Myla sighed softly as she tried to figure out what to say or where to start. "They caught me off guard—seems to be the common denominator." She rubbed her neck, not really wanting to relive it so soon but she agreed it was useful information for everyone to have. "They uh… Got close to me through an old coworker. Had been watching me for about a year, I’d imagine." Rohypnol echoed through her mind, sending a chill down her spine as she recalled the sinister tone of his voice and the quiet pop of the silenced gun. "There were eleven or twelve of them. I don’t quite remember. I killed four. They didn’t really do anything particularly special for me, but I don’t really have powers and I’m not much of a threat."

She cycled through the events: killing Roger, unloading the gun down the hall, gutting someone with her batons, getting stabbed, throwing a guy out the window… "After the fourth guy, one of them pulled out some device." Her head twinged to the side as the phantom memory was still as sharp as a knife stabbing at her brain. "I don’t know what it was but it played a high pitched frequency that regular people can’t hear. It incapacitated me until Theo showed up." Myla shrugged her shoulders, sinking into her seat a bit. "That’s it."

"I uh," he glanced at Phil, looking a little embarrassed to be speaking in front of so many people. He squeezed Myla’s hand, reassuring her and himself. "I was feeling a little paranoid before we split up, so Myla and I decided to use one of the trackers I’ve developed…just in case." His gaze caught June across the room, noting how the woman sat up some at that and looked almost scarily interested in what he was saying. "It has an audio device in it, and a one time use defense mechanism that’s the only reason I knew something was wrong. I got there, took care of what was left, and…yeah, that’s it." He shrugged, a little self conscious. "One slipped away, he was the lookout, I heard him talking on the phone before I went up." Theodore left out how angry he’d been, at the goons, at himself, and he didn’t mention how each and every one of them met a swift and bloody end. None of that was important to training, or to the team as a whole. No one needed to know that Theo’s temper began and ended with a single reason.

"And that just leaves June," Phil found her sandwiched between Jim and Imogen and gave her a small nod.

She shifted uncomfortably, lips pressed firmly together for a long moment as she contemplated how to explain it all. She glanced first at Imogen, and then at Jim, before fixing her gaze on Alfred. It was the familiar expression of open understanding in his gaze that gave her the strength to find her words. "It started before I even realized what was happening, I was on the phone and my emotions started to…slip, I don’t really know how to describe it. I felt like someone was reaching into my chest, wrapping their fist around my emotions, and twisting them." One of her hands absentmindedly rubbed at her collarbone, a grimace flashing across her face, but her tone was steady as she continued. "There was a small chase, he shot out the back window," she threw an apologetic glance toward Phil. "I wasn’t his target, Phil was. They must have pulled public records and tracked his plate, because he was surprised when it was me but…" June let out a small breath, clenching her teeth together for a moment.

"Look, I don’t know, they must have mutants working with them because he fucked with my emotions, I didn’t have any control over how I felt, it was still me and my body, but it was like my autonomy was stripped away." June looked at the ground, swallowing hard. It was more than the fact that she’d tortured him, it was having her choices, her clarity, stolen from her. She felt violated, like she could still feel the phantom fingers of that man’s touch inside of her chest. "I think he was trying to pull the most vulnerable emotions to the forefront of my mind, that’s the only logic I can find behind it. For most people, that’s probably fear, or confusion, especially after being shot, it would be easier for him to subdue someone that way, but for me…"

June chuckled, a hollow sound that felt foreign to her. "There’s not much to share from there," The memory was so fresh for her, how her hands had been steady as she twisted his head, his blood hot and sticky between her fingers as she shoved his face beneath the disgusting water of the rain puddle. The ugly, hungry, pervasive pleasure she’d taken in hearing him beg, in knowing that his life would end at her hands, made her feel sick. A memory of her dad rose up, unbidden, resting his hand on her shoulder, telling her ’We don’t kill, we have to ensure that the cycle of violence is not perpetuated.’ and June knew she had to come to terms with what she’d done sooner rather than later, or it would unmake her. "I killed him, whatever power he had died with him." She crossed her arms across her chest, clearly not up for sharing anymore information.

Jim lifted his arm up to finally loop it around June’s shoulders, rubbing her arm with his right hand. He scanned her expression carefully, entirely out of his depth. His eyes flashed to Imogen on the opposite side of her, hoping for some assistance or understanding. This was the first he had heard of any of this. Somehow, in all the hours they had spent together, she had failed to mention any actual details of what happened. He wasn’t exactly sure how to comfort someone when they stubbed their toe, let alone when their mind was messed with and they committed murder in self-defense. Maybe he never asked, or never asked the right way, though some part of him thought that she wouldn’t have told him even if he did. So, he gently stroked the side of her arm as he said the only thing that could come to his mind. "I… don’t think Phil has emotions, so kind of a dumb move on their part."

June leaned into Jim, a little surprised but happy for the support. She had very intentionally not brought it up to him this morning, not because she wanted to hide it…well, the weakest part of her did, but she knew better. His support meant more to her than hiding did, and now she didn’t have to wonder…she glanced at Imogen, offering a smile that looked perfectly natural, and lied like the woman beside her couldn’t read her mind. "I’m okay," her hand patted Jim’s thigh, letting her hand stay there, and she threw him a thankful smile at the joke. "I’ll be okay." And she very pointedly did not look at Imogen again. Let me have this. She let out a small breath, and turned toward Phil. "Maybe he hoped to bring out more of your stunning personality." June smirked at the man, who rolled his eyes at her.

The entire time they all recounted their experiences, Phil’s pen furiously scribbled notes of anything and everything he found worth taking note. When he finished writing, he slowly looked up with a slight smile that almost bordered on sympathy. "Thank you for sharing your experiences. It does seem to be a common denominator that they try to exploit weaknesses and isolation." His gaze shifted between the three of them. "How many of you are injured?"

Myla, June and Tobias raised their hands slightly, all of them looking reluctant to admit it but they couldn’t really deny it when the evidence was plain to see. While Imogen sat toward the back of the room, her gaze briefly fell to the bandage on her hand. It was nothing serious, just—

"I see that, Ms. Frost."

"What the fuck? Does he have eyes everywhere?" Imogen muttered under her breath. "It’s just a burn. I’m fine." she spoke up loud enough for him to hear.

June, who had already gotten into enough trouble for one day, pressed her lips firmly together and did not laugh…aloud, she was quite loud with her humor in her mind.

"While I know none of you will listen to me, I feel the need to recommend that the four of you sit out of training to give yourself a chance to heal… properly."

"They won’t wait until we’re healed. If anything it gives them another reason to come after us because they know June and I were nearly killed." Myla turned her head toward Theo slightly, her face apologetic for making him worry but resolute in her decision. "I’d rather fight through the pain than sit around and wait," she spoke with a calm determination. If Theo couldn’t convince her to sit out of training with very persuasive means, there was no way Phil was going to be able to.

"Myla is right," she glanced toward the other woman, and then toward Phil and Alfred. There was nothing but resolution in her gaze, an expression that had been reflected in the eyes of her father and brother under differing circumstances before. "They will exploit every weakness they can find, and we’ll have to fight regardless of our condition." June caught Alfred’s eyes, and she leaned forward so the older man would look at her directly. He seemed horribly sad, though he hid it well. She knew him better than she knew anyone else in this room though, Alfred was her family, and she understood why, so she chose her next words carefully, voice soft. "Why do we fall?"

Alfred smiled gently at her, and dipped his head once in agreement. "Very well, Ms. Wayne." He sighed, and the last bit of tension June had been holding onto evaporated.

"As I thought," Phil sighed and nodded his head. "Well, because of these recent attacks it made the most sense to center today’s training around such attacks. You will all be randomly paired off, then one at a time sent into the simulation room." He pointed to the window behind him which showed a large and fairly unremarkable concrete room. "It is pretty simple. Your goal is for you and your partner to survive. The simulations have been structured to exploit any weaknesses or vulnerabilities you all possess to mimic these attacks. Which is also why we asked for you all to arrive unencumbered."

Phil’s gaze drifted around the room until it landed on the hammer in Magni’s hand. "You will be expected to leave Mjolnir behind when it is your turn to train, Mr. Thorson."

Magni nodded, tossing the hammer in the air before setting it down on the ground. "I do not believe our adversaries could disarm me, but I will oblige."

After clearing his throat, Phil continued. "For those of you unfamiliar with the Academy and how training works here, it is fairly straightforward." He stepped to the side so everyone could see through the window as she spoke. "This room is the most advanced virtual reality available. While you are within a simulation everything will look and feel real. If you are injured, you will feel that pain." Phil held up his hand to silence any arguments before they could be spoken. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny dart with a blinking blue light. He held it up for everyone to see. "These are sensory darts. They do not penetrate the skin and are harmless. They stimulate your nerve endings, tricking your mind into thinking you are feeling pain. When the simulation is over they will remove themselves. However during the training they are like ticks. You can remove them but it’ll do more harm than help, injure you, and cost about one hundred thousand dollars a dart," he concluded and slipped the small device back into his pocket.

"The simulation does have emergency protocols to shut down if anyone is injured, doing something dangerous, or someone says the shut down word. Any death blows: gun to the head, knife to the throat, thrown off a building, etc." Phil waved his hand generally. "Will end the training and result in a failure." He rapped his fingers along the back of his clipboard before continuing. "When it is your turn, you and your partner will enter through that door and go stand on the large X in the middle of the room. Once given the all clear, the simulation will begin."

Phil double checked his notes to see if he missed anything before looking around the room. "Does anyone have any questions?"

June chanced a glance around the room, taking in the varying expressions of her new teammates. Zaria seemed uncertain, but Luke was grinning like someone had just handed him a whole bottle of bourbon and told him the entire thing was for him. The emotions seemed to swing widely amongst the group, but one thing seemed the same for the majority. There was a glint of determination in almost everyone’s eyes, and she could respect that.

"Very well then." He flipped to a new page as he spoke. "The pairings are as follows: Tobias and Zaria, June and Magni, Judith and Jameson, Imogen and Luke, Jim and Myla, and Theodore and Veronica." Phil moved over to the control panel that stuck out from the side of the wall beside the door. He spent a couple minutes clicking away at buttons and prepping the first simulation before calling forward the first group. "Tobias and Zaria, please." He motioned toward the door.

^{interactions ....|.... everyone ............... mentions ....|.... none ............... collabs ....|.... @webboysurf @Sleepy Tani}

Descendants

^{#a8f9ff ....|..... prism .....|..... outfit .............. #00aeef .....|..... outfit .............. descendant tower}

After spending far longer in the shower than either of them needed, they finally managed to actually get clean… only once the water had run cold and their fingers had long since pruned.

"Good morning." J.A.R.V.I.S.’s voice echoed throughout Imogen’s penthouse as she walked around with a towel wrapped around her body while water dripped from her hair and ran along her skin. "Given light of recent events, Mr. Coulson has arranged a training session which will commence in thirty minutes, at noon, on sub-level six. He has requested you all arrive unencumbered with any uniforms, gadgets, weapons or any other paraphernalia. Thank you." She played with the fresh dry bandage on her hand as she made her way to her closet realizing that she didn’t really pack for training or anything really athletic at all. It wasn’t like she spent much time doing anything particularly active… Unless she counted the past twelve hours with Magni. She might have been hiding it well but everything from the waist down was sore and felt like jello. The last thing she wanted to do was try fighting when she could barely keep her knees from wobbling.

She shifted her attention to a dresser that was from her time at the academy. Upon opening the drawer Imogen was surprised to find her old clothes still folded inside like she hadn’t been away for a decade. A lot had changed over ten years, including her getting past her eating disorder and accepting the natural curves of her body. While there was no way most of her wardrobe from back then would fit, fitness clothes tended to be a bit more forgiving. Imogen grabbed the track set that felt the most stretchy and prayed.

Giving herself the best chance of success, Imogen nixed her underwear to give herself the tiniest bit of more room. She dropped her towel before stepping into the shorts. She had to jump and wiggle to get them up her thighs and over her hips. The elastic snapped sharply around her waist when she finally got them up. Imogen rested her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath while making a reminder to herself to buy properly sized athletic wear for the future. It wasn’t until she grabbed the shirt that she noticed it was more of a jacket than an actual top. The zipper made her a bit anxious but there was no way in hell she was taking those shorts back off after all that work. She was able to slip her arms into the sleeves easily enough but as she tried to fasten it, Imogen could barely get both sides of the zipper to touch. She exhaled all the air from her lungs then quickly shoved one side of the zipper into the pull and tugged it up all the way to the collar. It actually stayed… until she inhaled, then came half undone. She tried closing it a couple more times before accepting that there was a strong possibility she’d be flashing everyone during training. Whatever.

Imogen emerged from her closet with a pair of sneakers in her hands. She made her way to the edge of her bed and sat down. She sighed as her top already threatened to pop open as she put on her socks. Her gaze drifted over to Magni as a thought crossed her mind. "Did you pack any clothes?"

Magni had never quite understood the point of towels. While still in the shower, he had shook the excess moisture from his hair and body to the best of his ability. When he stepped out of the bathroom, he was entirely nude. He crossed the penthouse quickly, opening up the door to the balcony and taking a step out. His hands rested upon the railing, and he took in the morning air. He breathed slowly, willing the winds themselves to whip up and around him. An invisible vortex seemed to sweep away whatever water had still clung to his form, whisking it off over the edge and toward the ground far below. Even when dry, he chose to stay outside for a moment longer basking in the sun's rays.

He entered back into the penthouse when he heard Imogen call out. His heavy footsteps marked his return indoors. It only took one look at Imogen for his fondness for her outfit became self-evident. He did not speak on it yet, for she deserved an answer first. He instead crossed over in front of her and watched her, stretching out his shoulders. "Gods travel light… I see little need for luxurious raiments for myself." He lifted his hand to motion towards Imogen, smiling softly. "Thy figure flatters thy apparel, though."

Imogen got one of her shoes on and laced before looking up. Her own gaze slowly, patiently drifted up Magni's naked body, momentarily lingering on his evident elation, then found his eyes… eventually. "Flattery will get you everywhere," she teased as she worked on slipping on her other sock. "However these are like four sizes too small. I'll be lucky if I don't pop out before the end of training." She pulled up the zipper of her top again, only for it to slip back down a couple inches.

After getting on her second shoe and struggling with her top a few more times, Imogen stood up. She looked him over once more with a satisfied sigh and grin. "I wouldn't complain about you training like that, but I don't know about everyone else." She held his gaze like a silent challenge while her finger lightly ran up the length of his… arousal… just for a second. "It would be entertaining though."

Restraint was never one of Magni’s talents… at least not when it came to his behavior. The woman before him was gorgeous, no matter what she wore or what she did. To top it all off, they matched each other perfectly. The only danger, he realized, was just how much in common they had. His ravenous gaze matched hers as her hand trailed his veins. She was either as insatiable as he was, or she was sadistic in her own way. The odds were that she was both. He lifted his hands to hold Imogen’s shoulders, squeezing them a little as he leaned in. His words were almost gutteral. "Thou plays a dangerous game." He cleared his throat, attempting to compose himself a little. They had training, and it would look bad on either of them if they were late. He would not mind spending every second he could with Imogen, and his imagination was running wild with the ways he could be quick about things. He spoke with a ragged tone, his voice breathy. "I may have apparel in my room… and I do not wish to dirty thy garments quite yet." He turned himself away slightly, taking in a deep breath. "I will not leave this day, nor the next. Thou shall have my company for some time. There is no cause for fear in that regard.."

"Alright," she conceded with a soft sigh, letting her hand cease its teasing and fall to her side. "I can be good," Imogen’s voice didn’t come out as convincing as she had intended. Between him just being him, the gruffness in his voice when she teased him, the way he walked around her apartment like he belonged there or just the simple way her existence seemed to ignite something in him, it was difficult not getting aroused. While the thought of pushing him back on her bed and riding him straight through training was a far more enticing idea, her body could probably use the break… At least for an hour or two.

Her brows rose as he turned away slightly to calm himself and take a deep breath. While Magni’s words were intended to be reassuring, her mind clung to some time like ivy to a tree, twisting and growing as it took root. Imogen knew it was an inevitability that someday he’d have to return to Asgard and his family, but the thought of it so soon tightened in her chest. They were both from two different worlds, it made sense… But that didn’t mean she wanted it festering in her thoughts after one day. She did her best to shove it away and didn’t let it weaken her smile or dull the light in her eyes. Her left hand reached up, gently turning his head back to face her and hold her gaze. She seized his chin between her thumb and index finger before pulling him in for a soft but fleeting kiss. "Good."

Imogen released her hold on him and searched for something she could cover him with in the off chance then ran into someone in the elevator. She scooped up her slightly damp towel from the ground and wrapped it around his waist. Instead of tucking in the ends, she gripped them in the palm of her right hand and started making her way to the lift, tugging him along like a dog on a leash. She pressed the button to call the elevator. It took a minute or two for it to reach her floor, but once the door’s opened she pulled him inside with an impish grin. "Which floor?" she asked while nodding her head toward the various buttons.

Magni appreciated the shift from sensual to playful, letting Imogen guide his movements at every opportunity as they made their way to the elevator. He found it a little amusing, getting pulled around by a towel at his waist. The last time he had experienced anything similar was getting pulled by the belt from a crumbling ledge in Jotunheim by a fellow Asgardian. The brief image of watching the man float away on a burning boat flashed through Magni’s mind shortly after. He sighed a little, looking over towards the elevator buttons. He couldn’t remember the floor number, but he did recall which button to push. It was like a muscle memory… especially when he was usually occupied in the elevator when pressing it. He gave a quick tap on Floor 46, noticing after a moment how close their floors were all this time. The guilt came back briefly, before he shook it off.

The elevator doors opened into a dimly lit penthouse. They stepped out into a sitting room of sorts, with wood paneling covering the walls. Electric lamps mimicked torchlight in the penthouse, with projected lights hanging from sconces on the walls. Broken swords, horns, skulls, and stuffed heads were mounted all over the walls in this room, with some sitting atop the mantle of an electric fireplace in the corner. A longboat shaped couch with a number of different fur blankets rested in a nook to the left. A small entryway in front of them led into a much brighter lit kitchen space, with tile and fake stone replacing the dark wood patterns. Magni spun out of Imogen’s grasp and ducked out of the living space to the right. He entered into a spacious bedroom. A large, thick-framed bed sat in the middle, with small portholes of sorts on two walls casting some light into the room. Animal pelts lined the walls and floors in this room, all of various animals clearly not native to Earth. A wardrobe was tucked into the corner, which Magni went to and began sifting through. There was not a hint of dust anywhere in the room. His clothes were not wrinkled, as though they had been laundered somewhat recently.

The clothes he chose were simple. A workout tank that hugged his chest and cotton shorts. Both felt a little small on him… a decade of intense fighting and feasting had somehow made him even more imposing than he was when last at the academy. He went about changing rather swiftly, leaving his wardrobe open to reveal his sparse and dull clothing. Solid color shirts, some with sleeves and some without. Jeans, basketball shorts, compression shorts, jean shorts… just practical enough for him to get by.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Imogen’s lips as he slipped free from the restraints of the towel and disappeared somewhere to the right. Her thoughts wandered as she slowly entered the space and took in the stark difference in his lifestyle compared to hers. She could have looked around while the tower was still empty, there was a small part of her that thought about it but a week ago that felt like picking at old wounds, now it was… different. As she looked over toward his sofa, the image of the burning boat from his memory flashed across her mind. She never had to bury someone close to her, let alone someone who saved her life. Imogen had wanted to comfort him but didn’t know how. There were no words she could say to ease whatever ghosts that still haunted him. She was what she said she wanted to be… a prize. She wasn’t some great hero or warrior. Imogen didn’t even know where to lay the groundwork to try relating. Her gaze drifted over toward the door Magni slipped into, unable to help but wonder if she was in over her head. Was she really what he wanted?

Imogen locked that thought away before more could slip out then slowly followed after him into his bedroom. She couldn’t fight her impulses and flopped backwards onto his bed, lying on top of the various fur pelts. Her own morbid curiosity wondered how many naked bodies had been there before her. Magni’s own thoughts hinted at it being a lot from the simple fact he knew his floor from muscle memory and shared moments similar to their own in the elevator. She let her head fall back with a soft sigh and looked up at the ceiling. Although, she supposed, what really mattered was if she was the last one. She had to admit the thought of sharing moments with his past cast a small shadow on their memory, but she hoped that there were some things in the future that they might be able to experience for the first time… together.

While Magni got dressed, Imogen rested her hands on her stomach and spoke to the tower. "Hey, J.A.R.V.I.S.?"

"Yes, Ms. Frost?"

"Can you contact Bergdorfs? Give them my name, they have my information on file. Ask them to put together five or so fitness outfits and have them sent express to the tower. Please?" she asked while trying to force the zipper on her shirt to stay up.

"Of course."

Imogen slowly rolled onto her side and propped her head up on a bent arm. Her gaze drifted from the nearly empty wardrobe to the tight clothes Magni squeezed into. While she enjoyed the view similar to how he liked the sight of her in her own small clothing, she imagined he was probably as uncomfortable as she was. "Looks like I’m not the only one who outgrew the academy," she mused with a soft smile.

"J.A.R.V.I.S.?" she called out again.

"Did you need something else, Ms. Frost?"

"Yes. Give them Magni’s measurements as well. Tell them to put together an entire wardrobe. Focus on casual and athletic attire, with maybe one or two more formal pieces. He’ll need at least three pairs of jeans, a pair of sneakers, dress shoes and plenty of tights."

"Bergdorf Goodman says they should have the pieces you requested to the tower by the end of the day. Is there anything else?"

"No. That’ll be it. Thank you, J.A.R.V.I.S." Imogen flashed Magni a guilty smile before she slowly began sitting up and climbing off his bed.

Magni was uncomfortable by how tightly his clothes seemed to conform to his body. He had listened to Imogen’s conversation with the Tower’s ghost, shaking his head slightly as he rounded the side of the bed to where she was sitting. He offered a smile, standing in front of her to prevent her from getting up. "Thou dost not need to spend thy fortunes to dress me finely, but it is appreciated all the same." He lifted his hands up towards Imogen’s shoulders, giving them a squeeze as he took in the sight of her on his bed. He scanned her expression carefully. There was a word from earlier that seemed to gnaw inside him, and he felt it was time to address it. "What do we call this, if the others ask about what we are to each other?"

Imogen’s gaze slowly trailed up Magni’s body as he came to stand in front of her. "While I enjoy that it leaves little to the imagination," she mused while pinching a wrinkle in his shirt and lightly snapped the fabric against his abdomen. "I think we’d both be more comfortable in clothes that actually fit us." She laughed softly and tilted her head to the side. "What’s the point of being rich if I can’t enjoy spending my money on the people I care about?" Imogen had more money than she’d know how to spend in several lifetimes. It brought her joy to dote upon the people in her life. If buying Magni new clothes was a small way she could show her affections, then she’d do it without a moment of hesitation. There were already several other things she had planned on buying him… Like a phone.

"I… uh…" Warmth spread across her chest and trickled up her pale skin to her cheeks as she tried to find an answer. Imogen cleared her throat and focused on a small popped thread in his shirt. "There’s a lot of different words for it, depending on if it’s open or exclusive or…" She stopped talking before she started nervously rambling and dug herself into a hole. "We—or I am only yours," she confessed with a hesitant glance up into his eyes. "Some people here would call you my boyfriend, but that honestly sounds really juvenile coming from adults." Her fingers idly tugged at the cuffs of her sleeves. "Partners? Significant others?" Her brows furrowed slightly. "What do you call it in Asgard?" she asked, looking up at him.

Magni looked away, mostly to keep his eyes from wandering down towards the zipper of Imogen’s top. He clicked his tongue as he considered what word seemed most appropriate. Knowing she could read his thoughts anyways, he spoke his thoughts aloud in a hushed tone, more to himself than her. "It depends on the nature of things. Bedfellows feels inadequate, we are not yet betrothed, and I do not think it fair to make thee a concubine." He mulled over other words, other descriptors, any deeper meaning to his words lost in the search. She intended to be with him, and him alone. That did not sound so bad. He chuckled softly, shaking his head a little. She had used the proper term earlier. "Lovers… that title felt fitting. We have made love." His gaze fell back towards Imogen, willing himself to try and maintain eye contact. "I do not intend to share my bed with another unless thou wills it."

His soft laugh eased some of the tension that had taken root in her chest. Magni saying that the word lovers felt right made her stomach do a little somersault and her heart quicken. While he agreed to partnership the night before, the surrealness of it all stripped away and cemented itself in reality with his words. Imogen couldn’t fight the warm smile that grew across her lips at the prospect of being able to call him her lover. Magni Thorson was her lover, no one else’s. There was a sparkle in her eyes as her happiness was evident across her face. "I just… I didn’t want to scare you away by saying it," she admitted with an innocent smile. "When I called you lover this morning and then with June," her words ran away but the meaning behind them was still transparent. "I didn’t want to ruin everything by saying the wrong thing," she confided in him. It seemed the longer she was around him, the easier her true feelings came pouring out. It was a little jarring, but she felt safe sharing her most intimate thoughts with him, similar to how he left his mind open to her.

"I’m selfish," she confessed with a soft laugh as she rested her hands on his waist. The tips of her thumbs lightly traced the hem of his shirt. "I want you all to myself." Imogen could agree to share his might and valor with others, but his most vulnerable and intimate parts she selfishly wished to keep for her and her alone.

Magni lifted his hands to tenderly stroke along Imogen's cheeks with his fingers, leaning down to plant a kiss on her soft lips. He let the kiss linger for a moment, his hands cupping the back of her jaw while his thumbs stroked her cheekbones. When he pulled away, he looked down into her eyes with a soft smile. "Words do not strike fear in me." He resisted the urge to go in for another kiss, knowing full well they were on the edge of his bed. He took in a breath, his grin growing a little more knowing. "I do not mind thy selfish whims, after all..." He leaned in closer, whispering softly into her ear. "Gods do not share either."

Imogen lost track of how many kisses they had shared somewhere in the midst of their time in the elevator the night before, yet every time Magni’s lips found hers it felt like the first time. Her pulse quicked, the breath was stolen from her lungs and an elated chill ran down her spine. A soft sigh escaped into the space between their lips as he pulled away. Her hands rested gently on his forearms, thumbs lightly stroking his skin as she looked up into his eyes. "I should have known better," she whispered, mirroring his warm smile with one of her own.

She inhaled a sharp breath and her heart fluttered from the deep tone of his voice and the warmth of his breath caressing her skin. Imogen wanting her lover God all to herself made sense, but hearing him admit to being equally as selfish about her roused something deep inside her. She tilted her head towards hism slightly, letting the tip of her nose brush against his cheek as her mouth inched temptingly closing to his ear. "Now you’re the one playing the dangerous game." Her lips ghosted across his earlobe as the words came out in a breathy whisper.

Finding the restraint to not drag Magni down into the bed with her took all the control she could muster. The tip of her tongue flicked against her bottom lip as she tried to catch her breath. "We have to get your hammer." Imogen sighed. She tried running through their to-do list like it would somehow calm her down and ground her. "We need to train… And God do I look forward to watching you fight," she confessed with a guilty smile while looking up into his eyes. "Then—" her chest heaved as she took a deep breath and her smile grew more devious, "—I’m riding you until you see stars… And maybe a bath." While he was still close, she stole one more kiss, savoring the sensation of his lips against hers, endeavoring to be on her best behavior… For the next couple hours anyway.

The flash of frustration that crossed Magni’s mind was swift. For all the carnal delights they had engaged in within such a short time, the depth of his appetite seemed unending. As Imogen made it clear they had more pressing matters, he simply nodded softly. Her touch against his skin still felt electric, in a way distinct from the usual powerful jolts he could call forth at will. The mention of Mjolnir sent a slight shiver down his spine. Among the excitement of being reunited with his most prized possession came a temporary fear that did not materialize enough for Imogen to get a clear read. Her sultry suggestion and kiss had wiped away whatever worry had haunted him, if but for a moment. He indulged in the kiss for a moment longer than normal, before he broke it to step back to his full height. "I will hold thee to thy word," he answered playfully.

Magni let Imogen follow him back to the elevator, letting her pick the floor for the parking garage as he folded his arms across his chest. He tilted his head up slightly, closing his eyes as that nervous energy filled his chest again. A singular thought coursed through his mind: was he still worthy? The hammer hadn’t thought so. It had grown so heavy in his hands as he shouted at the men in suits. He had lashed out at his friends and his mentors. He had called them fools, puppets, and curs barking at the heels of the weak and short-sighted. Every word, every barb, and the hammer grew heavier and heavier in his grasp. By the time he could not carry it any further, he had caught himself on black steel. No tugging could pull it free from its new resting place.

With a decade of love and loss under his belt, had he truly changed? He was still the same cad, the same rageful monster seeking another fight. He had been so eager the day prior to simply pick up Mjolnir and accept the quest to find his father. But now, as he rode down with a relative stranger, the fear of denial crept in his throat. If he could not bear his powers fully, would he stand a chance of finding any of their missing progenitors?

Imogen slipped into the elevator and pressed the button for sub-level 3. As they began their descent, she couldn't help but notice the way the silence grew heavy and the familiar stirring of nerves that emanated from Magni's mind. The memories of when the academy closed flooded her thoughts. The surroundings were familiar but the scene was foreign. She had no idea he had detested the change so vehemently that it lost him his power, that he lost his worthiness due to his wrath. What could she say to ease that burden? What could she even do? She was one woman, a relative stranger in the words of his own thoughts, and he was a God.

While he wasn't wrong, being thought of as a stranger struck a cord with her that made her want to pull away and retreat within herself. But this wasn't about her. Imogen tried her best to push aside her own insecurities as she closed the distance between them. She moved behind Magni and slowly wrapped her arms around his waist. Her body lightly pressed against his back as she tightened her hold on him. "You’re not a monster, or a cad," she spoke quietly, filling the silence as she rested her cheek against the back of his shoulder. "I may be a stranger, but I know that you are kind, compassionate, and sincere. You've let me see into your mind and soul, and what I found was a caring and honest man."

Imogen turned her head so mouth pressed lightly into his back as she spoke, as if the words could seep through his skin and warm his heart. "In less than a day you've nurtured my mind and body. You’ve shown patience and understanding." Her thumb lightly stroked his stomach as she spoke. "You are a good man... I don't need a lifetime to figure that out."

The elevator slowed to a halt, dinged and the doors slid open. Imogen peeked around his shoulder out into the garage as her hold on him loosened slightly. "I can stay behind if you want to go alone." Her voice was soft and comforting as she tried to be whatever he needed. "But I'll remain by your side as long as you wish."

The sensation of being cared for was… odd. Magni’s brow furrowed slightly as he felt Imogen’s arms wrap around him. Her soft words answered unspoken thoughts. His own hands lifted to stroke hers, taking in a deep breath as he looked out towards the garage. He nodded his head slightly, his own mind conflicted on if he wanted company. His pride won out. "I will return." He gently moved Imogen’s hands from around his midsection and stepped out of the elevator, his steps slow and methodical. He walked carefully, his mind flashing with memories of the last time he had been there. He walked around towards the black, metal plated tank of a vehicle. He could almost still see Thomas standing there with a disapproving stare. He was saying something about disagreeing with the move, that the world still needed them, that they couldn’t just give up.

"Let us see how you fare without your armored chariot, or how the world fares when the gods no longer answer your call. Your realm will not make servants of mine!"

Magni physically recoiled at the memory. The hammer had felt so heavy in his hands. He had almost wanted to throw it at Thomas, at the representatives in their pressed suits. But all Magni could do was drop Mjolnir into the open Batmobile, breathing heavily from the effort of trying to bear it. But now, as Magni approached the open hatch, it felt so foolish. If he had stayed, if he had helped rally his friends, would they still be gone?

He reached out his hand, his fingers gently wrapping around the strips of leather that cushioned the pommel. He watched, in slight amazement, as the runes etched on every surface of the hammer began to glow with a dim blue light. The hammer remained perfectly stationary for a moment longer, just as it had for the ten years prior. Magni took a breath. He thought of his friends, his father, his brother, his new compatriots, and Imogen. He pulled.

Artifacts of great renown throughout the ten realms are often born from contradictions and the way they defy the natural order. A ring that can produce other rings from thin air. A ship fit for a whole raiding party that can be folded up over and over until it could fit in the palm of your hand. A hammer that weighed a near infinite amount to any who were unworthy to wield it, and yet as light as a stone in the hands of those who were. Magni lifted the hammer with ease, holding it up above him. The runes flashed with a bright light, and electricity sparked from a nearby light and crackled against the metal surface of the weapon. At the same time, a dark cloud seemed to swirl into existence above the tower, and a bolt of lightning impacted a lightning rod at the top of the tower. The smell of ozone filled the air around him, and Magni let out a relieved exhale.

Imogen was at a loss for what to do. He hardly reacted to her words beyond a fleeting touch, then pulled away. While there was a part of her that wanted to follow, she heeded his wishes and lingered behind. When the doors started closing she made a split second decision to slip out into the garage rather than be taken on a journey to grab someone else on their way to training. She stepped to the side and leaned against the wall, staring down at her pristine white sneakers that never got a moment’s use. Her hands slipped behind her back, pinned between her body and the concrete as her thoughts wandered.

That wasn’t the first time in their brief time together that Imogen tried to give Magni the same kind words and reassurances he gave her so freely. But where his words soothed her and made her heart ache with longing, it was almost like her words fell on deaf ears. It made her sad, although she wasn’t entirely sure why. It felt like her words meant little or perhaps that he didn’t believe her. He said he wanted to know her thoughts, she shared them, and they amounted to… nothing? It left her confused. Did she need to try breaking through a wall with more kind words or should she just… stop?

As he approached the elevator, he tossed the hammer up in a spin before catching it a few times. He tossed it about like it was a tennis racket. No smile graced his lips as he entered, his brow knit in a determined stare. He gave Imogen a slight nod, the smallest of smirks tugging at the corner of his lips. "I’ve still got it."

When she saw him returning, Imogen pressed the button to call the elevator. It was hard for her to miss the hammer he tossed around with ease while there was a lighter air in the way he carried himself like one of his many burdens had been lifted. A faint smile crossed her lips as she met his gaze. "I had no doubts," she replied softly, following him into the elevator. She pressed the button for sub-level 6 and leaned back against the far wall as they began their short descent.

Magni nodded, stepping towards her and wrapping one arm over her shoulders as he held her from behind. The move was quick and gentle, but the squeeze was firm. He lowered his lips to kiss the top of her head. His words were soft, the faintest of whispers delivered to her blonde hair. "I want to see what it is that thou sees in my mind that I cannot." He let loose the smallest of chuckles, reaching his right hand with Mjolnir around to show it to her. "I will not doubt thee a second time."

His hold caught her by surprise, eliciting a gasp and soft chuckle as she was pulled back against his chest. The simple embrace erased her darker thoughts like foot prints in sand washed away by the tide. Imogen hummed with content as her hands raised to rest lightly against his forearm. "It's my job to see the best in you," she spoke softly as her thumbs lightly stroked his arm. She laughed softly. His blind faith in her was endearing but it also made her a little anxious at the possibility of her being wrong in the future. "That's a lot of pressure."

Magni rested his chin on the top of Imogen’s head, giving her another soft squeeze. "I shall lighten thy load as I can." He let out a sigh as he said this, still not entirely convinced himself. But he pushed the doubt aside, chuckling softly to himself. "For now… look forward to seeing my might in combat."

^{interactions ....|.... none ............... mentions ....|.... none ............... collabs ....|.... @webboysurf}

Descendants

^{#cb6b06 ....|..... #d13b00 ....|..... ghost rider ....|..... outfit .....|..... his penthouse}

James spent the remainder of his morning falling in and out of sleep on the couch while watching Sons of Anarchy reruns. Around eleven he decided to get up and search his fridge to see what was stocked and figure something out for lunch that could also constitute a cooking lesson. He eventually settled on burgers and kraft macaroni and cheese thinking that it sounded like something simple that Aria would enjoy, considering she ate like a child. The thought wrestled a soft chuckle from his chest as he prepared all the ingredients, laid out a frying pan, and filled a pot with water for the macaroni.

And then he waited… And waited…

A half an hour before noon there was a weird doorbell like chime, but it wasn’t the elevator or an obnoxiously excited blonde ready for another cooking lesson. A voice rang out over some P.A. system in his apartment. "Good morning. Given light of recent events, Mr. Coulson has arranged a training session which will commence in thirty minutes, at noon, on sub-level six. He has requested you all arrive unencumbered with any uniforms, gadgets, weapons or any other paraphernalia. Thank you." James’s heart sank as he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at a small chip in the concrete wall.

She’s not coming, the spirit’s voice filled the silence.

The familiar tingle in the back of his head pulled him out of his mental fog, giving him the final drive to move. James slowly turned around and began gathering all the refrigerated items. "I know." His voice was quiet and monotone, void of emotion or the usual bite that laced his words when he spoke to the spirit in his head. He put the ground beef, toppings, and whatever other cold ingredients back into the fridge without a word. He left whatever could stay out on the counter figuring if nothing else he could make it for dinner for himself. It didn’t really matter.

She’s with those women. While the spirit always sounded angry and two seconds away from murdering the nearest unfortunate victim, there was a faint, indiscernible difference in his tone.

"Probably," James replied as he sat on the stairs and slipped on his boots. He felt the spirit stir, flames roaring in his head as he prepared to speak. "Drop it. She’s free to make her own decisions." While there was a conviction behind his words and he stood behind what he said, there was still a small knot in his stomach. Aria wasn’t his responsibility and she was free to do whatever and whomever she wanted. All he could do was hope that the spirit’s hunches were wrong. The last thing he needed was to lose a friend because he smited her fuck buddies.

James sighed, running his hands back through his hair before he got up and walked over to the elevator. Considering he was a little early, the lift was empty when it arrived. Not that he overly minded riding it with someone else, but he’d prefer to avoid those other women if he could help it. He wasn’t particularly in the mood to pretend to be friendly. But thankfully the doors opened to a nearly empty floor.

The room was fairly open and sterile, reminding him of a hospital waiting room. There was a large computer-like control panel on one wall with a door beside it. On the far side of the room was a large window like the ones he saw in crime movies where cops watched an interrogation through a one way mirror. In the center there were several benches and chairs, and sitting in one of them already waiting was the guy named Tobias, he thought… It was hard to remember all the names when he could barely stay awake through the meeting the night before. He gave the man a small nod of his head before slipping into a single chair off to one side so he didn’t have to worry about someone trying to sit next to him and make conversation.

^{interactions ....|.... none ............... mentions ....|.... zaria, ronnie & jules............... collabs ....|.... none}

Descendants

^{#962929 ....|..... hell's angel ....|..... outfit .....|..... myla’s penthouse ........................... #feffb5 ....|..... redback ....|..... outfit .....|..... myla’s penthouse}

For the remainder of the morning Myla stayed in her penthouse with Theo as he read her The Hobbit. She laid across the couch with her head in his lap, reveling in his comfort and the normalness of a quiet moment amongst all the chaos around them. He even kept his promise and gave every single dwarf their own voice. Now if Bofur and Dwalin started sounding the same by the end, she’d never say. But every time he switched to a new voice it’d elicit a giggle from her that quickly grew to full laughter until her chest hurt and tears pooled at the corner of her eyes.

Sometime after the fifth or sixth time she told him his voices were sexy the book found its way to the floor. They were still being good… Relatively. Their clothes were still on aside from half of the buttons of Myla’s shirt being undone. Theo was perched precariously above her like she was made of glass, one hand braced against the back of the couch while the other pressed into the cushion beside her. He hovered cautiously over her while their kisses grew desperate and needy. While he might have been trying to be gentle, Myla wasn’t. Her hands on his waist kept pulling him closer until he finally conceded and let his weight sink into the space between her thighs. She moaned softly against his lips as her fingers pressed into the bare skin of his back beneath the hem of his shirt.

There was a little chime almost like a doorbell before J.A.R.V.I.S.’s voice carried throughout the tower. "Good morning." Myla sighed as her head fell back against the throw pillow. Her half exposed flushed chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, but never relinquished her hold on Theo. "Given light of recent events, Mr. Coulson has arranged a training session which will commence in thirty minutes, at noon, on sub-level six. He has requested you all arrive unencumbered with any uniforms, gadgets, weapons or any other paraphernalia. Thank you."

"Unencumbered," Theo echoed, groaning and resting his forehead against her throat. There was a patch of skin there, smooth, unblemished, very kissable. He was feeling incredibly encumbered currently, though not by equipment. He pressed his lips to her neck, kissing a hot trail up, back to her lips, but he pulled away before they could kiss for too long and get lost in it all again. "We just had to be heroes, didn’t we?"

Theo pulled upwards so he could look down at her, taking too much satisfaction in how flushed and breathless he’d left her. They needed to stop now, thirty minutes was the perfect amount of time to get themselves under control, but fuck he didn’t want to. "You still won’t skip training, will you?" he searched her face, hoping to see the acceptance that she would but knowing it wouldn’t be there. At least he’d tried, though.

Myla propped herself up on her elbows with a wince. With each pant the deep opened slit of her shirt slowly shifted revealing more of the subtle curvature of her breast. A devilish grin crossed her breathless lips as she adjusted her left leg, brushing the inside of her thigh against his hip. "You still have thirty minutes to convince me." The words fell from her lips in a deep, breathy purr, teasing him to release control. She knew he wasn’t going to cave, but damn if it wasn’t hot making him flustered.

Theo’s mouth fell open in surprise, color flushing his cheeks, and he paused for only a moment…and then he called her bluff, pressing down into her fully. One of his hands caught the thigh of her good leg, hitching it around his hip so he could press against her as he kissed her, wanting Myla to feel just how flustered she’d made him. He pulled away only when he was desperate for air, kissing along her jaw, trying to remind himself that they couldn’t both skip training…well, they could. It would look awfully bad, though. "How about now?" He whispered against the shell of her ear, nipping softly at her earlobe with his teeth, voice deep and husky. His control was unbelievably close to snapping.

The heat between their bodies made sweat glisten along the exposed skin of her chest. A soft moan slipped from her parted lips as he took her thigh in his hand and pressed against her. She hooked her leg around him, beckoning him closer. Her hands slid up his arms and along his shoulders until she could cup his jaw in her palms as they kissed. The collar of her shirt slipped off her left shoulder, falling halfway down her bicep as he guided her head to the side with kisses along her jaw. His breath was hot against her ear and tickled along the skin of her neck. God she wanted him so bad. Theo overpowered her senses, the smell of his sweat, the gentle caress of his hands along her body, the sounds of pleasure mixed with his heavy breaths.

Her hands had a mind of their own as they ran down his chest. Knuckles brushed dangerously close to his waistband as she grabbed a hold of the hem of his shirt. She managed to pull it half way up his chest before a ghost of control tingled at the back of her mind. Myla threw her head back with a moan somewhere in between desperate and exasperated. "Fuck me," she groaned while running her hands over her bruised face.

He laughed against her neck, pulling back from her fully, so there was plenty of space between their heated bodies. His amusement and joy was palpable in his voice. "Not exactly what I’d call it, but it’s on my to-do list, when you’re ready…" his eyes trailed across her body, and Theo swallowed hard as he gently tugged the collar of her shirt back up to cover her shoulder. "I have a feeling that even if I gave in, you wouldn’t back out of training regardless."

His hand trailed up, along her neck, until he was gently cupping her jaw, thumb sweeping across her cheek like she was made of spun glass and the most precious thing in the world to him. Fuck, he…he loved her. It was still jarring to realize, all consuming with its intensity. Theodore still needed the moment to be right though, and that moment couldn’t come when they’d just been aggressively making out on the couch.

Myla rolled her eyes at his laughter while her cheeks grew a deeper shade of red. She still fought to catch her breath as she tilted her head into his touch. A soft laugh escaped her lips at his comment. It would have been checked off her to-do list already if Theo wasn’t so scared to break her. A breath caught in her chest as she felt his fingers graze her skin as he pulled her shirt back over her shoulder. "You’re not wrong," she confessed with a guilty smile as she pushed off the couch and sat up. Her face was close enough to his that she was able to gently flick the tip of her nose against his. "But it would have been fun," she whispered against his lips.

But before he could kiss her, Myla slipped her legs from around his waist. She slowly stood up then reached over to grab his book and set it on the coffee table. All the while leaving her hips temptingly close… On accident, sort of. She bit on her bottom lip with a slight mischievous grin and started making her way back down the hall. She still favored her right leg some but luckily she was able to put most of her weight on it without being too terribly uncomfortable. Myla diverted into the closet where her unpacked bag still laid on the ground. She carefully knelt down beside it and began sifting through the mass of clothes to try and find something she could train in.

"Will be fun!" He called after her, collapsing on the couch and groaning against one of the cushions. He needed his body to calm down after the extended period of arousal he’d just suffered through, and it took several minutes for him to be able to amble up and to the room so he could change his own clothes.

"Not having my webshooters will be lame, I literally sleep with them on, when would I not have them?" Theo was whining, just a little, as he walked in, mind already half made up on what shirt he’d be wearing to training.

"You must have terrible tan lines," she mused as she started pulling clothes out of her bag, trying her best to sort them. Back at the apartment Myla had everything organized in a way that she never had to try and remember what matched what. Now, if she was lucky, she might remember a piece of clothing by the texture of its fibers or the smell of the fabric. She managed to find underwear, a sports bra and yoga pants, but when it came to her socks and shirt she was struggling. After a moment she sighed. "Theo?"

Myla laid out a pair of black yoga pants that had red trim and mesh pieces in the thighs. She then held up two shirts, both looked the exact same, one was black and red like the pants while the other was pink and grey. "Which one matches?" She nodded her head toward a pile of mismatched socks, white, grey and black. "I need a pair of socks too… Please." A slightly embarrassed smile tugged at her lips as she sat on the floor surrounded by a mess of clothes.

"You have no idea," he muttered, pulling the latches on his web shooters and taking each one off. He felt naked without them on, weak and surreal, this would be the only training he entertained something like this. Hadn't they already decided that no one was safe anywhere? Was the tower really their ultimate source of defense? Theo shut down the line of thought before he let it go any further, otherwise he wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.

"This one," he tapped her wrist with the red and black, but paused for a moment, a small grin pulling his lips upwards in a lopsided smile. "Or, you could borrow one of my shirts, I have one with a cute cat on it. It’s one of my favorites I…I like seeing you in my clothes, actually." Theo reached out, snagging a pair of black socks from the pile. They’d have to spend some time organizing her clothes after training, rather than making out…that could be the reward for being functional.

A sweet smile crossed her lips as she tilted her head to the side. "You’re cute," she mused before taking his hand and using his support to get back to her feet. "While I love smelling like you, there’s a reason we both wear tight suits and it’s not to make our butts look good." Not that Myla would know how his looked but she might have accidentally felt it once or twice while they were swinging around New York or in the middle of a fight. It basically had the same effect. And while she liked wearing his clothes too, loose fabric could become dangerous pretty quickly in a fight. There was a reason she thought capes were stupid.

Myla gave his chest a gentle pat as she slowly walked around him, carefully trying to walk as normal as possible. She slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Taking off her pajamas was the easy part. Her cheeks flushed and heart fluttered in her chest when she noticed her shirt was still halfway undone. She took a deep breath and shoved the thoughts away to focus on getting ready for training. Pulling her yoga pants up took some work and patience, especially when pulling the tight waistband over her thigh, but after a couple minutes she managed. Then came the hard part… tops.

She was quickly realizing how fruitless a sports bra was as she tried several angles and positions to get it on, but all of them involved being able to raise her left arm above her shoulder. After a few more tries, Myla sighed and tossed it toward the dirty clothes pile. It was fine, she didn’t need it. As long as she didn’t get cold she’d be fine. But that didn’t solve the problem of her shirt which was similarly tight athletic material to her pants. Her fingers ran across the material as her heart started racing. She swallowed as she realized what she needed to do. She felt pathetic but there was also an anxious excitement that churned in her stomach beneath it.

Myla stood in front of the sink, trying to calm her breathing as she crossed her arms over her chest and gently cupped her breasts. It was the best she could do given the circumstances. She took a deep breath, then called out for him. "... Theo?"

Him? Cute? Huh. Well, her suit did make her ass look great, but there were a lot of pants that she could wear that…well, maybe it was just because Myla had a great ass. The idea that she liked smelling like him made him surprisingly flustered, and Theo paused to sniff under his arm, just to make sure…yeah, no, he’d put on deodorant. Good, good.

He changed while Myla disappeared, putting on the cat shirt that he’d offered her and then hesitating before he tugged on some jeans. It wasn’t what Theo preferred to wear when he fought, but it wasn’t like he owned tights. He’d just tugged on some socks when her voice, timid and uncertain, called out to him. He was up and at the bathroom door in an instant, pushing it open and—

"Myla!" Theodore yelped, spinning around so his back was to her. "Christ, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but training is in fifteen minutes and-and I don’t know if you expect me to be fast but I’m sure as hell not, uh…yeah." He cut himself off before anything else idiotic could spill from his mouth.

Myla’s face turned as red as the stitching along her pants as she quickly turned her back to him. Her nerves made her hands tremble while the cool gust of wind against her bare skin from his entrance sent a chill down her spine. "I-I needed help," she replied sheepishly once he stopped panic word vomiting. "I can’t get my shirt on and I need to know if I have bruises and—It’s fine." Her voice grew shaky as her own panic set in. She tightened her arms across her chest, embarrassed. Her thundering pulse hammered inside her ears, deafening her to other sounds. "Just… I’ll figure it out." She stood frozen on the far side of the bathroom waiting for him to leave. It was likely she’d pop a stitch at training anyway, what did it matter if it was a little premature.

"Oh," there was so much emotion in a single word, and Theo spun back around. His own face was flushed, and his eyes trailed down the expanse of her back, swallowing thickly as he spotted the bruises he’d known would be there. Just the sight of her injured made his chest ache, and he wanted to kill those men all over again. "No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…of course I’ll help, here."

Theo approached slowly, letting Myla hear him walking behind her, before his fingers scooped up the shirt. He hesitated, raising a hand slowly, brushing his fingers across one of the bruises that curled around her side up her back. "You have bruises," his voice was soft, shaky, but unbearably gentle. His hand slid up and curved around her shoulder blade. ”…I’m sorry, I should have been there."

There was the guarded, independent part of Myla that wanted to shut down after his reaction. She had dealt with bad injuries by herself before, she could do it again. It’d likely irritate the cut on her side and pop some stitches, not to mention the scar would be bigger and uglier. She’d manage. But she was trying to be considerate of the work his mother put into fixing her and the concern that laced Theo’s words every time he saw her in pain. She felt exposed and vulnerable… And not because she stood before him half naked.

Her stubborn pride made it hard for her to soften as she stood unmoving and tense. But Theo’s gentle touch along her back made her walls cave and her breath catch in her throat. "Your job is to protect New York, not me," she spoke quietly, keeping her back to him. "This is my fault for being caught off guard… It won’t happen again." There was a dark resoluteness in her voice like nothing he could say would change her mind. In no world was that ever his fault. Myla would never accept that. She let her guard down, was unprepared, weak… She knew the faults and now she had to focus on finding the solutions.

Myla took a deep breath to steel herself. Her face remained red and slightly turned away. "I umm… I’m pretty sure I have a bruise across my nose and my neck." Her right hand stayed firmly in place to protect whatever modesty remained while her left hand pointed to places as she spoke. Her fingers then dropped to brush along the bottom of her sternum and along the edge of her ribs. "I… remember getting hit really hard here," she whispered.

"My job," Theo’s voice shook, but his hands remained steady over her skin. Was it only his job to protect New York, because if that was the case he wouldn’t be here, part of this team, staying by her side. "Well, you live in New York. So you qualify as falling under my protection." He decided, pressing a soft and fleeting kiss against her shoulder. His hand slid up, along her side, over her shoulder, his touch was as light as a ghost's, fingers brushing over the bruises around her neck. "And…Myla, I-I mean, you…you mean the world to me, I can’t lose you. I should have been there, I never should have gotten out of the taxi."

"Please," she whispered as her head fell slightly. "Stop blaming yourself. This isn’t your fault."

He pulled back some, catching the fabric of her shirt between his fingers and tugging it into his hands. His eyes caught the dance of her fingers across the top of her stomach, and he quickly looked away. He wanted her, he’d realized it way before now, but standing in this bathroom, so close that he could feel her heat radiating through his chest, the desire rose up with the force of a tsunami. He needed to have self-control though, because Myla was hurt and half of it was his fault, he couldn’t risk hurting her more, and he couldn’t be selfish when she was in this state. "Arms up, Angel. Let me get this shirt on you."

Myla hesitated, her face remaining a permanent shade of red as she built up the courage to move. Slowly and carefully, she first lifted her left hand. She tightly shut her eyes to push past the pain of the tugging stitches until her arm was straight up. Her chest heaved through a couple shaky breaths before she finally slipped her other hand free and put it into the air. She turned her head away, trying to think about anything and everything else. Myla hated how pathetic she felt. She hated that he had to see her like that… She hated that the first time he was going to see her body was like that, useless and bruised. She focused on breathing, remaining still and closing her eyes… like somehow it’d make Theo look away too.

He kept his eyes respectfully away from her exposed chest, easing down the shirt over her head and across her chest. Theo’s knuckles softly dragged down her sides, and he paused at each moment she tensed up, hyperaware of how much this probably hurt her. "You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen." His voice was soft, reverent, devotion practically dripping from his tongue. "Even like this, you’re trying so hard to be strong, you don’t have to do that with me." He soothed the shirt down her sides before sliding a hand around her waist, brushing his palm along her stomach before Theo gently turned her around to face him.

She didn’t breathe the entire time, feeling every brush of his knuckles and touch of their skin. Theo’s words forced the breath from her lungs in a shaky exhale. How did she respond to that? Myla wasn’t even sure what it meant. All she knew was the way he talked about her made her chest tighten and grow warm. She heard people talk about beauty in comparison with others, but the concept of physical attraction was lost on her… Unless she thought of the way her heart raced whenever her fingertips brushed along the sharp edges of Theo’s muscles or the way his body was firm but soft whenever it was pressed against her. Did that count? Or was it all muddied because it was him. Would she even be able to tell the difference?

Myla's stomach tensed as his hand ran along the exposed skin of her midriff. She was reluctant to turn back around but with the guidance of his gentle touch she conceded. Her head remained tilted downward as she faced him. "Yes I do," she contradicted him while lightly tapping her bruised and scabbed knuckles against his abdomen. "I can’t let my guard down again… I can’t…" Her words drifted away before she let them fall from her mouth. She was weaker than Theo, weaker than everyone else gathered in that tower. Myla refused to let herself be a burden or dead weight that dragged him down. There was no possible way she could ever forgive herself if she got him killed… It’d eat her alive.

"I’m here and when you’re with me you’re safe," he raised both his hands to cradle her face, pressing their foreheads together so his soft words could wash over her. "That’s all I’m asking for, when it’s just you and me." He let go of her face, reaching down to catch one of her hands. Theo brought it up so she could press her palm against his chest, over his heart. "My heart is beating for you, to the world you are formidable, but you are my world. I can be strong enough for both of us, to whatever end, when it’s just you and me. You can let your guard down here Myla, when you’re ready."

A single silent tear slipped from beneath her eyelashes and trailed down her cheek. "Why do you get to be strong for me but I can’t be strong for you?" Myla asked. Her fingers gently curled, grabbing a small handful of his shirt against his chest. "That isn’t fair," she whispered with a defeated smile. The truth was it was almost impossible for her to keep her guard up around Theo. Every smile, laugh and kiss stripped it away. She was constantly being torn in two different directions between letting herself get swept up in him and the way he made her feel, and hardening herself for the horrors that waited just around the corner for them. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

"You are strong for me," he whispered, pressing his hand over her own where it lay on his chest. The juxtaposition of how her skin could be both rough from callouses and yet unbearably soft was enough to make Theo’s breath catch in his throat. "The strongest thing you could do is to trust me enough to be vulnerable with me, letting down your guard isn’t easy." His fingers threaded with her own, and he lifted her hand to his lips so he could brush a kiss over her scabbed and bruising knuckles. "We’ll go at your pace, one step at a time. As long as you know it’s safe with me, that’s a good start." Myla could feel how his lips tugged up into a smile.

"But I do," she whispered. She took the smallest step forward, her bare feet moving to rest on the ground between his. Their chests brushed and pushed against one another with every breath, fighting for the space between them. "I trust you more than anyone… I…" This time the words danced on the edge of her tongue rather than his, one whisper from breaking free. She could say it, just speak it into existence. Every cell in her body was desperate for her to say it, but Myla was scared, scared to say it and scared that they weren’t guaranteed tomorrow… Hell, she barely even made it to that day.

Theodore kissed her before she could say it, not giving her a chance to break the seal on those three words. It was a soft, lingering kiss that portrayed everything he felt for her. He pulled back after a few short moments, pulling Myla into a very gentle hug. "Tomorrow," he promised, whispering against her shoulder. "We’ll go to the beach, maybe have a picnic, and then I’ll…I’ll explain how I feel fully." He pulled back, trying not to laugh. "Try not to pull any stitches during training, and maybe…well, we’ll see."

"Hmm," Myla mused with a soft laugh. Was there really much else Theo could explain beyond just saying it? Telling her she was his world sort of felt like the precipice. She didn’t know if there was much beyond that. But his desperation to make the moment perfect was cute nonetheless. She’d try her best not to take that from him. He deserved a little Hallmark among the nightmare they were living. "If any of these stitches pop I’m having those robo-doctors burn this shit," she laughed as she slowly slipped from his arms and made her way toward the door.

"Burn it?" Theo sounded distinctly horrified at the idea, pausing to clutch at the sink as she slipped out of the bathroom. He was very aware that he was dating a badass, but—wait, were they dating? He liked to think they were, he wasn’t the type to just kiss anyone for fun, and he was fairly certain that she wasn’t either, but they hadn’t exactly had time to put any kind of label on it.

Myla grabbed her combat boots and socks from where she left them on the ground and went to sit on the foot of the bed. She moved slowly, sucking in sharp breaths and wincing when she moved the wrong way. It took her three times as long but she eventually managed to get her socks and shoes on. After taking a moment to catch her breath, Myla made her way back to the closet. She put on her deodorant and spritzed herself with her perfume that had notes of cashmere, bergamot and lily of the valley. It took her a second to find her billy club beneath the mound of clothing she tore through. She could feel the flaking dried blood beneath her grasp as her fingertips ran along the surface until she found the small button on one end. She pressed it and a small tape popped out. Her right hand reached out and caught it before it hit the ground.

"Hopefully Stark can do more than run his mouth," she commented dryly as she tossed the club aside and stood up.

By the time he emerged from the bathroom, she was done putting on her boots, the faintly pleasant notes of her perfume hanging in the air, and Theo was determined to make sure they were, effectively, on the same page. "Myla," all of the confidence whooshed out of him as soon as he caught sight of her. Theo gaped for a moment like a fish out of water, registering for the first time how her chosen outfit did quite a lot to compliment her figure. He let out a sort of wheezing cough, and then pushed onwards. "Will you, I mean, if you want, I was just thinking that I-I think I’d…I mean, maybe we should, you could…uh." Very pointedly, he raised a hand and slapped his own cheek. The sting brought a brilliant sense of clarity, and all in one breath he managed to ask his question. "Will you date me?"

She heard Theo say her name tentatively as she stepped out of the closet. "What?" Myla’s brows knit together as she slowly turned to face him with the tape clasped delicately between her fingers. While, at first, she was concerned about the hesitancy and seriousness in his voice, his babbling made a soft smile grow across her lips. She didn’t say anything, waiting patiently for him to find his words. But when he slapped his face she snatched her tape up in her right palm and closed the space between them to seize his wrist in her left hand. "Lets not do that," she spoke calmly while her thumb lightly stroked his arm.

Myla couldn’t help but laugh at how unbelievably cute he was. It was sweet how, after everything, he still felt the need to clarify what they were. While she never said anything, she had been his for months, even if he never knew. Ever since the day he was waiting to meet up with her with flowers for her birthday she was hooked, regardless if she was also in complete denial about it. While they have never actually been on a date, Myla had just assumed they were exclusive between all the stolen kisses, almost saying ‘I love you,’ their less than subtle desire to sleep together and just the whole near death thing. "I thought we already were dating," she confessed with a smile. "Your mom and Foggy already think we are," she laughed softly.

Theo was grinning from ear to ear, the brightest smile he’d ever worn before lit up his face, and he couldn’t help but to steal one more kiss from her, and even then he couldn’t stop smiling. It didn’t matter what else came next, what anyone thought, or the people they were surrounded by. As long as Myla was by his side, just like this, he could be content.

"I just wanted to be sure," he admitted once they’d pulled apart, still smiling. "I knew I was already yours, but I just wanted to be sure." That day was going down as a top ten for him, not that he’d be telling her about that, she didn’t need to know he had a running list.

She was barely able to laugh before Theo’s lips found hers. Myla took his face in her hands, palms gently cupping his cheeks. She couldn’t fight her own smile as she felt his own grin beneath her thumbs and against her lips. There weren’t many moments in her life where she found herself wishing for a glimpse of sight, but that was one of them. His happiness was so contagious that she wanted one second to be able to see his face and his smile. While he was still close, Myla let her fingertips slowly memorize his face, running along his brow, tracing the contour of his jaw, framing his nose, brushing across his cheekbones, and outlining his slightly crooked smile. She wanted to commit every part of him to memory.

The tips of her thumbs lingered near the corners of his lips. "I’ve been yours since you bought me those flowers," she quietly confessed like the truth was too fragile to be spoken above a whisper.

"I’ve been yours since you stopped that guy from shooting me by kicking him in the balls." Theo grinned down at her, sliding his hand up to run his fingers through her hair. He relished in the feeling of her fingers brushing across his face, learning him like he was a canvas. "Tomorrow, I’ll take you on a proper date. We may have to skip the pineapple and olive pizza, though."

Myla laughed softly as the memory slipped to the forefront of her mind. It was raining and there were a lot of thugs near some warehouse off the docks. She couldn't remember why they were there, all the crimes start blending together when you stop dozens a night. What she did remember was one minute they were fighting back to back and then the next moment there was a guy standing between them with a gun to the back of Theo's head. She didn't know how it happened. No one ever got close to pointing a gun at him like that. Myla panicked, took a hit to the chest that broke one of her ribs, but she never told him that part. She shoved the guy's hands in the air as she kicked so hard in the groin that there was no possibility of him ever having children. She also stole his gun and pistol whipped him for good measure. If Theo wasn't there… She probably would have killed the fucker. But back then she tried to play by his rules so that she didn't scare him away.

As she recalled the fight, Myla remembered it happened about a month or so before her birthday, which meant he technically was smitten first. She sighed with a smile. He was going to enjoy that too much. "Fine, you win," she whispered as she let her hands slowly fall from his face. A soft, but playful gasp escaped her lips. "Skipping pizza? Who are you and what have you done with Theo?"

"It’s good to have a healthy diet," he chuckled, thinking that he was most certainly packing PB & J sandwiches for the picnic but that he wasn’t willing to tell her that. He took a step back from her, trying to put a more respectable distance between the two of them.

"If we don’t leave soon," he shoved his hands into his pockets, he looked her up and down, gaze admiring. "I may have to change all of my plans, but we would miss training." Not that it was the worst idea ever, Theo could think of a least twenty other things he’d rather be doing than going to training, and all of them involved Myla.

She clicked her tongue off the roof of her mouth with a faint guilty smile. "Yeah… We have jobs to do, or something." Myla pivoted on her good leg and walked past him toward the bedroom door while spinning the small tape between her thumb and middle finger. Her pace was slower and she still favored her right leg, but she carried herself like she was in less pain. Whether if that was true or she compartmentalized it to focus on training, even Myla wasn’t entirely sure.

She slowed as she reached the elevator and pressed the button. Myla rested her uninjured shoulder against the wall and turned her head toward Theo with a smile. "Wonder why we can’t have our equipment," she mused as they waited.

"Maybe they’re giving us new gear?" He grinned at her, barely having time to lean against the wall when the elevator gave a quiet ding and the doors slid open. Theo tried not to sigh, he’d forgotten that the elevator was faster than usual and he’d been hoping for just a few more minutes with Myla. "Or they want us to fight without it…" he trailed off as they stepped into the elevator, jabbing the button for sub-level 6 with his pointer finger. "I really hope they’re giving us new gear."

^{interactions ....|.... none ............... mentions ....|.... jim ............... collabs ....|.... @Sleepy Tani}

Descendants

^{#217c85 ....|..... jinx ....|..... outfit .....|..... descendant tower ................................ #00674f ....|..... sentinel ....|..... outfit .....|..... descendant tower}

Following her conversation with Myla, Ronnie slipped into the elevator and made her way to her penthouse. Theo’s subsequent arrival, but more importantly the way he ignored her, ruffled her feathers in a way that left her pulse elevated and her nerves wired. She had gotten so wrapped up in all of it that she forgot the reason she went to the kitchen in the first place or to return to Zaria’s apartment. While getting both of the women morning coffee would have been a nice gesture, by that point they were probably enjoying each other’s company and if there was one thing Ronnie wasn’t, it was a third wheel.

As she stepped out of the elevator, she nearly tripped over her discarded belongings and clothing from the night before. Ronnie sighed, scooping up her shit haphazardly into her arms before wandering about the extravagant apartment in search of the bedroom. When she found it, she discarded her shit into the closet then wandered into the bathroom. She could worry about unpacking and room modifications after she got a much needed shower. Her body still had the faint remnants of champagne, Zaria and Jules clinging to her skin.

Ronnie stripped out of her lingerie and made her way to the bathroom. As she went to start the water in the shower her gaze lingered toward the large bathtub. She contemplated it for a moment, then decided a bubble bath sounded fantastic. She turned the water to near scalding, tossed in some bubble soap and a bath bomb, then slid into the tub with a satisfying sigh.

After another trip down to the kitchen, J.A.R.V.I.S. was nice enough to direct Zaria to Ronnie’s floor. She balanced the contents atop the silver tray carefully, delighted to have found someone made croissants while she was with James, and so she’d put three on the tray alongside some strawberry jelly, butter, and two cups of coffee. This time, she made sure to add a side of sugar and cream, alongside a small helping of honey…just in case.

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, maybe that Ronnie would be in her kitchen, or lounging in her living room area, but instead it was perfectly silent when she stepped off the elevator. She paused for a moment, not wanting to disturb the other woman’s sleep if she was napping. "Uh…J.A.R.V.I.S. could you let Ronnie know I brought her coffee, if she’s not asleep, please?"

"Certaintly, Ms. Doom." The cool voice of the towers…assistant, she wasn’t actually sure what he was, echoed back out to her in response, but she winced reflexively, the contents of the tray rattling some.

"Could you call me Aria, instead, please?"

"I will make note of your preferences, Ms. Aria."

Zaria let out a soft breath, and whispered her thanks, waiting patiently to hear back from either J.A.R.V.I.S. or from Ronnie herself.

Ronnie had her earbuds in blaring Worship by Ari Abdul which drowned out any other noises that came from deep inside her apartment. She wasn’t entirely sure how J.A.R.V.I.S. did it, freaky Stark or Wayne tech obviously, but her music paused and the AI’s voice rang out from her headphones. "I beg your pardon, Ms. Hardy." Startled, she jumped, disturbing the still waters and splashing a bit of it onto the floor. "Ms. Aria Doom is here to see you."

Seeing as how both women had explored each other’s bodies… extensively, Ronnie had zero reservations about letting Aria see her in her current state. She sighed softly, plucking the buds from her ears and set them on the side of the tub. "You can tell her where I am," she replied quietly while running her fingers through some of the bubbles.

"Ms. Hardy is in her bathroom. She says you are free to enter," J.A.R.V.I.S. said, returning to Aria a few moments later.

Despite the experience of the night before, Zaria paused for a moment. She wasn’t entirely sure why, it felt a little too intimate though, didn’t it? She sucked in a soft breath, and then resolutely marched through the bedroom, eyeing the discarded items in the closet, before sliding into the bathroom. She caught sight of Ronnie in the tub, color flushing her cheeks a soft shade of pink, before she respectfully looked up toward the ceiling.

"Hi," she murmured, feeling a bit like she was intruding. "You were gone when I woke up, I just…wanted to check on you, I brought coffee and croissants." To emphasize her point, she held out the tray for the other woman to see, still not quite looking at Ronnie directly.

"Hello kitten," Ronnie purred with a charming smile. "So bashful," she teased as she sat up just enough for her breasts to peek out above the thick layers of bubbles. "You’ve already seen every inch of me. I’m not shy." She cocked her head to the side, eyeing Aria’s lace bodice that showed teases of skin beneath it and accentuated her cleavage perfectly. "Unless you were seeking a reminder." A pleased hum escaped her lips as she took in the woman’s appearance before slipping deeper into the water.

Zaria’s breath had hitched at the tone of Ronnie’s voice, eyes darting toward the woman reflexively before she caught a glance of slick, bubble covered skin, and her eyes flicked away again as more color rushed to her face. It was different now, she hadn’t come up with false bravado and the intention to sleep with her. That knowledge left her feeling flustered and shy, which didn’t leave her exuding confidence. While she wasn’t opposed to a reminder, that wasn’t why she’d come.

Ronnie’s gaze fell to the tray of food and drinks Aria brought her. The carefully painted smile across her face shifted like there was a small crack in her mask letting a hint of authenticity tug at the corner of her lips. "Aren’t you sweet?" she mused, quickly trying to hide any vulnerability that threatened to slip out.

She mulled over Aria’s other comment while letting her head tilt back slightly to rest on the edge of the tub. "I’m not good with emotional intimacy," she confessed. "And I am a jealous, selfish woman." Her gaze slowly drifted around the room before locking back onto Aria’s. "I left before I could become a third wheel. But, to be honest," she sighed softly as her toes peeked out of the water and rested beside the faucet. "I had intended to bring you both coffee. I just got… distracted."

She moved closer, careful of the water splashed on the floor alongside the tub, and perched the tray carefully on the wide edge before she took a seat herself, mindful of the headphones that had been left out. "I noticed last night, you seemed hesitant…I’m sorry, if I made you uncomfortable." Aria dipped a finger into the warm water, looking at the bubbles instead of looking directly at Ronnie. It was nice, though. Her arm had curled perfectly around the woman’s waist, and she’d fallen asleep with the smell of her shampoo on her mind.

"I did like it, I mean, that part too." Zaria looked up through her lashes at Ronnie, feeling ridiculous for stumbling over her words like she was, but wanting the other woman to at least know the truth.

Ronnie tilted her head to the side as she studied Aria’s face. "Don’t apologize for wanting what you want." She sighed softly, lightly flicking a bubble or two but making sure not to accidentally splash the blonde as she perched on the side of the tub. "It is not often I am asked to…" she pursed her lips, trying to find the right word, "linger after sex. It’s usually just that, sex. The last time I stayed the night…" her voice trailed off and she cleared her throat rather than finishing what she was saying. The only time she could recall cuddling and sleeping with someone after sex was with Theo. The memory struck a cord in her chest, aching with jealousy or maybe regret, leaving the sour aftertaste of guilt on her tongue… There was no way in hell she’d ever admit to that.

That was…sort of sad. She’d grown attached in the barest sense of the word, she didn’t think anyone deserved to go without the simple form of intimacy they’d shared last night. While Zaria understood the appeal of having unattached sex, everyone was due a certain degree of kindness afterwards.

She dried her hand off on a towel, then grabbed one of the croissants. With a pleased expression, Ronnie ate the pastry in a couple bites without a word. "Well you were sandwiched between two naked blondes," she mused as she met Aria’s gaze. "It’d be hard not to enjoy that." With a soft sigh, she let her hand slip back into the warm water as she studied the woman.

"Well, good point." Zaria conceded sheepishly, trying not to blush and failing. She swirled nonsensical patterns into the surface of the bubbly water, eyes tracking the movement but not seeing it. Her mind was elsewhere, stuck on what else she’d planned to say and now it all seemed to stick in her throat. "I just wanted to check on you," Aria said the words slowly, as if she was sounding them out with uncertainty, she didn’t want to sound childish or ridiculous simply because she cared. "I know, it was just casual, I just wanted to make sure..." She trailed off, chewing on her bottom lip anxiously, the rest of her words floating away like the bubbles in the bath.

Ronnie slowly sat up in the water, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs. Aria’s concern was a little jarring. The women had barely spoken to one another aside from salacious comments followed by the throes of passion. There wasn’t much room in there for getting to know each other on a personal level to care, but it seemed the woman before her got attached rather quickly. She didn’t know if she should be flattered or off put. There was a part of Ronnie that appreciated the subtle warmth the concern brought, but there was a bigger demon inside that always withdrew and pulled away at emotional intimacy.

"I’m fine," Ronnie whispered. While her face remained fairly blank, her mind wandered to her conversation in the kitchen, to Myla and Theo. Her back tensed slightly as a small twinge tugged at the corner of her mouth. In the end, it didn’t matter what Aria saw in her, the second what happened between her and Theo spread throughout the tower, Ronnie doubted anyone would be wasting their time on her. Unless… a devious thought crossed her mind, if she could get Aria to believe whatever story she twisted then… maybe.

"I… ran into Myla in the kitchen," Ronnie confessed sheepishly like she was confessing something that made her feel shame and embarrassment. "Theo… He’s my ex," she confessed with a soft sigh. "I’m not sure what he told her but she was very… hostile. Threaten to torture me and hang me off the tower if I didn’t leave him alone." She shrugged her shoulders slightly. "I did break his heart, but it was for his own safety. It was right when everyone started going missing. I could tell I was being followed so I went into hiding. He thought I died… I tried to explain that I did it for his safety…"

Ronnie’s fingers swirled in the bubbles near Aria’s hand as she averted her gaze. "Old grudges I suppose," she mused with a soft sigh. "I just… needed to unwind," she added while motioning to the bath.

"That’s awful," the horror was evident in her tone, leeching across her face. She wasn’t sure how she’d feel if it turned out Logan vanished to keep her safe, but…having someone else threaten another person on her behalf would have felt awful all around. She resisted the urge to reach out to Ronnie, unsure what a good way to show support for the other woman. It wasn’t like she was raised having playdates with other kids, Aria was more or less sheltered, and things with Logan were different than with anyone else here. He was gruff and crass, that wasn’t a good way to be supportive with anyone but Logan. "I’m new to this whole…friends thing."

She admitted this slowly, a tinge of uncertainty in her voice. Zaria very carefully kept her eyes on the bubbles, not having the courage to look at Ronnie as she revealed something more vulnerable than sex could provide. Emotional intimacy really was the worst, wasn’t it. "But, working under the assumption you want to be my friend and all that…I mean, regardless really…" She shook her head, blonde hair falling from where it was tucked behind her ears to curl around her cheeks. "What I’m trying to say is, you didn’t deserve that, and I won’t let her touch you while I’m around. Not that I think you need protection, but isn’t that what friends are for?" She finally looked up then, offering a smile that was a mix of shy and tentative.

"Friends is uncharted territory for me too," Ronnie replied cautiously, like somehow admitting it made her appear weaker. She slowly slid forward in the bathtub, inching herself closer to where Aria perched herself. "I would hate for you to have to dirty your hands for me." Ronnie’s voice was low, rumbling in her chest like a soft purr. Her right hand raised up through the bubbles beneath Aria’s hand. She slowly interlaced their fingers before bringing the woman’s knuckles dangerously close to her mouth. "They are such lovely hands." Her hot breath brushed against Aria’s skin as Ronnie leaned in and placed a single tender kiss upon her fingers.

Zaria’s breath caught in her throat, color rushing to her face as she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Warm breath fanned over her wet fingers, sending a tingle and a shiver down her spine before deviously soft lips pressed against her hand. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, flustered beyond words. "You’re making it hard to think clearly," she admitted when she found her voice once more, accent thicker than usual as her eyes fluttered back open. "I’ve been trying really hard to ignore the fact that you’re naked in the tub." A small, coy smile tugged at Aria’s lips, dimpling her left cheek. "Don’t ruin my streak of good behavior." Not that she’d mind even a little if it was ruined, actually.

"I can stop," Ronnie whispered against her skin as her lips slowly trailed over the top of Aria’s hand and along her wrist. "If you want." She never lifted her mouth from the tender flesh of the woman’s arm, only peering up at her from beneath her long lashes. "Good behavior has never been one of my strengths." A devious grin crossed her lips as she lightly teased the tip of her index finger along the dip in Aria’s elbow. "And I’d hate to get you wet." The world rolled off her tongue like pearls gliding along velvet as she let her damp thumb put the tiniest drop of water on the cuffed sleeve of the girl’s white shirt.

Fuck. Zaria was going to owe James, big time. She wouldn’t even entertain the idea that this would be fast, after spending the night with Ronnie she knew that she wouldn’t make it back to James in time for lunch. She contemplated, for just a second, telling the woman no…but it was a thought that was easily pushed away. Why should she say no, when Ronnie was right there, looking at her like that, and clearly interested? She’d be insane to turn her down.

"Too late," she murmured, eyes sliding to the small drop of water. Her free hand slid up, easily undoing the few little white buttons of her shirt. "I think your tub is big enough for two, want to test it?"

"I thought you’d never ask." Ronnie slid back to one side of the tub, biting onto her bottom lip with a devious grin. As she settled into her seat, enjoying the view of Aria undressing, she slowly raised one foot to rest on the edge of the bath. She ran the tip of her index finger along her bottom lip then trailed it over her chin, down her neck and between her breasts before submerging somewhere beneath the depths of water and bubbles.

Her shirt slipped from her shoulders, falling into a puddle at the edge of the tub, but Zaria couldn’t find it in her to care about that when Ronnie was making a show of her actions. Her heart fluttered as she realized what the woman was doing as she stripped in front of her, heat collecting like an inferno in her core, and while one of part her wanted to rush to get into the tub, she appreciated how fucking hot this turn of events were. She took her time unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them from her body, and they were followed smoothly by her undergarments.

"Isn’t that a task for my lovely hands?" Zaria grinned as she slipped into the hot water, closing the distance between the two of them eagerly. Her right hand dipped beneath the surface of the water, fingers dragging slowly across the slick skin of Ronnie’s thigh, whilst her left curled around the slope of her throat, pulling her into a soft and senseless kiss.

* * *

Redressed with her hair damp and face flushed, Zaria regretted not being able to go to her room and change before training, and for not being able to make it back to James for lunch. A keen sense of guilt weighed on her shoulders, and her head was spinning in circles trying to think of a way to make it up to him. At least she’d gotten a chance to clean up before training, and she smelled distinctly of Ronnie’s body wash as they headed onto the elevator. She was new to the whole friend thing, but she was fairly confident that you weren’t supposed to be sleeping with your friends as often as she had been, especially with the knowledge that the other blonde wasn’t the sort to get attached.

She reflexively held an arm in front of the door, holding it in place and waiting for Ronnie to step on, thinking about James and how she could apologize.

"Something’s on your mind," Ronnie mused as she stepped into the elevator, adjusting the waistband of her sweatpants. She pressed the button for sub-level 6 then turned her attention toward Aria while leaning against the opposite side of the small descending room. "I won’t be offended if you need to pretend like it didn’t happen." Her voice was quiet but without any hint of sadness or hurt feelings. "It wouldn’t be the first time I’m someone’s dirty little secret."

"I don’t like lying," Zaria’s nose wrinkled a little at the idea, and she frowned at Ronnie. "You deserve better than that, anyways." Her eyes trailed down at her shoes, and she let out a soft breath, lifting a hand to run it through her damp hair. "I accidentally stood up my friend for lunch, I’m trying to think of a way to make it up to him. I don’t regret spending time with you, I just feel bad." she shrugged, feeling a little self conscious and vulnerable. conscious.

"You’re too sweet," Ronnie replied with a faint smile. "I imagine not all your friendships are as… mutually beneficial as ours," she continued, quietly clicking her tongue. "But you could always wait for him in his bed naked. It’d work on me." She shrugged and laughed innocently. "Otherwise I don’t have much advice. I’m not the best at the ‘making up’ thing." As if her whole situation with Theo wasn’t pretty evident of that.

Her mouth dropped open as her cheeks flushed brightly. "Noted," Zaira managed after a moment, clearing her throat and letting her eyes stray up toward the top of the elevator, trying to play off how flustered all of…that, had made her. She had a funny feeling that getting naked in James’s bed would have the opposite effect, but she was still undecided on what exactly to do…maybe it would come to her during training. "Thank you," Aria softened some, mentally shaking herself, Ronnie had offered advice, which was notably something friends did for each other, and that was something she could appreciate. "You’re pretty good at this friend thing." She joked, grinning at the other woman as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

Ronnie laughed softly, surprised to get a thank you rather than an eye roll given the advice she gave. "There’s plenty of time for me to disappoint you," she teased as she followed her out of the elevator, mentally preparing herself for whatever training was in store for them.

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Descendants

^{#796e9c ....|..... alloy ....|..... outfit .....|..... descendant tower}

Tobias disappeared into his penthouse after hearing the news about Iceman and his family. He remained locked away for the remainder of the evening, but he got little to no sleep. Most of his night was spent scouring the internet for any information he could find, like he did every time after a disappearance. And like every other time, he found nothing new… Nothing aside for an unaccounted for daughter. He could only hope she got away. That’s the most anyone could ask for. If he wasn’t in the tower he might have tried looking for her, but he imagined Luke or the I.H.A. was already on that… hopefully.

He managed to get a couple hours of restless sleep, before Tobias’s alarm woke him up just when the sun had started cresting over the horizon. With a groan, he slowly pried himself out of bed and groggily made his way to the shower. While he knew he was promptly about to go work out until he was dripping in sweat, he could never start a day without a shower and often accepted that he’d have to have a second one before noon.

The tower felt like a capsule frozen in time while the world continued to change all around it. Everything about his penthouse was the exact same, even down to the stocked bodywash in the shower that he used back when he attended. There was a selfish part of him that was happy to be back in the one place that truly felt like home with some of the people he called friends. But the circumstances soured any contentment he could find in it. He wasn’t there to train and grow, but to solve a crisis, and he was surrounded by more unfamiliar faces than old peers. He felt like a stranger in his safe space. It left him on edge and floundering to ground himself.

After a brisk shower, Tobias got dressed into something suitable for working out, a simple pair of shorts, a sleeveless hoodie and some running shoes. He made himself a water bottle, grabbed his phone, and put on his headphones. He lingered by the door as he turned on his workout playlist which, surprisingly, was mostly classical music with a heavy focus on the piano. With the volume up loud enough that it drowned out all other noises and half of his thoughts, he stepped out to the stairwell and started the long descent down to the ground floor.

Like he did every morning back during his time at the academy, Tobias started his day with an early morning jog. He left his water behind in the lobby and set out at a casual pace down the street. Alone, with nothing but his thoughts for company, he ran the entire length of Descendants Drive, which came out to a little over five miles. With everything going on, it probably wasn’t the smartest idea to run alone, but if nothing else, the one thing he learned during Helena’s abduction was whomever they were… They didn’t want him. He wasn’t sure if that was his saving grace or just pure torture. But if he wasn’t in danger of getting spirited away, then he wasn’t going to let himself remain a scared prisoner in a tower. Nothing could be accomplished while hiding inside a luxurious fortress.

With every step his mind replayed his and Helena’s attack like he’d done obsessively numerous times a day in hopes that he’d pick up on something new that he missed. But as Tobias’s speed quickened his thoughts shifted back to Luke’s message about Iceman and his family. There have been countless abductions but the killing of an innocent in the process was not something he was used to seeing. And the daughter… Luke said she didn’t appear to be taken, but wasn’t found. Westchester, New York wasn’t far away, an hour maybe if he ignored traffic laws. The temptation to leave and help search was hard to ignore. If that was Helena… or Mystique, he’d hope that someone, anyone capable of helping would. She was so close, but he had no way to even begin looking. How the fuck could he search an entire county looking for one single person with no idea where she started or what she looked like?

The frustration drove him harder until he was back at the tower, chest heaving and dripping in sweat. Tobias made his way back into the lobby where he found Alfred standing at the ready with his water bottle in one hand and a towel in the other. "You shouldn’t be out alone, Mr. Lehnsherr," the man’s face was full of concern as he warned him.

"They don’t want me, Alfred," Tobias reminded him as he took the towel and started wiping the sweat from his brow.

"I’d hate to see something happen to you due to false security."

Tobias sighed, draping the damp cloth around his shoulders before taking his water and drinking half of it. "I’ll run on a treadmill in the future," he conceded with a weak smile. If anyone else would have shown concern for his wellbeing, he probably would have shrugged it off and ignored it, but Alfred had been nothing but kind and caring since the day he arrived at the academy. Because of that, he found it exceptionally difficult to disregard him… And the man knew it, even if he never let on.

"Thank you for humoring an old man," Alfred said with a wary smile and a pat to Tobias’s shoulder.

He gave the older man a tight lipped smile and a nod of his head before making his way toward the stairs. Tobias didn’t love the idea of running on a treadmill but if it made Alfred happy he’d suffer through it. The compromise was relatively painless, but that didn’t mean he’d stay locked in the tower forever if he knew he could help someone in need. No one needed to know that though. That was one thing he’d risk being captured or angering the others for. He could ask for forgiveness afterwards.

Tobias spent the remainder of the morning in the gym, doing an obscene amount of reps on every piece of weight equipment possible. He took a break once when Alfred showed up with some breakfast and insisted he ate, but otherwise he worked himself near to the edge of exhaustion. It seemed anymore that was the one thing he had control over and with the world spiraling into chaos, control was the one thing he was desperate to cling to.

He had lost track of time on his second rotation around the gym when J.A.R.V.I.S. made an announcement throughout the tower, the familiar chimes striking Tobias with a wave of nostalgia. "Good morning. Given light of recent events, Mr. Coulson has arranged a training session which will commence in thirty minutes, at noon, on sub-level six. He has requested you all arrive unencumbered with any uniforms, gadgets, weapons or any other paraphernalia. Thank you."

He sighed, immediately regretting going so hard on his workout. Well, whatever. Tobias could train exhausted for all he cared. The likelihood of him always being at 100% in a fight was low. His muscles might have already been aching and he definitely had a couple loose stitches in his shoulder, but he’d be fine. Using the towel Alfred gave him, he wiped off what sweat he could and discarded it into a dirty basket before making his way toward sub-level 6. Considering he made his way downstairs less than five minutes after J.A.R.V.I.S.’s announcement, it wasn’t surprising that he was the first one there. Even back during his days at the academy, it wasn’t uncommon for him to be one of the first people at training. Tobias made his way over to one of the benches in front of the viewing window that looked out into the simulation room. With a quiet groan, he took a seat and waited patiently for everyone else to arrive.

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Camp Athens - Closed

^{#86a8ad ....|..... outfit .....|..... party ........................................................................ #5a3e85 ....|..... outfit .....|..... party}

"Well, I think you're a nice person too, and I mean it. I hope you have a nice night River. I'll see you some other time," Iliana said with a smile before she went to wander around the party only to eventually return and start ice skating.

River scooted a bit further away from the ice rink entrance and leaned back against the fence. He lightly crossed his arms over his chest and observed the party. He noticed a few lingering people around the tables and a couple doing cheesy dance moves like no one was watching, but otherwise things seemed to be a lot more calm and a lot less… pornographic, thank the Gods. As he looked over toward the bar, his gaze immediately locked on Anissa who was intensely focused on a shot held in her grasp as she walked straight toward him. He immediately adjusted his posture, standing up a little more but still trying to remain relaxed and leaning against the railing. He looked over his shoulder, double-checking to see if there was anyone around him but no… Unless Anissa was planning to experiment with shots and ice skating, she was heading right toward him.

Seeing that she looked in better spirits made his lips tug into a lopsided smile. River’s gaze fell to the precariously perched cherry bobbing on top of the shot as she stopped in front of him. He met her gaze as she smiled nervously and asked, "Hey… care for a nipple?"

First there was a noise somewhere between a cough and wheeze that caught in his throat. Then River’s careful balance faltered and he started slipping along the railing. His hand caught one of the rungs, steadying himself so he didn’t fall face first in the snow and make a bigger fool out of himself. He cleared his throat, cheeks turning as red as the cherry in the shot as his hands subconsciously felt for his nipples like they might have been poking out of his shirt or something. River spent half of his life shirtless but Anissa’s words immediately made him panic like he was flashing nip and looked stupid or something. But no, he was just stupid.

"No. I already have two I don’t think I—" Then his gaze briefly fell to Anissa’s chest. His eyes widened and he immediately looked anywhere else, the ground, the sky, the fire… Were their people fucking on the bar? He could look there. "Yours should stay in your dress," he said while pointing at her but never once looking anywhere remotely near her. Then it dawned on him… She was carrying a shot and maybe the cherry could look vaguely like a nipple? River finally met her gaze and pointed at the small glass. "That... That’s a nipple… Isn’t it?"

The sight of him slipping against the railing and then patting himself for any escapee nipples nearly undid her. A laugh, sudden and unbidden, bubbled up in her throat. Anissa managed to bite it back, but the effort sent a wobble through her lips. Then his gaze dropped, not to the glass in her hand, but to her—to her—

Anissa’s lips parted in shock and then pressed together hard. She ducked her head, the only indication of her suppressed laughter being her shaking shoulders. He was mortified. She was mortified on his behalf. And it was somehow the funniest, most human thing she’d experienced all night. Okay, sure, maybe she could have phrased what she’d said a bit better. But his reaction was nearly like the one he’d given when she’d joked about the gods, which, like her current situation, she felt the meaning was obvious.

There was absolutely no conceivable way he seriously thought she was offering to… to whip out her nipple and… what? Hand it to him? In the middle of a crowded party?

The sheer absurdity of the notion finally broke her. Anissa’s shoulders shook harder, and this time the laugh escaped, bright, loud, and completely helpless. She clapped the back of her free hand against her mouth, but it was a futile gesture; the ridiculousness of the situation demanded oxygen.

"Gods, River," she managed to gasp between breaths, lowering her hand and meeting his wide, horrified eyes. "Yes, the drink! It’s the drink." She lifted the shot glass again, the cherry still miraculously perched on its creamy peak, and wiggled it slightly for emphasis. "It’s called a Slippery Nipple. Not… whatever it was you just thought I meant."

River’s cheeks remained a warm pink as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. While he was utterly embarrassed, seeing the way Anissa’s face lit up with laughter made him smile. His chuckle didn’t quite match her level of entertainment, but it was genuine and loosened the bit of tension that had taken up residence across his shoulders. "Yeah, yeah. Ok. I get it. I’m stupid." He rolled his eyes, shaking his head with a lopsided grin. "You asked if I wanted a nipple… I don’t know how you expected that to play out."

He cleared his throat trying to push past his awkward embarrassment as he took a step toward her. Slowly, River reached out and plucked the small shot glass from her grasp with a pinch of his index finger and thumb. He raised the drink to eye level examining the layers of red, clear and cream liquids. His gaze flicked back and forth between the shot and Anissa. He couldn’t very well turn it down when she made her way halfway across the party to bring it to him, especially in heels, on grass and tipsy. A soft chuckle rumbled in his throat as he noticed her more relaxed demeanor and the faint scent of alcohol that came with her. While he had zero intentions of getting drunk, if a few drinks put a smile on her face and made her happy, then he saw no issues with it.

"You have to share it with me though," River spoke softly while holding her gaze. He raised a brow before carefully plucking the cherry from the top of the shot between two fingers. With a proud smile, he held out the small piece of fruit for Anissa.

Anissa's smile softened as he lifted the cherry between his fingers, and for a moment, she just blinked at it, her tipsy brain struggling to keep up with things somewhat. Reflexively, she reached out for it and only then did her gaze snag on the black fabric snug against her skin.

Her gloves. Of course, she still had them on.

The thought hit her like a hiccup of sobriety, sudden and unwelcome. As a result, her hand stalled in midair, fingers curling inward before her hand retreated to her side. For a second, she was caught in an internal standoff: a deep-seated reluctance to draw any unnecessary attention to the things she hid, warring with the ache for the simple, unthinking freedom everyone else seemed to possess.

Then the warm, liquid courage of the bourbon carried her forward, deciding for her. If she couldn't take it with her hands…well. There were other ways.

She parted her lips as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, Anissa leaned in, tilting her face upward so the cherry dangled near her mouth. She kept her eyes locked with River's as she accepted the offered fruit with a soft suck that pulled it from his grasp. The briefest brush of his fingers against her lower lip sent a tiny, electric jolt through her, a touch that was there and then gone, withdrawn entirely with her moving away.

An involuntary hum of gratitude vibrated in her throat as she bit down, the burst of syrupy sweetness from the cherry mixing with the bourbon and overtaking her taste buds.

“‘preciate it,” she said around the fruit, the words muffled before she finally chewed and swallowed.

River, obviously, had not been thinking about the fact Anissa was wearing gloves. The thought only crossed his mind when he saw her reach for it then retract her hand. Before he could decide if he wanted to toss it for her like a piece of popcorn or just awkwardly apologize and eat it, she tilted her head toward the cherry. He was unable to part his gaze from hers as she stole the small piece of fruit. Whatever redness had faded from his cheeks came back with fervor at the faintest touch of her lips grazing his finger. His eyes went wide, jaw snapped shut and he swallowed in silent, stunned disbelief.

He cleared his throat and peeled his gaze away from her. Then before uttering a word, River threw back the shot. The warmth from the liquor and rich flavor of Irish cream, sambuca and grenadine rested on his palate before he swallowed it in a single gulp. He grimaced while raising the empty glass to study it. "Bleh... I hate grenadine."

If she noticed the way his ears were pink or how his gaze had darted anywhere but her after the cherry incident, she didn’t comment. Instead, Anissa latched onto his thoughts about the grenadine.

“Apparently, it’s supposed to make everything else go down easier,” she countered, licking the last trace of syrup from her lip. “It’s not as bad once you acclimate to it.” Not that she was planning on helping him with that tonight, considering her plans to meet Blair.

"I think one is enough for me, thanks. I need to have a clear head tomorrow." His gaze fell to his hand, noticing a drip of cherry juice running down his thumb. Without giving it a second thought, River slipped the tip of his finger between his lips to lick it clean. It was only when his tongue pressed against the skin that he noticed what he was doing and what had touched that skin a few moments earlier. There was the soft smack of his lips as he quickly withdrew his thumb from his mouth and wiped it off on his pants.

"I…" Nope. Nothing came out. All the words bunched in his throat but not a single one slipped out of his mouth. River cleared his throat again. "Uh, thanks for the drink." He waved the empty shot glass between his fingers while sparing her a quick glance. "It tasted… interesting," he added with a nervous laugh and a deep sigh.

“You’re welcome,” Anissa replied. “And hey, ‘interesting’ is a win, considering the bartender looked like he was communing with the gods while making it.” The thought of the strange man fleetingly made her wonder what drink he might have concocted for Blair after she’d left. She supposed she could always ask once they met up again.

River chewed on his bottom lip as he set the empty glass down on the ice rink railing. "So," he tapped his fingers along the cold metal, "What did you get drunk on?" His brows rose as he found the courage to finally look over at Anissa and hold her gaze.

Anissa leaned against the railing herself, seeking its solid support as the world continued its gentle, alcohol-induced sway. She tipped her head toward him, the motion carrying an unselfconscious grace. “Bourbon,” she admitted, rolling the word around on her tongue as if tasting it anew. “Three shots. In a row.” A self-deprecating smile touched her lips. “With a new friend egging me on a little. Sooo,” she lifted a single finger in a playful, if relatively wobbly, warning, “if I say or do something stupid tonight… well… you’ll know the exact reason why.”

He snorted out a laugh as he lightly crossed his arms over his chest. Unknown to River, even drunk, Anissa’s presence caused his shoulders to slack and some of his tension drifted away. An easy and authentic smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Bourbon? When did you become an old man?" he teased, brows furrowing in playful disbelief.

His teasing earned him an eye roll.

“You should try it sometime, especially with how cold it’s going to be for a while,” Anissa replied, hugging herself. “Makes you feel all good and warm inside.”

The rascally tone was present, a thin veil over her honesty, but it faded a bit as she let her gaze truly settle back on him. He still looked rattled to her, and not just from the cherry fiasco she assumed. She remembered his voice on the beach, the tiny confession he’d offered about hating parties and how he couldn’t just hide away forever. The cause? All those pesky expectations clamped onto his shoulders. There was nothing she could do to take them away, but perhaps checking in would be enough for now.

“What about you?” she asked, her tone gentler now as she nudged his shoe with the toe of her own. “How are you holding up under all this?”

River’s brows rose as he looked over at her. His smile faded slightly in a pensive silence as he uncrossed his arms and slid his hands into the front pockets of his pants. "Made an awkward ass out of myself, fell in the snow," he sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Mostly existing around the outskirts." His gaze drifted toward the large clock on the side of the arena. Thirty minutes left. He could last that long. Then he did his job. He let everyone have their fun, tried to partake and was a good leader… He guessed. There was a part of him that felt a little guilty knowing the training he had in store the following day with half of camp being hungover, but in the end he wasn’t there to make friends. He was there to follow orders and train heroes, regardless of what that meant for his personal life. River looked over at Anissa trying his best to fake a somewhat believable smile. "I’m alright."

Anissa studied him with narrowed eyes that weren’t entirely convinced by the smile he’d seemingly pasted on for her benefit. “Mm. Liar,” she said softly, her tone a peculiar blend of sing-song lightness and unwavering seriousness. “Existing around the outskirts, hovering on the perimeter of all this… that isn’t the same thing as being alright, River.”

The bourbon had loosened her tongue, made her braver than usual, and she received and released the words without her usual filter. “You don’t have to be the perfect leader tonight, or what’s left of it. You don’t have to perform for anyone.” Her voice dropped, becoming more intimate, an invitation. “You could just… be here. Be present. With me.” She turned more fully towards him, her body angling into the conversation as her lips curved into a tentative, hopeful smile.

River’s gaze remained trained on her. Something about Anissa’s invitation felt… different. It made him flush, although he wasn’t entirely sure why it did. Maybe it was the way her voice dropped slightly or how she simply sought his presence. He didn’t know. He sighed softly as he pushed off the railing and turned his attention fully toward her. River took a step closer, letting his hand linger on the metal fence. "Alright," he spoke quietly while looking down into her eyes. "No leader… Just River."

“Just River,” Anissa repeated just as quietly as he had. It felt different to say his name this time; less like a title or a role he had to play, and more like the man standing beside her. The two words lingered in the space between them, but so did the silence that followed, a comfortable yet charged stillness that the thrum of the party couldn’t quite penetrate. Her mind, tipsy and uninhibited, reached for the only question that truly mattered to her in that suspended moment. It wasn’t about gods or leaders or expectations. It was simpler, and far more terrifying.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

"Of course." The words slipped out before he had the chance to ponder the question. Anissa wanted authentic River and that came with the part of him that constantly put his foot in his mouth. But he didn’t stumble trying to back pedal and take back the admission. Instead he sat in it, letting it sink into the silence between them. She was his friend, he wasn’t scared or embarrassed to admit that.

Anissa’s smile wavered, a fragile expression teetering between relief and an unknown terror at his answer. The honesty in it was disarming for her. It had been so long—truly, so long—since she’d felt she had someone she could count on. Restless, her hand, suddenly unsure of what to do with the buzzing warmth expanding in her chest, drifted almost of its own accord along the railing until her gloved fingers came to rest gently against his bare ones. It wasn’t much. If anything, it was clumsy and muted, the fabric a barrier that dulled the potential electricity of skin-on-skin contact. But the intent was there all the same: an offering of solidarity, a thank you spoken without words. Perhaps the glove even helped, keeping the moment safely within the realm of friends, even as the simple pressure of her hand against his stirred something greater, something more dangerous for her to want, deep within her.

“Good….because I think I needed to hear that more than I realized.” The words left Anissa on a shaky exhale, almost like she’d been holding them in for far too long. “But I should…” she hesitated, then chuckled under her breath. “I should find Blair before she thinks I ditched her for good. Last thing I need is her hunting me down with more shots as punishment.”

River’s gaze slowly drifted over to where her hand slid across the railing on top of his. He swallowed as the small, reassuring touch made his pulse quicken and his cheeks grow warm. But he didn’t move. On the contrary, he was half frozen like any movement or shift would cause her to pull away. It was only when she spoke that his thumb subconsciously brushed the side of her finger. "Right," he agreed softly with a slight nod of his head. His heart sank at how brief their conversation was, but he wasn’t going to keep her sulking in the corner with him when she finally appeared to be having fun.

He put on his best smile that might actually be good enough to fool a drunk Anissa and tried to slip back into the more playful banter that felt normal for them. "That’s probably smart." River chuckled quietly. "Anymore and you might need a lift back to your cabin," he teased.

“Hey, if you’re offering. I might need that,” Anissa joked as she straightened up from the railing. She tested her balance subtly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The movement required a touch more concentration than usual, but to her benefit, not too much. Regretfully, she slid her hand away from his, the loss of contact leaving a cool absence in its wake. Almost as a reassurance to herself, she added, “I’m not going far. Probably just skate around for—”

Her gaze moved and caught on the clock she’d glimpsed entering the party, the great hands seeming larger now than they had earlier when she hadn’t thought to pay them any mind. “—not that long apparently, damn.” Something about the relentless progression of those hands made the entire moment feel painfully temporary, like a kind of magic that existed only in the liminal space before the hour struck. It reminded her of Cinderella’s enchanted gown unravelling back into a servant’s rags at the final chime. Anissa knew, with a sinking certainty, that she would unravel too. Soon, she would revert to the girl who didn’t wear daring thigh-high boots, who didn’t laugh so freely with people she’d just met, who would never risk the simple, brazen act of brushing her hand against someone else’s. When the night ended, so too would the borrowed courage the bourbon had lent her, and the curated masks she wore every day would inevitably slide back into place.

All in the matter of 30 minutes.

When Anissa stood up without the assistance of the railing and attempted to balance herself, River’s hand hesitantly hovered in the air near her, prepared to catch her before she too took a dive into the snow. While his ego could survive the embarrassment of falling over like an idiot, he’d rather spare her a similar fate. "Is it smart to skate while drunk?" he asked, his brows knitting together with concern. "You’ll have like… literal blades on your feet?"

Anissa gave an unbothered laugh, an airy sound that brushed aside the understandable concern present in his voice.

“I think I’ll be perfectly fine,” she assured him, her tone light yet confident. “I’ve been skating since I was a kid. Honestly, it’s probably easier for me to be on ice than on solid grass right now.” She glanced down at her thigh-high boots, lifting one foot slightly as if to examine the impractical but beautiful footwear. “Especially in these beauties. Love ’em, but…” She let her foot drop back to the ground with a thud. “… you gotta admit, they’re not exactly the most functional choice.”

River’s gaze fell to her boots as she raised one of her feet. "I prefer the boots," he admitted quietly. It took a couple seconds for his brain to catch up to whatever bullshit his mouth spewed out that time. While his appreciation for her thigh-highs wasn’t a secret, that didn’t necessarily mean he was trying to rehash that conversation again. His face turned red… again and he averted his gaze while rubbing the back of his neck. "I’m gonna blame that on the alcohol. So that was technically your fault." He laughed awkwardly and kicked a small lump of snow with his shoe.

One could easily tell that Anissa was holding back a grin, her lips twitching as she watched him squirm. “Yeah, yeah, sure, I remember. Legs in the shoes, guy,” she recited back to him, rocking slightly on the heels of her boots. Still, a strange sense of loss enveloped her despite his standing right there, and the words slipped from her before she could second-guess the desire, the desperation, they contained.

“Don’t disappear before midnight, okay? Party hater or not, you shouldn’t have to bring in the new year alone.”

River raised his right hand and motioned his index finger in an X over his heart. "I’ll…" His gaze drifted around until he saw the familiar spot by the bonfire no longer occupied and isolated, just how he liked it. He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb in that general direction. "Be over there. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t kill yourself before the new year," he chuckled slightly. He couldn’t very well stop her from doing whatever she wanted, but drunk and ice skates really sounded like a terrible idea. He’d be a lot less panicked if he could, at least, keep an eye on her. It wasn’t his job but… Friends look after each other, right?

Anissa held his gaze, her eyes searching his face for any hint of a lie while she willed herself to ignore the traces of reluctance she detected. She was not about to back out now, not after she’d declared her intentions to Blair. Yet, intertwined with that determination was a more selfish kind of hope: that his apparent concern for her might be enough to anchor him here, to keep him from slipping away while she was occupied.

“I’ll be careful,” she reiterated, her tone now one of genuine assurance. “I promise.”

"I’ll hold you to that," he said with a smile while pointing a finger at her. River took a slight step back, sparing a glance over his shoulder toward the bonfire. "Well… You’ll know where to find me."

She took a small step back, testing her balance again. “Yeah…see you then.”

Her gaze lingered on him for one final moment, but this time she wasn’t searching for deception. Instead, she sought something more essential: a reassurance she could carry with her onto the ice to counter her own trepidation. Whether Anissa found it or simply decided not to wait for doubt to poison the moment, she turned toward the rink’s entrance.

^{interactions ....|.... none ............... mentions ....|.... blair ............... collabs ....|.... @Qia}

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^{#c9bef3 ....|..... outfit .....|..... party}

Baxter Marsh. He was a bit of an odd one, strong on the eccentric side, but he was entertaining, and surprisingly camp had been quite lacking when it came to entertaining company since she had arrived. His enthusiasm for mixing drinks was contagious and who was she to deny him the opportunity to craft something inspired by her dress? Aside from Ace who promptly got her out of it, Baxter was the only person to give her the attention she desired considering the amount of effort she put into her appearance that night.

The way he seemed to entirely forget who his father was until Blair guessed was actually hilarious, in the adorable way drunks or toddlers were bewildered most of the time and needed help turning on their own lightbulbs. She laughed softly, resting her chin on her clasped hands in amusement. If Baxter hadn’t said anything while hiding a bottle under his arm, she honestly wouldn’t have noticed the liquor or the faint glistening gold flakes floating in the liquid. Her smile grew knowingly, quietly appreciating that he either took playful instruction well, or they were of like minds when it came to the glitter.

"Ooo don’t do that," Bax replied after she introduced herself. "If you don’t tell me your name now, I won’t feel so bad asking your name again in the morning."

Blair’s brows rose as a mischievous grin tugged at the corners of her lips. "Flirt," she mused a second time. "At least buy me a drink first before talking like that… Oh wait." She smirked and laughed at her own lame joke.

It seemed an offering of a midnight kiss pulled him away from his game of cocktail mixing, if only for a minute. Baxter set down his collected bottles beside an empty glass and held his chin pensively. When nothing came to him he started pouring the liquors as he attempted to regain his rhythm.

"Aaa—?" Blair’s smile grew. "—Perr—?" Then faded. "—Ol..?"

"Do you mean ‘Apollo’?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"Uh—Yeah!" he replied enthusiastically.

"Then no."

"Oh…" Baxter’s shoulders sagged as his excitement slipped away.

Seeing his sudden shift made a small frown tug at her lips. Feeling generous, Blair decided to offer him a life line, although she didn’t imagine it’d help much when he struggled to remember his own father’s name. "But you were on the right track with the ‘A’."

Her comment seemed to brighten his spirits, shoulders raised back up and he immediately got back to work on mixing his mysterious concoction. Blair’s gaze followed his movements with an amused intrigue, watching him grab two separate glasses and then simultaneously mix two shakers. While he might have had a flighty air about him, she was impressed with his coordination. She could never juggle that, or maybe a part of it was the alcohol talking, but she was impressed nonetheless.

Her brow raised as he began pouring a cream colored liquid into the martini glass. She looked up to meet his gaze as he spoke. "Uh! Not done."

"Ok." Blair held up her hands innocently with a soft laugh.

Baxter grabbed the bottle he attempted to hide earlier, but she didn’t look away, trusting the process. She watched as the golden flakes rested on top of the creamy drink. As it all came together Blair tilted her head to the side with an amused smile. Then in the second glass, which was quite larger than she would have imagined, he started pouring out the second shaker and adding fruit.

"So… for the dress." He slid the martini across the counter towards her. "We have a modified ‘White Rabbit’. White Crème de Cacao, vanilla vodka, amaretto’s nutty depth, with just a splash of Goldschläger’s cinnamon to add that extra bit of spice. And that you wanted edible gold flakes are just a lucky, happy, seren-dip-i-tous coincidence as you might expect in Wonderland."

Baxter then slid over the second, and much larger glass. "And what better chaser for the ‘White Rabbit’ than ‘Alice’?"

Blair studied the second drink thinking it looked a little familiar. "Is that a tequila sunrise?"

"Sunset. The blackberry brandy would make it a sunset. You look like you do better with sunsets than sunrises. And for you, I’ve blended the better parts of a Hurricane and a Tequila sunset. With just a few fun surprises to make things interesting. Which I think are how you prefer life anyway."

"You know me so well," she praised him as she reached out to gently grab the stem of the White Rabbit? Blair pulled it in closer, spinning it slowly between her fingers as she watched the golden flakes shift lazily around the drink. "You’re also trying to get me fucking hammered," she teased before bringing the brim of the glass to her lips. "You planning on taking advantage of me, Baxter?" There was a devious glint in her eyes as she spoke. She tipped the glass back to take a sip then proceeded to down its contents until there was nothing left but a stray golden flake clinging to the side.

"Oh, wow." Her eyes went wide as she met his gaze from across the bar. "I probably should have started my night with that." Blair smiled, swapping one glass for another. She stared down at the darker liquid knowing full well how much her head was going to hate her in the morning. But as her inhibitions, what little there were, floated away so did her fucks. She took a long drink of the chaser. As she pulled the glass away from her mouth, Blair licked her lips with a pleased smile. "Do you have a killer hangover remedy in that crazy head of yours?" she teased.

Blair’s head was already spinning and she was sitting completely still. She slowly looked over her shoulder, smile growing as she caught a glimpse of Anissa and the nipple guy having a friendly conversation. That was right, she was supposed to meet her over at the ice rink. She sighed. The thought of ice skating while plastered sounded like a horrible idea, but she gave her word. There was no way a little ice was going to keep her from the possibility of a new friend.

She turned back to the bar and downed the rest of her second drink like someone who had plenty of practice drinking obscene amounts of alcohol. She smiled at Baxter, lightly tapping her hands on the edge of the bar as she slowly, and a little wobbly, stood up. "It’s Athena, by the way," Blair whispered, leaning forward slightly like she was sharing a secret with him. "She’s the smart one," she added with a little wink.

With a sigh, she pushed off the bar and took an uneasy step backwards. Blair snapped and pointed her finger at Bax. "You, my friend, make dangerous drinks." Her smile grew as her cheeks flushed from the copious amounts of alcohol. "But you’re cute, so I’ll let it slide."

She wiggled her fingers at him in a little wave before turning to face the ice rink. It took a lot of focus for her to walk in a straight enough line and make her way towards Anissa. Her feet kept going when her mind told them to stop and she bumped into the railing next to the entrance with a quiet oof. Blair looked over toward the brunette whenever she left the sexy brooding guy to join her. "I may have had too much to drink," she confessed with a laugh and guilty smile.

^{interactions ....|.... anissa & baxter ............... mentions ....|.... river ............... collabs ....|.... none}

Execute Order 66

Welcome!

Camp Athens - Closed

^{#bd1664 ....|..... outfit .....|..... #b45f06 ....|..... outfit .....|..... party > andy's cabin}

"Guess they don't teach manners here," Nate called out after them, making sure they both heard him loud and clear.

"Fuck," Andy muttered under her breath, letting her eyes close as her head fell. She was proud of Mason for being relatively tame, for him. But she also knew how one shitty word could set him off. She prayed he just ignored it, but her body still tensed preparing to intervene or drag him away.

Mason glanced over his shoulder as Nate ran his mouth then turned around to face him. "I’ll show you no manners," he began, taking a step forward.

"Hey," she spoke up, trying to get his attention. Andy’s hand reached up and took hold of his cheek. She gently tried to turn his head back toward her. Halfway there, her other hand cupped the opposite side of his face. "Hey," she repeated, this time softer and more intimate. When his gaze met hers, her thumb lightly stroked his skin in a calming and comforting manner. Her head leaned in slightly, closing some of the space between them.

The tips of her fingers on her right hand lightly ran across his forehead, along his temple and back through his hair over his ear. "I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have danced with him." Andy knew in her gut that accepting that dance was a bad idea but she ignored the signs to try and be friendly. That was her mistake and stupidity. She knew that and she knew better. "Please, don’t fight, not tonight," she whispered. She knew full well that she couldn’t keep Mason out of fights forever, but perhaps he could avoid it for one night.

He sighed out, trying to allow himself to calm and relax under her tender touch and proximity. "I know," he admitted. Tonight wasn’t the night for fighting and he’d rather not have made an enemy from the get-go but…"I didn’t want to make a scene, but you look too beautiful. Especially tonight." Naturally someone else would shoot their shot with Andy.

Her cheeks began to flush as a sweet, bashful smile crossed her lips. "Well," she started as her hands slowly fell from his face to rest on top of his shoulders. "You look pretty good yourself," Andy admitted as her gaze fell to take in the fit of his shirt, the way his sleeves were rolled up over his muscular forearms, and the tease of skin beneath the loosely unbuttoned collar. Her right slid down his chest, stopping at his abdomen and playfully tugged at the fabric of his blue button up shirt. "I really like this outfit," she confessed, barely above a whisper, before looking back up into his ocean eyes.

Mason looked her over, undoubtedly appreciative of the mesh dress and bodysuit she wore, a new spark igniting behind his eyes and the hint of a smirk on his lips. "I guess we’ll call it even then." His fingers inched their way to her waist. He had half a mind to tug her dress in return but it was better if he didn’t. He found himself leaning in, lips hovering temptingly close to hers, if he just leaned in that fraction more his lips could finally reembrace hers, but unfortunately there were elephants to address. He promised himself he would.

As he closed the space between them, Andy’s hand subconsciously tugged on his shirt, pulling him in. Her gaze flicked between his eyes and mouth. His lips were so close she swore she could almost feel the ghost of them brushing against hers. But then he stopped. Her eyes closed and she sighed as she released his shirt.

"What’s it gonna take for you to stop being mad at me?" He cocked his head. Meanwhile, his hands went to the small of her back, pulling her in closer and he swayed her. With or without music or completely off beat, it didn’t matter. He wanted to be in their own world.

While Andy’s heart sank at the shift in conversation, she knew it had to be addressed. She let the question hover as he pulled her in closer and started swaying slowly. Her fingers felt the contours of his muscles beneath his shirt as her hands slowly slid up his biceps and rested on his shoulders. Being so close to Mason, feeling her body pressed against his, melting to his touch… It was like returning home after spending months away. There was comfort and a nervous tension. Static danced along her skin. Every nerve tingled with longing and anticipation like the twisted knot in her gut at the top of a rollercoaster just before going over. Maybe it was because she missed him or because it had been months since he held her, and maybe the alcohol played a small part as well, but she wanted him so badly it made everything else foggy.

Her mind’s logic tried to overpower her heart’s yearning. The emotions spiraled within her like a typhoon. Mason asked her a question. She blinked hard, sifting through her cloudy thoughts to find and retrieve what he asked. It took her a moment to come back down to earth and stop focusing on how… incredibly hot he was. Stop it. Focus. She parted her lips to speak, but before anything came out he interjected.

When it looked like she'd fire a whole list at him, Mason got in first. “Uh uh uh,” he chided her gently before she could get carried away in anger.

Andy’s face scrunched in annoyance before she lightly shoved him. Not hard enough to knock him off balance or anything, but enough that he knew she was frustrated. "Ass... Asks a question but doesn’t let me answer," she grumped and shook her head.

Mason parted from her when she shoved him. He may have deserved that but he wasn’t looking to fight. “You know I miss you. You know I’m sorry,” he spoke low yet pleadingly for her to hear. “I’ve always been here for you and I’m going to keep being here for you.”

She sighed, slowly blinking her eyes as she tried to push away the frustration. Andy knew he was teasing and trying to bring some lightness into an already heavy topic, but she wasn’t in the mood. After a second, she rolled her eyes slightly and took the small step forward, closing the distance she made by pushing him away. Mason didn’t want to fight and neither did she. So much of their friendship had been spent fighting, from repressed feelings and shitty ex boyfriends, she didn’t want to continue their toxic trends into, what she hoped was, the beginning of a relationship.

Andy’s eyes closed as he pleaded. She exhaled softly and nodded her head as he spoke. "I know, I know."

Hesitantly, he raised a hand and even paused mid-way before he tilted her face up gently so she could look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” he told her again, even lower somehow, insistent for her gaze. He’d tell her as many times as it took, the meaning never diluting for him. Mason didn’t have many regrets, but threatening her in the tent and making Andy feel how she felt was one.

Andy’s eyes remained shut, scared to meet his gaze and that she might falter. She couldn’t see him, but she felt every small movement as his hand shifted from guiding her chin to caressing her cheek. She could smell the subtle notes of his cologne: musk, leather, cedarwood, and patchouli. Dark, intense, and moody… like him.

She sighed and opened her eyes. Mason held her gaze intently, his deep blue eyes unwavering as they pierced straight through her mental fog and churning emotions. Andy could see his remorse, feel it. She knew he meant it and how much their separation hurt him as much as it hurt her. But it wasn’t enough? Why wasn’t it enough? She wanted nothing more than to melt into his arms and let him kiss away the pain. But a small pang left behind a sliver of doubt and distrust.

“I’ve been a dick and stupid and self-sabotaging, but I don’t want to be anymore.” Mason titled his head side to side. “At least not with you.” It was out of his realm to promise that he wouldn’t be a dick for everyone else.

"Yes, you have," she replied honestly. There was no reason for Andy to sugarcoat her words or placate him. He has been a dick and self-sabotaging. He had her. There was no one else, no Ajax, and yet he somehow found a way to disturb the waters before they got the chance to settle. She sighed softly, her gaze fixated at a spot on his shirt as her head fell.

"Why, Mason?" she asked barely above a whisper. "Why’d you say it?" Her gaze flitted around focusing on anything else, the hangnail on her thumb she had been biting at anxiously for the past three months, the tiny missed stitch in the seam of his shirt, or the subtle rise and fall of his chest with every breath. "We fight all the time, but you’ve never spoken to me like that. You said you’d kill me, Mase." Andy’s voice was quiet and shaky. She didn’t want to talk about it, but they needed to.

He took in a breath as her earth hazel eyes left him to look anywhere else. This was what he had done to her and there honestly was no good answer he could give. Mason couldn’t even comfort her and wrap her in a hug because he was the problem. “It was a stupid, heated mistake.” He dipped his head to try and catch her eyes again. “A huge one.” She needed to know he wasn’t saying it was a mistake lightly and simply waving it off.

A single tear escaped from her right eye and ran down her cheek. Gods she didn’t want to cry. Andy was so tired of crying. She took a deep breath trying to calm herself and spared a glance up at him. "It was scary… You were scary," she admitted while looking back and forth between his eyes. She swallowed trying to force the lump in her throat back down and keep the tears at bay.

This time Mason’s eyes fled first to the ground, frowning. The last thing he wanted to do was make Andy ever feel scared of him. Literally anyone else could be, and that’d be fine, but not her. “I didn’t mean it,” he said. Mason would never harm a hair on Andy’s head. “I wouldn’t…” he shook his head to himself trying to imagine any scenario, even if Hades or Zeus demanded it, that he’d hurt her… But he couldn’t. He’d rather die. “I would never hurt you like that, Andy.”

"I know," her voice cracked. She did know… she did. But he still said it which only filled her head with a festering nest of doubt. Mason was the one person who saved her from the Underworld. He betrayed his father to save her life. He always, always put Andy first with a steadfast loyalty. She had always trusted him with her life, without hesitation… until those words left his mouth. A small fraction of that trust had broken, destabilizing the fragile beginnings of whatever they had.

He lifted his gaze but looked away again, afraid to meet the rejection, hostility or see her upset and doubt him. “I know it doesn’t make it right or okay. But hopefully you’ll give me time to make it up to you as a partner.”

"Is that what we are?" she mused with a weak laugh, attempting to find some lightness in the shadow that had been hovering over them for months. "I don’t think we ever established that," Andy added with a sad smile. They kissed, made love and told each other they loved each other, but they never really talked about it. No labels, no questions. Just one minute they were two, and then they were one.

It was what he wanted, but he couldn’t say it out loud in fear of her denying him. That, and it felt like a bad time to assume anything. Their loving encounters were only few and he already blew it so he couldn’t answer anything.

There was a long moment of silence between them. Andy’s eyes closed as she let her stresses and anxieties float away into the cacophony of the party. The sounds of laughter, toasting, and upbeat music that contradicted their own slow swaying rumbled around them. But even lost in the loudness a tense quiet hung over them like a low hanging storm cloud waiting to release rain at any moment.

In their own world, Andy let her head slowly lean forward until her forehead rested against his. "Do you want this?... Me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She remembered her obnoxious persistence, forcing Mason to be her friend whether he wanted to or not. No matter how much he tried to be cold and distant she was always there like a loyal stray puppy, always coming back. She practically forced herself into his life and into his shell. Perhaps this fissure in their relationship didn’t solely come from him but from her own stubbornness and her inability to leave the brooding, grumpy Hades boy alone. Perhaps… It was her that needed him and not him that needed her.

She kept her forehead pressed to his, scared to open her eyes and see whatever truth stared back at her. But when the silence was no longer bearable, Andy opened her eyes. Tears welled against her eyelashes as she looked merely inches across into his own, seeking the one thing she needed more desperately than anything else… Reassurance. She needed to know no matter what had happened and what he said that he loved her… that he was in love with her. Andy couldn’t bear the thought of being so deeply in love with someone who didn’t feel the same… not again.

"Of course I do!" He replied adamantly. Gods, how could she think otherwise? He pressed his nose to the side of hers. "Of course I do," he repeated softer this time and cupped the back of her head.

Her gaze shifted back and forth between his eyes, searching for any lie or dishonesty… but all she saw was the stunned truth staring back at her. Andy knew what he was thinking. She could tell by the initial abrupt and shocked contradiction. She could tell by the concerned furrowing of his brow as he searched her eyes for an explanation. He couldn’t fathom why she’d ask such a question, why she’d think he wanted anything else. She knew that, deep down she truly did. But she still asked. All of Ajax’s shortcomings left her with a weight of insecurities she couldn’t seem to shake. It wasn’t fair to Mason for her to keep projecting her own doubts and fears onto him. And it wasn’t fair to her for Mason to project his own insecurities and anger onto her.

"Don’t cry," he whispered, keeping his head to hers. He moved his hand to stroke her cheek with his thumb and wipe any tear that might’ve escaped.

She nodded her head. "I’ll try," she said with a weak laugh. Andy didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to cry or fight or be mad at him anymore. They were happy… for a time. It was brief, but it was bliss. She wanted that back… She wanted him back.

He swallowed a lump in his throat and drew Andy’s body in closer, guiding her waist towards him gently and carefully so that she could break free any time. The thing she failed to recognize was he needed her and he wanted her. He always did. He turned his face so that he could lay a tender lingering kiss on her cheek, though it was very near the corner of her lips. "I want this. I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted anything else," he confessed to her. He drew back slightly. "Do you know how I feel about you?"

Andy didn’t fight or pull away when he tugged her in closer. Her hands slid up to his shoulders as her chest lightly pressed against him. The warmth of his breath grazed her skin, running along her jaw and tickling below her ear. His lips were like electric fire against her skin, sending a chill up her spine and hitching her breath in her throat. Her head leaned into the kiss, prolonging the intimate, almost forbidden, touch. Like magnets, her lips were drawn to his. When he pulled away her mouth subconsciously followed.

Mason’s words broke her from her temporary trance merely inches from his face. His confession, although simple, carried such a weight that it crashed into her like a wave, leaving her head and stomach spinning. Andy exhaled a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her left hand slowly hooked around the back of his neck, running along his skin beneath the collar of his shirt. While he never shied away from a harsh truth, Mason wasn’t known for being vulnerable. But his desires were clear and concise. He didn’t falter, hesitate or take it back the moment the words left his lips. While she might have known how he felt… for far longer than she let on, hearing him admit it out loud made her heart race.

"You love me," she said barely above a whisper, half drowned out by the roar of the party around them. The inflection at the end of her words raised slightly, betraying her confidence and revealing her uncertainty. Mason had told her he loved her once before. But their relationship since that fateful kiss in the closet rested in an uneasy balance of ambiguity where they wanted more but teetered on the edge of friendship, unable to make that final leap. There were no labels, no clarity. They tip toed on egg shells around each other afraid one wrong word or action would derail everything… until it inevitably did.

She guessed correctly, but he still caught traces of doubt. While he hadn’t been the most forthcoming or confident in his feelings, Mason had loved her for a long time. Far longer than when he admitted it to her. He shook his head to himself slightly in disbelief and shifted to her other ear. "I love you." There was no faltering or fluctuation in his voice. Just stating a fact.

His words and breath caressed her skin, sending gooseflesh down the back of her neck. Andy closed her eyes while tightening her hold on him into more of a hug rather than a slow dance. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, taking in his scent and the warmth of his body against hers. "I love you too," she replied quietly, her voice half muffled by his shirt. No matter what he did or how infuriating he could be or how mad she was… That’d never change. She too had loved him far longer than she admitted. Even when she was in denial, it was there. It was always there.

After several minutes of comfortable silence in each other's arms, slowly swaying in circles, Andy pulled her head back to look up into his eyes. "Promise me…" she started. Her voice was quiet but certain, filled with forgiveness but also a warning, one that wasn’t to be taken lightly either. "Promise me you’ll never say something like that to me again." She didn’t mean ‘I love you.’ Mason knew what she meant, the origin of their entire conversation, of their three month long strife that weighed heavily on her with each passing day. She needed to know he’d never do it again, hear it from his own mouth.

Mason met her gaze and nodded softly. With complete sincerity, he replied, "I promise." He wasn’t one to promise much but that he could, and would do for Andy. He tucked the smallest stray bit of her hair that escaped her buns behind her ear and smiled warmly at the girl he had in his arms. The way it should be. He looked around briefly at the party then back at Andy. "Can I take you away for a bit?"

In the end, that’s all she ever wanted, for him to promise and to know, that even in his anger that she was still what he wanted. Andy’s right hand slipped from around his neck and slowly moved to cup his jaw. Her thumb stroked his cheek as she held his gaze intently. After a moment, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his in a tender, loving kiss. Her arms tightened around him, fingers slipping back through his hair, holding him close. It was a silent gesture to show she forgave him. Her kiss spoke the words she did not speak, desperate to fill the gaps of months apart. It was gentle at first but grew deeper with her longing. Her lips locked with his before parting slightly to caress his tongue with her own. He tasted like alcohol and faint traces of pomegranate. Mason was warm and passionate in the way she missed the most. In a way that felt reserved for only her.

He found himself waiting and hoping to be able to kiss her and touch her as a lover again but he wanted it to be her call. And she called. While they were in the middle of the field, in the middle of some party, he only saw and cared for her. Mason kissed her back, expecting a sweet brief but meaningful kiss. But it turned into more. His brows shot up a little surprised that Andy’s lips lingered but he was happy to oblige, matching her intent and longing with his own, his arm hooking around her waist as if they could get closer somehow.

Reluctantly, Andy broke the kiss to catch her breath. She remained close, the tip of her nose lightly brushing his. She wasn't surprised he was looking for a chance to leave and while Andy was the one who organized the party, she wanted to spend time with him more. For the past three months all she wanted was him, now that she was in his arms… Party be damned.

Her fingers tangled further into his hair as she slowly opened her eyes. "Take me home," she finally replied to his question barely above a whisper. With every word Andy spoke, her lips faintly grazed his, tempting him… and her with another kiss.

As cliche as it was, his heart beat dangerously fast against his chest. She took the rug from under him and left him breathless, and when his gaze fell back on her, hearing what she said, his eyes might’ve flickered with surprise for a moment before something more primal triggered in him. He kissed her quickly, deep and firm but quick, having done his waiting and patience for long enough. "Careful what you wish for," he purred low, before grabbing her hand and leading her off the field and down the path of their cabins without any sorry looks back at the party.

Mason could barely wait to reach her cabin. He got about halfway up the path before turning to her, pulling her in close, cupping her neck and kissing her again. He had wasted enough miserable months being sorry and missing Andy that he wasn’t about to be modest or apologetic for his hunger and lust for her.

She barely had time to smile as he turned toward her and stole another kiss. It was passionate and desperate in a way they hadn’t dared at the party. Mason’s touch was electrifying wherever his fingertips grazed her skin and held her close. Their lips were ravenous for each other as months of pent up tension and longing boiled over. They starved for each other in a way that made them impatient, unable to keep their hands off one another.

He drew away breath mingling with hers, bunching the bottom of her dress up, greedy and eager to get rid of the fabric despite not quite being in the safety of shelter yet. In fact it was probably the only saving grace of not yanking it off and freeing her from it.

Andy’s chest heaved, trying to catch her breath as she opened her eyes to hold his gaze. She briefly glanced over her shoulder to see how far her cabin was before looking back at him. Her lips lingered dangerously close to his as her hands untucked his shirt. She slowly started walking backwards towards her cabin as her fingers made quick work of unbuttoning it. With his skin exposed, her palms pressed against his abdomen, trailed along his muscles, over his chest and hooked behind his neck.

Without warning or hesitation, trusting he’d catch her, Andy leapt up into his arms. Her legs tightly wrapped around his waist to help support her weight. She cupped his face in her hands, breathing heavily, as she held his gaze. No words were spoken, but her eyes said everything. How much she missed him, how she loved… and how desperately she needed him.

With an open shirt, two hands automatically caught her, clasping under her backside to hold her, but he didn’t flinch or break their stare for anything in the world. As much as his lips ached to find hers again, the look she gave him was rare, one he was lucky to have and he wanted to bathe in. Though undoubtedly, his mouth found hers, and his feet crept forward until he bumped Andy into the door he was trying to find. Mason smirked against her lips briefly before lowering his mouth to her neck while she found the way inside.

Something between a laugh and a soft moan nearly broke their kiss as Andy was pressed back into the door. She smiled as she felt Mason’s own smirk grow against her lips. Her eyes closed and breath hitched in her chest as he started trailing kisses along her neck. Reluctant to release her hold on him, she finally let her right hand slip from his shoulders and fumble along the door in search of the handle. It was hard for her to focus with his hands and lips all over her, but eventually she managed to open the door after an ungodly amount of time.

Mason squeezed her bottom before stumbling over to the bed and collapsing with her with a small chuckle. It was only then he released Andy, when she was under him, and he started to shrug out of his shirt.

"I want to do that," she whispered between heavy breaths while looking up into his eyes. Her hands ran up his chest and hooked beneath his opened collar. Her lips lingered dangerously close to his as she slowly slid his shirt down his arms and tossed it aside.

He couldn’t fight the temptation to give her another kiss before helping get rid of that pesky lace dress. When it was up and over her head, he paused. Not in hesitation or doubt, there wasn’t a single doubt about having Andy like this—he wanted her every moment they were apart for the past three months—instead his eyes drank in every detail of her body, scars from past battle wounds, the tone of her legs and thighs from daily running, and the curve of her breasts that dipped beneath the collar of her bodysuit. Mason had been patient and respectful, but now that she laid beneath him all pretenses vanished out the open door. He grabbed two handfuls of the black fabric and in one swift tug he ripped the bodysuit open, freeing her from her last piece of clothing.

While Mason slowly lowered himself down to her, Andy held her hand out to the side, never breaking his gaze. With a flick of her wrist the front door slammed shut and all the curtains closed around her tiny glass cabin as they got lost in each other’s embrace.

^{interactions ....|.... none ............... mentions ....|.... nate ............... collabs ....|.... @Sir Sparky}