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16 April 2010 @ 11:00 pm
The road goes ever and on and on...  
Log. Tuesday, March 30, 2010. [NYC] Manhattan: Central Park South.

Spring is here! And it’s really about damned time. The day is pleasantly warm and there isn’t a cloud in the sky, which is more than enough to bring Sunset out of her ‘Oh God, why is it so cold, screw going outside.’ funk. Dressed in dark wash jeans and a dark purple t-shirt, the redhead has found herself at the Bethesda Fountain after simply wandering around the park for what seems like a very long time. Perched on the edge of the fountain with one hand lazily gliding along the top of the water, Sunset takes in the statue with an admiring and very cheerful eye.

Clad in a tight fitting pair of blue jeans and a forest green, short-sleeved shirt, Iolaus steps slowly down the long set of stairs that leads down to the Bethesda Terrace with a smile on his face. Apparently /someone/ is happy about the change in weather. Walking quickly to the side of the fountain, about a quarter of the way around the rim from the purple clad lady, he sits down on the edge and looks up into the eyes of the statue.

Noticing Iolaus as he walks near, Sunset’s attention stays focused on him for a good long moment. He is /familiar/, and she isn’t sure where he is familiar from which is something that will bother her until she figures it out. Shifting to get a better look at Iolaus, she leans forward to rest her elbow on a knee, chin in her palm and unabashedly /stares./ Because, sometimes, Sunset can be horribly rude.

Staring up into the face of the statue, Iolaus takes a few seconds to notice the eyes on him. As the hairs on the back of his neck stand up slowly, he shifts his face over and meets the other fountain-sitter's eyes with his own. "Hello." he says, raising an eyebrow as a bemused smirk grows onto his lips. "Can I help you?" A flash of white teeth as he gives the other person a mischievous smile.

Julien is rather enjoying the springtime, himself. Dressed in pale linen pants and a button-down short sleeved shirt whose forest green inadvertently matches Iolaus's (hey, it brings out his eyes!), he saunters down the path, a paper bag held in one hand. Something dry and not /quite/ a smile pulls at his lips as he nears the fountain, but the expression fades into bland neutrality as he approaches Sunset. "{Good afternoon, my dear,}" is his greeting, offered in French along with a light kiss on the cheek. And then: "I come bearing food." From the bag he extracts a foil-wrapped cylindrical shape, and a glass bottle of tamarind soda, offering both to Sunset. It is highly unlikely, considering the proximity, that he has failed to notice Iolaus, and yet the man receives no acknowledgment. There is food, after all. First things first.

Shooting Iolaus her own small smile, Sunset is very close to answering before her one true love shows up. (That one true love being /food/, of course. Julien is just the bearer.) “Julien!” She answers, rather delightedly as she accepts both the food and bottle of soda, answering in rather horribly accented French of her own. “{First, you flaunt that wonderful basement in front of me, and now you tempt me with food. If I did not know better, I would say that you are trying to /seduce/ me.}”

Iolaus blinks a few times and looks over to the other man, his eyes dipping up and down the other man's body. If he is surprised by the other man's presence, the only hint is a slight widening of the mischievous grin hanging off of his lips, and the slightly hungry light that sparks in the depths of his eyes. Still, as the other man has not seen fit to acknowledge him, nor does he the other man. Instead, he simply turns his attention back to the other member of the New York Fountainsitter's Club - Sunset.

"{I /am/ in better clothing for it,}" Julien acknowledges, amusement threading through his tone as his gaze drops to his decidedly not-skintight-leather outfit. He takes a seat beside Sunset, removing an identical foil parcel and identical soda from the bag. "Falafel," he supplies by way of explanation. "With tabouleh. And baba ghanoush. You know, I believe it might have been better had you chosen a different location in which to meet. You run into some of the strangest people, here."

“Yes, but those /were/ very nice pants.” Sunset teases, her accent suiting her English much better than it had French. Setting the bottle of soda down next to her, the falafel remains in her hands as she resumes her staring at Iolaus, Julien’s last sentence setting her brain into motion. Glancing between the two men for a moment, she eventually smiles, almost /beaming/ in Iolaus’ direction. “/You/ are Julien’s /Iolaus./” She finally speaks, almost proud that she’s finally recognized him and made the connection.

As his smile redoubles, Iolaus nods his head in acknowledgement. "Very, very weird people." he says, breaking into a full-on grin as he scoots slightly closer to the other two so that Julien no longer blocks his view of the girl. "He's been talking about me, has he? Really, Julien, I didn't know you cared." he teases, playfully. "Talking about me to your friends?"

"Friend," Julien corrects mildly, "singular." He carefully peels back the foil from one end of his pita wrap, taking a small bite and washing it down with some of the soda. "And he is not /my/ anything." His lips press together, gaze briefly thoughtful as it flicks towards the other man. "Well. Not yet, at least." Another small bite, another small sip, and he wonders with a similarly small smile: "/Did/ you ever convince Warren that he needed to get into my pants?"

“He has been talking /and/ complaining!” Sunset also corrects, cheerfully and amused. Really, she means no harm with what she is saying. “He doesn’t like when people like /him./ He has even said that you are trying to take my place.” Unwrapping her own lunch, Sunset’s first bite is halted by Julien’s question, causing her to give a part disappointed, part exasperated sigh. “I have not even been able to convince him to just take /inspiration/ for a /few choice pieces/ of your collection. He did say that getting into your pants was negotiable, but I would much rather focus on the possibility of one day getting him to use a riding crop.”

Iolaus' eyes widen briefly in surprise - shock, even - a small, quickly corrected movement, but an indentifiable one to someone who had been watching after Julien's 'Not yet.' The comment about Warren doesn't really seem to phase him as his eyes flick down into the pool of water, dipping his hands into it thoughtfully, almost instantly lost in his own thoughts. Quite the kick in the head, it seems. "Mm." he mutters under his breath, then looks up with a smile working its way back onto his face. "Well, if he's complaining, then it's certainly all right. If he was talking about how fantastic I was, I would have to recommend he be captured for being a body double." he says, with a wink at Julien's friend. "I recommend not giving him the choice on the matter. Implied consent and all that good stuff."

There is another brief, faint twitch of Julien's lips as he looks at Iolaus's face, and he lets out a slow breath that is not quite a laugh, head shaking slightly. A faint tension creeps into the line of his jaw, and he pulls his gaze away from the other man to focus on Sunset instead. "Perhaps I should just package a few choice pieces and mail them to you both. It would be terrible etiquette not to make use of a gift at /least/ once."

“I have very rarely seen Julien talk about how wonderful anyone is. If he /had/ talked of you in such a way, I would have wondered if you had some sort of powers involving mind control.” Taking a bite of falafel, Sunset thinks on that as she chews. Her first instinct is to say ‘Yes, please.’, if only to see Warren’s reaction once he opens the package - She still regrets not seeing his reaction to Julien in skintight leather pants. - but she still has to think on how he would react /afterwards./ Things between Julien and Warren are already somewhat strained, and she would not want to chance making it worse. “I believe that will not help very much. His reasoning was that his upbringing would never allow him to strike at me, which is very reassuring, but you would think that it would be different if I were /asking/ him to. Perhaps after you let me try and convince him a little while longer?”

"There we go." Iolaus says, grinning. "I told you so. It would, indeed, be horribly unlike him - distressing unlike him, even. If he was so happy and cheery, really, he'd just be like everyone else. And how interesting would that be?" Iolaus says, flashing Julien a teasing glance. "Not very interesting, that's what."

"I am a terribly happy person," Julien says, his tone dry as desert sand and his expression even drier. "I am a /fountain/ of cheer." He takes another bite of his wrap, and once he has swallowed it, adds, "-- As nice as it is that he would never hit you, that reasoning is rather absurdly puritanical when you /want/ him to do so. Hopefully you can convince him to expand his worldview. At least within the confines of the bedroom."

“Julien is a professional happy-maker!” Where Julien’s tone is dry, Sunset’s is very, very cheerful. /Obnoxiously/ cheerful. “He is just like a clown, but without the /abject horror./” In response to Julien’s encouragement, she only gives a somewhat unhopeful shrug as she takes another bite of food. Her expectations of convincing Warren to do anything kinky are obviously lowering by the day. Sadface.

"Or on the dining room furniture." Iolaus adds, cheerfully. "One must be creative, after all. Spice things up and all that." He trails his hand through the water, leaving ever growing concentric circles in the wake of his fingertips. "Besides, where would the interest be if everything was so routine? Missionary position every time?" He scoffs. "Boring." Waving a hand briefly in the air, he continues. "In my professional opinion as a physician, a healthy sex life is good for both parties. I can write it on a prescription, if you think that will help." he continues, his level of cheer rising to near Christmas proportions.

"Iolaus /is/ an expert in mutant health." Julien is deadpan. "-- Or, if you wish, I could --" He turns a hand upwards, fingers flexing slowly. "Attempt some convincing of my own. I /am/ very persuasive, you know."

“We have already christened every room and every piece of furniture it would be possible to have sex on. In every position humanly possible. He apparently can even /fly/ and have sex at the same time, which makes me regret my fear of heights and flying, I must admit.” Sunset replies, talking about such things as if she were simply talking about the weather. Perhaps it is a good thing that Warren isn’t here. Leveling a dangerous look at Julien, the redhead stays silent for a short instant. “No. I do not believe I wish that.” She eventually answers, voice quiet and even.

As Julien's fingers flex in the air, a shiver runs visibly through Iolaus' body, spiking through him as if an invisible hand had ran a feather up from the small of his back, along his spine, to tickle at the back of his ear. "No doubt there." he says, dryly. "After all, his profession is rather akin to persuasion of a sort, no?"

"Fly?" Julien's eyebrows raise, expression intrigued. "-- Sunset, you /must/ conquer your fear of flying, if only so that you can have done something sexual that even /I/ have never tried." Julien would lose every game of I Never he ever played. Or win! Depending on your point of view. He slants a sideways glance towards Iolaus, a brief smirk flickering quickly across his features and then vanishing again. "Alright," he answers Sunset. "I will keep my persuasions confined to --" His hand turns upwards, fingers spreading, and then falls to his lap. He flicks another glance at Iolaus, but doesn't complete the sentence, just turning his attention back to his wrap for a few more bites.

Glancing between Julien and Iolaus, Sunset gives a small grin as she catches the silent actions and reactions, mischief coming into her eyes. “Well, now that the weather is warmer, I might give it a try. After all, I highly doubt that my mind will be on how far off the ground I am once it is firmly focused on other things.” Picking up her soda, she doesn’t take a drink just yet, continuing to watch the two men she’s been conversing with before giving into her temptations to tease. “Should I leave you two alone? I /would/ hate to be the cause of /any/ pent up sexual frustration.”

Hunger shines in Iolaus' eyes for the brief glance of the other man's eyes on him, before the entrancing spell of Julien's glance is broken. Then Iolaus turns those orbs back onto the member of the more gentle sex (though, perhaps considering the company, gentle is not quite the right word) and smiles. "More appropriate venues?" Iolaus suggests, in an entirely unhelpful manner. "Clients? Me?" The last word is - god bless him - almost hopeful. Iolaus chuckles. "No, no, I don't think there's any fear of that."

"Of course, I have to wonder, if any planes happened to chance by while you were up there -- /well/. Their passengers would get quite a treat." Julien takes a long pull from his bottle, and exhales a sharp snort of laughter at Sunset's statement. "People who will appreciate it," he finally supplies, for Iolaus's benefit. "And believe me, Sunset, when it comes to Iolaus, I am /perfectly/ capable of causing sexual frustration all on my own."

“We would not go quite /that/ high up.” She protests, brow creasing at the very idea of going to such heights without some sort of floor beneath her. “And even if we did, the only thing we really would have to worry about would be people’s affinity to take pictures of anything they consider abnormal. I certainly would not care about anyone watching.” Full out grinning now, Sunset laughs, head tilting back in amusement. “Julien, you are perfectly capable of causing sexual frustration in /me/, and you have not even - I blame your basement.”

The slightest tinge of pink works its way into Iolaus' cheeks as he looks down at the other man's words, then looks up at Sunset with a grin and a slightly slanted nod of his head. "His... basement?" Iolaus' eyebrow rises, and he looks with a curious look at the back of the other man's head. "I most definitely want to know."

"My basement has very excellent wines," Julien replies evenly. "Some of them are practically orgasmic."

Lips parting to give Iolaus a very detailed description, Sunset stops as Julien beats her to it. Though his answer is a little bit more misleading than hers would have been. Just a /smidge./ Lips twisting into a disappointed pout in Julien’s direction, she eventually shrugs in Iolaus’ direction, giving a mysterious smile. /Apparently/, the basement is not something open for discussion. Pity.

Iolaus looks back and forth between the two people sitting on the fountain with him, and his lips take on the distinct form of a pout. "I'm sure," he says, sarcastically. "While I don't doubt that is the case, somehow I don't think that's quite the whole story. However... I'm sure I will find out in my own time." he says, smiling. "Oh, that reminds me. A truck will be coming by with the items we previously discussed in the next few days, Julien."

"My basement is orgasmic," Julien clarifies further, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "That is, indeed, quite the whole story." He polishes off the last bite of his falafel wrap, crumpling the foil into a tight ball before wiping his fingers clean on a napkin -- not that he'd let them get messy to begin with, really. Iolaus's statement gets a tip of his head in a nod, and a very slight widening of his smile. "Give me a more concrete time when you know it, and I shall be sure to take good care of them."

Where Julien has finished eating, Sunset is barely halfway through her food. While it is very delicious, the conversation and company is far more interesting. “Items?” She repeats, curious. “Well, if we are not allowed to really talk about the wonderful, /tease/ of a basement you have, may I at least ask about what items you’ll be receiving, Julien?”

"What, I can't tease back with my own secrets?" Iolaus says, with a sanguineous and silky smooth smile, emphasizing the word just as Sunset had. "Maybe it, too, should be something that you learn from Julien... in time." he says, a half smirk threading through his smile. "Just leave it as a mystery." He pauses for a second, then grins. "Nothing that mysterious, I'm afraid. Just books."

"His library needed a proper home. I have rather a soft spot for stray books in need of love," Julien informs Sunset seriously. "He was letting them languish in /storage/. Unread, uncared for. That is no way for a book to live. I had to rescue them."

Raising an eyebrow at Iolaus with a smile of her own, Sunset chuckles. "Well, how very noble of you, Julien. It is nice to know that if anything were to ever happen to me," Again. "my personal collection would possibly find a foster home in you. And you can tease with plenty of secrets, Iolaus, but I do believe that I have a few more secrets than you."

Chuckling, Iolaus bows his head in acknowledgement. "Of that, I have no doubt." he says, flashing her a wide smile that has only the slightest hint of being forced lingering around the edges. "Careful with your recommendations, though. Julien might well kill you for your collection." he teases, lightly. "Or, at the least, books might begin to vanish from your collection and mysteriously, Julien's collection might be obtaining the exact same books."

"I can always be depended on to look out for the welfare of books in need." Julien lifts his tamarind soda to his lips, taking another long drink before offering the bottle to Iolaus. "The will of their owners is irrelevant. Whatever I do, I do only with the books' best interest in mind, of course. Sometimes, drastic measures must be taken."

“Julien, I hardly believe that any of my books are living unfulfilled lives. All I do when I am not at work or spending time with Warren or someone else, is read. If you believe that /anything/ in my collection is filling neglected or unloved, I would really prefer you tell me before taking such drastic measures so I can fix that. And if I forget to do such a thing, /then/ you can take them.”

"Julien? Be direct?" Iolaus says, taking the drink from Julien and flashing him a thankful smile. He takes a sip of the drink, closing his eyes as he savors the new taste for a moment. "Mm. Delicious, as usual." he says, extending the drink back to the other man with his fingers nimbly wrapped around the bottleneck. "Thank you."

"I cannot make any promises, Sunset. If I see a book in pain, there may not always be /time/ to have /discussions/ first. I do what I need to do." Julien's tone is very solemn, but his green eyes are dancing with laughter as he reaches to take the bottle back from Iolaus, his fingers brushing the other man's lightly as he does so. "I am not saying your books /are/. Just that if they /were/, well. There is no telling what steps I might have to take."

Sending Julien a mock glare, Sunset takes a bite of her falafel, chews and swallows before answering. “Well, I am glad to at least know where to look if I find one of my books has run off. I would hate to worry about it being lost and out in the cold before asking you if you’ve seen it.” Taking a sip of soda, the redhead glances between the two men again. “The day when Julien is /not/ direct is the day I fear for us all. That day, the first obvious sign of Armageddon is upon us.”

A small shiver runs visibly through Iolaus' body as his fingers brush gently against the other man's. "Next stop, people on horseback running through Central Park... the clinic gets funded at a proper rate - it's only a short hop, skip, and jump from there to burning in hell for all eternity." he says, grinning.

"Oh, I am fairly certain that I will be burning in hell for all eternity, Armageddon or no Armageddon," Julien says -- rather /cheerfully/, considering the statement. Iolaus's shiver just gets a smirk. "He is a very easy instrument to play," he informs Sunset, not even bothering to make the comment an aside.

The shiver gets an amused and partially evil grin, it only widening with Julien’s comment. “That I can see. I’m sure you play him /wonderfully/, as well. You /are/ very talented, after all. Was he very hard to learn?”

"Doubtfully." Iolaus pipes up, bemused. "In fact, I think he quite figured out what I like by accident. Trying to get rid of me didn't quite work the way he expected, I think. Or he's far more brilliant than I already thought." A wink at Sunset as he turns his grinning, mischievous smile on Julien. "Was it an accident, or did it take work and thought?"

"If I truly wanted to be rid of you," Julien says with a dry twitch of a smile, "You would be gone." He takes another drink, and once more offers the bottle back to Iolaus. "I read a lot." This is offered to Sunset, by way of answer, perhaps. "I /enjoy/ reading. There is so very much to learn, when you pay attention. As stories go, he was --" His hand turns up, fingers spreading. He does not, actually, conclude the sentence.

Head tilting, curious, Sunset doesn’t answer for a long moment. “Julien /is/ brilliant. One of the smartest people I know, by far. He also has a point. If he wanted to get rid of either of us, for whatever reason, he could do so /extremely/ easily.” Though, Sunset is almost certain that he would not get rid of her anytime soon. /Almost./ “He is anything but predictable, that is for sure.”

"Predictable is boring." Iolaus says, unashamedly rubbing his fingers unnecessarily along Julien's hand as he gently takes the soda from the other man. "And, yes, he certainly is brilliant. Nor do I doubt his ability to get rid of me - us - if he wished." A somewhat wistful look shines in Iolaus' eyes for a second. "Hopefully that is not a future occurence on the horizon."

This time, the contact comes with a brief thrill of pleasure -- just for a moment, and it fades as soon as Julien's hand pulls back. "I may not be boring, but I am eminently predictable," Julien contradicts Sunset mildly. "The things I like in my life are constants. I am remarkably easy to please, once you know the correct methods."

Noticing the wistful look, Sunset’s eyebrows raise to nearly her hairline before she looks back to Julien, once more slipping into French. “{Julien, I am beginning to wonder what exactly you have done to this man to cause him to act like... this.}” She says, amused, flicking a hand in Iolaus’ direction. “{It is almost like watching a high school girl with a crush, except much more... Well, much /more./}”

Iolaus' previous shiver redoubles as Julien's powers take their work on him, a flash of pleasure up and down his spine that lights a fire behind his eyes. "To pi and phi, you and me. May we stay constants forever." he says as he raises the other man's bottle in a saluting toast, then watches the interplay between the two of them, despite his language barrier. Something about him, that much is clear.

"{I told you. He is an easy instrument to play. You should have seen him the first night that he spent at my house.}" Julien's expression is definitely more smirk than smile as he gestures towards Iolaus. In English, all he says is, "Forever is an awfully long time."

Smile widening at Iolaus’ shivering, Sunset gives a small laugh. “{I do not doubt that it was a rather... fascinating sight. Perhaps one day you will be able to show me a repeat performance? I have never really seen your powers work on someone else.}”



Log. Wednesday, April 07, 2010. [NYC] Chateau Nior - Roof.

It's a gorgeous day. Clear and bright and barely a cloud in the sky ... the sort of day that /begs/ for flying. And Warren doesn't have to resist the temptation anymore. So he'd gone up to the roof to go fly for a bit.

Sunset certainly could resist the temptation plenty, if she wanted to. If she had been blessed with wings, they would have never been used for their natural ability. But, Warren loves flying, and she loves Warren, and that’s all there is to that. (And admittedly, she’s very curious about certain things he’s mentioned, but still not sure how in hell that would even work.) Not venturing towards the edge of the roof, she keeps her hands shoved into her pockets to keep them from shaking, blatantly ignoring the nausea rolling her stomach around. She’s done this before. She can do this now. Hopefully.

Warren is having a /blast/. Not exactly showing off, but not doing the flying equivalent of laps, either. Lazy figure eights and loops and rolls, done at a comparatively sedate (for him) thirty or so miles an hour. As such, it takes him a few moments to catch sight of Sunset, but once he does, he veers back towards the roof, landing lightly on the ledge, looking windblown and grinning like a loon. "Hello, Sunny."

“Hello, gorgeous.” Sunset answers, a smile twitching at her lips at his appearance. “You look as happy as a kid that’s won a week’s vacation to Disneyworld.” She points out, eyes roaming over his hair and smile before taking in the rest of him. Even now, she’s still unused to how pretty he is. Possibly, even prettier than her. “Having fun?”

Warren gave his wings a flick to settle the feathers before folding them neatly back. "Yeah. I still get a kick out of being able to fly just for the heck of it." He admitted.

Unable to stop a full smile now, she walks closer to him, nervously glancing at the ledge he’s standing on and the lack of anything but open air behind it. “Would you get a kick out of taking me? If I can put aside that silly little fear of heights I have?”

Warren gently extends a wing, forming a sort of barricade between Sunset and the edge. Then grins big enough she can probably see his back teeth. "I'd love to." He said, his tone wholly approving of the idea.

Sunset’s nervousness obviously declines a bit as he blocks off her view, the redhead sending him a grateful glance before she catches sight of the grin. “Nothing /too/ vigorous, of course.” She teases. “But feel free to distract me from the fact that we’re... however many horrifying feet up in the air we are in any way you want.”

THAT makes Warren get a positively gleefully evil look on his face. "You really shouldn't say that sort of thing." He says, that grin still firmly in place. "Because there are all /sorts/ of things I can do to distract you."

That grin really should probably make her nervous, if she knows what’s good for her. Probably. Instead, she only answers with a grin on her own, stepping closer to the ledge now that her view is blocked, eyes kept firmly on Warren. “Oh, that I already know. I have quite a good bit of knowledge on that subject, actually. As /you/ hopefully know.”

Warren just keeps grinning. "Ever been initiated into the mile high club?" He asks.

“Not without an actual plane under my feet, no.” She dryly responds. “And until proven otherwise, I will say that I prefer it that way. So you obviously have a mission there, Chicken Boy.”

"Chicken boy??????" Warren repeats, sounding offended. "Chicken boy? I'll have you know I've flown /Logan/ around. And he weighs at least twice what you do."

“Logan hasn’t seen pictures of you molting!” Sunset laughs, before quieting, eyes mischievously sparkling. “...Yet.”

"Don't you dare. That shrunken, over-haired Canadian does NOT need any help in mocking me." Warren said. "And the question becomes ... would you rather fly with a harness for security, or without? I had one made many a year ago."

Sunset only /smiles/ in response to the first, something that is probably not very reassuring. To the second, the smile quickly fades, replaced by a pensive, thoughtful expression. After a long moment, she nervously licks her lips before speaking. “I trust you to not drop me or crash or anything. And considering I will probably be hanging onto you for dear life anyway, whether from fear or something else, a harness might be an unnecessary precaution.”

Warren nods, then gently pulls Sunset into what would look (and feel like) a tight hug, face to face. Start with her NOT staring at the ground with nothing between it and her but his arms. They can do that when she's a bit braver. Then, just to get her good and distracted, he kissed her, going for the 'make her forget her name' level of intensity.

Hissing in a breath through clenched teeth as she wraps her arms around him, Sunset isn’t going to deny the fact that her heart rate about quadrupled, stomach dropping, face paling. Just the /idea/ of leaving the roof at this point has her damn good and scared, and she’s tempted to just bury her face in his neck to block out any views. Perhaps luckily, he’s already working that distraction thing, and her eyes flutter shut as she responds in full, a small surprised (and very content) sound escaping her.

Warren waits until she's good and distracted, then carefully flexes his wings. Thanks to years of practice, the takeoff is smooth enough that she probably won't notice right away, at least not because of the 'launch'. And he knows the area around the apartment building well enough to fly it blind ... literally ... so flying with his view half obscured isn't really an issue.

She certainly doesn’t notice at first, far too engrossed in the kiss to notice much of anything else at all. It’s not until she goes to shift slightly that Sunset certainly takes note of the fact that the ground isn’t under her feet anymore, and it’s all she can do to not immediately squirm and fight to get away and back down to the ground, even if it would end badly at this point. Even still, she tenses, grip on him tightening as she pulls away from the kiss, Spanish prayers muttered under her breath. Don’t look. Don’t look don’t look don’t look don’t look...

Not like she could have broken his grip if she HAD flailed around. Warren is a hell of a lot stronger than he looks. When she tenses, he drew back his face a bit. "Just keep those pretty eyes on me, gal, and you'll be fine." He told her, heading slightly higher into the air so he didn't have to maneuver around buildings ... reducing the amount of twisting and turning he had to do.

Looking at him with slightly panicked eyes, it’s a moment before her fear addled brain to even remember the distraction plan. Pressing closer to him as much as she can without her feet on solid anything, Sunset kisses him again, though this is frantic and somewhat pleading. Get her mind off of this, please, just until she manages to get used to it, please please please.

Warren is only too happy to help her stay distracted, though he gentles the kiss somewhat from her desperation-induced attempt. "You're safe as houses." He told her. "Never dropped anyone yet." Well, unless they /wanted/ to be dropped (Logan is nuts. Enough said) or were trying to gut and/or shoot him.

“Please don’t say yet.” Sunset murmurs into the kiss, even though she’s relaxing bit by bit ever so slowly. “It makes everything sound very foreboding when you add yet.” Kissing him one more time, she moves to nuzzle at his neck, nipping at his pulse point ever so slightly as her death grip on him loosens. “Also, I would like to request that we don’t get into any situations to where people in nearby airplanes could see us.”

Warren laughed. "I'll keep that in mind ... and don't worry. We're not going very high ... just enough so that I don't have to worry about maneuvering around buildings. Too high for police and traffic choppers, too low for planes. And we'd have to be /considerably/ higher before anyone on a plane could see more than a vaguely bird-shaped pinprick."

“Good. I might be into a few odd kinks, but public voyeurism is not one of them.” Lips trailing up to his mouth again, Sunset puts as much into that kiss as she can before pulling away with a slightly devilish grin. “Now... make me stop thinking.”

Warren snickered, then started nibbling on her neck. They couldn't actually go further than making out ... sex on the wing did require a few preparations (like it being night, and removing clothing beforehand, because stripping while holding someone? Not happening) but they could still have fun with it, and he could still drive her up a wall.

Of course he couldn’t have told her this beforehand, and how she’ll get onto him about once they land and she’s in a proper state of mind. Whimper falling from her lips, Sunset lets her head tilt back to grant him greater access, squirming and shifting against him as much as she can. He just /had/ to go for that spot, didn’t he? Then again, she had asked for it.

Warren grinned a bit as he continues to have his way with her. He didn't try to move his hands ... HE knew there was no danger, but he had a pretty good feeling she'd freak out. So he just settled for making her more than slightly crazy every way he could.

A small cry escaping her, Sunset manages to shoot him a sharp look, breath coming a bit heavier now, face flushed. “You’re such a fucking tease, Worthington.” She remarks, voice husky, laced with amusement and lust. “It really isn’t fair since you’ve got the home advantage, here.”

"You're not thinking about much of anything though, are you?" Warren asked with a pleased smirk. "We could be in the middle of Central Park for all you care right about now."

“Oh, I’m thinking of a few things. Nothing that can be said in proper company, but definitely a few, very good, very interesting things that require some kind of solid ground. Maybe a horizontal surface.”

Warren grinned widely. "I'm thinking I ought to keep you up here for a while longer." He teased.

There’s a small twitch, but past that, Sunset does a good job at hiding her fear. At least, she thinks she is, her smile a bit strained, a bit of paleness entering her complexion again. “I think someone is going to be very lonely in the next week or so if they don’t.”

Warren grins. He's already angling back towards the apartment, making the circle wide and slow enough not to startle her. "Can't have you being all sad and lonely now, can we?" He teased back.

“Ass.” She mutters, though her smile does become less forced. “Like you wouldn’t be the one begging me.”

Warren shook his head. "That's one battle no one would win." He points out. "We'd make ourselves too miserable." And then they're landing, as gently as they took off. "And you're back on solid ground."

Letting out a breath that she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding, Sunset doesn’t immediately move away. It’s a mix of just not wanting to move away, and the fact that her legs are shaking so much that she’s not sure she /could/ stand on her own just yet. “Alright... That wasn’t /so/ bad.”

"I think I'll be more convinced when you're not vibrating like one of those cheesy motel beds." Warren says. "But you did well for a first try."

“Don’t knock those beds if you haven’t tried them.” She teases, laughing a bit. “And I could certainly be much worse right now. I /could/ be throwing up, but I’m not, and that’s certainly an accomplishment I think.”

"What makes you think I haven't?" Warren asked. He had, once. On a dare. Hadn't thought much of them. "And yes ... no puke on me is a good thing. I appreciate that."

“Because it’s odd to think of you doing things like that.” Sunset freely admits. “It’s like imagining you at public school or... Well, I would say doing yard work, but I’ve got proof of that, so that’s out. Then again, when I think of all the things I did when I was younger, it’s hard to see my current self doing things like that as well. In other words, I’m rambling and feel free to ignore me.”

"If it makes you feel any better, a dare was involved. As was half the current school staff." Scott. And Hank. And Jean.

She pauses then, giving him a /look/, eyes narrowed. “...Do I want to ask?”

"Nothing involving sex." Warren promised. "We were just slightly drunk ... correction, Scott and Jean were slightly drunk, and Hank was egging them on, and I got dragged into it."

“My stories never have anyone sober.” Sunset grumbles good naturedly. “Most of the time it wasn’t alcohol, but it’s still amazing any of them are remembered. Perhaps /that/ is my mutant power, and it’s just gone unnoticed for a very long time.”

Warren snorted. "This was just after I'd joined them, and we were all still getting to know each other. I think Scott accused me of being a blue-blooded snob, etc, and that I'd never done anything 'normal' in my life, or something." Ah yes, those days. "Somehow, they decided on riding the bed as a 'normal activity'. Probably the alcohol's influence."

“Obviously, you should have found a way to show them those pictures.” Yes, she will always tease him about that. /Always./

"Hell no. They really didn't need to see those." Warren says. "And I was ... still a bit stiff around the edges back then. It wouldn't have occurred to me even if I didn't think those pictures, and the negatives, need to be burned."

“Stiff around the edges?” Sunset repeats, mocking incredulously. “/You?/ Oh, Warren, I shall /never/ believe it.” Grinning and ruining whatever sort of serious expression she might have had before, she finally moves away from him, legs now steady enough to support her. Now that she can run away, if she needs to. “I mean, you’re so outgoing and odd. You make Angie look /dull/, most days.”

Warren doesn't exactly need to chase after her. He has a seriously unfair reach advantage. One wing reaches out to gently 'whap' her. "Brat." He said with a grin. "And the day I make any of you lot look tame is the day hell freezes over."

Laughing at the wing bap, Sunset can’t help but go on, continuing to ease away. “Maybe if we get you /very/ drunk.” Though of course, if Warren is drinking, then there’s a chance one of them would be, too. That in of itself completely defeats the purpose. “Angie has a knack for inventing new drinks. You should be her test subject one day.”

Warren shuddered. "Ahhh, no. I think not. Getting drunk and I do not mix well." He tended to get drunk easier, thanks to his weird body systems. And flying while drunk was a /seriously/ bad idea. "VERY bad." He shuddered.

“Hm... You don’t want to tie me up, you don’t drink... As far as I know, you have no suspicious history, or history of drug use. You used to be a snob. You’re rich. Extremely high class.” Sunset states, ticking things off on her fingers as she talks. “...Yes, you’re definitely the most fuddy duddy guy I’ve ever dated.” And she’s complaining so much, can’t you tell.

Warren cocked an eyebrow at Sunset. "I didn't say I didn't drink. I just don't get /drunk/." He points out. "And I'm pleading the fifth on the tying thing." The rest he can't exactly argue with.



Log. Sunday, April 11, 2009. [NYC] Albus Corvus Fleuriste.

The Albus Corvus Fleuriste is a well-sized shop, the ringing door opening into a literal jungle of sights and smells. Plants of all colors, smells and types are all around, both exotic and common; hanging, stacked, and sitting over the place head to toe like a smaller garden of Eden. One wall houses a giant case and shelving for separate flowers, pots, bouquets, and pre-created florals; customers are given a tall chalkboard of prices beside the door for both the case and anything else right off the bat. Special prices take over where these end. The other walls are home to potted flora, vines, hangers, and all other manner of plant life otherwise. The big front window constantly has in it some sort of strange plant, meant to attract the inquisitive from a shelf under the silhouette of a white raven, wings spread beneath the name of the shop. The main counter is tucked to the far left at the back; the giant glass case inside home to bottles, herbs, and like trinkets, the shelf behind filled with the same. Perfumes, jewelry, organic medicines, et cetera. There is also often a mannequin or two dressed in handmade clothes, sometimes in the windows. To one end of the counter is a small corner with a sitting table and chairs, and this is mostly used for visitors who come for an afternoon tea.

There are another set of doors in the far wall that lead to the greenhouse; the greenhouse itself is perhaps just as big as the shopfront, if not bigger. Somehow it seems to go on quite a ways, and even down into the basement of the building. Here is kept similarly varied plants of all sizes and shapes, from vegetables, your everyday gardenflowers, fruit saplings and other young trees, all the way to exotic plants of every color, nameless constructs and project hybrids, and even some plants in the darker corners of the basement that seem to cling to the shadows.

It's been a long day of apartment hunting, and there are so few places Sabrielle even thinks Andy would /let/ her live. Red hair loose over a light jacket, her usual jeans and heeled boots. A smile at the shop front, decided flowers and a note for Rene would be just the thing to make her bouncy to go home to Andy. No grumpy for Andy. Humming as she slips in the door, pausing to take it all in. "Rene?"

It’s the bell above the door ringing that alerts her to Sabrielle’s presence before she speaks, Sunset putting down the jewelry she had been working on to stand and head for the front room. When Sabrielle speaks, however, the older redhead abruptly halts. Lovely. Eyes closing, she takes a breath to compose herself, gaze glancing to the ceiling with a silent prayer before she walks into the main room and behind the counter. “Mr. D'Allemagne isn’t in at the moment. What can I help you with?”

Sabrielle is looking at some pretty flowers, when it's the voice, and not the aura that makes her jump. "Sunset. Ah didn't know ya ...are ya workin' here?" She asks. Clearly she's not upset at seeing the other redhead. "Just wanted to stop in an' say hi to Rene, pick up some flowers to bright my day, ya know?"

“Obviously.” Sunset dryly answers to the first question. Taking a seat behind the counter, she leans forward to rest her elbows on top of the glass case, face resting in her palms. Looking Sabrielle over, it’s a moment before she talks again. “Your day needs brightening?”

"Been a long day, tirin'. Don't wanna go home to... thought some flowers might help it end on a better note." Sabrielle flushes a little bit. "Ah've been apartment huntin' all day."

Eyes narrow just slightly and an eyebrow raises at the unfinished sentence, but Sunset doesn’t comment on it. “Well, we do have a very nice batch of wildflowers coming in, if you’re looking for something colorful. Of course, if you’re looking for something specific, I’d be happy to help you find it.” She comments, talking as if she would to any customer. Fakely cheerful, but keeping her distance.

"Was thinkin' somethin' small an' potted, like violets, but that would need to wait until Ah move, Ah think." Sabrielle looks up. "Just goin' to pretend like we're strangers, then?"

“How would you have me act, miss?” Sunset asks, smiling coldly, a hint of steel entering her voice now. “And if that is your preference, I’d suggest some azaleas or gardenia bonsai. Very nice, at this time of year.”

"Ah don't know, Sunny. Like ya know me?" Sabrielle frowns. "We had a disagreement, what the hell is with this act?" she tries to fall back on what's natural, reaching out with her empathy, only to have a sharp, wicked pain slice through her head. Hand up to her temple, paling with a quick inhale. "What did Ah do to make ya hate me, Sunset?"

“...I don’t /hate/ you, Sabrielle. I’m just very unhappy with you, right now.” Smile falling from her face, Sunset doesn’t exactly frown, but there is a tightening at the corners of her mouth. “Tell me, how has Angie been? I believe you’ve seen more of her in the past few weeks than Oz or I have. She doesn’t talk to Oz anymore, and Goddess knows that I can barely get her to talk to me.”

Sabrielle squeezes her eyes shut for a few seconds. "She seemed fine, last Ah saw her. She was tryin' to get me to get out of the house. Went for japenese food, when Ah didn't wanna go see her drag queen show idea." A shrug. "My guess is she's still kinda pissed off at Oz. Ah'm sure Ah don't have to tell ya Ozzie an' Ah aren't together anymore."

“No. You don’t.” Her voice is as flat as the plains of Kansas with that answer, before Sunset raises an eyebrow. “And really? Because from what I’ve been able to tell, Angie is quickly on her way to becoming an alcoholic who is completely shut off from her emotions, if she isn’t there already. Odd how I noticed that and you didn’t, considering your powers.”

Sabrielle says, "Angie seemed sober enough when she came to see me. An' she's been pushing down her emotions when she is around me, ever since Ah saw her when she first got back. Since Ah figured she was doin' it outta some sort of attempt to make it easier for me, you'll have to excuse me if Ah didn't notice. Ah don't go outta my way to poke around her emotions when it seems like she's tryin' to spare me." Sabrielle retorts, color in her cheeks.

Sunset has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from immediately commenting, not wanting to get into an argument with what is technically a customer while on the clock. “...Mm. Right. So.” Waving a hand around the shop, the witch reverts back to her helpful employee shtick. “Did you see anything you were interested in buying today?”

"Yeah, let me buy you a clue. You want to be all up in arms over something? Go ahead. You lost a lot, there's no doubt about that. But you gained a whole helluva lot when you came back, too. Now? You've clearly got a job you're well suited for, Warren, all of that. Good for you. An' just so you know? Ah don't /have/ my powers, currently." Picking a bouquet of tulips and putting them on the counter. "Ah'll take these, thank you."

She doesn’t exactly soften at the news of Sabrielle’s powers, but for a moment she is less cold. “Well... That is unfortunate. For that, you have my sympathy.” For /that./ Ringing up the bouquet, Sunset spouts off the price, not saying anything on the rest of Sabrielle’s speech. Again, on the clock, customer, etc. If they meet again in another situation, there is a good chance this will continue.

"Ah don't want your sympathy." Sabrielle says flatly. "Ah want my friend to realize that Ah was never tryin' to trivialize anythin'. So you go ahead and think Ah don't understand your pain. Go ahead an' think Ah didn't light candles for you an' her every day, for months." The cash is tossed on the counter. "Go ahead an' think Ah don't miss you. That Ah wasn't afraid of this, when Oz tol' me to go away." Picking up the flowers, to head for the door without change or a proper receipt.

Lips pressing into a thin line, Sunset doesn’t speak as Sabrielle walks away. That is what she thinks this is about, then? Fine. Let her. Picking up the cash to complete the transaction, the change it put into a tip jar, free hand coming up to rub at her temple. Tea, she thinks, heading for the back room again. Lots of tea.

Sabrielle only knows what she's been told. No one's kept her in the loop about things changing, after all. "Any time ya decide ya wanna be my friend again, ya can find me at Andy's." She calls back. "Ah do miss you, Sunset. Ah don't want this baby to not know any of its family." The bells ring again, as the empath ends up out on the sidewalk.