1450/The Strangest Thing Happened

The Strangest Thing Happened
Date of Scene:	30 April 2020
Location:	Patsy's Hall of Justice!
Synopsis:	Patsy asks Alex to hang out and then is horrible to him.
Cast of Characters:	Patsy Walker, Alexander Aaron

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Patsy Walker has posed:
<< Hey. Bored this evening, want to hang out? >>

The text flies from Patsy's phone even as she arrives at the small gym kitty-corner to her apartment. It's nothing fancy, but she doesn't require anything fancy. The attendant behind the desk knows her and waves, smiling cheerily despite the hour, and Patsy returns the greeting. Another text flies with the location to Alexander and then she disappears into the women's locker room.

The red-headed author will be found with knuckles safe behind sleek boxing gloves and whaling on a padded pillar used for kick-boxing purposes. With her hair back and out of her face, its controlled tail whips about as she does too, sporting a light gleam of sweat from her efforts. Her loose tanktop layered over a sports-bra and a pair of women's basketball shorts keep her from overheating too much.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The text did not come at an opportune time. It came in the same moment that Alexander stood in the middle of Central Park off of the edge of a gathered music festival, the sounds of a Reggae band are heard in the background even as he pulls his buzzing cellphone from his pocket and sets it in the palm of his hand.
    Behind him there's an ominous black figure that streeetches its long wings out, grimy skeletal face leaning forward to peer over the young Olympian's shoulder only for the youth to /smack/ it in the face to get it to back off. "Hey. Did you take care of the body yet?"
    **Yes young master, I dids. It is gones. I am to tell you about old masters wishes though. Do not...** Its voice all guttural, all graveyard infused and hissy, and yet somehow perplexed.
    "Yeah yeah, I get it. You can tell your master I dunno yet."
    **But young master... **
    "Shut it."
    That said he reads the message and for a moment sort of smiles a little and looks around the surroundings, blood still barely visible on the ground from where the monstrosity had landed on the poor drug dealer. Such a damn mess.
    He taps on the phone a bit to text simply, << Sure, see you in a bit. >>
    And with that he pockets his phone again, looks at the bird-like monstrosity and then tells it, "OK, get lost, off with you."
    **Yes Master.**
    And with that Alexander made his way there. Eventually entering the small gym, pausing near the front desk to ask about Patsy and then is shown into the place. He arrives, dressed as she's seen him a million times before in his jeans and a t-shirt, though there's a curious earthy loam-like scent around him when he arrives, hands in his pockets. "Hey hey."
    A beat as he looks at what she's doing, "I have never imagined you punching things."

Patsy Walker has posed:
Alexander is just in time to see the red-headed author bring her fists around in a swift flurry of under-cut punches to the padded pillar aimed no doubt for an enemy-combatant's solar plexus. She hears him speak and glances over in first surprise and then with a panting laugh.

"It's pretty cathartic when you get down to it. I mean, it's hard on my hands too and my knuckles are sore the next day, so hey, I'll sleep hard tonight." Picking up the hem of her loose tanktop, she mops at her temples and swipes it across her brow. Her cheeks are pinked with health and exertion. "A good habit to get into. You never know when somebody's going to try and jump you on the rooftops."

She blinks, realizing the slip, and then laughs again. "Or anywhere else, y'know," Patsy tries again, one hand rested on her hip and the other left to hang as she grins at the young man.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Around the room he walks, letting his eyes wander to the choice in decor. It's a positive feeling place, not quite like the gyms or dojos his father would take him. There's an... upbeat feeling to the training hall that likely reflects Patsy in some ways. There are no old boxing match posters, no bitter broken old men glaring from the corners, no group of weightlifters dominantly squaring up around the free weights so nobody else can use them.
    It's weird.
    But then Alex looks back at her and smiles a little as he pulls up a chair, apparently not inclined to consider the possibility of working out for the moment. So he settles in and folds his arms over his chest as he looks to her and murmurs, "You... do realize I dated a vigilante for a few months there, right?" Well more a hero perhaps. But still. Potayto, potahto.
    His brow knits as those curious hazel eyes focus on her boxing gloves for a moment, then lift to her own gaze, a small smile there as he asks her, "Is this a new thing or... have you been doing this for a bit?"

Patsy Walker has posed:
Patsy blinks at him. She then looks down and half-smirks to herself, realizing that the cat is proverbially out of the bag. A snag of the velcro strapping of the glove in her teeth is required to get the first glove off and after that, manicured nails fuss with the other hand's anchoring strap about her wrist.

"No, I //didn't// know you dated a vigilante for a few months, but hey, now I do." Steel-blue eyes rise to his face again. "I've been doing it for a while now. It's easier to do it on my own. My gear's nice and...I like the anonymity of it, y'know? I don't go picking fights with people who go against the Avengers, but...there's something nice about whip-kicking a purse thief in the face and then going home to finish a chapter, I guess." She seems to laugh faintly at herself as she gets the other glove off, eyes downcast again.

"I like making a difference in quiet ways, I guess," she decides, then looking to Alexander again.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Why Patsy," Alexander's answer is tinged with a smile in the tone of those words if not entirely clear on his features, "You are so violent. I think I like this side of you." But he then crinkles his nose, letting the smile grow as he looks away toward the front reception area, then back to her, perhaps gauging how far off an eavesdropper might be.
    "A whip kick, my word." His tone takes on a subtle British hint of an accent, but is just as quickly dropped.
    And for a time the blond youth just seems to be considering her as it's not often you're forced to reevaluate your presumptions about a person. Then his brow knits a little as it causes no small amount of reflection, "What drove you to do it? If I may ask. What inspired you?" He draws up one leg into his lap and then rests his hands there.

Patsy Walker has posed:
His feigned accent makes Patsy snort-laugh -- literally -- and she rolls her eyes even as she's shaking her head in mock-offense. She finishes fussing with the strap of the glove and flexes her freed fingers a few times in a manner almost catlike. Her eyes rise to him again as he asks her a rather depthful question.

It requires a few seconds of thought and the smirk on her plush lips fades into a thinner line of contemplation. A spot next to Alexander's foot appears fascinating until she wiggles her nose a few times.

"I was once put in a situation where I had to survive -- like, straight-up live to see the next day. I wasn't sure if I'd make it out alive. I did, so...I figure, if there's a way for me to make sure that other people make it out alive of their own problems, when they're alone and it seems helpless...it seems like something I should do if I can, right? Like I said, I have my gear and it's...amazing gear," she says, smiling again more to herself in a form of rueful amusement. "Like...why not be a vigilante if I can't be a superhero?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The young Olympian looks contemplative as he lifts a hand to rub the pad of his thumb just under his lower lip thoughtfully, expression distancing as he listens to her words and then she confides in him he nods slowly. A small bite is worried at his lower lip as he cants his head to the side and says. "I'm going to say a few things."
    A fair warning, perhaps.
    "And they're not things I think about you necessarily. I want you to recognize that before I say them. And also I don't know what happened to you. But... I've sort of given these things a lot of thought. And have come away with like..." Those hazel eyes drop and slip to the side before they return to Patsy's pale blues.
    "But. From my... limited experience with some people. I've sort of realized that when people go through a trauma. They don't ever want to experience it again, and sometimes they also don't want others to experience it or anything like it, right?"
    He sits up in his chair and rests both his hands on his shin again. "But I've also seen a few, like that gal I dated. They wanted to help people, sure. But they also..."
    His eyes distance as he tries to find the right words, "They also want to sort of get back their own. To express their anger in a way that is... a little more socially acceptable. Not to say that that's what you're doing. But to say that could possibly be a part of it? And maybe be aware because that sort of thing can mess up your life. And I like you, and would not want to see that happen."

Patsy Walker has posed:
Patsy listens and as she does, she finds a surface to set down her gloves. Her gaze remains avoidant as she works at carefully stretching the tendons of her wrist and forearms. He finishes speaking and again, she wears that faint smile very much rueful.

"You sound a lot like my therapist, actually," she says softly. "She talks about finding a healthy outlet for the stress I feel sometimes about dealing with it all. The memories aren't nice and I'd try to find someone who can remove them, but...at the same time, they're proof that I survived. I try to draw strength from them instead of hide under my covers in the dark."

She looks up at the young Olympian again, about as solemn as she's ever been around him. "I write books, Alexander. Those can change the world, but so can somebody in the right place at the right time. I'm not going to let my brain-shadows keep me down." Fingernails comb a loose strand of hair back over her ear. "I like you too, bud. Don't worry though, you're not going to see me behind bars or anything. I'm sneakier than that."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    It's a somber moment as he looks at her and nods slowly. There he is again following the way her lips move as she speaks, as if trying to discern them closer, as if trying to hear what she's saying clearly. But once she finishes speaking he gives another more final nod in recognition. He takes a deep breath and gives a small shrug.
    But then does he return and offer words of insight or wisdom? A look into the soul that might grant some peace?
    No, instead he just looks at her levelly and says the word, "Bud."
    His nose crinkles and he repeats, "Bud." Then his lip twists a little, shaking his head and rolling his eyes a bit as he adds, "Bud!" Over-pronouncing the 'U' in there, adopting a hint of a Southern accent when he then repeats, "Hey Buuud."
    But his smile is warm as he looks away, then back and he says, "That's all the um, therapy you'll get from me. I'm far from one to be giving anyone advice. And if you end up going down that road and you need a sidekick let me know."
    Then there's a smirk as he looks away, then looks back and eyes her. "And, to be completely honest, you look so damn hot right now. So it's a good look." He nods once sagely.

Patsy Walker has posed:
Patsy's brows quirk. Bud? And here it comes again -- and again, and by the drawled repetition of the word, she's got a fist pressed to her mouth as if trying very, very hard not to laugh.

"Ohm'god, Alexander, stoooooooop," she complains sotto-voce with very little ire at the tail-end of the extended echo of 'Buuuuud'. Her teeth end up dimpled into her knuckle and the giggle still slips.

His compliment disarms her all the more. "Oh...geez, pfft," comes the immediate response, accompanied by a flippy-flap of her hand as if shooing away a fly. She shifts in place and tries not to pink more than she is. "I kind of reek like a garbage pit right now, y'know, not sure how hot that is. But sure, you can think about being my sidekick if you don't mind the reek," she says on a flustered laugh, steel-blue eyes twinkling.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "See you are saying the exact wrong thing here right now." Alexander grins and looks away shaking his head as he looks back at her, nostrils flaring as he tests the air but there's enough distance between them that he can't tell considering that guys tend to not quite have the same sense of smell as gals.
    He holds up a hand as if he himself is asking her to staaahp but his smile is wry. "My favorite time with a significant other is almost always after we've worked out and are all..." He gives a small shiver, grinning and perhaps playing it all up a bit if only to get her to blush a touch more. "Mmm," He adds, "Simply awesome."
    But then he clears his throat and straightens up, as if clearing his mind. "Anyways!" He grins and rests his hands back on his shin.
    "I had no idea, it's kind of cool. Just." He gives a small shrug of one shoulder, nose crinkling up a little as he adds, "Be careful. Alright? Alright."

Patsy Walker has posed:
So much for her mental chiding of herself about not blushing! Her cheek gains a rosiness that manages to spread to her ears and even down part of her neck even as Patsy attempts to not be more flustered.

"Geez, you..." Another chuckle is apparently unhelped and she looks down a moment in clear manner of composing herself again. Her eyes rise and she wears that smirk which wrinkles her nose just a touch.

"Yeah, I'll be careful. I told you, I'm not going to end up behind bars. I mean, I've already had Batman lecture me once and I got to tell you: he's a good lecturer," the red-head reveals as she remembers to continue stretching. "He'd probably think I reek like a garbage pit right now," she adds in obvious funning at her current state, an eyebrow lifting. "I can hear it."

And she adopts an absolutely terrible mimicry of the rough-spoken caped crusader: "And if I catch you in Gotham again smelling like that, I'm going to be very mad."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Oh if you mean like an actual garbage pit?" Alexander straightens up and grins at the interpretation of the Batman's manner, he nods and makes a face as if something squicked him as he adds, "Okay actual garbage, ew." But then he hrmms to himself as he shifts in his seat.
    "But yeah maybe he's sort of right. Gotham is..." His eyes lift upwards contemplative, "I mean not that New York is super better. I just mean Gotham is Fatguy Goes Nutzoid crazy." The young Olympian's head bobs a few times in support of his statement.
    Then he looks over towards the boxing bag and considers what she was doing moments ago and hrms, "Do you have an instructor or somebody good to train you? Or have you been just going to all the classes offered at some McDojo or YMCA?" The nerve of the kid, how rude.

Patsy Walker has posed:
There is, in fact, a small peek of tongue stuck out at Alexander's inference about actual garbage. The red-head then shifts in place again, not wanting her leg muscles to get cold and uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I know he's not wrong." Patsy does seem to lose some of her innate self-confidence as she admits it. "Gotham's...pretty nutty compared to here." She follows his shift in attention towards the padded pillar and looks back to him, brows raised in silent query.

"Pfft, McDojo, you jerk," she smarts back, amused. "No, I spent some time in the military. It wasn't for very long, but it was enough to get some of the basics down. I also had a private instructor back in California, before I moved out here a few years ago. I have to keep up with the learning because I don't want to get rusty about anything. It's better to be prepared than to not be prepared, right?" A one-shouldered shrug is followed by a reach to pick up her water bottle and take a long swig out of it.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Well," Alexander looks back over at her, as if eyeballing her her denial about the McDojo and perhaps lending some small hint of incredulity to that appraisal, but his smile might rob it of a good amount of its teasing nature. "I'd offer to train with you, be your sparring partner. But you'd have to layer up, like a few sweaters, big mess of sweat pants, some granny bloomers maybe." But at that last he can't hold back the snicker and looks away, even shifting his chair a little to make sure he's out of arm's reach.
    But then he chews his lower lip as he perhaps gives the situation a little more serious thought and says as much, "But seriously, because of all the things my dad had me learn, I've met a lot of people. I could put you in touch with some who might help give you an edge."
    He looks down at the toe of his shoe and frowns, then looks back up at her. "If that's a thing you might want. I know Diana and her Amazons would probably help you."

Patsy Walker has posed:
"Granny bloomers, ohm'god," Patsy splutter-laughs, though thankfully not at a point of timing where water would have sprayed unfortunately everywhere. She manages to control the laughter well enough to risk another few gulps before rolling her lips and coughing quietly once, frowning briefly at Alexander in social mirroring to his lip-chewing.

"Oh geez, Diana? The Diana we met at the Embassy?" Alexander will no doubt see the sparkle of hero-worship alight in those steel-grey eyes. "Ohhhhhhhhhhh, oh whoa, really? I mean." Checking herself because of taught manners, the author then again combs the stubbornly-loose lock of hair back behind her ear again. "I remember what you said about your upbringing. I bet you know a lot and YOU offered first. Sure: why don't we spar sometime? I bet I can learn something from you even if I'm wearing baggy sweatpants and a sweatshirt two sizes too big." Her arms fold under her chest, water bottle hung off a finger, and she smirks again. "Sound good?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    For a time, Alexander looks at her levelly, just chewing on the left side of his lower lip and with one eyebrow raised as if considering her words, the situation. And there may well be a grumbling crinkle of his nose as he looks away. But then he takes a deep breath and murmurs, "Alright, we can sometime. Toss me a line."
    One hand lifts to the back of his neck and rubs there thoughtfully as he looks back, "But I'll also talk to Diana, it's sort of a thing they do there. Self-defense training for women, but also advanced classes I believe for young Amazons. So shouldn't like, be a big deal if you went there."
    That said he sits up and tilts, "You tired yet or got more to do? I could go check out the juice bar while you're finishing up." His lip twists amused as he mentions that.

Patsy Walker has posed:
"I'm good to go at this point, I'm cooled down. Let me get the gloves put away and stuff and I'll meet you by the juice bar, okay?" Patsy doesn't seem bothered at all for having her workout side-tracked, especially in light of: "It's really awesome that you can talk to Diana, Alexander, so...thank you for it -- really," she emphasizes, genuinely and even with a little wring of her hands before her chest. "I never thought I'd have...like, all of this back-up, in a way. People who could make sure I'd have things to learn to better keep myself safe and all."

And kick ass, she does not say, but definitely thinks.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Alright, and go get unstinkified, pew." Alexander says as he rolls on up to his feet, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he starts to amble on down the way to the reception area, pausing a little as he walks backwards to call after her, "You say that now..."
    He gives her a nod with raised eyebrows affecting his Serious Face. "Just wait til you get my Life Coach bill in the mail. I'm not cheap you know." That said he turns around and shuffles on off to the juice bar.