4559/Thwarting holiday heists

Thwarting holiday heists
Date of Scene:	31 December 2020
Location:	Little Italy
Synopsis:	Drake and Atlin encounter some violent heisters on NYE and engage in some cultural exchange.
Cast of Characters:	Atlin, Drake Riley

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Atlin has posed:
New Years Eve and celebration was in the air. Drinking, dancing and joy...but all the lights and sound, firewards and music didn't quite manage to match the festivals of the Amazon sisterhood. Atlin was dressed casually, her armor and weapons tended to draw too much attention and she still had quite a bit of donated outfits thanks to her 'contact', but skinny jeans and a zipped-up hoodie jacket wasn't exactly the most comfortable thing compared to what she was accustomed to.

There were bigger problems than outfits that left immortal 'bombshells' feeling self-concious for the Amazon to deal with tonight though, courtasy of a recent break-in and robbery at a particular townhouse uptown. Among the many valuables taken, a particular painting and necklace that appeared to be of Greek influence, both of which had been discovered rather strangely in Egypt before passing around the black market and making their way to their initial collector...only for them to now have been pinched by a local crew. A crew that had made a little too much noise as they'd returned to their hidehout in an old appartment on the edge of little Italy that had attracted the eyes of a curious homeless man they'd promptly beaten half to death.

Amongst all the feelings of joy and elation? That terror had stood out like a beacon to Atlin...and now she was on her way.

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley, meanwhile, is roaming the city for New Years'. Sure, he could hole up in the Xavier Institute, but he's in New York City. He should take it in. These celebratory nights are expected to be legendary, aren't they? And he wants to soak it in as much as possible, culminating in Times Square. It should be nice! Hands stuff into the warm recluses of his parka as he moves through Little Italy on foot, the outerwear bundled snugly around his frame. Unlike Atlin, he isn't here on noble or ancestral purpose. He's wearing his bystander hat tonight, as he is on most night.

But seeing a figure slumped certainly gets his attention. His pace picks up, expression darkening on approach. "Hey. Hey, buddy, you alright?" Homeless folk don't bother him. Heck, he was among their rank until /very/ recently.

Atlin has posed:
The man was beat bad, bruised and bloodied, one eye swollen and a couple teeth missing. Given the state of his dress and his apparent shabby appearance, odds were he didn't have health insurance and wasn't going to be heading to the hospital in any hurry, if he could walk at all right now. Drake's approach and question is simply answered with a groan and a lift of his hand, a muttering of being jumped that is barely clear enough to understand through split lips and swollen jaw.

"This man was attacked?"

The accented voice announces her first, Atlin's footware and the general noise of the city apparent having been enough to mask her approach at first until she'd announced herself from behind Drake. "Your injuries are significant." Apparently stating the obvious was a cultural norm for Atlin.

Drake? He was a face she'd met before, but aside from a nod of greeting the young woman seems to drop the previous lighthearted curiousity for a firm and more serious tone.

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley cringes at the state of him. But before he can do much else, a familiar voice sounds off. With a tilt of his head, he spots Atlin. In the fading light, it's difficult to recognize her offhand. But soon, those exotic features connect. The nod is returned curtly. Now's not the time for smiles or pleasantry. His focus returns to the man, and he plucks a cellphone from his pocket. A quick number is punched in, and he raises to his full height to back up and give Atlin some room to get a better look if she's inclined.

"Got an assault victim here in, ah-.. Little Italy, at the corner of.. hang on, lemme verify..." Drake tilts to peer at the street signs and recite them to the phone. If uninterrupted, that phonecall will end shortly after.

Atlin has posed:
A cellphone, such a common piece of luxury and utility...and Atlin didn't have one. Or at least, not anymore. The last one didn't quite survive exploits that had ended in supernatural threats and giant pyramids in central park. Truely 'Man's World' was a strange place. As Drake listed off what details he could to get the man aid, the tanned woman kneels down, leaning close to the victim and speaking softly. Accent or not, the words were English as she gently questioned the man who'd been at the wrong place in the wrong moment.

Six men emptying a van, he'd simply been scavenging nearby and caught a glimpse of the painting, a warrior at repose watching the sunrise in a metal frame.

The last question? It didn't sound like Atlin intended to direct the police:

"Where did these brigands go?"

Drake Riley has posed:
"My name? Uh, it's," and Drake hangs up the phone. The cops don't need his name. There's still some mistrust. A 'healthy' level, he'd argue.

Attention returns to Atlin and yon homeless fellow, and he returns to their side just in time to hear the last question. She's given a curious look. Is that something she intends to tell the police when they get here? "What're you thinking?," he asks bluntly. Hands find their way back into his pockets, concerned frown tugging the corners of his lips.

Atlin has posed:
What was she thinking? The young woman stands, eyes following down the alleyway in consideration before she stands. "That these men are cowards enough to ambush someone meaning them no harm...I doubt they will remain long enough to face punishment for their crimes if they discover the 'police' are on their way and they may escape."

The fact they sound exactly like the people she'd been looking for? That Atlin leaves off. Instead the blonde reaches down, unzippling the jacket she'd been wearing over the midriff-baring short shirt and offering the garment as a little extra cover from the cold or the means to stem some of the bleeding to the homeless man. It felt more akward than most of the things she'd worn fighting anyway, and she doubted the criminals would be surrendering peacefully.

Without the covering, the lightly toned musculature of her limbs and stomach had the young woman looking almost like some sort of fitness model, but the strangest part? A pair of metal bands at her wrists were a bit of an odd fashion choice.

"I'm going to look for them."

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley blinks as she sheds her outerwear. Shouldn't she be cold? Maybe it's because he's not from around here. This is the first New York Winter he's experienced, and he isn't loving it. But her physically fit presence doesn't go remiss; it gets a suitably surprised once-over, perhaps even a little more lingering than he'd intended. He almost comments on it, but the weight of the situation keeps any appreciative remarks at bay.

Still, though.

Emerald eyes sharpen on Atlin, and he takes a step closer to her. "You don't know how many there might be, though. You could be getting in way over your head."

A glance is cast back to the injured man, then again to Atlin. "...I'm at least coming with you."

Atlin has posed:
There was no arguement from Atlin and if she was cold she didn't seem to show it. Most likely she figured she'd be keeping warm soon enough, or she was simply too angry to be bothered by the weather. Deal with a few nights in a desert and you can handle a chill or two! Stepping forward, her pace further down the alleyway wasn't a blind rush, nor a cautious sneaking but instead a simple and purposeful stride until she reached the van where it rested parked.

All that really did was lead her -near- the building the men were hiding in, but it didn't exactly give her a precise location.

"They are close," she murmers back to Drake, frustration furrowing her brow. "But I don't know which building they hide within."

There was no guilt or fear for the empathic Amazon to pick up on...they obviously felt no remorse.

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley keeps pace with her easily, light on his step, but suddenly on high alert; he's falling back into his old modus operandi. Thankfully, the Institute hasn't made him soft. In fact, this feels a little more comfortable and familiar than the lap of luxury he's been stewing in lately. This makes him feel a little more true to himself - or what he wants to be.

Not a street tough, but something else.

They come to a halt in front of a van. A cusory glance is given it, then a glimpse over to Atlin. This is where the trail would end for her, is it? His gaze settles on her face for a moment, considering her, before turning those vibrant emeralds to the surrounding buildings. They're all of a similar lean and condition, with small, lived-in giveaways.

His head dips in the direction of the building towards the end. "You'll find'em there."

Without explaining immediately, he begins making his way over. Brief glances are cast to the other buildings they pass, as if confirming something, then focuses in on the approach. "Be careful. They're gonna be squirrely...," he suggests, voice lowering to a cautious murmur. Whether or not she's the type to engage in subtlety is yet to be seen!

Atlin has posed:
It's not an answer that's going to take long for Drake to find, that much was certain. The moment he points out the door, offers the trail and narrows things down? The blonde nods and moves towards the door, biting her bottom lip in consideration.

Very brief consideration. Then she plants her foot to the door and the locking mechanism snaps with an audible crack, leaving the barrier to swing open.

The space inside wasn't fancy. It was a storage area for a restaurant that had failed years ago and had been yet to have its space purchased by some new enterprising soul. Instead the room was filled with fold-out tables and chairs, the former of which was currently laden with several items of recent loot and bottles of beer as half a dozen men celebrated their success. Or they had been, now they were looking up in shock at the rather blatant interuption.

Silence, a tense moment, then the men dove for their weapons. This was New York, no criminal wanted to chance that the teens kicking down doors weren't superhuman!

Drake Riley has posed:
"Hey. Hey, slow down," Drake quietly urges, voice remaining that insistent whisper. "Don't do something cra-"

WHACK.

The door is kicked open. The locking mechanism now left bare is another confirmation that he's pretty sure he didn't need. He straightens his posture and tosses his hands, exasperated, but says nothing out loud. No reason to give away the number of people present on top of the already bombastic approach!

He watches her stand there in the doorway at his profile position, and the corner of his lips tick upwards a little. She's impressive. Brave. And bathed in the internal glow of the building, it's a good look.

Commotion on the inside snaps him back to attention. Guns. He's positive they have guns. It's New York City, they're criminals. And even if they didn't have guns, she's not taking any kind of cover. It's too risky. Maybe she doesn't understand the danger she's in.

"H-hey!"

Forgetting himself and his subtlety in the moment, he rushes forward to get a quick glimpse past her. And seeing them scramble for weapons, he attempts to hook his arms around her waist to yank the girl out from the open line of fire and into the cover of the building exterior.

Atlin has posed:
Atlin was raising her hands, ready to parry, ready to start moving, ready to rush the gunmen and start introducing them to someone who could fight back...but she hadn't really counted on being hooked around her waist and pulled off balance. Strong or not, without your feet on the ground there's not a lot to control where you end up and Atlin immediately found herself crying out in suprise before she was yanked out of the way. A half-second later? Bullets fill the air, loudly ringing out in the close confines of the alleyway while Atlin struggles to regain her balance, barely managing to avoid falling over completely onto the mutant who'd grabbed her.

Irriatation, a little frustration, Atlin turns in those arms till she's facing Drake and reaches down to try and free herself if he were still trying to keep her from moving.

"They will flee!" she protests, even as more shots are fired to keep them back. "They must not escape!"

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley was unsurprised by the hail of gunfire that showered the entryway, but it did nothing to lessen his nerves. He's immediately glad he acted when he did to avoid seeing her perforated before him. He plants his back against the solid wall of the building, letting her squirm in his arms to face him. "Bullets are bad, you crazy gorgeous exotic weirdo!," Drake fusses. She deflects his arms from around her, and another round of gunfire sounds off. "They're not getting away. Their stuff is here. They've seen two intruders, they have guns, they're gonna stand their ground and probably try to get an angle on us." He winces back from a few additional bullets. "I don't know what you were thinking, but let me handle this. Okay?"

Atlin has posed:
If nothing else the weird hybrid insult-advice-complement has Atlin blinking, pausing her struggle after she manages to push free and looking confused at the mutant. "I was going to punish them for their-" she begins, only for the next wave of bullets to cut her off and offer his own opportunity to interupt her. If Drake was right and the heisters weren't going to retreat just yet, thinking they had the upper hand, so much the better. But his request to let him handle it? She opens her mouth to protest.

After all, much like he thought of her, the Amazon assumed he needed protecting.

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley catches her opening her mouth to protest. He quickly lifts his left hand to set over her shoulder, and he evens his gaze on those big pools of amber. "Just- trust me. You can keep a secret, right?" There's no time to second guess it. He doesn't know what kind of place she's from wherein she can confront ne'er-do-well's with little more than a stern look, but he can't let her get hurt like this. This amount of bullets lead to the kind of hurt that one doesn't bounce back from.

Unless she's shrugged off the hand on her shoulder, it gives a small squeeze and Drake offers a wan smile. No more time for explanation.

Withdrawing, he presses back more firmly against the building and inches his way along the exterior. Knees bend, and he crouches just on the outside of the doorframe. He can't see in the room. As much as he hates firing blind into a room, there are some techniques to help mitigate the issue. He bides his time, waiting for a moment's lull in the gunfire before quickly dipping his hand around the corner. Palm and fingertips touch the storage room floor - nice and smooth.

In an instant, the interior lights intermingle with a dazzling lightshow of rippling neon blue. Inside, the sight is much less enticing: the spread fingertips and palm have projected a veritable web of writhing, lancing electricity across the floor, covering the full span in a hazardous pool of ionic energy. The stream is maintained for a few seconds before the hand quickly withdraws behind the corner, expecting that either neutralized the full cadre of hostiles - if not urged a couple stragglers to leap onto the safety of furniture.

Atlin has posed:
Trust an Amazon to recognize a bolt of lightning, even one not born from Zeus. That sudden crackling of electricity and several cries if pain as the number active threats are quickly cut in half has Atlin looking up in 'shock' appropriately, peeking into the room a moment before one of the men who had managed to dive onto the table for cover fired off another burst of gunfire, aiming for the partially exposed Drake.

There was an impact, but it wasn't against flesh, instead the ringing of metal on metal announced the motion that had been quicker than most could follow: a sudden interception of those bullets by the bracer on Atlin's arm.

It was a famous trick of a certain 'A-lister', but clearly one the blonde could also manage.

"Your secret is safe with me," the tanned woman speaks, a grin growing on her features. "Shall we?"

Then she was moving fast, scary fast, sparks and the sounds of ringing metal following her charge as the two remaining robbers desperately emptied their weapon at the rather effective distraction.

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley was doing his best to avoid presenting anything more than absolutely necessary a target. An arm. Hand. Fingers. Possibly a shoulder. But as he turns to withdraw and regroup, there was a bit more. And that bit more sees Drake caught off guard.

Arms start flashing through the air like working an erratic speedbag, but with the unmistakable plink of bracer-meeting-bullet. Drake has plenty of time to tuck himself into full cover and look back up at her, catching the grin. The look he returns is one of admiration and awe. "You are somethin' else..." In that quick instant, everything about her was put into context; like a key slotting perfectly into its lock.

The unabashed smile that follows is his answer.

This time, Atlin takes point. For everything Drake can do with electricity, deflect bullets isn't one of them. He thinks, anyway. That's a theory he isn't keen on testing. But she clearly has the task of creating a shield well in-hand with a seemingly effortless and inspiring finesse. Drake moves in behind her, keeping his frame ducked a little so as to not present an easy target over her head. His left hand sets against her back just beneath her shoulder, letting her keep track of his position behind him while simultaneously, subtly, signaling his intentions to her when they get close enough. It's a small amount of additional pressure, indicating his moving forward at the first lull, and skirting to her left to close in with one of the remaining hoods. And no sooner does he break from contact with her than that same left hand angles forward, a bolt of lightning *CRACK*ing from the fingertips at its target. The other? He fully expects her to have that handled.

Atlin has posed:
One left? Seems Drake wasn't going to completely deny her the chance to dish out a little of the punishment she had intended as return for their beatings and thefts. The last man though? By the time the crackling voltage and ringing 'steel' had ceased he was clicking the trigger on an empty gun in horror. How had they gotten so damn unlucky? Karma was clearly a bitch.

With that last look of terrified realisation that he was out of bullets from the man, Atlin grinned, tilting her head to the side...then she was simply across the room, planting her knee into the thug and sending him hurtling through the air into the opposing wall. Not lethal, but some bruised, battered and broken ribs were inevitable. Atlin herself however, was already turning back to the table as if the men were forgotten.

The painting had clearly caught her eyes as she moved closer. "Antiope's rest," she speaks, announcing the title before finally remembering herself and looking up to her companion. "I had been looking for this when we found that man. It is from my homeland...and it was stolen a long time ago."

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley hadn't thought so much of divying up the hooligans fairly. His mind was elsewhere. And though she'd just proven - and in a profound way - that she was more than capable, some impulses are hard to fasten down. The collision of the body impacting the far wall, however, gets a quick look to verify the state of things. That sounds about like a wrap.

Atlin's voice draws his attention next, and Drake moves in close beside her. "Oh. That's a cool bonus, isn't it?," he asks. "So this got to double as a recovery mission." His head tilts to study the artwork briefly, but he doesn't have much of a sense for the finer things. His gaze travels aside to Atlin, searching her expression for some notion of the gravitas.

Atlin has posed:
Clearly, if only by how the woman handled the object, it was something of importance to her. After smashing through doors and throwing full-grown men around, the way in which she gently eased the frame apart and begun the task of carefully rolling up the artwork was suprisingly delicate. Only when it was complete did she look up again at Drake, a genuine smile forming on her lips as she nodded. "A good deed, a victory twice over and a just punishment."

Of course, the Amazon could point out that such crimes would likely have resulted in death in her homeland, but she'd learned that tended to make people uncomfortable. Instead she turns towards the door, rolled portrait held carefully in her hands. "We should leave this place, the aid you called for will be here soon and we have made much noise. Perhaps you would walk with me, explain the nature of your power to me? Are you the child of Zeus? There are many out in the world I am told..."

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley would likely be a bit uncomfortable with that information as well. Granted, his powers are exceptionally dangerous, and it's only with a fine level of self-awareness and control that he keeps the currents from reaching lethal levels. He's very aware of the fragility of people and how easy it would be to for things to go too far.

Is he thinking about that now? Absolutely not. The girl beside him, currently smiling at him, has taken his near-full attention. And the smile is returned in warmth. "You're right. We should go. Cops'll grab these people, the medics'll take care of the guy outside, and you'll make sure that," he nods towards the artpiece, "gets where it needs to go." This felt good. It felt right. All minus a costume for him, though. Then again, she's not quite costumed, herself.

Not that he's complaining.

The invitation to walk with her is quickly accepted with a nod, and he moves ahead to the door she'd kicked open. And once outside, he begins walking in the opposite direction of the homeless man they'd left before. That would be where the police are coming from, after all.

"Got anywhere in particular you wanna go to talk? Because I've got some questions, myself." His gaze slants aside to the Amazonian, the corner of his lips quirking into a grin.

Atlin has posed:
"No," she admits, apparently having been quite quick to adjust to the 'normalcy' of having another with superhuman abilities around her. Seems it was pretty common in New York! "I mean, none that would be open during this festival." What a way to bring in the New Year, beating down armed robbers. As the celebrations kick to full swing, Atlin turns her gaze skywards before giving a little smile. She knew of fireworks thanks to Wakanda, but this was still one of the closer places she had been to the lights.

"Perhaps you should lead then, and ask what questions you may."

Drake Riley has posed:
Shifting a step ahead, Drake catches the fireworks cresting over the rooftops. "Ah!," he balks. "How long have we been at this!?" He paws through his pockets to retrieve his phone, taking note of the time. It's almost midnight. His expression pinches, briefly annoyed, before he glances again to Atlin. The look softens with a resigned sigh.

"I was gonna hit Times Square. They always do this huge ball drop for the New Year, and I'd never been, so..." He shrugs his shoulders. "We'd never make it in time now."

He glances forward, then again to Atlin. With a small smile, he adds, "Would'a been awkward, anyway. It's tradition to start the new year with a kiss, and I'm single." No reason for her to feel the slightest bit responsible for distracting him from his plans. At least, that's the intent there.

Atlin has posed:
"My people celebrate with festival, song, martial contest and games..." Atlin lists off, counting off on her fingers as they begin to walk, a smile on her lips in musing. "At the very least, we have managed some of that, though perhaps your 'ball dropping' is similar?"

A shrug, she continues walking, only to pause a moment with a frown at the mention of the kiss and the lamentation of Drake being single. "That is an odd tradition, are people expected to have found a companion or lover by the end of each year? No wonder so many seem stressed these last few weeks..."

Drake Riley has posed:
"Think more slow-moving mechanical sphere, less spiking a ball at someone, and we're probably on the same page," Drake jokes. It's true though; they did kind of engage in Atlin's more native tradition. "To be honest, I never really got it. But it's a big thing, so y'know..."

Her question of the tradition gets a light, if sheepish laugh. "You're probably right. People get mopey around Valentine's Day, too. But I think it's more about starting the New Year off on something special. With someone you like, rather than by yourself. All... symbolic." He flits those bright greens aside to her. "Know what I mean?"

Atlin has posed:
"Valentines day? That is a festival of lovers than? Or of marrige? My sisters have similar practices as well...at least as far as I -think- I understand them here. But wishing to celebrate with your beloved is universal I would think." Atlin clearly had gone past pretending to be anywhere near 'Normal', but it was a little hard to blend after you'd been seen catching bullets. Besides, Drake had trusted her with his secret, it was only fair she did the same. As for the 'ball impaling' ceremony? That is simply left alone as yet another thing she was yet to understand.

His words however do have the warrior turning slightly, rolled portrait still in her hand. "Are you asking me to kiss you Drake?"

Drake Riley has posed:
"It is," confirms Drake with a dutiful nod. "And chocolate. Lots of chocolate."

This is nice. Just talking to someone with obvious superpowers like semi-normal people. She's not said anything about his likelihood as a mutant. In fact, she said something about Zeus. Wouldn't that be a heck of a thing? But he's pretty sure he's a mutant. That's what the Institute confirmed, anyway...

Nevermind that she's an impressive specimen, herself. She looks every bit the strong, feminine figure he'd expect. But her own origins are a mystery. She moves like Wonder Woman, but is there some shared heritage-

wut

Drake stumbles a step forward, briefly jarred out of his thoughts. Eyes widened, he turns his gaze aside to the girl, taking stock of her seemingly sincere voice and expression. "Ah- well," he starts, clearly off-guard. "..that /would/ be the tradition, wouldn't it?"

There. Recovery.

He stops walking and turns to face the girl directly. His head tilts faintly to the side, allowing a few stray bangs of hair to waft a bit. "Yes."

Atlin has posed:
"So you say," she answers, his stammering and clear suprise earning a raised eyebrow and a shrug of her bared shoulders. She'd left her jacket with the man that was hopefully on his way to a hospital after all. "Assuming that it is suitable for it to be strangers, friends or anyone else." At least they probably didn't count as strangers so much now, pummeling criminals did tend to increase familarity a little more than sharing a coffee.

His admission and request rolled into one? The blonde blinks, Atlin shrugging her shoulders before she leans forwards and promptly kisses the mutant on the cheek, momentary smooch before she draws back and offers a little chuckle.

"That is the first time I have ever kissed a man," she confesses, albeit seemingly out of amusement. "Hopefully it satisfies your tradition?"

Drake Riley has posed:
Beautiful, exotic, heroic girl about his age, standing before him, looking at him with a striking mixture of innocence and curiosity with the topic of kissing him at hand. Drake hasn't indulged in fanfics, but he's pretty darn sure a number of them have this exact setup. It's too perfect. And it looks like she's actually going to do it. Nevermind the qualifications she's attaching to it, seemingly nuking the potential for romantic connotations - he doesn't care. Doesn't mean he can't enjoy it.

She darts in, pecks his cheek, and withdraws to chuckle. Like a viper strike. What even.

Drake blinks owlishly a couple times at her, eyeshifts in the direction of the kissed cheek, then back to her face. "Ah-.."

The surprise adjusts into a teasing smile.

"Not quite. Can I show you?"

It's a heck of a gamble, and his heart is currently living in his throat. But how often is he going to get this chance?

Atlin has posed:
A frown, a furrow of her brow, but Atlin glances skywards to the fireworks once more. She didn't have a water or phone, didn't know exactly how much time had passed, but well...what kind of Amazon Emissary would she be if she wasn't trying to understand culture. It was one of the main reasons she'd been permitted to leave on this journey after all. "If...my mistake has not caused you to 'miss the moment', since the year has already begun. It's not a tradition that brings with it some curse, is it?"

A legitimate enough question given that magic, ritual and angering divine favors wasn't exactly an uncommon occurance.

"You may."

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley catches the frown and starts to question the wisdom of this gambit. But the question she presents steers him away from that, briefly paused at the absurdity of it. He could absolutely lie and say it is, but that would just feel bad. And ultimately, she gives her permission anyway. So he doesn't specify on that. At least just yet.

Drake moves a step closer to her. She's tall enough that his head doesn't have to tilt far to train his gaze on hers. His right hand raises, tentative at first, before gently setting against the side of her neck, the thumb just brushing the corner of her jaw. His gaze flicks between her eyes for a moment or two longer, taking the moment in with her, admiring her features. At last, his head tilts inwards, tilting a little to the side to press his lips to hers in a soft, kneading kiss. His gaze drifts shut as it lingers, and though he's thoroughly enjoying it and to some degree questioning if it's happening, he's paying keen attention to the Amazonian; watching for her to pull back or seem upset.

Atlin has posed:
She was older than most human's lived to, especially 'normal' humans. To the Amazon of Bana-Mighdall however? Atlin was about as old as she looked. It wasn't her first kiss, but she'd been honest before with her humorous confession. It was certainly a new experience for her to say the least.

There was a -slight- moment of tension, a hand on her neck giving her a pause before she had relaxed. It wasn't an unknown gesture after all, but still.

For someone who'd blocked bullets and kicked a man halfway through a wall she 'felt' normal enough, no harshness of bulletproof skin about her, but there was no denying the strength that could lie within those athletic muscles. If she was upset? He'd probably know about it swiftly.

Still, she does pull away after a moment, hands still holding the portrait and her features just a little flushed.

"I hope this is a joyful start to your New Year."

Almost right, but close enough.

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley wasn't sure what he expected at the feel of her skin. It hadn't really crossed his mind that she might seem tougher, or harder than the average person, or more leathery. In fact, he's happy she's neither of those things. Happier still that he isn't detecting any disgust or withdrawal from the exchange. So Drake keeps it going, indulging the opportunity and subtly nuzzling into it. His left hand lifts finally, settling along the curve of her bare waist.

But end, it does. It's a natural break, with Drake not leaning back from her after the fact, but simply hovering in that proximity. His hand continues to cradle her neck and waist, not yet wanting to fully disengage.

"It's... definitely the best start to a new year I've ever had," he murmurs with a small smile. At last, his eyes open to half-mast to look back at her face. "Not too terrible for you, either, I hope?"