65/If You Can Make It There You'll Make It Anywhere

If You Can Make It There You'll Make It Anywhere
Date of Scene:	22 February 2020
Location:	A Broadway theater, Midtown
Synopsis:	An Avengers play on Broadway. An attempted mugging, a Norse god and a ghostly woman. All the makings of a fine time.
Cast of Characters:	Thor, Kitty Pryde

---

Thor has posed:
    Just a few short days from now...
    New York lives up to its name on the weekends. Particularly in the heart of Winter time with the snow still fresh on the ground and the overcast clouds so high up promising more of that cold kiss to the vibrant city. The skyline is bright in Midtown with the skyscrapers reaching high, their windows illuminated like some view of the future that our grandparents must have had. And nowhere is it more alive than on Broadway during the magic hours where the productions are in full swing, the theaters are full, and the people are lively.
    At times one of the theatres opens it doors, intermission letting people out and about to take in the feeling of the air. Some people take the opportunity to smoke, to enjoy the night's air. But of late, with the chill, the faint snow's fall, and the rise in crime of late... some of the patrons do not indulge so. Far better to stay in the main halls, enjoy the wine, the conversations, before intermission signals its end and the doormen announce a return to the stage.
    Yet tonight there was at least one out there, enjoying the chill despite the way it makes his cheeks subtly flushed with the rush of blood and warmth. The smile on his features a pleasant thing. It had been a good night. It still is a good night. For once to be out and about with his teammates, to be just... enjoying each others' company and for there to not be some maniac with a weapon threatening them.
    Thor, Son of Odin, stood there on Broadway and soaked it all in. Oh he still cut a dashing handsome silhouette. Still was a tall man who stood out in a crowd. though it was not quite so obviously /Thor/ in their midst. For he wore a perfectly tailored suit of black with a white dress shirt. It was neatly pressed, not a wrinkle to be seen in even the ebony tie that is tucked behind the double-breasted jacket. And that hat he wears, a call back to the 50s with the jaunty angle and the snappy brim. Assuredly he had been warned that Fedoras were not in style. And yet...
    Thor made it work. But for now he simply enjoyed being out. About, and though he loved the adulation. It was rare for him to just experience the peace that was around him as he walked down that sidewalk, bright leather shoes lightly scraping along the salt and the snow of the sidewalk with each step.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
The doors open to admit a young woman out into the frosty air. Kitty Pryde is wearing a beautiful blue dress that would leave her athletically shaped shoulders bare but for a jacket that she has draped over them. The hem is down to nearly her ankle but with a long slit that allows for some freedom of movement in the garment. Her hair is done for a night out as well.

No one accompanies her as Kitty steps out, just seeking to get away from the crowd inside and try to take in a little fresh air. So much as the air within the city can be called that. Her first time down to Broadway in two years, the young woman who once wished to be a professional dancer could not pass up an offered ticket to the show about the other super hero group.

The hem of her dress sways about her as she walks down the steps from the theater and down to the sidewalk. She has a small clutch purse in hand that matches the dress. And to be honest, she just feels beautiful tonight. Being able to dress up and go out to the storied theater row is its own delightful thrill for the girl from Deerfield, Illinois. She felt the same way during her time near London, and now she is back in the States, double so, for it feels more like home.

Thor has posed:
    With how the night has been, with the actors within performing so well, it has indeed left a positive impression. Something in the repertoire of the dancers, the actors, and the musical number was amusing as Thor ruminates faintly on the man who portrayed Loki. The Thunderer shakes his had with a faint smile upon his lips as he walks.
    Yet from her place upon that same sidewalk, Kitty perhaps only sees the man's retreating back. Something about him might draw a second glance. Perhaps a third. The size of him, the fact he doesn't have a jacket, that he's alone on such a night...
    Perhaps only time enough for that faint consideration. But then there's the brilliance of headlights that cast that same tall man in a sharp severe glare. An engine runs and there's a flash of red and blue lights, as if that vehicle were a police vehicle. That man in the fedora lifts an arm to shield his eyes, not moving out of the way. And likely not seeing the approach of the team of men stepping in.
    It is from her viewpoint that Kitty sees them. Two from behind him, two from the alley. Still one in the car? Five men. Police? They don't look like police. No uniforms. But two have guns apparently. But their voices are calm and controlled.
    "Excuse me, sir, can I see some ID?" That's loud enough to carry as they approach. But the way the one /jabs/ the gun into the tall man's back isn't at all like they train in the academy.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
Kitty walks slowly along the sidewalk, her stroll aimless for the moment. The jacket about her shoulders is just enough against the cold so long as she doesn't stay out too long, though the theater's warmth is likely to be welcome even after just a short stop outside.

She smiles to an older man and woman who are out taking the moment for a smoke break, receiving return smiles as she walks past them. Up ahead the rather rugged form of a well-dressed man does draw her attention. It's the kind of build she had first noticed on a certain Russian that she'd been long drawn to. A Russian who remains nameless in her mind for the moment, not wanting to think about him right now.

Kitty is just about to turn away when she notices the police car. The brightness of the lights cause her to look down from their brightness. Which is also when she spots the New Jersey license plate on the vehicle. She glances at the men stepping out from the alleyway, recognizing the orchestration of timing involved.

Her heels click softly on the pavement as she moves forward, closing on the two men from behind, when she spots the gun being pressed into the tall man's back. Kitty's footfalls suddenly become silent, her feet phasing out of her shoes leaving her barefoot on the freezing cold pavement as she nears the men.

Thor has posed:
    Her approach is clean, unobserved as she closes. The drawback of using those bright headlights and the spot to highlight the man makes them focus entirely on him. Though they start to try and move him to the side. But curiously enough, he doesn't seem too inclined to move. Something is said, though it doesn't carry. That man's voice is deep and strong, and there's even... a bit of humor to it.
    But whatever it is isn't important as she can see the driver-side door opening and then one of the men snarling as she gets closer. "Just get him in the alley, chrissakes do I gotta do everything!" And there's that distinct shink-ka-chink of a round being chambered in the 9mm pistol the one 'officer' is holding.
    Seconds now. Only seconds left.
    The body language of the men changes. She's likely seen it before. The tension draining and shifting to resolution as negotiation and discussion gives way to decisions made. One of the men takes the weapon and draws it back even as the tall man extends a hand slightly to the side.
    And as she closes that distance the last thing she'll hear said between them is that tall man's voice, curiously melodic with a touch of humor as he says. "Come, you must meet my friends..."
    And then she reaches them.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
The gun is drawn back, the butt able to make a perfect sap even for the large man, while his back is to them. Only when the assailant's hand suddenly closes on air as if the gun isn't there anymore. Both men find that to be the case, as if their guns just ghosted away from them.

There are clattering noises behind them, the guns discarded behind Kitty Pryde after she phased them from the men's hands. In one case reaching through the man's body to do so. She doesn't wait for them to react, a foot stomping into the back of the knee of one man, enough to drop him to the cold pavement. The other man finds his hand suddenly held in a painful joint lock. One that if he doesn't wish his wrist to break, necessitates his entire body flipping over and landing on his back on the pavement.

It all happens fast. So fast that by the time the elderly couple who are smoking look, the two men are down on the ground, and the young woman in blue is moving around the tall, well-dressed man, heading for the men coming from the alley.

Thor has posed:
    It is a whirlwind of motion. One moment the gun is drawing back the next it is gone, whispering from his grip and thrown free almost negligently as it clatters into that alleyway. Attention snaps away from the tall man only to focus on... who?
    It's always that split second of hesitation that costs them. That brief short circuiting moment when she is able to make that stomp into the man's leg with the knife's edge of her foot, sending him down. The other has no choice but to flow with that twist even as she'll feel the subtle _give_ of the joint signaling its dislocation at least, followed by a low grunt of pain when he hits the ground.
    Then she rushes past that tall man in the old timey hat. Rushing toward the men who quickly spread out to try and flank her. There's a whisper of steel on leather as one draws a knife and tries to hide it from her behind his back. Though she will then hear that tall man's voice. "Ware, young warrior. He has a blade."

Kitty Pryde has posed:
Kitty's hair is done in a braid down her back, for attending tonight's festivities. Though this particular intermission was not planned for, it is very much the sort of weaving of tresses a Valkyrie might do before going into battle.

Kitty's jacket that was just resting over her shoulders is drawn off with one hand after hearing the man's warning. The knife-wielder steps forward into her, stabbing towards her groin and drawing Kitty's attention while the second draws near to throw a punch towards the young woman's side.

The jacket wraps about the man's arm, enfolding it and the knife both, then twisting to supply leverage on the man to pull him off balance. The accomplish is behind the woman in blue from the perspective of the tall man in the brimmed hat. It looks like his blow is going to land on the woman but somehow she must evade it for it is the knife wielder who suddenly grunts in pain as the fist slams into his stomach.

Kitty's leg positions itself behind the punch thrower's leg, providing a fulcrum that when both men are pressed that direction, sends them tumbling over to the ground as well. There's another clatter as the knife has somehow been extricated from her coat, and it joins the guns in the shadows of the alleyway as the brunette turns towards the man from the car. Her body is lithe and well formed. Athletic. Her face, finally seen, well shaped, but perhaps surprisingly youthful for her moves as she stalks quickly on bare feet towards the remaining man who is on his feet.

Thor has posed:
    Behind her there is a faint /whom/ of sound even as she focuses on the final man who is standing ready. The men that were knocked on the ground start to rouse, one or two still having some hint of fight to them. Their eyes lift only to find the bright blue-eyed gaze of Thor's who merely holds up a finger and raises an eyebrow as he says simply, "Don't."
    Yet that last one, he's got a serious look of murder on his face, though no weapon in hand. His hands are raised to fend her off and his grim features are intent with what one can only say is mayhem. His jaw clenches, tightens, and the way he stands, he's trained some. But then he shakes his head and scowls, "Step off lady, I'm gettin' outta here around you or through you. And you won't like that last."
    Then there's no further warning, he steps in and throws a monstrous haymaker of a punch that might well break her jaw if it somehow managed to connect. Even as some distance in the offing is the sound of rushing feet and a person calling for help as security begins to arrive.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
The woman blue does not seem deterred by the man's threat. "I'm rather used to people going through me actually," she tells him as he launches that tremendous punch towards her jaw.

She must have just avoided it by the slightest margin, because it surely looked like it was going to connect right where he was aiming. Instead his fist just swings on by with nothing to slow it. The young woman grabs his arm, forcing his body to continue the rotation of the punch, using it against him as she then grabs the back of his head and propels him face first into the car door. He topples to the ground.

The scene suddenly becomes more chaotic. Several men wearing the clothing of security from the theater hurry forward, and there are three different police officers closing on the situation quickly from both sides along the sidewalk. There's even a horse-mounted officer who comes riding down the street, the horse's iron-clad hooves clip-clopping noisily.

The security and cops swarm over the downed men, talking hurriedly. "Guns in the alley..." "Assaulted the man..." "Don't think that's a real squad car!"

Onlookers start to gather, making the moment more chaotic. Somewhere there's a glimpse of a blue dress but it is quickly lost in the gathering crowd. While her shoes were gathered in her flight, her jacket remains lying on the cold sidewalk. Nearby is a small woman's purse, the color matching the dress of the young, athletic looking brunette girl.

Thor has posed:
    In the curious chaos of the aftermath she likely won't realize what happens next. Won't see the circle of people speaking to that tall man, and some surprised to see him in the center of such a scene. Won't see the police officers blinking and then smiling as he regales them with the tale of the Young Lady Whirlwind who struck as quick as the wind and fled just as swiftly.
    Nor will she see the man take up that jacket and shake it out, tsking faintly at the dirt and snowy grime that had besmirched it. And the way he lays claim to the clutch tellng those men there that he will see it is returned. For in truth, he would have words with the young woman. And he intends to make it so.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
The young woman does miss all of that. She's long strove to keep her identity secret, and so she departs as quickly as she had arrived on the scene. Her shoes scooped up and hastily slid back onto her feet only once she has slipped back into the theater, going through a wall rather than climbing the stairs to the door where she might be seen more easily.

She is most of the way back to her seat before she realizes she's lost her jacket. And three more steps before she realizes her purse is gone too. "Great job, Kitty," she says to herself with a sigh, and causing a glance from a man on his way back to his seat. Kitty gives him a friendly enough smile until he passes and then lets out another sigh. "I guess I can check lost and found, or the police after," she says to herself, already reckoning how much work it will be to cancel her credit cards and get new ID.

The house lights dim a few times to signify the continuation of the show. Kitty makes her way down to her seat. Sitting down in the floor level, not up in one of the boxes where luminaries and other special guests might be seated. She makes her way past people to her seat, thanking those who rise to let her pass, and takes her seat. "He was kind of big and scrapping," she says to herself with a soft smile, remembering the man who was being assaulted.

Thor has posed:
    The play continued as the cast belted out the lively build up to the tumultuous climax upon the tall tower of Stark's grand building. The decor of the set was wondrous and compartmental, sliding across the stage on rollers as each is configured for one hero after the other to have the spotlight in their own dance/fight number. At some points there were gentle laughs, when Hulk dances a pirouette around the Thor actor and casually backhands him into a collapsible building.
    But there was also solemnity when Tony Stark hurls himself up up up on a great rope hoist into the eye of terror from whence the aliens emerged, throwing the styrofoam nuclear weapon through its gate.
    And then there was the applause. The lights coming up and the applause rising. She could see each actor as they strutted forth upon the stage and took their bows, the Loki actor receiving the lion's share for his scenes and dialogue were delivered the best of all those fine actors.
    And then it was over, leaving that lovely warm glow and satisfaction that only a production on Broadway can fully impart in its own inimitable way.
    But for Thor his time was not spent to watch that finale. Instead he had taken his time to think and reflect upon that young woman in blue. To consider how she moved, how beautiful she was as she rushed from one point to another, lithely leaping to battle in his (assuredly exaggerated) memory. Yet for now he held his place here upon that small bench in the elegant alcove of the theatre. Out of the way, yet clear with a view of the doors, and the service desk where one would go for a Lost and Found most likely.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
Kitty is on her feet with the rest, applauding the performance. A woman beside her leans over to say, "That Tom Hiddleston really was great, wasn't he?" Kitty nods in agreement. "An inspired performance, though I'm still not quite sure about casting Robert Downey Jr as Tony Stark," she shares with the woman. The applause continues and the bows are taken, until eventually the theater begins to clear out.

Kitty inquires with an usher and is pointed over towards where an attendant can be seen behind a service desk. She crosses over to it, the blue dress's slit showing occasional glimpses of a stocking clad thigh, and the heels that were an inspired choice when paired with the dress.

She rounds a corner, not noticing the bench against the wall that angles away from the path she's walking to the service desk. Nor noticing the man that rests upon it. Kitty reaches the service desk, a man who was just speaking to the attendant finishing and departing. "Yes, I seem to have misplaced my jacket. And also a small blue clutch. I might have left them outside at intermission," she tells the attendant.

Thor has posed:
    As she inquires she'll likely see the attendant look up. A young man of dark complexion who has the most set upon look to his features in a way, but he manages to put on a positive smile for her as she inquires. But his attention seems to trail off a little at the end of her words and to the space behind her as someone approaches.
    Then she'll hear a firm deep voice, rumbling with a warm tone, pleasantly offering gentle words to her as he murmurs. "I have your belongings, my lady. Though I fear your jacket has been ill used by the villains who dared raise hand against you."
    Should she turn she'll see him then. That tall man of blond hair, the hat held now in one hand and against his breast. And indeed her belongings are in his other hand held out in her direction offered freely. "Though if you will accept these I would ask for you to take with you as well my thanks, my appreciation, as well as my admiration."
    Then he stops speaking and smiles down at her, his features entirely open and touched with a gleam of kind curiousity.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
Kitty Pryde does indeed turn. Seeing a man's chest and having to lift her face and eyes to gaze ever upwards to see Thor's countenance. Kitty's lips fall just slightly open, enough it might suggest she had no idea who the man was being accosted on the street. But clearly, she recognizes him now.

Kitty's eyes drop to her offered coat and purse. "Thank you," she tells him, unable to stop the small smile that results. She takes the gently offered belongings, eying the jacket and the noticeable slice where the knife cut through it. "Well, winter is almost over. It will be cooler for spring this way," she softly jokes, the jacket truly forgotten already though as she lifts her eyes back to Thor's face.

Her hand touches at her hair in a self-conscious way. The normal locks that might have escaped her pony-tail are still tucked in the neatly done braid though. "I hadn't realized how you were," she says, voice as self-conscious as that touch, and her eyes darting about for a moment before lifting back to meet Thor's gaze. "I don't imagine any thanks, nor help, were needed," she says.

Thor has posed:
    There is something about the man. The way those bright blue eyes just hold her gaze. And there's that complete openness in his expression, the way he looks at her, as if there was nothing else in the world and only she was truly worthy of this attention. He shakes his head and then says quietly, "On the contrary. You rushed forth, entirely selfless. Into a situation from which you knew not if you would emerge the victor. All for the aid of a man you knew not at all."
    Slowly he shakes his head, as if unbelieving of what had passed and yet taken with it as well. It is rare for someone to see such in the Asgardian's eyes, and he holds her gaze as he tells her simply. Softly. "Valor is ever worthy of thanks, and praise. You are a warrior true, Lady Pryde. Beautiful in your passion. Brave in your spirit. I am honored that you risked of yourself for me."
    There's a pause and he looks down, then back up with his eyes partially hooded and he adds, "I am ever at your service. And you will ever have a place in my heart, good lady."

Kitty Pryde has posed:
Kitty's eyes are held by the man as Thor's gentle, deep voice speaks to her so. Even for a young woman with the experiences Kitty has had, the praise coming from him touches her.

Kitty glances back over her shoulder finally, seeing the attendant standing there listening. He clears his throat and moves to find something else to do rather than eaves drop. The young brunette woman turns back to Thor. "I don't know that I've ever been paid such a compliment before," she tells him. "Nor do I know how to express my gratitude for it," she says to Thor, "other than to say thank you."

Kitty's tongue touches her lip. "The actor, though good as actors go, surely did not do you justice," she tells him. "Though the play was enjoyable. Thank you for saving my jacket and purse. It's a lot of effort, canceling things and getting them replaced," she says. She knows that she's babbling a bit, though maybe it is better than being tongue-tied. "Are you... I guess you'd be heading back to the Mansion? Or, home to Asgard?" she asks.

Thor has posed:
    When she glances over, Thor is only then able to look away as if he were returning to the here and now. He'll catch the desk clerk trying to look busy and he can't help but smile, then he turns to her and in an almost formal gesture extends his arm to her in that way as if he were her escort and she were in his care.
    If she accepts then he will begin to walk slowly away from that desk and toward the door even as some other theater patrons step around them, noticing that... is that him? But they at the least give them a wide enough berth as he moves to that door and then holds it for her to precede him. It's only once that door whispers silently shut behind them that they are now out in the chill of Winter with snowflakes falling slowly, adding to the faint sheen of white upon the city before them.
    "I am recently returned to be with my friends and comrades, living in the mansion for now." He says this as he's removing his coat, one sleeve at a time. And as he does so no longer is his chest hidden by that subtle tailoring. She can see the way that white dress shirt hugs the strong contours of his powerfully muscled form, the flow of those masculine lines leading over his chest and down the tight abdomen that seems taut behind the clasp of that belt.
    "For now, however, no emergency preys upon my time. No obligation holds me at its mercy. My time is my own to spend as I will and I would have it pass in your company."
    Then he gently sets his jacket over her shoulders, strong hands warm  as he takes the time to make sure it will protect her against the chill of that faint breeze and the brush of the snowflakes in the air. "That is if you will have me."
    His voice is calm and deep, filled with such a respect and a clear admiration. And then he once again offers her his arm as they begin the walk into the night.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
The young woman doesn't try to surpress her pleased smile when the man's arm is offered to her. Her hands gently circle, the girl's soft brown eyes radiant as she shines a smile up to Thor and he walks her slowly towards the theater's exit, through a crowd of well-dressed patrons, all of whom are completely unnoticed by Kitty as her attention is rather fixated at the moment.

The young woman's jacket, besides the knife hole, no doubt bears the stains of a New York City sidewalks in Feburary. Slush, salt and grime. So when Thor slips his own around her shoulders left bare by the dress, warding off a cold wind, the gesture draws an even larger smile from Kitty. "Thank you," she tells him.

"And I would have you," she says, the words slipping from her lips before she quite realizes how they might sound. She clears her throat amidst tiny bits of color in her cheeks, that might have been mistaken for merely the cool weather were it for not for the timing. She amends, "That is, I would appreciate whatever time and company you might favor me with, Thor Odinson," she tells him, smiling up at the man."

Kitty lets him lead her along the sidewalk. Indeed, she likely won't remember later exactly what path they took, for her attention is rather focused. "How did it feel, seeing the actors upon the stage portraying yourself, and your friends?" she asks him.

Thor has posed:
    The world seems to shrink entirely down to just them. Just the two lone figures suddenly lost in a world of their own making. Little exists beyond them, little thought needed nor shared even as the snow swirls with the touch of wind sending the whorls through the air like a pinwheel. The sidewalk leads them where it will, the signs of storefronts, the glow of lights, the faint caress of snow upon bare skin. These are all left to the wayside in lieu of his finding those brown eyes, intent on that gaze and the soft caress of her hand upon his arm.
    "Curiously enough..." Thor says, his smile slipping wider, perhaps even showing a hint of modesty as he looks down then back toward her. "There have been plays in the past. The theater is one of Asgard's great works, and is how we pass stories down from century to century. Tales. The gift of story. Word of mouth. We are a culture that values oral works and so I have seen actors strut and strive portraying what I have lived."
    But then his brow knits as he looks ahead. "But these tonight, they had such a lovely gift. And the presentation was so evocative. So emotive. And..." He pauses as he seeks the word to encompass the way the people would rush around and change the scenery to try and capture the movement that was there in those battles.
    "Kinetic and energetic perhaps."
    Then he looks back to her, and as they pass a small snow drift as he adds, "But I shall have you know, your tale will live on in our tradition now. The Night that Thor, Son of Odin, was saved by a Mortal Girl's bravery." He says these words with such solemnity, delivering them from a place of such open sincerity that it might be surprising for her to hear a person speak in such a way.
    They walk on for a few more moments, then the spell breaks as he turns to face her, "Are you quite warm enough, Lady Pryde?" His blue eyes drift to her shoulders, then to the button of his collar as he perhaps leans in to affix his jacket properly upon her shoulders. Drawing close in that moment.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
The young woman's footsteps make the soft sounds of her heels upon the concrete of the sidewalks. Cars pass by on the streets, taxis looking for fares and people rushing home to get out of the cold. All of it is faded into the background as Thor's description is given of his culture's art and history tied together as they are in an oral tradition. "It was like that for us, especially in the past. Before mass producing of books, and then eventually the ways of broadcasting performances," she tells him. "But there is something so charming about the live performance. As you say, the energy of it, and the creativity to help you feel a part of it," she agrees.

As Thor pays such attention to her, the young woman's delicate lips form a soft, pleased smile. "It is only a little chilly," she tells him as Thor draws nearer. "I apologize for needing your coat. Though I imagine this is nothing compared to the cold of Jotunheim," she says, looking up at Thor and resting a hand very lightly upon his torso.

Kitty looks down, smile growing as she says, "Well, I know now that those men probably posed not the slightest threat to you. But it means more than I can really say that you would think of my actions so. I just... did what I thought needed to be done though. It was not something so worthy," she says, looking down and away.

Thor has posed:
    "The fact that you do not think such selflessness is worthy of praise makes it so." That said he covers her hand with his and gives her fingers a very gentle squeeze. And beneath her touch she can feel such strength, the line of his chest firm and resistant yet there is a softness felt beneath that small caress. As if the skin of an Asgardian was not so far different from any other. He smiles into her eyes, as he lifts a fingertip to gently brush away the smallest of snowflakes that turns itself into but a teardrop upon her cheek.
    "When I stand against the enemies of Asgard I do not know what evils they will inflict upon my world and people. Perhaps if I fall no harm would come to my home, for there are others who would stand as well in its defense. But that does not render my efforts for naught. It is that we stand for what we believe in, and protect those whom we love. You have a beautiful open love of others. And that is why you are worthy of my esteem. My admiration."
    He cups her cheek gently and lifts her chin, the pad of his thumb brushing the curve of her ear and for a moment... she can see the way his eyes distance, half-hooding slowly as he looks almost wistful to her. It's a slender moment shared between them. Where she can read that desire there, the wish to touch, to hold. To find what warmth there is to be had in the caress of her lips.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
Kitty listens to Thor's words, her eyes down, but her growing smile easy enough to see as her heart seems to sing with what is said to her. By the time that she feels that hand, both strong and gentle, cupping her cheek, the young woman's gaze is easily lifted back to the man. Lifted and held.

Kitty's fingers turn to curl slowly about the man's hand where they rest against hers. She looks up into his deep blue eyes and sees what is writ there. It draws her in. He draws her in. The young woman's leans ever closer, each inch that she covers seems to sink her deeper into the presence that Thor Odinson exudes.

Until there is the feeling of her body gently brushing against his torso. The softness and the toned together in a melding of femininity. Her delicate features are turned up to Thor, lips softly pursing together as they are offered up towards him, towards the sense she has that he wishes to know that touch of their lips together as much as she does.

Thor has posed:
    There on the sidewalks of New York, with the snow continuing to fall gently around them, Thor feels her so close to him, and she can feel that tension there. That taut feeling of a man who holds himself so in check. Only for him to surrender to the way she feels against him. To the look of desire in her eyes, and the way that bow of her lips seems to draw him forward as he lowers his lips to meet the rise of her own.
    The kiss is shared between them, soft at first as for a time it is simply breath shared between two paramours who have just discovered each other. He is soft warmth, heat whispered against her lips with each lingering breath. His hand falling to find the small of her back and rest there, drawing her into that embrace. Then his head turns and the fingers of his other hand entwine with her own, holding her to him.
    It is all naught save the whisper of their senses carrying everything of the other to them. He has that blaze of heat despite the chill air, where the skin brushes skin he is so staggeringly warm, and so close she can draw in the masculine scent of a man tinged with a tang of ozone.
    The kiss deepens. Lips part as he turns his head just so. He draws a deep breath and then his chest rumbles with some deep and primal as only then does the kiss break just enough for her to feel him smile, his brow resting against hers, then he whispers.
    "I am beginning to like Midgard's theatre more and more." His lip twists a little.