Ta-rah-rah-BOOM-de-yay! (Angel, Open)

[Vidar Anfinson]

{desc=In which Jean}Vidar stood outside in the early morning sun next to the memorial he'd been asked to remove as one of his first official tasks as the groundskeeper, clad in an olive green short-sleeved t-shirt, military style desert camo cargo pants, modified combat boots, a black bandana tied do-rag style around his head and a pair of wrap around sunglasses. The memorial, for one Jean Grey the woman who had hired him, was obviously not needed. After all, the red headed woman was very much alive. Furthermore, he hadn't been told why there was a memorial for someone still living on the grounds in the first place. Of course, he hadn't asked for that information either. His was not to question why, only to remove the unneeded memorial.

As the avian man examined the monument he thought on how best to get rid of it. The job would be much easier if he had super strength. Or eye lasers. But, neither of of those things were among his gifts. Being a farmer's son he knew how to make things grow, which made him a logical choice for groundskeeper. But, he knew nothing about removing heavy concrete monuments. He supposed there were a number of ways to do it, but most would do serious damage to the grounds. He thought about his skills a bit more and came to the conclusion. It really was the only logical choice.

Explosives.

Not big ones, of course. Just tiny little charges, not much more than primers really. They could be used to crack the monument into smaller pieces that would be easier to haul away. The avian man shrugged his feathered shoulders, it was time to go to work, especially if he wanted to have this job done by the end of the day. It should be doable with a minimal amount of damage to the grounds immediately around the monument, damage that was going to occur anyway when the monument and its concrete base were removed.

===================================================

Around three in the afternoon Vidar returned to the memorial with a copper colored tube of homemade cordite in his possession. For what he needed to accomplish cordite was the safest and best choice for an explosive. After drilling some holes in the monument and its base Vidar inserted bits of cordite into the monument. Then it occurred to him that roping off the area would be a good idea. For safety.

"Think of the children," he muttered to himself as a reminder that he was not in a war zone and, technically, employed by a school now.

A few moments later he had roped off the area and returned to the site to check his work and set up a small plexiglass shield to protect the other two monuments. He knew it wouldn't be needed. But it was better to be safe than sorry.

Having attached a long, almost Wile E. Coyote style, fuse to the cordite he flew thirty feet up into the air and examined the entire area with his enhanced vision. There were, of course, people outside because it was a gorgeous afternoon. But, there was no one anywhere near where he was working or inside the roped off area. In short, there was no danger so Vidar lit the fuse.

"Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole!" he bellowed, cupping his hands around his mouth as he shouted to make the call louder. A few seconds later there were a series out loud pops, though nothing that he thought would be considered too loud. The booms weren't even as loud as a single hand grenade.

From where he was in the air Vidar could tell the cordite had worked. There were several cracks in the monument and its base. He could also tell that setting up the tape barrier and plexiglass had obviously been wasted effort on his part.

"Four years later and I still remember my explosives," he muttered to himself as he fluttered to the ground.

Approaching the now damaged monument Vidar decided that the easiest way to remove it would be from the top down and that, for the time being, he would keep up the barriers just to keep people away from the damaged mass of granite and concrete. No need to risk possible injury.

Reaching up Vidar removed the now detachable top third of the monument, the dyed triple stripe of red feathers on his right arm and the single stripe of dyed black feathers on his left arm standing out a bit more sharply than normal as his biceps bulged from lifting the heavy piece of stone. He dropped the piece of stone into the bed of the small Gator utility vehicle and then turned to go and get the second piece. He had just gathered up that piece when he heard the unmistakable sound of someone approaching from behind him and, apparently, trying to be quiet. Moving to the vehicle he deposited the second piece of stone in the bed of the truck before turning to face the interloper.

"The work site is closed, go away," he said bluntly, in a Norwegian accented voice. "If you've come simply to gawk at the physically mutated you can likewise leave," he said, his ice blue eyes narrowing in the direction of the person.

[Angelica Jones]

Clothes!

Angel had taken to the gardens today. The weather was sirene. Not too hot, not too cold. With her mind still on choosing pieces of music for the showcase she had planned she carried with her a large binder. She'd lingered among the flowers for a long while, drinking iced tea from the glass she'd brought with her. Angel couldn't remember how many different songs she'd gone over, humming each and every single one of them to be completely sure she wanted to use it. Removing a the blue ink pen from behind her ear she would either place a check or an x in the top right corner.

That had been her planned afternoon. She knew at some point she'd meander into the kitchen for a snack but for the most part today was about locking in her music selections. Classes would be beginning and she needed to have a good idea on what they would first go over. Angel was a tad nervous for them to begin, that being said she'd been obsessing over the perfect music to introduce them to.

"I could start with the Debussy.." She muttered to herself. "No, no... I should start with a more known composer.. Mozart, they will all be familiar with Mozart." She pondered aloud, staring at the two pieces in the binder. Should she choose something simply instrumental? Vocals? Perform an Aria? There were so many options for her first introductory classes that her head was spinning by three pm. She had to have sat there for a good four hours simply staring at these two pieces of music.

Groooooooooooooooooooowl!

Angel jumped, nearly knocking the glass from the stone bench she'd been occupying. She caught it with fumbling hands, but managed to spill the rest of the contents on the green grass. Frowning she placed one of those hands against her stomach. Food. When had she eaten last? Breakfast? Lunch? Angel couldn't remember. So of course with a reluctant sigh she closed the binder and shoved that ink pen back behind her ear. Angel snagged the glass from the bench and headed back towards the school.

Well... she almost.

"Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole!"

Angel jumped once more, looking around for the the so called fire in the hole. The poor woman had taken that seriously, imagining an actual fire. That was mostly due to her incredible relief to not having caused said 'fire'. Of course it was then the pops erupted and she moved out from behind the large shrubberies. It was there she spotted the monuments and the roping. Were they remodeling? But after a few moments she put two and two together.

Jeans monument.

After all the woman was alive and well.

Angel, curious, moved closer. She hadn't attempted to being quiet, but as a naturally shy person she usually did approach semi-quietly. Her eyes had been on the rubble that was now the monument. That obviously hadn't come apart with a jackhammer. By the looks of it she'd say someone blew the damn thing up. Her blue eyes widened at the thought of explosives being used on school grounds. And then, once again for the third time in the last fifteen minutes, she jumped at the order.

Angel turned those confused blue eyes towards the stranger and couldn't help the sheer surprise that donned her features. He was.. he was a bird. She understood his second statement then and nodded to herself. Obviously he was used to being stared at. Though Angel would have stared for an entirely different reason. Much like the last avian mutant she had met she thought his mutation was fascinating and altogether beautiful. "Actually I came to see what all the commotion was... as well as what had happened." Her eyes scanned the rubble. "Please tell me you didn't detonate that.." She muttered moreso to herself than him.

[Vidar Anfinson]

Nosy, and a liar to boot. She may have come to see what the commotion was about. Vidar had to admit that he had caused a little bit of noise with the cordite. That having been said the curvy red head in the dress that matched her hair, and showed off some of her best physical assets, was almost certainly lying about having come to stare at him. It was his experience that everyone that looked normal wanted to stare at him and that the more attractive someone was the more they wanted to gawk at those who were obviously different as if it was some sort of freak show. Since the red head had attractiveness down, in spades no less, and seemed to know it based on her dress there could be little doubt that she was here to gawk now that she had answered her initial query concerning the cause of the noise. Unfortunately, it was equally obvious that the woman was a teacher and running her off would, therefore, be much more difficult since he couldn't very well threaten her with detention or suspension. Teachers always thought they were above the rules and, nine times out of ten, they were.

"I did," was the Norwegian's simple reply to her question about the detonation of the memorial. He was highly trained and knew what he was doing when it came to explosives, not that he could see much of a reason to share that information with this woman. His dress should have been all the hint needed to indicate that he and explosives were close buddies. Similarly, he had been instructed to remove the monument, which he was in the process of doing. Once it was done he would expand all the flower beds around the other two monuments to avoid leaving an objectionable bald spot next to the Xavier Memorial that would be bald until the grass grew back in.

Returning to the memorial he grabbed the bottom third of what had been the granite stone and hefted it. Giving the stone and ever so slight toss he got it up on his right shoulder being careful to avoid slamming it into his wing. No doubt a stone that size would easily shatter the bones if he messed up. Still, he also had to mentally acknowledge that he was showing off for the red headed woman, just a little bit. Hell, you'd have to be brain dead not to. The burly Norwegian was reasonably sure that she could even turn a gay man straight with a single glance.

As he slid the piece onto his shoulder the sleeve of his t-shirt slid back all the way to his shoulder to fully reveal the thick strip of black feathers running around his bicep. Walking over to the vehicle he set the stone in the bed of the small truck with a loud thump. He would have wiped the sweat from his forehead, but he didn't really sweat all that much since he was almost more bird than man. When he turned around he expected that the red head would be gone, having had her fill of gawking. There was also the fact that Vidar wasn't the easiest person to get along with, as he well knew. Of course, if he was the way that he was it was only because the world had made him that way. But, when he turned around, she was still there watching him. He sighed, she really did want to gawk, like it was a zoo or something.

"Is there something else you want or need," he asked, not bothering to introduce himself as he pushed the sunglasses up onto his forehead and regarded the woman with a piercing ice blue gaze. She obviously wasn't here to offer any kind of assistance, not in that dress and those shoes. In fact, Vidar guessed that without the heels he'd be more than a foot taller than her. As he spoke he resisted the urge to follow up his comment about her wants and needs with something like "has your kitten gotten lost up a tree" or "would something pretty from the garden make you go away". At this point there was no reason to be outright hostile, but he still wasn't all that good at not displaying a certain prickly demeanor in general.

[Angelica Jones]

Angel could feel herself staring. Yet she couldn't keep herself from doing so. She'd always had a fascination with mutation. If she weren't such a music lover she might have been a geneticist. And his particular mutation was breath taking. He sent her mind reeling in thought. Could he fly? Did he possess the same sense attributes of a bird? She assumed the answer was yes, but it didn't keep her mind form asking. But of course the feathers. They were incredibly beautiful. She'd never been close to an actual bird, so being this close to a man that had such advanced avian features she was at a loss of words. But that quickly changed as he confirmed his use of explosives. Her brow furrowed a moment as she looked away from him and back to the mess of stone, stopping only to set down her binder and glass. She carefully moved towards the rubble, doing her best not to stumble and fall.

Angel bent at the waist, her fingers crazing over the cracked granite, inspecting it. She noted the plexiglass and was at least thankful he'd taken precautions. Though she was certain it had been to protect the other monuments rather than students. She removed her sunglasses, hanging them from the breast of her dress. She turned back to him, "I'm glad you at least thought to put the plexiglass up.." she said quietly. Her voice trailed a moment as she watched him heft that block. She wondered, then, if his bones were hollow. How intriguing. But Angel kept her invasive questions to herself. Sadly, her hands didn't follow her minds lead.

Mostly because she spotted that line of black feathers, so prominent against the snow white. Her body moved on its own account, her feet carrying towards him. Her eyes were fixated on that curious stripe, and her fingertips traced it lazily. She smiled to herself at that smooth, soft, feeling. And soon fingertips turned into her entire palm. She then realized he had said something....

And she was petting him like an animal.

"Oh my.." She whispered, jumping backwards away from him. Her face flushed a bright red, nearly matching her hair and dress. She covered her mouth in horror, her blue eyes meeting his in shock. "I.." She started, nothing following that one word. Her thick lips pressed against each other as she simply stood there in complete surprise at herself. Finally she avoided his eyes and looked down at the ground.

"I.. I'm so sorry.. That was rude.. Th-that was incredibly rude. Ent-t-t-irely out of line." She stammered, hiding her face in her hands a moment, her cheeks still a vibrant red. Angel clasped her hands tightly together, giving him a slight apologetic smile. "Honestly.. I j-just came to figure out what was happening. I never-.." She shut herself up for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts.

She let out a sigh of frustration, a hand resting on her hip and the other on her forehead. Her hat tipped backward, trying to blow away in the slight breeze and she awkwardly grabbed at it before nervously chuckling. "I'll just.." She said taking a few steps backwards, but her foot hit the glass she had set down and the audible tink of glass on concrete made her jump.

At least it didn't break..

She looked behind her and quickly gathered her things before turning to him. "Again I-" She started and froze once more. What did you say to someone you'd just practically groped? Hey thanks for the feel, kid?

"Sorry.." She muttered, hiding her face behind her binder taking a few tentative steps. She hadn't gotten his name. She hadn't given him hers. Which, at first, she thought was perfect then she could forget this ever happened... But she lived here, and worked here. He obviously worked here, possibly lived here too. They were bound to run into each other at some point.

"Drat." She said under her breath, her shoulders sinking.

"Um. Can we start over?" She squeaked,juggling the binder and glass into one arm. "I-I'm Angelica. Jones. Angelica Jones..." She stammered. "I-I teach music.." She held her hand out for a handshake and after a few seconds retracted it. Did he shake hands? Those talons looked extremely sharp. Her hand came back out, and danced back and forth for a moment as she tried to figure out if she was being rude by offering her hand and touching him again.

"Sorry.." She muttered once more, using that hand to push red curls behind her ear, promptly knocking the blue ink pen from behind it. "Dangit.."

All thumbs today, Angel. All thumbs.

[Vidar Anfinson]

Vidar watched the woman for a moment longer as she continued to stare. So be it. He still had a job to get done. All that remained were the cracked pieces of the concrete base and they wouldn't magically get up and march over to the gator's truck bed. Well, he supposed, they might if he had telekinetic gifts. But he didn't and it seemed reasonable to assume that the buxom red headed woman was likewise not in possession of telekinesis since he assumed she would have offered to finish moving the heavy blocks since that was the polite thing to do. Reaching up with a taloned finger he flicked his sunglasses back down over his eyes, stooped to grab two pieces of concrete base, hefted them onto his shoulders and walked off to the truck to deposit them with the rest of the rubble. If she was hellbent on watching him work there wasn't much he could do about it. No doubt the school would frown on the application of violence and threats to make his point, at least without provocation.

Reaching the small vehicle he tossed the pieces of base in and then turned around to find that the woman was making her way over to where the remaining pieces were. He sighed through his nose as he watched the red head wobble through the grass trying not to fall over. There was certainly a certain bounce to her step and the avian man had to restrain his thoughts from wandering to places where they shouldn't wander. Turning back to the truck he retrieved a jug of water and took a pull before closing it back up. He might have considered offering the woman a drink, but she already had a glass in her hands so that bit of politeness was not required. After replacing the jug in the truck he retrieved a towel with the coat of arms of Hans Majestet Kongens Garde on it and began walking back towards the woman who's name he still didn't know. Usually, he kept the towel around for wiping and cleaning his hands and talons as he worked, but if the woman was as determined to gawk and stare as she seemed to be then he'd offer her the towel to sit on so she could avoid possibly grass-staining her dress. The last thing he wanted to deal with was complaints about grass stains.

'Find a kind of grass that doesn't leave stains!'

'They all leave stains!'

He watched as she neared what was left of the concrete base and bent over, at the waist, to inspect it. Well, that was just blatant showing off. No one could be that oblivious. But, damn if she didn't have an honest acre of cleavage. That fact was accentuated when she hung the sunglasses she had from the chest of her dress, the smallness of the glasses next to her chest further highlighting the ample supply of bosom. She didn't seem to be focused on him at the moment and the winged man shook his head slightly to remind himself of what it was he was supposed to be doing. Working and not ogling, certainly not ogling something that would never be his. No, society had made it quite clear, especially in the country where he was currently residing, that romance was not for him.

"I'm glad you at least thought to put the plexiglass up..."

"And rope off the area," Vidar replied, trying not to sound too pointed that she was in an area of the grounds that was currently closed off. Maybe she really was simply that oblivious to everything. He stopped near what remained of the base, towel over his shoulder and was just getting ready to swing the towel down so she could sit since giving her a place to sit and gawk would also keep her out of his way, when she approached him.

What could she possibly want now?

Then she started petting his arm. The bird-like man rolled his eyes from behind his shades. Well, she certainly wasn't the first person to want to do that, or even succeed at it. Hell, when he'd been with the Kongens Garde one of the young Norwegian princesses had been particularly fond of petting him, when permitted to do so. He had tolerated that because it was his job as a guardsman to do so and because she had been around seven. This red head was certainly no child, but again this molestation didn't really constitute and attack and she was quite attractive. He sighed through his nose. She wasn't the first and she'd almost certainly not be the last. Still, there was work to be going on with.

"If you're quite through..." he asked after a moment. There was still work to be done, after all and there was only so much curiosity he would willingly tolerate before becoming truly angry.

"Oh my... I.."

Had she been in some sort of trance? Gawkers usually didn't really think before they acted because they were too busy staring, usually with no sense of shame. At least her reaction to being interrupted was certainly amusing, and somewhat cute and endearing and, since she no longer wanted to make eye contact she had stopped staring. Although he was more than a little tempted to ask if she was going to reciprocate and let him pet her he knew that would be wrong, just as it would be wrong to explain exactly why he had those black feathers and what they meant. He was about to gruffly brush it off when she continued to speak.

"I.. I'm so sorry.. That was rude.. Th-that was incredibly rude. Ent-t-t-irely out of line. Honestly.. I j-just came to figure out what was happening. I never-... I'll just..."

He watched silently as she knocked over the glass which had the courtesy to not break. That would have been a mess trying to get little glass shards out of the grass. He then watched as she tried to hurriedly gather up her things, keep her hat from blowing away and make a strategic withdraw from the area, seemingly all at the same time. It was like watching the French try and leave a battlefield. While she was going about that he pulled the towel from his shoulder and spread it on the ground out of the way.

"Again I- Sorry..."

Well that was certainly an endearing first. An apology. No one had ever done that before, at least not really. Not even the medical staff that had stared unabashedly while they had treated him for various wounds he had received over the years. She said something else under her breath, but he didn't quite catch it and decided that, for the moment, he would let it slide.

"Um. Can we start over? I-I'm Angelica. Jones. Angelica Jones... I-I teach music.."

He watched as the woman stuck her hand out, presumably to shake. The pulled it back before he could shake it. Then stuck it out again. Then kind of wiggled it all about. Was she doing the Hokey Pokey? Had she put on some sort of special fire ant deodorant this morning? Obviously she wanted to pet him some more, as far as he could tell, and he supposed that she was fairly easy on the eyes. He was about to introduce himself when she continued talking again. It was a little hard to get a word in edgewise.

"Sorry... Dangit.."

Finally, a moment of silence to speak. Not that the Norwegian man would ever be considered chatty but at this point in the game there was some form of verbal response that was required. But the first thing that needed to happen was to get her out of the way and to keep her from possibly punching more holes in the grass in those heels of hers.

Taking her gently by the arm, being careful not to slice into her with his fingers, he led Angel to the towel and got her seated upon it. "Sergeant Vidar Anfinson of Hans Majestet Kongens Garde, retired" he said, placing a hand over his chest to indicate that he was providing his name though his rank and unit were also included though he omitted the special forces designation and the title of "Sir" that he had received from the British. Still once a guardsman always a guardsman. So many of the Americans he had met couldn't grasp the concept that not everyone in the world named their children Thomas, Richard, Sue, or Mary. Once she was seated he retrieved the pen and handed it to her before returning to his work.

Retrieving the final two pieces of the concrete base he moved over to the truck and tossed them into the bed and then retrieved two of the bags of topsoil that he had already laid out. He tossed one over his shoulder and carried the other while in his other hand he carried a small white rose bush. His plan was to flank the two monuments with the white rose bushes, go behind them with purple lilac bushes and do some kind of small flower bed in front. Of course, some of the grass would also need to be removed to round things off and expand enough to completely encircle the two monuments but that would be for a later day.

Bringing the bags over to the hole he laid them aside and then removed the rose bush from its pot and settled it in the hole. Happy with t placement, he slit one of the soil bags open from top to bottom with one of his talons and emptied it into the hole before repeating the process with the second. He then retrieved two more bags and emptied them into the hole before kneeling and running his hands over the new mound of dirt to smooth it out. All of this was accomplished silently. Eying the bush he used his talons to snip off one of the roses and trim the thorns.

"Since you seem unable to contain your desire to..." he thought for a moment trying to think up a word less derogatory than 'pet' but nothing occurred, "pet me and since I will be sore after all this work I will allow you to pet me to your heart's content later this evening. No doubt you live in the Staff Dormitory," he continued, thinking of some of the other landscaping projects he needed to get done there. "I will find you in your room there at seven this evening," he concluded in a tone of finality that seemed to indicate that this was simply the way things would be. Though he was loathe to admit it to himself, and he would never say so out loud, the thought of an attractive woman running her hands all over, within limits of course, wasn't one that he found to be all that unappealing.

[Angelica Jones]

Angel, at this point, was determined to simply float away on her little cloud of embarrassment. And as he moved towards her she did the best she could to sink into herself and disappear. Being quite a bit shorter than him she assumed it could happen... But of course, it did not. So instead she made herself look as nonthreatening as possible, which wasn't at all hard for the shy redhead. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for an angry lecture. Though one blue eye popped open as his hand wrapped around her arm. He led her towards a spread out towel and Angel followed his lead. She sat down, smoothing her dress under her rump. She looked up at him, confused but curious. That seemed to be her permanent state today.

"Sergeant Vidar Anfinson of Hans Majestet Kongens Garde, retired"

She nodded up at him, at a loss for words. Her eyes followed his feathered form as he picked up her pen and brought it back to her. "Th-Thank you." She said quietly, taking it with shaking hands. He returned to his work, giving her plenty of time to admire him as well as think to herself. She repeated his name under her breath, as if committing it to memory or making sure she was saying it right. Both were true. She thought on the title for a long while, simply watching him work. Her head tilted slightly as she once more stared at that black stripe. When she'd run her fingers over it it was as if the color hadn't belonged. Dyed, perhaps? Why, then?

Not that it was any of her business.

She tapped the lid of that blue ink pen against her lips, her mind wandering, though her eyes never strayed from him. Which was rude, yes, but he had provided her with the seats to his stage. She would take the small chance to simply marvel in fascination. She opened her binder, flipping through the sheet music lazily. Mostly she was trying to busy herself. Still her gaze would rise back up as he placed the rose bush in it's new home, and then spreading the top soil. She smiled to herself, watching him.

"Since you seem unable to contain your desire to..."

His voice, however, shook her out of her thoughts and back to reality. The reality where she'd groped and gawked at him. Just like the normal humans did the first time they'd seen her explode in an aura of flame. Her eyes dropped then as her brow furrowed. "I-I never meant to.." she started, but closed her mouth to let him continue.

"pet me and since I will be sore after all this work I will allow you to pet me to your heart's content later this evening. No doubt you live in the Staff Dormitory, I will find you in your room there at seven this evening,"

Angel sat in silence, nodding her head. At first she saw it as a chance to get a closer look at his mutation. Excitement coursed through her. "That sounds like a lovely-" Her brows raised a moment, as she lifted her face to look at him. Plump lips parted to say something, anything, but no words came to the rescue. That offer could be turned into something much more risque than her mind had first reached. She avoided his eyes a moment, her cheeks flushing a bright red. "Oh.. Oh my." She uttered softly, one pale hand rising to rest against her flushed cheek.

The naturally shy redhead was at a loss. A part of her wanted to understand his mutation better. The other part of her was blushing unabashedly and terrified at what the implications of accepting that offer might be. She put two and two together. Massage, he was damn near demanding a massage. "If you insist." She squeaked before her mind could keep the words from leaving her mouth.

What have I gotten myself into now?.. she thought, her bright blue eyes wide in terror.

[Vidar Anfinson]

While Angel had been working her way through his words Vidar, having forgot to hand her the rose when he spoke, had laid it aside and instead he picked up a tool for cutting sod. Moving to the monuments he began to remove the grass from the areas he was going to landscape, taking it up in vast strips of sod. He placed the rolled up bundles of sod to one side. Some people might had just thrown away the sod, but that was stupid. Sod looked nicer than grass seed and dirt, had plenty of uses, and making his own from a flower bed he was already making would save a lot of money if he needed sod in the future since sod wasn't cheap.

About halfway through the job behind the monuments he spared a glance in the direction of Angel. Her face was red. Not just a little red. Bright red. Flaming red. Matching her hair color red. What on Earth could be causing that? Glancing at the sod he'd cut for a moment he spotted the white rose he had snipped. Which he had forgotten to give to her.

Oh.

OH!

She thought he meant... but no, that was preposterous. But it was the only possible explanation for a blush like that. He would have thought that saying he would meet her in the staff dormitory would have made it clear that he didn't mean for... that activity to happen. But, that obviously seemed to be what she thought he had meant which explained why she was blushing and petrified with fear.

He needed to put this right as quickly as possible.

Dropping the sod cutting tool he crossed to the rose and picked it up. Flower in hand he moved to where the red head was still seated. How best to do this, these kinds of social interactions were not at all his strong suit. He dropped down onto his knees next to the woman and held out the white rose to her.

"I cut this for you, I meant to give it to you a moment ago when I spoke of tonight. You know the meaning of flowers, yes," he asked, then shrugged his shoulders. Of course she knew the meaning of a white rose. Everyone knew a white rose was a symbol of purity.

"I think that you think that I meant something which I did not, just now. I did not mean to imply that there would be any... how you say... hanky-panky?" the Norwegian continued, trying out an American phrase he was not all that familiar with and hoping it was the right one.

"No, I was not meaning any hanky-panky," he continued, his accent becoming a bit stronger and his grammar a bit looser as he fought the urge to switch to his native Norwegian. "I am only meaning that you gawk, which means curiosity, and that I would not be offended to be petted by you." He was loathe to make that admission, and equally loathe to say the next words that came out of his mouth. "I will also answer questions then too," he said, though he omitted the fact that he would reserve the right to refuse any question he didn't want to answer.

"No hanky-panky," he said again, making an emphatic "no" gesture with his hands before rising to his feet and moving back to resume exhuming the grass from the area where he was intending to plant the still potted trio of lilac bushes next to the truck.

[Angelica Jones]

Angel was mortified. Completely mortified. Not that the idea of.. that with him was a bad one. But she hadn't been intimate.. ever. No kissing, barely hugging. You had to let go to truly enjoy something like that... But when letting go meant barbecuing a city block and radiation poisoning on top of that? Well.. you learned to just get over the loneliness. And the urges. And all of that mess. So fear of the possible meaning to that offer was quite prominent. Her face probably showed it greatly seeing as he moved to explain, handing her the white rose. She listened to his words, though her hands were still shaking near violently as she took it from him. She nodded though, as he spoke of flower meanings. White. Purity. Which made her audibly sigh.

She was actively trying to avoid eye contact, so for the moment her pale hands gripped that white rose, one set of fingers lightly trailing over the edges of the petals. Hanky-Panky. She looked up at him, confused for a moment, and then smiled to herself trying not to laugh. That was an odd choice of words. Amusing, nonetheless, and it didn't make the blush from her cheeks fade in the least. His accent became more and more prominent as he went on to clearly express he had not meant anything of the sort. She relaxed a bit nodding. "Thank goodness." She uttered softly.

Then her head jerked upwards and she covered her mouth. That had sounded rather harsh. "Not that the idea of such things with you is a bad one.." Her cheeks flushed even more and she shook her head, that same hand coming to hide her face. "I mean.. I wasn't.." She frowned in exasperation. These sort of conversations never went well for the redhead. She was much too shy and.. sheltered as it were. She slammed her binder closed, leaning her elbows on it and covering her face. She could cry from embarrassment. She was close to doing just that.

"I-I am so very sorry, Sergeant Anfinson. I-I'm no good with conversation." Her small voice came out muffled, her flaming red face still very hidden in two pale palms. "And I'm to teach teenagers.." That last bit had been in exasperation for herself. She hadn't taught a classroom full of hormonal teens.. in a long while and she knew they could make plenty of jokes at her expense. But music was her language. If she could simply sing everything, or find a song to express anything she meant to say her life would be so much easier. Actually talking? No she was an amature at conversation.

Especially if it turned towards the more.. adult parts of life.

She sighed to herself, still on the verge of embarrassed tears. "I'm also v-very sorry for staring.. I just.." She removed one hand from her face, looking down at her lap as that other hand remained on her forehead. Still her cheeks were flaming red. "I'm fascinated by mutations... And those afflicted with the more obv- Not afflicted like a disease..." She sighed once more, the breath rushing out of her in her flustered state. She finally just met his eyes and let out a slow breath.

"You're mutation is beautiful." She said quickly, her words almost running together. She nodded curtly, more to affirm that she had just blurted that out.

And now she wanted to simply disappear again.

Could she have one conversation with the male gender and not become a befuddled mess? It didn't seem that way. Even her interview had been this way with Warren. Though he had seemed to find it more amusing and endearing than anything. She was, after all, very genuine. She even practiced in the mirror, trying to boost her chances at not messing up completely and making herself look like a complete fool. But alas it seemed life only enjoyed putting her under the microscope.

"I-I'm so sorry. I've bothered you long enough.." She muttered, once more gathering her things to try and make a quick getaway. At least then she could return to either her music room and relieve her horror or simply hide in her room.

Possibly cry from frustration.

[Vidar Anfinson]

"No hanky-panky."

"Thank goodness."

Typical. Though not unexpected. As far as Vidar was concerned the best he could ever hope for was for a pretty woman to think of him as, well as a pet he supposed. Some attention was better than none and no woman had ever shown much interest in the bird man before. Other than the little Norwegian princess, and she certainly didn't count. He watched from behind his sunglasses as he planted one of the lilac bushes as the redhead put a hand over her mouth. She really didn't have a filter, which was mildly ironic since the avian man had enough brain to mouth filter for about twenty people.

"Not that the idea of such things with you is a bad one... I mean... I wasn't..."

Vidar arched an eyebrow at the redhead as she covered her face. That was a new one. Was she actually saying she would sleep with him? There had been a few hookers that had offered such things, for a price before. The Norwegian had flatly rejected that idea. Who knew where those women had been?He'd have had to take a bath in rubbing alcohol afterwards. No, best to spell things out again, what was it that American Chaplain had always said? He may have been a filthy Protestant, but he was also funny so that made up for it.

"An American Chaplain was fond of telling me, and others, 'before you do it you must go through it or else you blew it.'," Vidar said, turning his attention back to properly planting the lilac bush with top soil and spelling out, again, his stance of no hanky-panky.

"I-I am so very sorry, Sergeant Anfinson. I-I'm no good with conversation. And I'm to teach teenagers..."

"Just Vidar is fine," the Norwegian said, standing and brushing off his hands before moving off to gather up the next of the lilacs for planting. "And since you're not teaching sex ed. you should be fine," he continued in a dry tone, meaning it. No telling what that would look like, a lawsuit probably, with her lack of filter.

"I'm also v-very sorry for staring... I just... I'm fascinated by mutations... And those afflicted with the more obv- Not afflicted like a disease... You're mutation is beautiful."

And there it was, he was accursed. But then he was beautiful? He shrugged, he would have preferred a more masculine adjective, like handsome, but he supposed he could settle for the consolation prize. At least she seemed to be honest, almost painfully so. It was endearing.

"Don't worry about it," he said, making a dismissive gesture as he unpotted the second lilac and settled it into its new home beginning to properly plant it. "I'm used to it." That didn't make it less offensive, but she seemed to be trying to make amends and that did make it less offensive.

"I-I'm so sorry. I've bothered you long enough..."

"If you were a bother I'd not be visiting you later, or allowing you to ask questions," the avian man called out, head down once more as he smoothed out the top soil around the lilac. All of this would need to be watered, but not right now. That would be a muddy mess. Satisfied with the planting job he rose to his feet again and moved to get the last bush, checking on the redhead in the process. She seemed to be in the process of leaving.

"Are you leaving now," he asked, then checked his watch. "See you in two and a half hours, if that's the case." He picked up the last lilac and carried it over to begin planting it.