The Awkward Interrogation (Angel)

[Vidar Anfinson]

Once Angelica had left Vidar had picked up his towel off of the ground and tossed it back in the vehicle. Then he had finished planting the lilacs and the rose bush. The flower beds in front would just have to wait until tomorrow since it was pushing six in the evening and he had places to be. He quickly sprinkled some fertilizer around each of the new plants and gave each a healthy dose of water. Satisfied, he decided it was time to be on his way.

Slipping behind the wheel of the vehicle he drove quickly across the grounds and stored the things that needed storing, like the sod, and threw out the things that were trash, like the granite and concrete pieces. Then he made his way across the grounds to his little home there. It wasn't much more than a small bungalow, but it was perfect for Vidar because it wasn't in the staff dormitory and he had his own space.

Slipping into the shower Vidar quickly cleaned himself up, emerged, toweled off, and dressed himself in a a manner exactly similar to how what he was wearing when he came in, minus the head rag and instead wearing an olive green A-shirt instead of a tee with clean boots. Holding his arm up he sniffed himself.

"Smells clean to me," he muttered to himself, moving to the front door of the bungalow. As he passed through the kitchen he eyed the bottle of red wine there but decided that would send the wrong message and so he left it sitting on the table. Exiting the small home in its little copse of trees and locking the door behind him he made his way across the grounds to the staff dormitory.

Entering the building he checked the directory, found the right room number and headed for Angel's room or suite in the dorms. Truthfully, he'd never been in one of the staff dorm rooms and had no idea how they were appointed and laid out. Maybe they were a suite of rooms or small apartment, maybe they were just bedrooms like a college dorm. Not that he cared overly much, his own home on the grounds was much more private.

Stepping up to the door he checked his watch, waited for a few seconds, and as soon as it ticked over to seven o'clock he raised his taloned hand and rapped sharply on the door three times with military precision precisely at the time he had said he would arrive.

[Angelica Jones]

Settled in.

Angel had returned to her dorm and nearly cried. Instead she moped around, trying to turn her embarrassment into songs that her classes could possibly perform. Instead she kept choosing songs that would be too advanced for them. Or at least what she assumed would be too advanced. Classes hadn't actually started just yet, so she wasn't sure what to expect. With that out of the way she decided that she'd at least change out of her dress clothes and get comfortable. Besides she still needed to move her furniture around and settle where the plasma was going. A girl needed her football.

After donning some comfortable clothes she went to work in the dorm, moving the couch here and there until she found the perfect spot for the large plasma t.v. She found just the spot where she'd get no glare from the sun or the actual light in the room. Of course then she had to rearrange everything else to fit. Her desk here, her bed there. This and that and this and that. It went on for what seemed like hours, and of course the entire time she'd forgotten to eat at all. So by the time she had finished Angel was famished.

And completely unaware that Vidar had been serious about visiting her room.

Angel picked up the phone, flipping through the phonebook while she tried to think of what she was craving. Sure there was a kitchen full of food, but tonight she felt like some comfort food. So, of course, she ordered herself a nice supreme pizza and a side of spicy buffalo wings. The pizza was more of a just in case she was still hungry. After confirming the address, and her card number, a hundred times she hung up the phone and stretched. Angel felt disgusting, at that point, and climbed into the shower. After all they said it'd be half an hour to forty-five minutes. And that was if they could find the school properly.

Which she hoped they could, otherwise no tip!

She took what would be considered a quick shower for her, a whole 25 minutes. Angel donned her Brees jersey and some comfy shorts, lastly slipping on her favorite little bunny slippers. Angel ran a bit of chapstick over her lips, humming to herself before grabbing another try towel for her unruly wet curls. With one hand buried in curles, drying them as much as she could, the other reached for the remote. The plasma clicked on and she was thankful she'd set up the cable two days ago so she didn't have to program all that bull hockey all over again.

She surfed through channels not really finding anything eye catching and continued drying her hair. Angel half danced across the room to her mini-fridge, pulling a Guinness out and popping the top with the bottle opener she kept on top of the fridge. She took a long pull from the bottle, her blue eyes watching the screen a moment as she squeezed those curls against the soft blue towel. Her attention was drawn to the door, however, as there was a very precise knock.

Angel, however assumed it was her food having already called down to the 'gatekeeper' to ask if he'd bring her food over. She'd offered him a brew and a slice of pizza if he so chose. So when she sat her beer down on the coffee table and swung the door open her eyes had lingered on the television behind her. "That was faster than I thought... They said 7:15 at the earliest." She prattled, her head finally turning. For a moment she only stared, not even wide eyed. Just, waiting for her mind to process.

He'd actually meant it when he said he would be showing up at her room at seven.

And then the panic set in. Angel slowly dropped the towel from her wild curls, slowly folding it in her hands as she not-so-discreetly kicked her feet towards the bathroom in an attempt to hide the fact that she owned, and even wore, a pair of bunny slippers. She smiled at him nervously. "V-Vidar. Heh. Please, come in." She squeaked, trying to play off her surprise with simple nerves.

And doing so, poorly.

She stepped aside to allow him entrance, peeking her head out of the dorm as he passed in hopes of food. When no such food appeared she closed the door slowly, her back pressing against it a moment as she clutched that damp towel to her chest. She went through a long moment of panic realizing that she hadn't put on a particularly important piece of undergarment, having not expected company.

Being a woman with her.. endowments that was particularly obvious.

She cleared her throat to try and calm herself before motioning towards the deep midnight couch. "C-Can I get you something to drink?" She asked quietly, passing him and kneeling next to the fridge. She was at least aware enough of her attire that she did not bend at the waist. Had she he might assume she's a harlot for he would no doubt bet a fine view of her behind. "Guinness, Orange juice, Dr. Pepper, and water are all I've got." She said over her shoulder, attempting to be normal.

Attempting.

[Vidar Anfinson]

"V-Vidar. Heh. Please, come in."

Vidar took in Angel's appearance at a glance, a quick glance, and made no effort to try and watch as she kicked her bunny slippers off. Wet hair, towel, and... alright then. Apparently, she had lost track of time. Not everyone had military precision like he did. There was certainly an extra bounce in her step as she came to the point of the greeting, as it were. He entered the room and made a resolution to keep his eyes focused on her face. That was going to be a tall order, but he knew he'd faced down tougher enemies, though none had been as attractive. Still, his one weapon in the conflict against her biology was his sunglasses and even if he had brought them they could not, very well, be worn inside without it being suspicious.

"Good evening," he said by way of greeting, entering the room. Teachers lived in these little place, that would have been unacceptable to him. The Norwegians wings and feathers ruffled a little bit at the thought of being pushed into such a small room.

"C-Can I get you something to drink? Guinness, Orange juice, Dr. Pepper, and water are all I've got."

"Oh, I'm fine thanks," the feathered man said, settling onto the couch and looking carefully everywhere but in Angel's direction. Ordinarily he might have gone for the beer, but given the certain obvious lack of an undergarment coupled with his assurances earlier that there would be no hanky-panky and his promise to answer her questions this evening having a mind befuddled by alcohol, however slightly would be a bad idea. There were already temptations in the room, in spades. There was no point in further compounding them.

"So," he began, addressing his remark in the direction of the door,"I admit this isn't something I do all that often." That was an understatement. Social interaction with other people, alone time with a woman, letting others that weren't children of Norwegian Royalty pet him. This was practically an evening of firsts and not very oftens. "So, I do not know really how you want to do this. What would be most comfortable? What would work best? I assume you have many questions for me to answer." He trailed off for a moment and then made up his mind about a course of action. Yes, that seemed it would work though he was loathe to do it he supposed there was very little chance of being attacked here and she was, or seemed to be, one of the only honest and genuine people he had ever met.

"I will answer your first, unasked. Yes, my abilities include significantly enhanced vision and dual focus eyes. I can see very well and always in the periphery, even when looking straight ahead." He paused for a moment, then took a small breath. Honesty, the priest said honesty was the best. "I think you may have forgotten about the time. I am sorry, I couldn't help but notice something was missing. I think this is making you uncomfortable and there is not much privacy from guests in this room, so I will fix the problem."

The avian man took one of his talons and used it to cut the bottom two inches from his shirt. Snipping the loop of fabric so that it was a single long strip he closed his eyes and then moved his hands to his head and tied the blindfold over his own eyes. "You will have to be my eyes now for the evening though, since I have voluntarily blinded myself."

[Angelica Jones]

Angel was at least relieved that he didn't seem to notice outright that something was amiss, at least with her behavior. She stood smoothly, reluctantly taking that folded towel and placing it on her bed. Her eyes scanned the floor in quick succession, making sure that she had properly placed all of her laundry in the appropriate basket. She had cleaned the dorm today, anyhow. Not that she was messy by nature. Angel was a bit of a insectophobe. With that in mind her surroundings were almost always pristine, with a few traps set for any creepy crawly that should wander by. She also kept a armory, of sorts, a drawer laden with RAID products for every kind of bug known to man; though she had extras for spiders.

"Alright then." She said softly, trying to muster up the courage to sit on the couch with him. After all she was curious of his mutation, and he had been the one to suggest this little meeting. From now on she would definitely believe he would do exactly as he said. And of course dress accordingly... "I-I honestly don't know. I'm... I'm not exactly a social butterfly." She said with a nervous chuckle. "As you've already seen I tend to" She paused trying to find the right words. "Well I talk in circles and often say the wrong thing." She nodded to herself, crossing her arms over her chest. "Or worse I say exactly what's on my mind." That last bit was muttered to herself, her eyes glazing over a moment as she replayed each of those horrible moments.

But he was right, she had a slew of questions that were rattling around in her head. Some of which she didn't dare ask. Curiosity was a dangerous thing and some questions should never be asked aloud. They were simply inappropriate and none of her business. She took a tentative step towards him and paused, her arms tightening against one another. That would be awfully close to him without that important piece of clothing. But for heavens sake it wasn't as if she was prancing around him naked. That of course flushed her cheeks and she closed her eyes and shook her head. And she was worried about inappropriate questions. What on earth was wrong with her?

He continued, however, saving her from her own horrible thoughts by confirming his eyes. She became a bit braver, moving closer as he spoke. Her hand touched the arm of the couch, opposite to the side he resided. But she froze as he noted her lack of the aforementioned garment. Her cheeks burned a vibrant red and her eyes shot to her toes. "Honestly I.. I had assumed it was a sarcastic offer." She admitted. "I.." She twiddled those fingers along the velvet smoothness of the midnight blue couch. "I should have thought better and-" Her voice cracked. "dressed appropriately."

She watched him in silence as he cut that strip from his shirt and then tied it over his eyes. She felt awful, then, having caused him to destroy one of his shirts. And then she felt awful that she hadn't just slipped into the bathroom and rectified this little, or lack thereof as it were, issue. Still she appreciated the gesture and once his eyes were perfectly covered she sunk into the couch, her hand gently reaching out to touch his forearm. She moved closer so she didn't have to stretch to far, still gripping his forearm. Mostly to let him know where she was. And also because he had already said she was allowed to pet him.

Might as well enjoy it, right?

Once she had settled herself she wasn't quite sure what to do from there, at least with his arm. Should she let it go completely? Rest his hand on her knee and keep hold? Pet him? That wasn't an option, more of a what's to come. "Thank you." She finally said, her hand releasing his forearm to fall as it may, and brushing the blindfold at his temple. "For this." She added. Angel gingerly ran her fingertips down the length of his arm, fascinated at the softness, and then she lifted his hand; peering at his talons. With one hand she held his palm open, with the other she managed to place her small hand against his. "Do you sharpen them?" She finally asked, one of her fingers trailing along the keratin. She lightly touched the tip, careful not to pierce her fingertip.

"And what about other avian traits?" She said, looking towards his face and then remembering the blindfold. "Flight" She muttered. "You can fly can't you?" She smiled to herself. Flight was such a wonderful thing. If she didn't have to worry about catching something on fire, or worse the radiation that could potentially harm someone, she'd do it more often. But sadly that was not the case. "Which means hollow bones." She deducted, her head tilting. She found that if he wasn't looking at her directly talking to him wasn't as difficult. Mostly because she didn't have to worry about him seeing her gawking at him like a she were staring at a very interesting piece of artwork.

Angel ran her hand over his arm once more, but she paused at his shirt sleeve. Her fingers, shaking a bit, lifted the band slowly. She swallowed, afraid she was pushing boundaries, until her eyes fell upon that black stripe that had gotten her in trouble before. "And this." She said quietly, her tinkling voice heavy with fascination. "These don't look like born markings. Too precise" She regarded, her fingers tracing it. "You've dyed them. Why?"That one had nothing to do with his mutation, which she was unsure was a viable question in their little get together.

Angel, lost in her intrigue, moved even closer her knee resting against his thigh. Her blue eyes lifted back to his face, her hand still tracing that black stripe. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, though she doubted that had anything to do with the blindfold. The man was a riddle. She cleared her throat and dared to be brave. "Um. I'm.. I'm sorry about this." She said softly, leaning over his arm. Of all the foolish things she had done and would do, this would certainly be one of the top on the list. Angel lightly pressed her cheek to his arm, a smile creeping over her features as she slightly nuzzled him. Her eyes closed, enjoying the warmth and fine feathers. "You would make an awesome blanket." She chuckled, before freezing and frowning. "That was a terrible thing to say, and and and it came out completely wrong.." She said quietly.

She began to draw back, suddenly feeling awkward and nervous again. Eyes covered or not she could still make a fool of herself. Of course that's when someone knocked loudly on the door, causing her to yip in surprise; grabbing his arm in response.

"That would be the pizza." She said through a sigh, but she stiffened; her hand squeezing his arm in unintentional reaction. "And.. the wings."

The irony.

There was an audible swallow, followed by a nervous chuckle as she made the effort to move away from him and answer the door.

[Vidar Anfinson]

"Alright then. I-I honestly don't know. I'm... I'm not exactly a social butterfly. As you've already seen I tend to... Well, I talk in circles and often say the wrong thing. Or worse I say exactly what's on my mind."

"Have I somehow given the impression that I have people skills," Vidar asked as he finished knotting off the blindfold. Once his vision was removed he tensed somewhat. For someone with enhanced vision being without his super vision was, almost, like being naked. He didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. This was doubly true for him since he was a vet and in strange surroundings. He did not like not being able to see what was going on in strange surroundings with someone that was, while extremely attractive, a new acquaintance. But, it made her feel more comfortable and there wasn't any reason to think anything was going to happen and if it did he had a throwing knife where he could get at it and a boot knife in his right boot top.

"Honestly I.. I had assumed it was a sarcastic offer. I... I should have thought better and- dressed appropriately."

Now it was the Norwegian's turn to feel a bit guilty. He had assumed she knew he had very little discernible sense of humor. Had his tone somehow conveyed that he was joking earlier. Surely not. "You're not dressed inappropriately. I've seen far worse in my time..." he said, turning his head automatically in the direction of her voice and making a sort of vague gesture with his hand that was meant to gesture to what she had on. "Not by choice, of course. But a man in a uniform has always drawn a certain type of woman, especially someone enlisted. I am not interested in such women of ill-repute. Which is not, of course, to say that I am not interested in women. I simply mean... yes," he continued, keen to steer the topic of conversation away from this particular area. How had he veered into that discussion anyway?

"Thank you. For this. Do you sharpen them?"

Vidar fought the urge to flinch or to snap a hand up and grab Angel at the wrist. He had given his permission for this, but he hadn't expected to be blindfolded while this was going on. He wished she'd do something to maintain a bit more of a constant contact because he wanted to know where she was in relation to him at all times. There were reasons related to his previous service for this, since he liked to know his surroundings as much as possible. The practical reason for it was so that he knew as precisely as possible where she was so he didn't accidentally grab or brush some part of her anatomy without meaning to while he was blinded. That would be extremely awkward.

"I suppose you mean my talons," he answered as she placed her hand in in his after running what he presumed was that same hand along his arm. "And yes, sometimes I do although they also maintain a certain sharpness on their own. I have no way of retracting them, unlike a cat, so I have to be careful not to injure other people accidentally."

"And what about other avian traits? Flight, You can fly can't you? Which means hollow bones."

She was on the couch, but he couldn't tell exactly where since she had broken contact. Vidar sighed inwardly, this was not comfortable for him to not know, at all times, where she was while he was blindfolded. "Yes, I can fly at heights somewhat lower than a commercial airliner and speeds a great deal slower. I can carry others with me, provided they're not too big. My bones are hollow, so they break and shatter rather easily compared to someone more normal. My chromosomes are different," he continued, discussing the avian traits he had and leaving unsaid that the chromosomal difference meant that he shot blanks, or so he had been told by doctors. He'd never actually tested that hypothesis from the doctors. "And my heart is also different than a normal person's, though I couldn't tell you how."

"And this. These don't look like born markings. Too precise. You've dyed them. Why?"

Vidar sighed, he had expected this question to be asked, given their earlier meeting. In truth he was surprised that she hadn't led with it. No doubt the answer to her question would bridge into a great many other questions, some of which he would decline to answer. There were some things she didn't need to know unless they got... involved, and maybe not even then. There were some things that no one other than him ever needed to know, some things that were between him and God.

"You're quite right, the black stripe is dyed just as the single stripe of red feathers on my left bicep is also something that I have dyed. I also have more than a few scars all over the place. Depending on how much you pet and where you may find a few of them. Some of the stories I may eventually share, some I may never share," he said, growing somewhat more quiet as he continued speaking and moved away from her question. Realizing he still hadn't answered it he circled back around.

"Each black feather represents someone I have killed. You already know I served in the Army, specifically in Special Forces with the Norwegians.The red stripe represents each teammate I lost while on missions," he said, shrugging his shoulders to try and make light of the revelation. No doubt there were more than a few people that would be uncomfortable on realizing that they were in the presence of someone who had, clearly, killed a lot of people in the line of duty to his nation. "But, I have left that life now. Begun a new chapter."

"Um. I'm.. I'm sorry about this. You would make an awesome blanket. That was a terrible thing to say, and and and it came out completely wrong.."

Vidar found he wasn't super bothered by the remarked. In truth he had to admit that serving as a blanket to the curvy red head was not an altogether unappealing prospect, within certain contexts of course. His leg had tensed initially when her knee had bumped into it, he hadn't expected that. Then she seemed to be rubbing her face against his arm, a bit odd maybe but ok. It certainly wasn't dirty.

"No need to apologize," he said, making a dismissive gesture with his left arm since Angel was on his right side. "You're... different. Genuine. I find I have more... tolerance in this case and, I admit, that the close proximity isn't something I find to be displeasing."

"That would be the pizza. And.. the wings."

The combination of the noise at the door, Angel's yip, and her grabbing his arm elicited a reaction from the blindfolded man. A rather shocking reaction as years of training and reflexes kicked in and the muscular Norwegian exploded into action. In an instant he was on his feet, wings tightly furled to his body. He heard her speak, but didn't immediately process it. As he came to his feet his right hand plucked the boot knife from its sheath and he drew the throwing knife in his left. In a blue of white feathered motion his right hand moved and sliced through the blindfold, the blade never touching his body. Before the blindfold had fallen from his eyes his left hand had flashed forward and released the throwing knife in the direction of the door. There was an audible thunk as the knife buried itself deep into the solid oak door to her room and stuck. His now empty left hand curled into a fist and he dropped into a fighting stance with the boot knife held in a reverse grip. His ice blue eyes were narrowed and he was obviously ready for an attack.

An attack that was clearly not coming.

Then her words processed. She had ordered food.

s***.

'Well, she'll never talk to me again now,' he thought to himself as he sheathed the boot knife once more.

"Training," he said by way of offering a completely inadequate explanation about what had just transpired. He moved to the door, keeping his back to Angel, as he moved to the door. He plucked the throwing knife from the door and sheathed it as well before opening the door. Without a word he grabbed the food from the delivery guy, who had no idea that he would have been going to the ER had the door not been latched, and he pressed a ten spot into the kid's hand and then shut the door in the guy's face.

As he moved back to where Angel was he was conscious of the sound of the food sliding around in the boxes just slightly. Looking down, just slightly, at his left hand he saw that it was shaking slightly. Possibly because of the adrenaline rush he was still coming down from, probably from causes other than that. His hands had never shaken like this in the past.

He set the food down down on the table and moved to where Angel was. He removed the boot knife and throwing knife, both weapons in their sheaths, and took one of her hands gently in one of his. "I imagine you'll want these now for the rest of the night," he said quietly, looking over her shoulder and not making eye contact. He would have looked down at his feet but that might have made her more uncomfortable.

"I tend to avoid others because... I'm broken," he said, his voice not quite a whisper and possibly not even audible if she weren't paying attention. He settled back on the couch and looked down at his feet. No doubt this would be the last he would see of the music teacher, he couldn't say he would really blame her for that all things considered. "If you want me to leave... I understand."

[Angelica Jones]

Angel couldn't help but smile. "You say you have no people skills, yet you haven't seemed to talk yourself into any trouble like I do. Quiet, perhaps. But you're not an unpleasant, or awkward, man." She said softly. She listened as he continued on about her attire. She tried to picture him in uniform and failed. Especially since she hadn't the slightest clue as to what it might look like. She tried using the Marine blues she'd seen in her time, but even that didn't seem to work. "I would like to see that." She blurted. "You in uniform. I imagine.. Nevermind, go on..." She paused, clearing her throat nervously. Her voice trailed off as she tried to find the right words. Instead she closed her mouth and listened instead as he continued on about these scantily clad women.

She smirked then, finally deciding that he would definitely be quite the impressionable sight in uniform. The man was already stoic. Add the uniform and he was statuesque. Artworthy. As if he wasn't already. She nodded as he continued to explain his avian traits, her green eyes fascinated; admiring him from the safety of his own intense stare. Her eyes lit up as he spoke of flying though, and she nearly squeaked in excitement. If there was one thing about her mutation she loved it was the gift of flight. True she held fear of the fire that came with it, and of course the radiation, but to be able to fly was something truly marvelous. "Flight is such a wonderful gift. I often feel it is my mutations apology for the rest of the destruction." She said vaguely. Perhaps she would tell him about her.. gift. But they weren't here for hers. They were here for his.

So there.

She grew quiet as she waited for him to answer about the stripe. Truly she expected him to remark on wanting something different. Or even it being a fashion statement. These were things she was used to hearing. These were things she should have known better to assume of him. And as he spoke of killing her lips grew tight. Not because it made her uncomfortable, but because the burden of taking a life was a very heavy one indeed. Especially when it had been an intentional killing. Accidents happened when dealing with mutation, but a soldiers duty was completely different. And then he spoke of a red stripe, and the loss of comrades. That gave her a heavy heart. She wondered then on what this fascinating man had seen. To have lived his life with such a mutation, serving your country, having to take lives to do so, and to lose comrades. Friends.

It was awful. How could he bear to get up in the morning, much less keep on living? She thought on offering condolences, or comfort. But that wasn't exactly her place, and she felt he may assume she pitied him. In a way, she did, but if anything she admired the iron strength in him. Truly Angel would have crumbled. Her psyche would not be able to deal with such loss.

"What sort of missions?" She asked, and then quickly shook her head. "No. No. I'm sorry. That is none of my business, and I'll not have you answer it." She paused and frowned. "Though I suppose petting you and asking all these questions about your unique abilities isn't any of my business either." Angel sighed. "The point is.." She went on to say, rambling once more. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable." Her fingers played with the felt of the couch, drawing lines in it and nodding. "So please don't feel obligated to satiate my curious mind. I.. I don't mean to bombard you."

"You're... different. Genuine. I find I have more... tolerance in this case and, I admit, that the close proximity isn't something I find to be displeasing."

That comment earned him quite the beaming smile. A smile that might have melted the polar ice caps. A smile that he, regrettably missed.

But that smile would soon fade with the sounding of that door and her own reaction to it. Was she always this jumpy? Probably. She hadn't ever noticed how easily she startled. Of course he moved much faster than she expected a man of his size. And being the large man he was his movements nudged her away from him and she tumbled over the edge of the couch arm. She caught herself barely, landing on her rump. She peered over the edge of the arm of the couch. Having been in what her body would only assume as immediate danger a soft yellow aura shimmered, heat radiating around her in slight waves.

She watched him, taking a deep breath to ease her mutant ability, but also because in that moment she realized how dangerous he was. True had known he was a vet, but until you see it in action it never really becomes reality. Her eyes grew wide, and he jaw fell slightly. But it wasn't from fear. Not at all. Even in reflex he hadn't harmed a hair on her head. The pizza boy would definitely be dead had her door been open, but she hadn't even been touched by a talon. No fear was not on the menu. He continued to fascinate and awe her.

She stood, quietly and slowly, as he moved towards the door. Vidar dealt with the delivery and came back with the food. She watched him curiously as he seemed, almost ashamed of his actions. While she, was more intrigued. He had said Special Forces. With reflexes like that.. she didn't doubt it one bit. He placed the boxes gingerly on the table approaching her and taking her hand as the heat waves dissipated completely. Angel stared up at his face, but his eyes never met hers. The sheaths pressed against her palm and she looked down and frowned. Immediately Angel shook her head and held them out to him.

"I'm perfectly alright with where they were, thank you." She said sternly.

Then he spoke of being broken, and Angel could feel her heart break for him. But that heartache quickly turned to anger. Anger that the world had been so unkind to him to make him see himself as such. No person, man or woman, human or mutant, should ever feel such a terrible thing about themselves. She would know, having felt it herself. After all she had resolved to taking the cure at one point.

Angel's pale hand hesitantly reached up. It lingered in empty space for a few seconds before her small fingers gripped his chin, forcing him to look down at her. Her green eyes met his and for once there was no shake of her hands, nor the shyness that always seemed to have hold of her. "You are not broken. Do not ever say it again." She said very clearly. She closed his hand around his weapons and let him return to the couch.

"I hope you're not a vegetarian. The pizza is supreme." Angel said happily as she moved next to him. She plopped down, curling her legs beneath herself and went as far as to lean against him. Though she did lean forward and set the pizza box in his lap, grabbing the wings as well. The red head also managed to snag the clicker. They could use a bit of a break from her questions.

"You said something to me earlier." She said with a grin. "Something you'd been told." And then she recited it of course, doing her best not to laugh. "Before you do it you must go through it or else you blew it. I have a feeling you don't get the reference." She said with a nod, using the remote to go through her saved movies. "I plan to change that. Besides. You need a break from all my pestering."

[Vidar Anfinson]

"I'm perfectly alright with where they were, thank you."

What? Where had this come from? Angel had yet to do anything authoritative and yet here she was basically demanding he take the knives back. That wasn't what he had expected she seemed so... innocent and not in a contrived way that was easy to spot and write-off. If it was an act, it was a damn good one because he had seen plenty of women try to pull it off over the years. He knew, or assumed he knew, how to spot a fake. Still, after what had just happened he was surprised she wasn't kicking him out. Of course, maybe that was the plan. Return his stuff and give him the heave ho, honestly he couldn't say he blamed her for that. His hands were still shaking slightly. Slowly he clenched and unclenched them until the shakes subsided.

He still wasn't really looking at her, but rather every direction but at her. Including down at the blindfold, which would not be useful any longer tonight. It was shredded beyond use. All of a sudden he noticed a small hand on his chin. It wasn't tugging on his face, per se, but it was certainly an insistent effort to direct his gaze. He allowed Angel to alter the focus of where he was looking so that he was paying attention to her face and expression as she pressed the knives into his hands with her other hand.

"You are not broken. Do not ever say it again. I hope you're not a vegetarian. The pizza is supreme."

"Supreme is fine, I eat chicken too," he said, still speaking quietly as he set the knives down on the coffee table in front of him. Then, all of a sudden, the pizza box was in his lap and she was leaning into and against him. This was certainly a new development. How was someone supposed to handle a bosomy redhead in this situation. More importantly, what was he supposed to do with his right arm now? Nothing in his life had really prepared him for this situation. Life and death combat, yes. Successful social interaction with the opposite sex? Not so much.

After a few seconds he settled for slipping the arm around her and trying what might have been considered a bit of a hug. In truth he wasn't that interested in eating. He wasn't feeling all that hungry. Then it occurred to him that she had asked several questions that he hadn't answered yet.

"Some of the missions I can't talk about, others I won't talk about. Not yet. Maybe not ever. You are different than others I've met. But, somethings are not spoken of within an hour of meeting someone," he said, not realizing he was slowly increasing the pressure on her from his arm that was around her. "I can tell you it was Special Forces, many different kinds of missions. Lost a few people, killed a great many more. Won a few awards, knighted by the British. Been shot a few times, broken bones, been stabbed. More scars than you would think, feathers cover them. Captured once, not for very long. Helped guard the Norwegian Royal Family. Worked with people from all over the world. Blew up a tank once, that was hairy. I don't feel obligated to do anything." He trailed off and fell silent for a time, still not realizing how much pressure he was applying to Angel..

"You said something to me earlier. Something you'd been told. 'Before you do it you must go through it or else you blew it. I have a feeling you don't get the reference.' I plan to change that. Besides. You need a break from all my pestering."

"It's not pestering. Still, between the pizza, feathers, and you I'm a little bit warm," he said as she began to fiddle with the television. Using his free arm he managed to remove what was left of the partially destroyed shirt he was wearing, dropping it on the floor. "That's better. Plenty of scars. You can try and find them after eating, if you want. Some stories I can tell, some I can't. Some I will, some I won't." He finally seemed to realize how much pressure he was applying with the arm around Angel and tried to relax himself enough to ease up a bit while looking a bit sheepish as she did something with the tv. In truth entertainment technology operation wasn't his strong suit.

[Angelica Jones]

Angel was pleased he hadn't run for the hills. She was doubly pleased that he wasn't a vegetarian. And when he spoke of eating chicken there was a visible sigh of relief. She opened the box in her own lap, staring down at the buffalo wings. She was starving, having not eaten anything since breakfast. Still she made it a point not to make a fool out of herself while taking one out. She gingerly held one between her index finger and her thumb, not wanting to be covered in spicy buffalo sauce. Still she took a small bite, listening to him speak about his missions as she ate slowly. Still she shook her head. "Like I said. I don't want you to be uncomfortable." She paused a moment, tugging on on her shirt a bit."At least more than you probably already are.. I'm curious by nature.. I go overboard it seems."

She allowed him to put his arm around her, scooting into the shelter of his shoulder. Quietly the redhead ate away at the spicy wings while she listened quietly. He had seen quite a bit of things, many horrific she assumed. Otherwise she assumed talking about them wouldn't be such a big deal. But it wasn't just the look on his face, or the tone in his voice that gave her the impression, it was the firm grip on her that did it. As he continued to speak the pressure of his arm grew and grew. When it became close to hurting she took her free hand, the one not covered in buffalo sauce, and placed it over his. She gave him a slight pat, setting the remote down in her lap.

She leaned away from him as he pulled the shirt off, letting it fall to the floor. And for a moment Angel hesitated before fitting back against his side. This was the closest she'd ever come, in her 28 years of life, to having a naked man in her bedroom. Or anywhere near her in general. Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she looked down at her lap in embarrassment. Sure there had been a few men who had tried to get close to her. But she had kept so many people at arms length or more. Before she had an ounce of control sitting next to an attractive man was catastrophic, and incredibly dangerous for said man.

Thankfully she didn't feel worried about Vidar. She didn't think she'd turn him into Thanksgiving Dinner. Or at least, she hoped she wouldn't.

"You may say I'm not pestering you, but I disagree."

She got comfortable again, munching on the wings while playing with the television and trying not to stare at the man next to her. This was not how she had expected to spend her evening. This was certainly not a bad way to do so, but it wasn't what she had planned. She had planned on eating her wings, drinking a few beers, maybe listening to a few Sinatra records. Watch some movies, and then off to bed to restart the process tomorrow. She leaned towards the table, grabbing the Guinness with a shaking hand and took a long pull from the bottle before setting it back down. "Are you sure you're not thirsty?" She asked quietly, glancing up at him, and plastering her eyes to his face.

Was this how some men felt with her?

[Vidar Anfinson]

"Like I said. I don't want you to be uncomfortable. At least more than you probably already are.. I'm curious by nature.. I go overboard it seems."

"I'm fine," he replied, trying to relax himself a bit more. In truth being able to see was a big help. He hadn't much cared for the blindfold, that had brought back a rather unpleasant memory. Of course he was also still aware that the music teacher was missing a certain garment of clothing, something that he assumed she was still a bit self conscious about as his gaze darted to her hand when it pulled on her shirt.

"There is nothing wrong with curiosity and I am better now without the blindfold," he said, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly and leaving it at that. "Of course, all things considered..." he moved with his free arm and put the pizza box on the coffee table. He wasn't hungry and Angel didn't seem to be eating from it either. "A gentleman should still close his eyes," Vidar concluded, shutting his eyes once more though he made no move to blindfold himself. Once was enough for that activity for the evening.

"You may say I'm not pestering you, but I disagree."

"If you were pestering I would tell you... or leave," he replied, stretching the truth maybe only a little She was drop dead gorgeous, after all, and the Norwegian was quite aware that fact was playing into his somewhat greater than usual patience with people. Well, that and other factors as well. It wasn't just about her looks, after all.

Vidar was keenly aware of Angel's presence as she nestled in the crook of his arm. She was close enough that he could smell the scent of the shampoo she had used on her hair earlier. He'd never served as anyone's blanket before, but he supposed that her earlier remark about such a thing would be accurate.

"Are you sure you're not thirsty?"

"I'm fine, really. Unless you would prefer I take a drink," he said, eyes still closed. He was, of course, in no danger of falling asleep. Strange surroundings with a still mostly unknown person, however lovely, were not the proper recipe for sleep. Not now, not ever.

Vidar settled his hand on Angel's upper arm as she seemed to get comfortable against him once more, moving a bit tentatively lest he mistake something else for her upper arm while his eyes were closed again. He certainly was more comfortable without the shirt, it had simply been too hot a few moments before. Norway never got especially warm, the summers averaged below seventy degrees, and he was still adjusting to the increased summer heat in his new home. There was also the added benefit of knowing precisely where she was without being able to see her, which helped his sense of apprehension about not being able to see a great deal.

"So, what now? I assume you have more questions. Or were you planning on watching a movie," he asked at last, sensing that she was still eating. Food was mildly tempting, but he tended to eat rather late closer to bed time, so it wasn't quite normal eating time for him just yet.

[Angelica Jones]

Angel nestled against him, more comfortable than she had expected. "I'm glad this hasn't been terribly uncomfortable." She said happily, though she did look up at him as he spoke of a gentlemans role. Angels hand came up, her palm resting against his chest. She tapped her fingers there twice. "I don't question your manners, Vidar. Truly I appreciate it, but it's not necessary." She turned her head back to the television, her other hand scrolling through her movies until she landed on Robin Hood: Men in Tights. "Besides.." Her voice trailed lightly. "I wouldn't dream of hiding your eyes." She said absentmindedly.

She smiled as he told her she wasn't pestering him. Which, to her, was a complete lie. In Angels eyes this man was simply too polite to tell her she was being a pain. But she shrugged off the thought, as he continued. She laughed then, as he suggested she wanted him to have a drink, and shook her head. Her red hair, still damp, managed to bounce a bit rubbing against him. "No, no. I would never demand you have a drink." She said softly. "I just thought perhaps you might be thirsty from all our talking. After all I've demanded quite a bit from you today." She said sweetly.

She realized then that she hadn't been stuttering much since his outburst. It was strange to think knowing he was a dangerous man that believed himself to be broken had managed to give her a bit of confidence. Whether that was because she felt he needed her to be that way or because she was simply more comfortable around him Angel wasn't sure. She felt the need to comfort him, even though they'd only just met. But this wasn't new to Angel. She often felt the need to offer comfort to those in need. Even those that would refuse such an offer. Her heart was just kind.

"I do have more questions, I admit, though I fear they are more invasive than about your fascinating mutation. But I would also like you to see this movie." She peered up at him. "I think you might enjoy it." She said with a smile. She pressed play, smiling to herself. "It's called Robin Hood: Men in Tights." She said softly, just before the title came up. The small redhead, unintentionally, moved even closer to him. Her body fully pressed against his as she leaned into him, and one of her hands lazily rubbing over his chest. For each few scar she would pause and occasionally ask him how he'd gotten it.

Of course she didn't realize how tired she was from the interesting day she'd had. And damnit all was he soft. And warm. And soft...

She watched the movie, maybe halfway through before her head lulled against him, and her arm draped around him. Almost hugging him to her small frame. The only indication he might have of her falling asleep was the soft sight that escaped her relaxed body, and probably the occasion nuzzle of her face against his chest.

[Vidar Anfinson]

"Besides... I wouldn't dream of hiding your eyes."

"Alright, I just didn't want you to feel ill at ease," he replied, opening his eyes once more as Angel tapped her fingers on his chest. She seemed to be curling into him more and more as she was talking and, the big Norwegian had to admit that, he was not altogether disappointed with this unexpected turn of events. The bigger issue was knowing how he was supposed to act, these were uncharted waters.

"No, no. I would never demand you have a drink. I just thought perhaps you might be thirsty from all our talking. After all I've demanded quite a bit from you today."

"Demanded, no," he answered, "and, as for the talking thing. I can't honestly think of too many times in my life I've talked as much as I have today. Maybe it's just making up for lost time." He shrugged his feathered shoulders. It was true, he was not usually nearly so talkative, but this was also a bit of a special circumstance.

"I do have more questions, I admit, though I fear they are more invasive than about your fascinating mutation. But I would also like you to see this movie. I think you might enjoy it. It's called Robin Hood: Men in Tights."

"You're welcome to ask the questions, though they might be counter productive if you want me to watch the movie and pay attention to it and I reserve the right to refuse to answer," he said regarding the questions as Angel pushed play and then turned fully into him. He suddenly found himself even more aware of just how curvaceous the little redhead was as she pressed herself against him and ran her hands over his chest. She certainly had a quite generous endowment, obviously. As she asked questions about the various scars she found he answered, though generally nothing beyond what had caused the scar.

About halfway through the movie he noticed that she seemed to stop with the petting and decide that simply hugging was the best option. That was perfectly alright. Once the movie ended he glanced down at Angel as the credits began to roll and, for the first time, realized that she had fallen asleep using him for a pillow.

'Well, now how am I supposed to proceed?'

He pondered over the best course of action. On the one hand, he could wake her up and then leave, but that seemed like it would be terrible rude. On the other he could try and pick her up and carry her to her bed and then slip out, but she was in an awkward position for that too. No, the best course of action seemed to be staying until she woke up on her own, that would be the most polite and he supposed she had earned a certain display of manners rather than his usual blunt gruffness.

Reaching out he snagged the remote and then thumbed down the volume a good deal. Stopping the movie he changed the tv over so that he could watch normal television and began channel surfing. Finding some kind replay of a hockey game from the past season he stopped surfing and decided to watch that. Noticing that the way he had held his arm around Angel for most of the evening was, at last, causing the arm to fall asleep he shifted a bit being careful not to wake the woman curled up next to, and half on top of, him settling his hand on her hip bone. Since she was asleep it made things less awkward since it seemed unlikely she could get offended while asleep. Unfortunately, the move caused the redhead to begin to shiver slightly within a few minutes but that problem was quickly solved when he extended one of his wings over her, the feathered limb being more than sufficient as a blanket, and quite effective at stopping the shivers.

Really, the only problem with the arrangement was that someone would need to stay up to keep watch. That and he wasn't in the most convenient position to sleep between sitting up and being used as a pillow. There were also the wings to think of since he never slept on his back. Still, there were many worse reasons to know one was about to stay up all night, as Vidar well knew. The decision fully made, he turned his attention to the hockey game as it replayed.