Marie-Ange and Garrison. A Date.
Dec. 7th, 2006 05:28 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsNot nearly as long, or as emotionally intense as Amanda and Doug's afternoon out, and not half as funny as Marie and Garrison in the Danger Room. This is just a regular date. Steak and red wine and flirting.
"So, you got taught how to manage to see the future properly by a voodoo queen?" Garrison said around mouthfuls. He and Marie-Ange were on their second date, a somewhat trendy new chophouse in Grenwich Village, not far from the office. He hadn't mentioned his run in with Doug to her, not seeing a reason to. Doug hadn't been anything but polite to him, but Kane was trained to take in more than just the words to tell what someone meant, and Doug's hostility was likely because he wasn't over his ex-girlfriend yet.
Besides, it wasn't Doug's feelings that Garrison was interested in. He an Marie-Ange had traded a few e-mails and phonecalls since their first date, but the second was always the key. Anyone could pretend to be interesting for a couple of hours, but to sustain it took a lot more.
"An old terrifying voodoo queen in the swamps of Louisana." Marie-Ange said. "And I am sometimes not so sure if she taught me how to see it properly, or just taught me how not to go entirely quite mad." She speared a piece of broccoli with her fork and ate it before continuing. "It's turning into a kind of rite of passage for most of us working for Pete. Spend time with Tante Mattie, learn to hate swamps, get a job at Snow Valley."
"I think all of you are nuts." Kane returned to his steak, chewing thoughtfully. "Between your merry band of Wisdoms, and the mansion itself, there should be a host of anti-psychotics on the drug plan. Oh, and a tanker truck of Midol for lil' Petey." He said, only mostly kidding as he did so.
"And here you are, right in the middle of it." Marie-Ange said pointedly. "If the insanity is contagious, you are due for it any day now. You live in the mansion, you know Pete.." Leaving out entirely the fact that if insanity was sexuallty transmitted, he was soon coming up on more than his fair share. It wasn't polite conversation, after all.
"Hell no. I have Moosehead and the Tragically Hip to ward off any attack of the deep down American mutant crazies. Talismans in an unholy land and all that." He grinned, taking a sip of his red wine. He'd scored points earlier passing over the winelist to her first thing, and was now doubly happy at his decision. Garrison had many talents, but a cultured wine palette was not amoung them.
"Now, I know we can't trade mission stories, and frankly, that's likely a good thing. But what's it like to work with Pete? I mean, I've known him since I was ten, but that's not the same thing."
It was a difficult question to answer, Marie-Ange thought, and more so without 'trading stories'. "He is demanding, and there is always the next thing to work on.." she said. "It is not like the X-men. We do a lot more preventative work then responding to problems."
"I meant share an office with him. I've had to share a house with him for three days and that was more than enough." It was obvious that Kane had a strong affection, almost familial, for Wisdom, dispite the jokes he made.
"And now I feel silly." Marie-Ange answered. "I see less of him then some of the others." She paused to take a bite of food, and then added. "It probably is not all that different from sharing a house. He makes demands, drinks and chain smokes, and swears. A lot." She shook her head, laughing a little. "My first year at the school, he was our self-defense teacher. I actually had a little crush on him. "
"You and the rest of the English speaking world, it seems. My sister Victoria had the same damn crush." Kane put down his fork mock-offended, making wide gestures with his hands. "I don't get it! He's short, looks like he was made of out pipecleaners and crazy glue, and smells like an ashtray. In response, women line up around the damn block just to look at him. I don't even get that kind of attention in my dress uniform, which out of respect for tradition, is still made out of spun sex and American drool."
Marie-Ange broke into a amused laugh, and set down her own fork, resting her chin on her folded hands. "I think it is because he is entirely indifferent to it. But you could show me the uniform and I could compare." It was a little risk, a little bolder than usually was, but Marie-Ange was almost positive Garrison was not going to object.
"You know, if you take out the creepiness that is having to compare myself to a thirty-seven year old man, that statement had a lot of possibilities in it." Kane pointed with his fork at her. "I will if you promise to wear the hat."
"I was fourteen at the time. I am sure that mitigates some of it." Marie-Ange countered. "I am -not- fourteen now. Which I am sure you noticed." She couldn't help but laugh, and shake her head. "Why the hat?" He didn't have some weird hat -thing-, she hoped.
"You should note that I very carefully failed to mention wearing anything other than the hat." He pointed out with a grin.
"So, you got taught how to manage to see the future properly by a voodoo queen?" Garrison said around mouthfuls. He and Marie-Ange were on their second date, a somewhat trendy new chophouse in Grenwich Village, not far from the office. He hadn't mentioned his run in with Doug to her, not seeing a reason to. Doug hadn't been anything but polite to him, but Kane was trained to take in more than just the words to tell what someone meant, and Doug's hostility was likely because he wasn't over his ex-girlfriend yet.
Besides, it wasn't Doug's feelings that Garrison was interested in. He an Marie-Ange had traded a few e-mails and phonecalls since their first date, but the second was always the key. Anyone could pretend to be interesting for a couple of hours, but to sustain it took a lot more.
"An old terrifying voodoo queen in the swamps of Louisana." Marie-Ange said. "And I am sometimes not so sure if she taught me how to see it properly, or just taught me how not to go entirely quite mad." She speared a piece of broccoli with her fork and ate it before continuing. "It's turning into a kind of rite of passage for most of us working for Pete. Spend time with Tante Mattie, learn to hate swamps, get a job at Snow Valley."
"I think all of you are nuts." Kane returned to his steak, chewing thoughtfully. "Between your merry band of Wisdoms, and the mansion itself, there should be a host of anti-psychotics on the drug plan. Oh, and a tanker truck of Midol for lil' Petey." He said, only mostly kidding as he did so.
"And here you are, right in the middle of it." Marie-Ange said pointedly. "If the insanity is contagious, you are due for it any day now. You live in the mansion, you know Pete.." Leaving out entirely the fact that if insanity was sexuallty transmitted, he was soon coming up on more than his fair share. It wasn't polite conversation, after all.
"Hell no. I have Moosehead and the Tragically Hip to ward off any attack of the deep down American mutant crazies. Talismans in an unholy land and all that." He grinned, taking a sip of his red wine. He'd scored points earlier passing over the winelist to her first thing, and was now doubly happy at his decision. Garrison had many talents, but a cultured wine palette was not amoung them.
"Now, I know we can't trade mission stories, and frankly, that's likely a good thing. But what's it like to work with Pete? I mean, I've known him since I was ten, but that's not the same thing."
It was a difficult question to answer, Marie-Ange thought, and more so without 'trading stories'. "He is demanding, and there is always the next thing to work on.." she said. "It is not like the X-men. We do a lot more preventative work then responding to problems."
"I meant share an office with him. I've had to share a house with him for three days and that was more than enough." It was obvious that Kane had a strong affection, almost familial, for Wisdom, dispite the jokes he made.
"And now I feel silly." Marie-Ange answered. "I see less of him then some of the others." She paused to take a bite of food, and then added. "It probably is not all that different from sharing a house. He makes demands, drinks and chain smokes, and swears. A lot." She shook her head, laughing a little. "My first year at the school, he was our self-defense teacher. I actually had a little crush on him. "
"You and the rest of the English speaking world, it seems. My sister Victoria had the same damn crush." Kane put down his fork mock-offended, making wide gestures with his hands. "I don't get it! He's short, looks like he was made of out pipecleaners and crazy glue, and smells like an ashtray. In response, women line up around the damn block just to look at him. I don't even get that kind of attention in my dress uniform, which out of respect for tradition, is still made out of spun sex and American drool."
Marie-Ange broke into a amused laugh, and set down her own fork, resting her chin on her folded hands. "I think it is because he is entirely indifferent to it. But you could show me the uniform and I could compare." It was a little risk, a little bolder than usually was, but Marie-Ange was almost positive Garrison was not going to object.
"You know, if you take out the creepiness that is having to compare myself to a thirty-seven year old man, that statement had a lot of possibilities in it." Kane pointed with his fork at her. "I will if you promise to wear the hat."
"I was fourteen at the time. I am sure that mitigates some of it." Marie-Ange countered. "I am -not- fourteen now. Which I am sure you noticed." She couldn't help but laugh, and shake her head. "Why the hat?" He didn't have some weird hat -thing-, she hoped.
"You should note that I very carefully failed to mention wearing anything other than the hat." He pointed out with a grin.
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