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xp_logsWarren is cranky and Amanda knows how to pull him out of it.
Occasionally, Warren remembered that there were more important things in life than work. Ever since Piotr had reappeared in New York he'd been burying himself in the family business even more, avoiding the mansion as much as possible. X-Men training was unavoidable, but even then he begged off as often ad he could get away with.
But he had no excuse for not socializing with friends a little closer to him, which is why he was somewhat uncomfortably ensconced in a booth in a crowded bar in Manhattan, Amanda sitting opposite him. There was supposed to be some sort of band playing, but Warren would swear that he hadn't heard any music at all that evening. He nursed a beer for once, rather than his usual scotch.
"Why did we come here again?" He said loudly over the din, a frown on his face.
"Because it does you good to get out of your comfort zone and I wasn't dressed for one of the uptown places," Amanda called back with a grin. She seemed very at home in the setting, lounging back in the booth with one booted foot tucked under her.
"... there is no place for your logic here," Warren said, the frown breaking into a grin as he leant forward. "I think you're just lucky my hearing isn't as good as my eyesight. Otherwise I'd be bleeding from the ears."
She snorted and sipped at her beer. "'S good for the soul a bit of ear-shatteringly loud music. Especially if you've been having a crap week," she explained. "Maybe later I'll get you up and dancing."
"A crap week is an understatement," he said with a laugh. "And I really don't think dancing would help. At all. I'd even go as far to say it would make things worse." He was grinning as he spoke, so it was very possible he was joking.
"The beauty of this sort of music is dancing's a bit of an exaggeration. It's more 'moving vaguely in time to the music and bumping into each other'." Amanda chuckled, glad to see the grin. "I even promise not to step on your toes too much."
"Oh, alright," he replied with an overly exaggerated sigh and slump of his shoulders. "I don't think I really have much choice in the matter, do I?"
"With me, never." Amanda poked him in the shoulder. "But don't worry, I won't drag you up there yet. We both need more beer before that happens, if only so we can't feel the bruises."
"You're a saint," he replied with a grin. "But speaking of drinks, I think it's my round. Same again?"
"Of course." She held up her empty glass for him to take. "Can't go past a good beer."
"Of course not." Another grin, and he'd disappeared into the crowd, weaving his way through to the bar. It was pretty busy, so it took Warren awhile before he was served, and he took the time to chat to a particularly attractive brunette as they inched closer to the bar. Always the gentleman, he let her order before him, and finally returned to Amanda, drinks in hand.
"My knight in a rather spiffy suit," she said in an exaggerated voice, hand to her forehead as if to swoon.
"I'd look terrible in armor," he said with a wink. "And it's dangerous out there. I nearly got jumped for my place at the bar."
"I'm pretty sure armour plate would cramp the wings as well," she said with a snort. "Tho' you'd have that whole warrior archangel thing going for you."
"I don't think I'm quite virtuous enough for a halo," he said with a grin. "But that is one thing I've never understood about the whole archangel thing... there is no way you could wear that sort of armor with wings. I have enough trouble with regular clothes, let alone steel."
"We could get you just the breastplate?" Amanda suggested, amused by the mental image of Warren as an avenging host. "And a sword? Since it's all about the sword, especially if it's flaming."
Warren laughed at the thought. "Well, those high school fencing lessons would come in handy, in that case. And I suppose it would be fun, smiting people left, right and centre. Dispensing divine justice to the masses."
She smirked at him. "I can't believe you let me get away with the whole 'flaming' thing," she teased. "But yeah, divine justice and all that. Fighting the good fight. 'S what we do, yeah?"
"It didn't even click," he said with a laugh. "I think I've spent far too much time out with beautiful women, I've forgotten how to be gay." He grinned over to her. "It is what we do." He raised his glass. "Here's to us, and the good fight."
Occasionally, Warren remembered that there were more important things in life than work. Ever since Piotr had reappeared in New York he'd been burying himself in the family business even more, avoiding the mansion as much as possible. X-Men training was unavoidable, but even then he begged off as often ad he could get away with.
But he had no excuse for not socializing with friends a little closer to him, which is why he was somewhat uncomfortably ensconced in a booth in a crowded bar in Manhattan, Amanda sitting opposite him. There was supposed to be some sort of band playing, but Warren would swear that he hadn't heard any music at all that evening. He nursed a beer for once, rather than his usual scotch.
"Why did we come here again?" He said loudly over the din, a frown on his face.
"Because it does you good to get out of your comfort zone and I wasn't dressed for one of the uptown places," Amanda called back with a grin. She seemed very at home in the setting, lounging back in the booth with one booted foot tucked under her.
"... there is no place for your logic here," Warren said, the frown breaking into a grin as he leant forward. "I think you're just lucky my hearing isn't as good as my eyesight. Otherwise I'd be bleeding from the ears."
She snorted and sipped at her beer. "'S good for the soul a bit of ear-shatteringly loud music. Especially if you've been having a crap week," she explained. "Maybe later I'll get you up and dancing."
"A crap week is an understatement," he said with a laugh. "And I really don't think dancing would help. At all. I'd even go as far to say it would make things worse." He was grinning as he spoke, so it was very possible he was joking.
"The beauty of this sort of music is dancing's a bit of an exaggeration. It's more 'moving vaguely in time to the music and bumping into each other'." Amanda chuckled, glad to see the grin. "I even promise not to step on your toes too much."
"Oh, alright," he replied with an overly exaggerated sigh and slump of his shoulders. "I don't think I really have much choice in the matter, do I?"
"With me, never." Amanda poked him in the shoulder. "But don't worry, I won't drag you up there yet. We both need more beer before that happens, if only so we can't feel the bruises."
"You're a saint," he replied with a grin. "But speaking of drinks, I think it's my round. Same again?"
"Of course." She held up her empty glass for him to take. "Can't go past a good beer."
"Of course not." Another grin, and he'd disappeared into the crowd, weaving his way through to the bar. It was pretty busy, so it took Warren awhile before he was served, and he took the time to chat to a particularly attractive brunette as they inched closer to the bar. Always the gentleman, he let her order before him, and finally returned to Amanda, drinks in hand.
"My knight in a rather spiffy suit," she said in an exaggerated voice, hand to her forehead as if to swoon.
"I'd look terrible in armor," he said with a wink. "And it's dangerous out there. I nearly got jumped for my place at the bar."
"I'm pretty sure armour plate would cramp the wings as well," she said with a snort. "Tho' you'd have that whole warrior archangel thing going for you."
"I don't think I'm quite virtuous enough for a halo," he said with a grin. "But that is one thing I've never understood about the whole archangel thing... there is no way you could wear that sort of armor with wings. I have enough trouble with regular clothes, let alone steel."
"We could get you just the breastplate?" Amanda suggested, amused by the mental image of Warren as an avenging host. "And a sword? Since it's all about the sword, especially if it's flaming."
Warren laughed at the thought. "Well, those high school fencing lessons would come in handy, in that case. And I suppose it would be fun, smiting people left, right and centre. Dispensing divine justice to the masses."
She smirked at him. "I can't believe you let me get away with the whole 'flaming' thing," she teased. "But yeah, divine justice and all that. Fighting the good fight. 'S what we do, yeah?"
"It didn't even click," he said with a laugh. "I think I've spent far too much time out with beautiful women, I've forgotten how to be gay." He grinned over to her. "It is what we do." He raised his glass. "Here's to us, and the good fight."
