Vanessa & Warren | Tuesday night

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A rather mellow Vanessa calls Warren on a whim during a quiet moment in Wales. Surprisingly enough, they manage more than five minutes of conversation and cycle through everything from Warren's recently found admirer to Vanessa's personal form of therapy and horse riding lessons.

As much as Vanessa adored Thom and Rhiamon, she missed her people back in New York. Certain people she was used to seeing or talking to frequently and it was strange to not communicate with them in some way even while on the other side of the Atlantic from them. So, even though she and Warren weren't the sorts to have long phone conversations, or almost any phone conversations at all, she found herself with her mobile in her hand as she walked out back to the bench swing Thom had built. Once she was curled up on the wooden swing she found Warren in her phone and hit the call button.

Receiving phone calls from Vanessa wasn't something Warren was used to, but nonetheless, when he saw her number appear on the screen, he took the call, a smile on his face. "Hello, beautiful," he said into the phone, excusing himself from the people he'd been speaking to to find himself some privacy.

That greeting brought an instant smile to her face. "Hey, lover boy," she returned affectionately, the Irish in her accent much more pronounced than usual. "Miss me yet?"

"Of course," he replied, the grin on his face obvious in his voice. "My life is terribly boring and scandal-free when you're not around."

"Have I inspired scandal in your life?" She sounded genuinely curious, though also more amused than concerned. "Normally I would apologize but it doesn't sound like I should."

"Hmm, I don't usually make out with beautiful women in bars, you know. And there are all kinds of questions about the gorgeous brunette I was out with on Saturday night, and what happened to the blonde, and... well, I stopped paying attention after that, since gossip isn't exactly my most favorite thing." He laughed a little. "Please, don't apologize."

"I would say you should make out with far more beautiful women in bars, but I think I'm going to hold onto my proprietary leanings and try to claim that as my own niche even if such claim only lasts for the span of this phone call." She wasn't one to get very possessive over anyone or anything, but it was an odd point of pride that she had wooed Warren back to an appreciation for the female form by accident. "Who's the blonde I accidentally dethroned?"

"I think I'd start getting into trouble if I did that." He chuckled again. "Well, more trouble anyway." Warren still didn't know what to do about the situation with Jean-Phillipe. "Crystal. Well, not dethroned exactly, but we tend to go out together a lot. People like to make assumptions."

"Ah. They must have been very intrigued by the idea of you dating a princess. You go from her to an older woman and you're not talking about either of us." She sighed. "You really are terribly scandalous."
"Yes. There are people in Attilan who apparently believe we're engaged. It's amazing the conclusions will jump to." Warren grinned. "Though I'm starting to think that maybe I should start behaving. Before I land myself in too much more trouble.."

Vanessa quirked an eyebrow. Did Warren just say he didn't want to land in too much trouble? "What'd you, love? Have you gone and already gotten yourself in trouble you hadn't wanted?"

"Maybe." He sounded a little hesitant about it. He still wasn't sure, and should he even be talking to Vanessa about this? But then if not her, who? Why didn't he have any guy friends he could talk about this to? "I may have slept with someone who is more interested in me than I am him. And now I'm not entirely sure what to do, since it's not someone I can just brush off."

"Oh." Her mouth pulled down into a little frown. "That's...awkward. My usual response to awkward is to ignore that it exists and then it usually goes away, but that doesn't work with everything or everyone. Why aren't you sure how interested you are?"

"If I didn't have to see him at team things, the ignoring thing would sound like a tempting offer." Not that he would really attempt that, but it was the easy way out. "And it's mostly just..." He paused, trying to think about how to say it. "There's just not the same chemistry I've felt with other people. Piotr. Jay. You. Hell, even with Wade. Not that I didn't have a good time with him, because I did. It's just not the same."

"I didn't say ignore him, I said ignore the awkward." Hell, it had worked out well with her and Warren, but Vanessa got why it wasn't an option. "The chemistry's off between you guys, so maybe you're just not into him. Trying to make yourself into him won't help any either. Actually, I'm pretty sure it'll make it more awkward." Vanessa paused, then said, "Your immediate, gut reaction, do you want to sleep with him again?"

"Yes," Warren replied. "But that's mostly because the sex was good." He paused. "And he has a tongue piercing." Warren was, at least currently, a little shallow like that. "I just don't think it's a good idea if I do."

"Why not? The sex was good, but you don't want anything more than that but he does?"

"Exactly. Well, he said he'd be happy with whatever I wanted, but that's... I don't know, kind of shitty of me, isn't it? To just keep sleeping with him when I know he'd like more?"

"I know this might seem a bit obvious, love, mostly because it is, but why don't you just tell him that? You dig him as a friend, the sex is great and fun but you don't want a relationship with anyone. If that's cool with him then go forward, if it's not then set things at friends-only level and move on."

"That is a ridiculously sensible idea." Warren laughed a little. "I'll try that, let you know how it goes." Hopefully it would all work out in the end. "What about you? Are the guns and gardening doing their job?"

"Uh..." Vanessa rubbed the back of her neck while she attempted to self-assess her level of unstable head case. It was possible it was helping and it was possible she wasn't thinking about things so she just thought it was. "Maybe? I don't know. I'm awesome when I don't think about stuff that's making me crazy in general anyway and you are distracting me at the moment. But, aye, I think the change of scenery has already helped. I'm only minorly crazy at the moment." But would the crazy decrease survive the flight back to New York in a few weeks?

"Distractions and distance can be great, at least, if for no other reason, it gives you the space to look at things with a little clarity. But ignoring the crazy doesn't help, because it'll still be there when you get back." Warren wasn't about to push Vanessa into talking about things if she didn't want to think about it, and he was a very good distraction. But if she did, he'd listen.

"Which is probably why I should learn coping techniques that don't involve shooting people, aye? Thus, the gardening. Jean-Paul's decided we're going to have a rooftop vegetable garden when I get back." She couldn't help smiling over that. The very idea of her and Jean-Paul trying to grow things seemed so terribly alien.

"Yes, that certainly does help. Shooting people is generally not a particularly good coping mechanism." Warren would argue it wasn't a good thing to be doing at anytime, but now was not the time for that argument. "Is it terrible of me to say I can't imagine either of you gardening?"

"We're not exactly the gardening types. We're more the drinking, fucking, punching people types." She probably should have found more of a problem with it than she did. Vanessa was more the drinking and punching people sort. Well, mostly the violent in general sort. Bad coping mechanisms. "We'll see how long it takes for us to botch it."

"I would offer to supervise, but I'm probably just as useless. I do know the numbers of a few good gardeners, however." Which defeated the point, really. "If the gardening doesn't work out, perhaps you should find something similarly peaceful. Like yoga."

Vanessa's eyes narrowed. "You want me to spend my time stretching? I think having a personal booty call on call at all hours would be more effective, don't you?" She didn't really mean that. With the exception of Warren she didn't really do the whole booty call thing, and even then she only thought things worked with Warren because of the underlying friendship that seemed to develop concurrently.

"I've heard if you find a proper teacher, it's more than just stretching. It can be very good for your peace of mind." Not that he would know. Yoga wasn't really designed for people with wings. "And if the booty calls were helping that much, you wouldn't feel the need to escape to Wales."

"Maybe they would help if I wasn't already half mad when I started them," she argued back. "Mm...but they are a lovely distraction."
"That they are," Warren agreed with a grin. "But as much fun as the various distractions are, are they honestly helping with the original issue?" It didn't sound like they were to Warren.

She frowned and even pouted a little. "No, no they aren't. Actually, distraction is probably what made me mental in the first place. Well, that and a lack of people to shoot. Or maim. Maiming can be amazingly cathartic." It almost sounded like she was kidding about that, but there was too much surety in her voice to be certain.

"I'm sure it can," Warren replied dryly, doubt clear in his voice. "Are you sure that's not just another distraction?" It certainly sounded like it to him. But then he didn't get the whole 'violence is fun' thing.

"Violence is never a distraction. If it is then you're a bit unhinged in the bad way. Violence is very purposeful. It's very focusing. And, really, whatever rage or sadness or grief you may have? You get it all out of your system. It doesn't solve everything by a long shot. But it goes a long way toward getting you to a point you can deal with better if you're the sort who is sort of, well, emotionally retarded. Like me."

"I can't say I understand that at all," Warren admitted. "And I can't say I'd recommend violence as a form of therapy." It honestly sounded abhorrent to Warren, but he wasn't about to start mentioning that in this discussion. "But if you do need to shoot someone to help you sort your head out, maybe that's the answer." Though Warren did sound very dubious about that.

"When you are in war for a living shooting people is the cheapest and most effective therapy you can get, love. I get that it makes no sense to you, but you've never lived my life either." She wasn't sure she could make it make any sense to him either. She'd been a mercenary, and in many ways she still was whether or not she was working as one. It was a very different kind of life and perspective, and it was one which had saved her in many ways. "I don't think shooting people is the way to healing this time 'round, though."

"I hate to point out the obvious, but you're not working as a mercenary anymore. And there are plenty of therapists you could go to see in New York." Violence didn't need to be an option any more. "What do you think would work, if not that?"

Vanessa blinked, then again. Slowly. It was one of those slow motion movie moments. Had he actually just suggested she talk to a therapist? Really? "Oh, lover boy, you really don't know me very well at all."

"No, beautiful, I don't," he freely admitted. "I didn't say you necessarily had to go and see a therapist, but you could, if you wanted to. You don't have the excuse of being in a situation where it's not practical anymore."

"See, if you knew me at all you'd never even suggest a therapist. Look up what Freud said about the Irish some time, lover boy, and you'll start to get it a bit."

"I think you're missing my point, Vanessa," Warren said, taking the teasing tone right out of his voice. "It's not about whether I think you should go and see a therapist or not. The point is that you have options that don't involve violence. Which you've already admitted isn't likely to help in this situation, so I think it's probably a good idea if we didn't keep talking about it, since we'll just end up going around in circles."

"I already said the violence wasn't the answer," she replied, annoyance creeping into her voice. "I didn't say there was no other option. I said I didn't have other coping mechanisms and I should learn other ones. What about that implies I think I don't have options other than violence?" Though, right now she sort of wanted to hit Warren. Her fuse seemed shorter than usual lately. And he had totally destroyed her mellow mood.

"I'm sorry, I misunderstood what you were saying," Warren said, not having meant to turn this into an argument. "Violence of any kind is something of a hot-button issue for me, and so I may not have listened to what you had to say as carefully as I should have. I apologise."

"Then you probably shouldn't discuss it with someone who has made a living from it."

"Honestly? I was trying not to."

Vanessa sighed. She was all tense now and she didn't like it. "You failed, lover boy. You failed so spectacularly."

"I know, I apologise." He inserted a playful note back into his voice. "Is there something I can do to make it up for you, beautiful? The world is your oyster."

"You can buy me vegetable plants," she told him, a smile creeping onto her face and into her voice.

"Just plants?" He replied, a grin on his face. "Because I've heard there's a lot more than that involved in gardening. You need tools and soil and... okay, so I'd probably have to ask the assistant to be helpful and tell me what else you'd need. But I'm not sure plants really covers the level of apology that I owe you."

"Mister Worthington..." Vanessa said his name in a manner much more appropriate for attempting to get him out of his clothes. "Are you saying you feel terribly enough that you ought to be purchasing most of my supplies for my rooftop garden? I wouldn't have thought I required that much of an apology, though if you feel so awful I could hardly stand in the way of you making the amends you feel the need to make."

"I was something of an ass," Warren admitted freely. "And as much as I enjoy being a distraction, I feel as if I should do everything in my power to encourage your gardening pursuits."

"You're not going to encourage me with ponies, too, are you?" She was quite consistently keeping a smile on her face once again. "Because I find the ponies on the hill quite zen-inducing and I've already had to explain to Jean-Paul that rooftops are not appropriate places to keep ponies."

"The mansion already has horses," Warren pointed out. "But if you wanted a pony, I'm sure the Professor wouldn't mind you keeping one there." Would Warren actually buy her a pony? It was entirely possible.

"What good is a pony I have to drive an hour out to see? If I had a pony I would want it to be easily accessible so I could brush it and ride it about central park and cuddle it when I'm lonely." She didn't think cuddling horses was very pragmatic, really, but it sounded good. Sort of.

"Hmmmm, that is a good point. I suppose I could try and find a place in the city to stable it, though you would have to promise you'd take good care of it. And exercise it regularly. We couldn't have your pony getting fat."

The look on Vanessa's face must have been hilarious to anyone who could have seen it. Luckily for her there was no one around to notice the way her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. "It'd be quite cruel to neglect a pony. The man who owns the ponies that hang out on the hill told me they've personalities like people. And they are excellent judges of character so now he's convinced I'm an utter peach and has taken to calling me 'sweetheart' in that grandfatherly way."

"You do have your moments," Warren said with a grin. Their different histories and attitudes to violence aside, Warren was starting to grow quite fond of Vanessa. "Do you know how to ride? I learned when I was a kid, though I haven't since my wings grew in."

"Nope. I grew up in South Boston and I was in the city until I was bought and became a mercenary. I'm a city kid, you know? The ponies up on Llanmadoc hill are the first I've ever been close to. I never went into the stables while I was living at the mansion." She wondered now if Xavier did have horses in there and what they were like. She liked the foal and his mum she had befriended. The foal was sort of sweet and playful and he apparently loved her because he kept giving her love nips. Vanessa was convinced her arms and shoulders would be thoroughly bruised from the pony's affection by the time she was back in the States.

"Hey, I'm a city boy as well. My family just happens to have horses at the country house we sometimes summered at." Lifestyles of the rich and semi-famous. Warren hadn't been there in years, and he idly wondered whether they did still have it.

"Horses involve money, love, and my parents never had it." Vanessa had more set aside from her work as a mercenary than she would ever disclose to anyone. She could probably afford to buy and maintain a horse if she really wanted one. And now she was actually contemplating that. If anyone asked she would claim it was Warren's fault.

"And mine have more than is good for them. Or me. I think I'm lucky I didn't turn out to be completely insufferable." There was a pause. "Presuming I'm not, of course. But if we still have the house, you're welcome to stay there any time. And I'll see if I can find my old riding instructor to give you lessons, if you'd like."

"Really?" The way her face lit up at the offer worked its way quite tangibly into Vanessa's voice. "That's be amazing. The lessons, specifically, I mean. You know, assuming the ponies here aren't the only horses on the face of the plant who likes me. Jean-Paul is convinced horses would try to eat him for some reason. I could be one of those people who gives horse drawn carriage rides around the park on the weekends." She giggled quietly at the prospect of that. The very idea of Vanessa with a rooftop vegetable garden giving tourists carriage rides was ridiculous. But it also seemed sort of lovely and fun.

"Really," he said with a laugh. "I can't imagine why anyone wouldn't like you, so I think you'll be fine. And I'm sure Jean-Paul is just being paranoid. Especially given that horses aren't carnivores. The worst one would do is try to bite him." He moved to find pen and paper, to write himself a note to remind him to look into the state of the estate.

"Jean-Paul and paranoia are sort of like Quebec and the accent. Sure, you can find bits without the accent, but it's pretty damn pervasive throughout the province. And plenty of people don't like me. Some with good reason, even. I'm sure the horses could find loads of reasons to not like me as well."

"Clearly you'll just have to drag him along sometime as well, teach him that horses aren't so terrible. Or bloodthirsty." He smiled. "Well, I like you fine enough, I'll just make to sell any horses that don't agree with me." And buy new ones that do. But Warren did remember the horses at the estate being fairly placid. Or the ones he rode did.

"I may have told him that the foal I made friends with left a bruise from a love nip," Vanessa told Warren with a guilty tone. "So it might be hard for me to convince him they aren't bloodthirsty and out for his blood."

"I think Jean-Paul just lost all of his manly points, being scared of being nipped by a baby horse." Warren laughed.

"Hey now!" Vanessa's objection was marred by her own laughter. "Have you ever been nipped by an enthusiastic horse? 'Cause she had some power in those jaws and if she was more serious she could probably snap my arm. It's worthy of irrational fear, mkay?" She paused for effect, then added, "No one gets to pick on my fake husband slash gay boyfriend but me."

"Oh really now?" Warren grinned. "See, because you're mighty far away to be defending Jean-Paul's honor. In fact, I think he loses even more manly points for not doing it himself."

"Now, now my dear, fluffy winged lad, you ought not make the mistake of assuming he is incapable of defending his own honor when he is simply not present. I have every faith in his masculinity, my dear lover boy, though that has nothing to do with how terribly cranky it makes me when people feel the need to poke fun at him." Her voice had started out very light and gotten more serious, though there was still a note of playfulness to indicate she wasn't really serious. "I've a terrible habit of viciously protecting what's mine. He? Is mine."

"I'm just teasing," Warren said, a little more seriously. "I honestly don't care enough about his masculinity or the lack of it to turn this into an argument, or you playing Mama Bear." The friendship between him and Jean-Paul wasn't close enough for him to really care about getting into this with Vanessa - in fact, if you asked him, he'd deny any friendship, simply a working relationship that happened to sometimes involve sharing food and/or drinks.

Vanessa rolled her eyes. "And now that someone is taking me way too seriously I am going to give in to the constant flagging down that's going on. I can only deny beer bottles being waggled in my direction for so long."

"Pot, kettle, beautiful. Enjoy your beer."

Vanessa made a kissing sound into the phone and then rang off.