Don't Puke On Me

Participants:

finn_icon.gif lucille4_icon.gif

Scene Title Don't Puke On Me
Synopsis Promises are made, no notaries are needed.
Date March 10, 2019

The Crucible


The sound of bodies hitting metal fencing rings throughout the fight pit known as The Crucible and the crowd's cheering echoes along with it. In the center of the ring a woman with short red hair hovers in the air flexing her fingers as wind kicks up in the space and a burly man grits his teeth as he is kept firmly against the fence.

"Anemoi is good. Really good." Lucille's voice cuts through the crowd because it's close to her date's ear. Her lips spread into a light grin, "I haven't had the privilege of going against her. I would suggest you steer clear." A slight jab as she lays a hand on his arm. Since her healing Lucille has taken to "casual dating" again, something she had done often but being out of the game for seven years still reads because she nervously removes her hand after hesitation.

Dressed in a sleeveless black top and thigh length black skirt that flairs out about her. She's cut her hair again and redid the blonde highlights, the length now just below her ears. Lucille's ankle booted feet are crossed and she bops her foot lightly, shit. Its easy to slip into old habits. Being afraid to touch someone.

She'll get over it.

Finn definitely likes where he’s sitting. A beautiful blonde on his arm, some money in his pocket from making a good bet on an earlier fight, a drink in his hand, and no bruises to show for it today.

“I can handle the shit I can see coming at me,” protests the Providence man, his cheeks turning a touch ruddy as he remembers the humiliation served up to him the last time he was in the ring, and at the hands of his date, no less. “But honestly, it’s mostly dodging and lucky hits in there that keep me in the running. Strengthwise, I’m only human, after all.”

He notices the little jab and glanes down, before offering her his hand, palm up. He looks over at her with a boyish smile. “Anemoi sounds like a French word for… I don’t know. Anime? Anemia?” he asks.

"Uh huh." Is the soft reply to his slightly red complexion at her teasing. "Your ability is wild, I can't imagine the situations it's gotten you in and out of." Lucky bastard. When he offers his hand palm up Lucille hesitates and looks down at their hands almost touching. It's fine. She's just in her head, with Wolfhound she barely even thinks about it as much, the touching.

"It's Greek." Placing her hand in his after that moment where everything blurred away. Lucille keeps smiling, the sounds of the world around them rushing back to her senses. In the ring (and outside of it) the wind is kicking up another gear. The burly man bellows and reaches forward to weakly clap his hands together. A shockwave ripples out from his palms to hurtle towards Anemoi who flies back into the fence behind her with a wince. The crowd boos as their favorite is momentarily stunned and the large man begins to stalk forward with the winds having died down.

Luc's hair floats up off the naps of her neck, "They were wind gods. Minor gods though," a look from Finn's eyes to the fight going down below them, "They answered to Aeolus, the keeper of the winds. I always thought it was funny she named herself after lower deities but maybe it was her way of staying humble." She's shouting all of this over the roar of the crowd and it seems silly, explaining away things she's read to people who probably didn't care. Fingers flex and unflex as she considers suggesting they get out of the noise machine that was the Crucible.

If he notices the nervousness, he doesn’t speak of it. He spends as much time looking at her as he does the fight, and manages to catch enough of her words to understand, despite the roar of club, accompanied by roar of wind.

“I never heard of them. I remember Aeolus from The Odyssey, though. He’s the one that gave them the wind in a bag, right? Before the idiots opened it,” he says. That’s right, Lucille, the man has read a book or two. “I like the name, now I know the origin. And it sounds exotic. Much more interesting than Lucky Strike, I guess.” His expression turns a bit sheepish at that.

He glances back at her, brow lifting. “Why White Rose? I’d guess something that sounds more dangerous but suits your ability — maybe Oleander. Belladonna. Ipecac.” The last one gets a smirk and a shake of his head.

"You know your mythology," impressed even if The Odyssey is a common enough tale that people hear whether they indulge in reading or not. "Lucky Strike is fun. People need to have more fun." Lucille needs to have more fun, she likes the sheepish look he gets.

"I've seen ipecacs in Brazil, I was there for a photo shoot." Whatever she was a model, sue her. There's a grin on her lips as she leans in to speak more directly in his ear again the stands of her hair tickling his cheek, she smells of some perfume it's faint not as flowery but spring like. She stole some from Berlin. "White roses are considered a symbol of innocence… purity…" Luce didn't think of herself as innocent so the curl of her grin makes sense if you could read her mind but the expression can only be described as ruthless.

"It's fun to deceive people. Sarcasm. I'm the "White Rose", air quotes thought she does look over her shoulder to make sure nobody is eavesdropping. "Nobody suspects me to much of a challenge," with how Lucille's stature isn't one of a buff muscle man her body is hardened by war and frequent fights and training. She wears her scars with pride, it's then that she touches the place at her neck where the most painful of her scars once lived. "The name helps."

He smiles, pleased, when she looks impressed, but he shakes it off. “I read the Odyssey. Some of the Norse stuff. I read Tolkien. I’m a geek, but not a scholar,” he says, with a shrug. “I didn’t make it through college. Just wanted to fly all the time. If I wasn’t in the clouds, I was thinking about the next time I could be.”

Finn’s brows draw together as she speaks, studying her; Anemoi quite forgotten. “I wouldn’t underestimate you in a million years,” he says. “I mean, aside from the fact that every tiny woman I know could kick my ass from here to Florida, and you’re not that tiny. But I wouldn’t think you were frail or weak for a second, even if I thought you were unevolved.”

Green eyes drop from her eyes to her throat when she touches it, then back up to her face. He smiles slightly, tugging his jacket collar away so she can see an angry looking scar near his collarbone — a couple of inches over, it would have matched hers.

“I’d probably be dead a few times over, if it weren’t for my ability. Or maybe not.” His smile is a bit wry, as he adds, “I do dumb shit sometimes because of my ability. Like fighting women who can kick my ass here to Florida.”

Luce too isn't focusing on the fight below them instead her attention is held on Finn, the way he smiles those little looks. His compliments are nice, she appreciates it and even feels he's being honest with her. "Why do I think the one who shouldn't be underestimated is you?" She had underestimated him.

That scar holds her attention and Lucille almost reaches out to touch it.

His humor is refreshing and the short haired woman laughs and nods her head, "Well lucky for you that ability keeps you from dying from all that dumb shit," leaning in closer she does inspect the scar reaching out to run a finger along it. Her light blue eyes tic upwards to catch his green, "Lucky for me too."

In the words of Hitch, she's gone seventy-five percent of the way.

His eyes drop down to her hand when it draws close, then back up, smiling at her words — a boyish thing, earnest and frank. He must be terrible at poker.

When she touches him, he reaches up to graze his knuckles lightly over her cheek — the same spot that the first time he met her, he’d struck.

“I don’t like fighting women,” he manages to say, his eyes dropping to her lips, before looking back up. “That’s probably sexist. It’s not because they aren’t strong enough to fight me — you certainly are. She is.” He nods to the airbender in the ring, without looking at her. “But I don’t feel bad most of the time if I punch another dude. Besides…”

He leans in toward her. “I’d rather do other things.”

She remembers how "terrible" at poker he was but the look on his face the earnestness, Lucille needed a little more than that. She leans into his touch briefly closing her eyes. "That's just society's deeply ingrained teachings mixed with your primal human desires." Lucille stops herself, that's not sexy talk.

The leaning in is sexy though. Before she can stop herself she kisses the man lightly on the lips.

She's had makeouts with hot boys and girls since her healing. Not as many dates. It was still easier to let someone in physically than emotionally ironically. Behind the pair the fight rages on as in a twist Anemoi is on the man's back choking him out. The crowd cheers and jumps to the stands as the burly man taps out. The fights over and Lucille breaks the kiss, "Let's go for a walk." Lucille whispers to him.

“Right, I’m one step past caveman, I totally get it.” Finn doesn’t seem offended by her words, but he smiles at the way she leans in to meet him.

The kiss is light and sweet, and he looks pleased when she pulls away. His eyes dart to the cage when the crowd jumps up to roar their approval or dismay at the victory or respective defeat. His lips curve into a smile. “Gonna learn to always bet on the hot girl,” he says lightly.

He too stands and offers her his hand. “So you were talking about my primal desires, I think…”

The crowd continues its cheering and roaring as Lucille takes his hand and begins to wade out of the seats, placing her feet lightly in front of each other while taking care to look over her shoulder to Finn on occasion with a content expression on her face mouth half hanging open in a smile. "Primal desires," She says back to him as they near the exit where less people are dimming the noise of the aftermath of the march. Squeezing Finn's hand with a grin as they come to the outside past the guards and more into the open field surrounding the place.

"We gotta do right by our.. cavemen ancestors." Lightly grazing his lips before Lucille pulls back her smile a little forced.

"Sometimes I'm a little weird.. about touching or get self conscious. I couldn't touch anyone for seven years it was…" Realizing what she sounds like, "I wasn't a nun. I just had a condition after I got shot," running a finger along Finn's neck where his scar is, "Had a scar like yours. My ability was… thrown all out of whack." Blue eyes landing on the finger on Finn's neck.

“I think mine are less far removed than yours,” quips Finn, letting her lead him up out of the stands and out of the Crucible, grinning a bit and clearly pleased at those who look his way, her way. Like he knows he’s the luckiest damn man in the world.

Most of the time.

He inhales deeply when she steps out of the kiss — his eyes are half-lidded with pleasure, but he nods when she speaks of being “weird” and “self conscious.”

“Sure,” he says, quietly. “Look, I don’t expect anything. Just holding your hand is nice, Luce.” His fingers tighten on hers for a moment. “You’re in control, all right? In general — you have your shit together, I think, way more than I do. But also right now. You wanna hold hands and count stars, we can do that. Make up new stories that don’t end terrible and sad for Orion and… who was it… Artemis, right?”

He looks up, finding the trio of stars that make up the iconic belt. “Apollo,” he says suddenly, “was a dick.”

"He was a dick but apparently a beautiful one." Not that it excused the sun god.

He's really sweet. Lucille feels lucky in that moment. "We can do all those things. And more." Leaning into him she lays her head on his chest, "That night just haunts me. I feel like I should be healed from the mental trauma if I'm healed physically."

"It's hard not to think about it even lately, the cold water. Almost drowning, Eileen, my father, it…" Luce stops herself and grins looking up towards him, "You have to stop me from wallowing sometimes, it's easy to do." She's never been one to not be honest with a potential lover. A series of mistakes not telling people of her mental state had taught her keeping things bottled in didn't do well at least when you're trying to be intimate. So cards on the table.

Finn’s brows draw together as he lets her lead him by the hand wherever she will. He listens, piecing together the small puzzle bits Lucille feeds him, but of course the whole picture is too terrible to really envision. “Eileen,” he repeats, not realizing it’s the same, and yet not the same Eileen that he knows.

“I know an Eileen. I think she does this wallowing thing you speak of, too. Or maybe it’s just a woman thing.” That’s sexist, Finn. “Getting all quiet and intense, you know? But the other guys are pretty quiet and intense, so it’s probably just a trauma thing.”

Apparently he’s worked it out on his own and doesn’t need a lecture on stereotyping by gender.

“Is that why you,” he glances back at the Crucible behind them, “like to fight? Prove you’re still kicking?”

"…pale and English?" Consumed by a life force stealing entity? What are the chances? Wallowing, Lucille could see it.

As to why she fights, the Wolfhound operative looks off to the side. "I was a former naive to the world model really basking in my white privilege, my father had been an agent with the Company and then one of the Ferrymen…" It's a testimony to her growth with her father that it doesn't make her sick to her stomach anymore. Their Company roots. "Nobody wanted me to fight… my sister and I were meant to be protected and… I just got tired of it." Of being kidnapped, of not having a say in the course of action taken.

Lucille had learned to step up. "When I manifested I was in Paris for a fashion show, The Institute came for me." That was so long ago, she had been so different. "I ran and fought them off that day and it felt good." She's honest, violence and such it drew her. She was comfortable with it like she was comfortable with little else. "I promised myself to never let myself feel weak again."

There’s a frown at the question pale and English, and Finn hesitates, then shakes his head. Does it count as a lie if it’s unspoken?

Probably.

He listens to the story, looking suitably dismayed and upset by each of the reveals — model, Company, Institute. He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers calloused and rough brushing under her jaw as he trails his hand down and away.

“You’re not weak. That’s enough to make anyone break, but you’re still here. Me?” He smiles, his green eyes crinkling at the corner. “I’m a wuss. I only fight when I need the money. I think you’re the last one, though. I can’t top that last performance, after all. Go out in a blaze of… well. Vomit.”

Lies are common around Lucille but she doesn't sniff this one out. More so because she didn't come here to talk about Eileen. She had half a mind to drag him in the locker room but decides to lean into Finn instead.

"Sounds to me like you're smart. Survivalist." Finn further proves that point when he admits to not wanting to go round two in the ring with his date, "How about I promise… to never make you puke again? Cuz I like kissing you." Lucille plants another soft kiss on his lips before amending her statement with one finger held in the air.

"On the condition of if you've ingested a deadly poison and I have no choice." It's not like it couldn't happen. Lucille was always preparing for the worst, forever prepared for it to end badly or not quite right.

He wraps his arms around her, leaning his forehead against hers after that kiss, then, laughing at her words, kisses her forehead.

“Permission granted to totally make me puke if I’ve ingested deadly poison, ma’am,” he says solemnly. “Should I sign a waiver and an affidavit? Get it notarized?” he asks. “Do notaries even exist anymore?” He’s not out here in civilization that often to know these things.

Finn wraps his hand around hers and begins to tug her toward his truck. “Come on. I know a rooftop with an amazing view, and there’s the best damn gyro place that’s open late just around the corner from it. It’s almost enough to make me want to relocate and live in the city full time. I dream about their tzatziki, I kid you not.”

"I think we've sealed that promise with a kiss already yeah?" Allowing herself to be tugged towards the truck, the sound of a rooftop and gyros has her stomach rumbling, okay she was hungry. As the two walk Lucille leaning on Finn while looking up at the sky she contemplates, she hadn't felt this in a long while. No stress, just connection.

When they near the truck Lucille places the man with his back against the door and she gets on her tiptoes just a bit to graze his lips with her own. "But what's one more?" Going in for another. She was never like this, touchy. Vulnerable.

She could get use to this.


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