fightlikehell | (no subject)

The pace itself is like a dance. Easing and aware, not practiced but impromptu. Side by side weaving into complimenting steps yet not quite synchronization. They have their own style and tempo. It's a matter of time before they cross just right. Father Lantom is not a dancer or a fighter just very much a father aware of the nature of sins great and small.

"I think that generosity is easier to grasp than magic." His expression gentles as he listens. "You don't have to explain. This is a very new step in your newest chapter. It was a good choice. You're comfortable here. I can tell. That's a kind of magic I think." A subject he holds no authority over other than to put it to the inexplicable. She needed something different from what she had known and to feel safe. That's all that matters to him. ....the wizard detail though will have to sink in. Give him time. The jingle of her earrings is a pleasant, new sound.

Matt's lips part as he's pulled off track by the touch of her hand. Again he gets the chance to see her own work. Intricate and carefully arranged. "I really don't know how you do it." He smiles and touches over the decoration and tapers to her earrings. "I like it all."

Synchronization takes time. Complimentary is a great place to start. It keeps them close while leaving space to find their footing together without stepping on toes. The rest, well, practice makes perfect.

"You think so?" She finds it easier to accept inexplicable forces in the universe than that people like her. What a life she's lived. But there he goes, being sweet when she isn't expecting it. It's altogether too distracting. "Thank you. It is magical," she agrees. It's like a fairy tale: there's a curse and a tower and a handsome knight and she doesn't understand any of it.

"It's just braids and bobby pins." Her hair, like most of her life, is far less complicated than it appears. Gods and wizards and magical realms and all, sure, that's stuff in her life; but they're all people trying live their lives and deal with new situations. That's not so different. "Thank you. So, now that we approve of each other for the evening, shall we go show off for everyone else?"

Every journey, every dance...everything, starts with a step.

"Generosity can be attributed to the need to do good, the need to help. And that comes from personal values. Magic is still that fuzzy, undefined area. Who knows where it comes from. Who knows where it goes when it's through." He implies that good things keep going. That might be debatable. For some it might as well be a fairy tale.

Matt laughs a little. Just braids, just bobby pins. Things he's not even so sure about himself. "For being those things, it is impressive." No, he's not letting her toss that compliment. It's his turn to take her hand.

"I'm ready when you are. Need to uh lock up? Anyone need to know when you'll be back?" And one more joking question. "Do you have a curfew?"

"Naugus might know. He'd probably claim to anyway if I wasn't in the room. I should make sure to introduce you to him soon." So many people for him to meet. Names and voices to remember. Good thing he's so smart. Whether or not good things keep going... she doesn't know. She doesn't have the life experience to have an opinion worth sharing.

"Thank you." She'll take the compliment. There'd been no intention to diminish it, she thought he might appreciate the explanation. But accepting it and holding his hand after seems to be a winning strategy and she'll go with that. "No need to lock up, but I should leave a note to be polite."

The question about her curfew gets an amused huff from her, but no answer until she's written the note and left it in the kitchen. "Yes. If I'm not home by the stroke of midnight, I'll get turned into a toad. One covered in warts. And then he'll never ever let me out to play again. It's tragic, really."

He can laugh at that, or he can help her with her coat. Or both.

What kind of a name is Naugus? What kind of a guy is he anyway? These are questions to be answered at a later time. More names more details. Matt is fairly good at keeping everything in line.

The familiar scratching of paper under a writing utensil is always somehow soothing to Matt. He waits calmly. "Well then, there's nothing wrong with coming back before everyone rushes to leave. Midnight is a big deal tonight for toad types and everyone else. " Matt laughs and shakes his head. "I think it would have some kind of loophole. One year between each side of midnight. And that's absolutely unfair to homebodies." But really though, as he hears the rustle of her coat and moves to hold the shoulders while she shrugs it on.

"What if you get a kiss before midnight? Would that stop anything?" he speaks softly still keeping the lighter humored tone in his voice. But it is something to work out before the time comes. Yes to going out, yes to a dance. Matt can accept a no.

Oh, is he ever in for a treat when he meets her roommate/host/racist grandpa. Endless fun, that guy.

When did kissing come int--oh, wait, right. That's traditional. No reason to blush so her cheeks can stop that any time now. "I've heard that true love's kiss is supposed to break all kinds of curses," she answers with a smile, settling her coat before doing up a few buttons. Glancing over her shoulder at him, she teases, "So if you find him, send him my way. Or her. I'm not picky."

And then it's out into the cold night full of half-bare legs and regret. But a long skirt would get slushy. There's no winning sometimes. She really hopes it's not a long walk.

Racist grandpa and endless fun together as one. Huh. Well. There will be a time.

Like traditions it keeps going on. It can have as much or as little meaning as the practitioners want. Verity's glowing face tells Matt that the subject might be jumping the gun. Nothing ventured... "I'll do everything I can. I promise."

Matt himself isn't too cold. Before stepping out he removes his glasses and tucks them into the inner pocket of his coat. Verity on his arm, his cane under the other, he exhales slowly. This will be something new. "Here we go." And lucky for her and her bare-ish legs, it isn't far. The building is some spacious structure, either a hotel or someone's lavish place of business. Whatever it usually is, there's a banner that is calling the event The Mirrored Ball. Verity's sense of style is spot on because the colors are silver, gold and black. With the doors open, Matt can feel the heat radiating out.

In her defense, and his, and tradition's, she's never done this before and is easily surprised by all sorts of things she shouldn't be. Even she isn't immune to the self-fulfilling prophecy; a lifetime of telling herself 'no, I can't have that' seems all too true.

"Then I have nothing to worry about, do I?" Why worry when she has him looking out for her? Such a wasted effort when there are better things to do. She wonders, for a minute or two, if he understood the teasing. If he didn't, she'll have to clarify later.

Whatever the place is, it's beautiful. When she realizes that's where they're going she gasps excitedly and gives his arm a squeeze. "The Mirrored Ball. You're really going to spoil me with these kinds of things." Maybe it'll balance out with the quiet nights in they have planned, but those are spoiling too, in her opinion. The warmth is a welcome relief. Once they're inside she turns to look up at him. "Ah, there are those pretty eyes of yours. Thank you."

It's a tradition Matt that has only taken part in a few times. And it's a lovely start to a new year full of new possibilities and new starts. Hopefully Verity went mind that he's the only eligible candidate for the job. They've got time before midnight.

He pulls out two tickets from his coat pocket and hands it to the person at the door. It is nice to get it off the night air. The squeeze at his arm kicks up a grin her way. "Well I know you'd like it. Why not?" Spoiling isnot always a bad thing. Indoor or outdoors they're wonderful things to do together.

"I'm trying this dance thing right." With no glasses. He blinks under her vision. "No uh Mr.Magoo."

There aren't many people she'd let get close enough for a peck on the cheek. He's not facing a lot of competition for the position anyway. It's pretty safe to say he's a shoo-in.

"It's against my own self-interests to answer that," she points out with a smirk. "I'll just have to find a way to reciprocate." She has a few ideas in mind, but she's not sure what would be the equal of a surprise NYE ball. And the next big holiday isn't for a month and a half.

"The glasses are what they are, not right or wrong," she points out softly. "Whatever makes you comfortable is what's best."

A peck is a kiss. And being the person he is if there was someone more fit for the position to pop up in these magic hours before the new year he would strongly consider stepping aside. Blind or sighted, he saw her first. Lady's choice. Spending a night like this together is more than enough.

Matt smiles all the way up to his brown eyes. "Think it over, there is no rush. They walk further in. The crowd around them is happy, civilized and not crushing. "Want to check your coat before we cut a rug? I'll put in my cane. I figure that the whole total blindness thing can have a rest tonight." He wants tone give her a real dance. No pretend bumping this go 'round. There are enough people about to hide in he figures.

She came with him. She intends to leave with him, too.

"Oh, I assure you, I will." She'll be thinking about it all right. The crowd is happy and easy-going, but it's still a crowd and she draws closer to him the further in they go. "Yes, that's a good idea. Don't worry, I won't let you get lost." Not that he really needs to worry about that. Coats and canes and whatever else they don't want to lug around all night. If only they could check their emotional baggage, too.

Once that's done she takes his hand, surveying the space quickly before turning to him. "I don't want to worry you, but you should know, you're the handsomest guy in the room. So if the giggling hordes drive us apart, it's entirely your fault."

Coming in close has him opt to put an arm around her, slow and easy as they head to put away their things. Just objects. No emotions to check here. Can't have it all. There is a strange, wonderful feeling about putting away the cane tonight. Both hands are free. No rooftops to leap over or hoodlums to beat up.

"I couldn't possibly." Matt laughs and shakes his head. "And no horde of anything is going to cut in between me and the best girl with pink hair and tattoos in the room." Pouring it on? Nope. No curse prickling indication here. There's a gentle squeeze to her hand. "Want to explore?" There's music coming from one of the ballrooms. The clink of glasses and clatter of plates mean there's food in another room close too.

The arm around her makes her feel even more secure in the crowd. She idly wonders how he does it. Is it really so easy to read her, to tell what she needs at any given moment? Maybe they can't have it all, but she's loving what they have.

"Oh, you absolutely are. Maybe they don't realize it yet, but I do, and you know I always know when something's a lie." And he knows she's not lying, just like she knows he's being honest. "That's not hard since I'm probably the only one here. Which also means I'm the worst. You poor thing," she teases. "I want to dance. Please?" Exploring can wait until they're ready for a break.

Matt's instincts fill in what his senses don't. Verity's heartbeat picking up means she needs some reassurance. That's what he has for her right now. She isn't easier to read than most people but tells like that are spot on. Truth be told, he likes the chances to be closer to her. Her choice of dress leaves her arms bare, more warmth and more skin. It's a privileged.

"They can go without realizing." He even has a scrunched up face for the idea of being mobbed that way. Always the truth, yes that is something that's been coming up. Matt has had no reason to doubt her. It's easy to take amidst the teasing. "I said best. Best can never be the worst." And if there was another woman anything close to how she looks, he couldn't be bothered to want to pay her attention.

Poor thing, she calls him. If this is poor he can take it and then some. "This way then." Looks like the song was coming to an end. Something else starts up.

Attentive and empathetic. She's so lucky. The strong arms don't hurt. His hand is warm and rough and not a disagreeable feeling at the moment. She'll have to learn his tells quick, so she can return the favor.

The way he scrunches up his face makes her giggle. Isn't it a cliche that most guys dream of that kind of thing? He doesn't even have to be the handsome wounded duck to get the attention. "Then I stand corrected." For a moment, she leans, letting her weight settle against him without quite being a burden. "Still. Don't think I don't realize I'm the luckiest girl here tonight."

It's nice to see him making his way confidently through the crowd, not putting on the act. It must be so hard for him. Her New Year's Resolution is to never be someone he has to pretend with.

The new song gets a little laugh from her. "Interesting playlist." The dance floor is so crowded. She'll have to hope everyone minds their elbows.

His world is touch with sound, smell and taste. Touching someone is still personal. His rough hands stay gentle on her skin, she'll warm up more soon. The best thing she can do to return the favor is keep acting as sweet and lovely as she is right now.

Dreaming of being mobbed only means you've never actually been mobbed by anyone for any reason. It's not pleasant. One person can beat so many people. "I knew you'd see it my way." Best girl in the room with the best duck. "Well, let's do something lucky girl."

It's very liberating. Only a few times he gets odd glances but there's so much merrymaking and a difference in lights who really would know or care about one man. Matt leads them to a reasonable amount of space and lightly moves to hold her hand and touch her waist. "It's an oldie but a goodie." Everyone can deal with elbows. No bumping to keep up appearances out of Matt. He knows how to move to keep them bothered. Everyone else will have to be more careful.

Touch is always personal. Is it more so for him? Something to talk about another time. She isn't cold anymore; those goosebumps are for a different reason. A much nicer reason. Immersion therapy might be just what she needs in these situations, so she'll be staying right there by his side for as long as she can.

"You're the persuasive lawyer, what defense could I possibly have against that?" She's doing her best sweet and helpless voice, but there's an undercurrent of sarcasm and a suggestion of a smile curling up one corner of her mouth.

Can he hear her rumbling little hum of contentment when his hand finds her waist and they move into their positions together? She'd intended to give anyone who gave him looks some looks of her own back, but she can't bring herself to care so much right now. If it's not bothering him, it doesn't matter. Her hand on his shoulder curls comfortably there, fingertips stopping just short of that sensitive spot where his neck and shoulder meet. "I wonder if we'll run into Groot tonight." She hadn't seen any sign of everyone's favorite treant, but there are bright lights and dancing. Who knows?

It's personal the way it is for everyone and more complex. His hands are appendages and extensions of vision. Matt is more aware of how meaningful a touch can be when given or received. You don't just touch anyone for any reason. Her goosebumps rising up must be from excitement. There's quite a bit of it in the air. It's contagious.

"I dunno. Cunning and charm are very useful everywhere." Her sweet, sweet tone makes him laugh.

His ears can still catch the sound of her voice above the crowd. It takes a trained ear. The better to pick up on each and every detail around them. Matt can feel a glance from someone else now and then. They don't matter any. Verity's hands are on him. Worry and concern can take a hike. "Every big party needs a celebrity. He's as big as they come." Being a tree. They come bigger, Matt. Not a drop to drink yet and he feels giddy and light, leading their way into the steps. He hums the familiar tune a little as they go.

Excitement, yes. That's absolutely what's going on with her and her goosebumps. A very personal kind of excitement.

So long as he's laughing. Her smile evens out and she relaxes by a degree. "You'd be the expert there." A little flattery, perhaps, but true enough; she might be cunning sometimes, but she's never imagined herself as charming. She'd rather be sincere.

Ver doesn't have his keen hearing or his excellent training, but she's intent on not missing a thing from him. She spares just enough attention for their surroundings to follow the music and not turn the crowd into human dominoes. All the rest is for him, laser-focused and all-encompassing. She'll remember the texture of his jacket for the rest of her life. "Mm, but if he was at every party, it'd be less thrilling to meet him at one. Giant tree aliens need to maintain an air of mystery, after all."

His humming makes her smile grow and she leans closer to him to hear it better. "Don't tell me you sing, too. That'd be so unfair." Tell her you sing. Better yet, sing for her. It cannot possibly end badly.

Being close to her to recognize the reaction is very satisfying. It keeps him smiling. "Maybe a little." Matt shrugs but hearing her opinion of him as an expert is more than a little warming.

She moves so well with him through step and sway. Matt nearly believes she's let him just carry her or perhaps she just glides. Good sense and caution has taught him to not hold on too tightly to these moments but this one he would like to fold between the pages of a book to keep pressed and saved. Ah, let memory do that. The band, the crowd are background noise that he remains just aware of enough. "Well, if you catch him before I do I want to tell him hello." And how funny to meet the big tree fellow at not one but two soirees. Does Nexus have a society page? This feels like it counts for something.

"A little. I'm out of practice. Broadway won't have me. The shower doesn't seem to mind." Out of practice because singing and listening and walking all end up to be a kind of juggling act that Matt rarely feels up for. This is a special occasion. He softly joins into the chorus to ask Verity if she'd like to swing on a star. His baritone isn't as bright or as practiced and Frankie but proof he can carry a tune.

It's only fair he feel a little flushed too. He's too charming to avoid compliments, and even he's not cunning enough to dodge them all.

She moves with him so well because she can trust him. He won't steer her wrong. Let them focus on making the memories for now; reflecting back on them will come soon enough. Their good fortune would be in looking back only in anticipation of more nights to come. "I'll be sure to." It's an easy promise to make, and not just because her usual reaction to seeing Groot is to wave furiously and call his name. If there's a Nexus society page, they're definitely going to be in it, Groot or no. He's famous, and she's been seen with people. That's close enough to famous for some people.

Carrying a tune is all she can ask for. A practiced singer would feel less personal; this is special, just for her. His performance is met with a pleased hum. "That was beautiful. Thank you." Maybe, if he's very lucky, he'll get the favor returned at some point.

Their back and forth is a sort of dance too now. Matt is happily pulled into step. "...you and I need to go dancing more. I'm totally going back on my four dance limit." It was a joke from the start but he wants to be perfectly clear.

No rustle of branches or smell of foliage in the air. Just the light, lovely fragrances of Verity and the rustle of her dress against him. No memento will exactly replicate how her hand feels on him or holding her just so. It's a wonderful problem to have. Matt doesn't feel famous. Not typically. Right now he feels decidedly special.

He laughs a little at his own cringing. A jab at false compliments lives and dies on his lips. Verity being Verity has a tendency to just do away with all of that. There's also the feeling of accomplishment that he sounds better than he thought he would for something that isn't a hymn. The band keeps it lively another fairly upbeat tune. It's not something he knows as well.

"Now, maybe it's a little late to ask but now that I remembered I'm curious. ...did you have plans that didn't work out or keeping warm was the original plan tonight?" Because imagining her any other way than how she is here and now doesn't mesh.

It's nicer to call it dancing than sparring, although she'd be happy to do either with him in the appropriate circumstances. "Mm, I'll hold you to that." She's trying to sound all super casual about it, but that is not working. Her excitement is radiating; if there were any gamma radiation in the room there'd be some kind of horrible but predictable accident to create a big green excitement monster.

Good thing he likes her when she's excited. Just like she likes helping him feel special. As problems go, trying to remember everything about the moment is an excellent one to have. So is wondering how to make the next time even better.

His cringing gets a little tsk of disapproval from her. No false modesty, Mr. Murdock. She won't allow that. Whatever he wants to sing, he has a happy audience in her. She'd be delighted to listen always. Even if he drags her to church for it.

The song is new to her; there's a brief hesitation while she finds the rhythm, but soon she's relaxed into his lead again. It's so tempting to just let him deal with these things. "No plans," she admits. "Nobody else asked, and I was too holidayed out from Jül to do the organizing again." If there's a sliver of discomfort in the admission, she knows that it also means she was free to accept his last-minute offer. She isn't going to complain. "I'd say it worked out pretty well."

Sparring is dancing with potentially painful results. this kind of euphoria gives the feeling of invincibility. No fear, no heart, no problems. The tempo of her heart and a warmth that may as well be a humming like a tuning fork has him matching up in kind if we're taking about radiation. Just not gamma or any green monsters.

Tsking he can take. It's not a punch. Matt ducks his head and laughs. "It'll take more to get to Carnegie Hall but...thank you." Dragging her to church might be a distant future possibility. Steve is helping Matt look for one. They're going to start a bible study too.

Verity won't linger in hesitation. Matt is right there with her and they're in step very soon. "It did. I happened to get these tickets and you were the first person I thought of."

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Oooh fancy!

8D

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Love that song choice. <3

it's so cute, love it so much

I love that "wait what just happened" moment when people are first listening to it.

all the animals to be! like it's such an easy choice in life

It's easy in that not many people make the choice consciously.

clearly swinging on a star is the better choice

But being a fish sounds like a lot of fun too.

swimming, chilling, i wonder if it could be upgraded to dolphin

I'd have to call you Flipper.

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