Speaking of cliche Christmas traditions, Chase is standing quietly at the corner of one of the many offshoots from the City's main square, unobtrusively enough for no one to notice that he's looking for signs of life in the Cathedral. They have a nativity scene, the place can't have been entirely abandoned.]
[ ah, natasha remembers him. the man who asked her if she was in the circus. she comes to a stop at his side, movements utterly silent, clearing her throat to make her presence known. ]
Nothing's familiar. Too many people here who remember me.
[He's all but forgotten the need for extra caution in interacting today. Hasn't noticed the green shrub sprouting from the brickwork above.]
I'd prefer to make introductions on my own terms.
[Like, oh, this one. Well, not quite like it. Usually he'd go with hello before drawing her close with one hand splayed in the small of her back, the other nudging her chin up, gently, as he leans in.]
[ she doesn't get a moment to respond. instead, she slides a hand up to rest on his neck, draw him in close and kiss him as her body arches up against his. it's been happening all day. at this point, she's hardly surprised by it, even if a part of her is irritated at herself for not sidestepping the mistletoe before this started. ]
[He reacts favourably, instinctively, to how responsive she is. A lack of passivity is always preferable in a partner and - alright, Chase's proclivities tend toward all out aggression. He doesn't manage to break away with any kind of haste, instead parting his lips against hers.]
[ which is really just an invitation to tighten her arms around his neck and press herself closer. she slides her fingers up into his hair, and part of her is absolutely aware that this is not the best course of action to be taking, but there's not much she can do about that just yet. ]
[There's just a little vocal appreciation (which he thinks might be the name of that gang of musical kids all over TV) as her fingers twist in his hair. Whatever back-of-his-mind resistance he'd been putting up slips for just long enough to press the kiss deeper.]
[ it takes two steps for her to push him up against a wall. it's just this side of filthy, the way her mouth moves against his, the way her body presses against him, all soft curves contrasting against the way she nips hard at his bottom lip.
[On any other day, this would be the kind of kiss strangers stop and stare at. Even today, anywhere less secluded and this would be drawing attention. He pulls her close enough he might be trying to bypass his own body and drag her against the wall but
there were those two steps.
It takes him a few seconds longer to register that he's kissing her back - he is. The magical mistletoe is two steps away, probably still over her head although he doesn't exactly have the head movement to check.
And then, because there's a bloody gentleman underneath all the layers of jerk he can throw up, he takes her arm.
And pulls her back, with him. Back into the street, to where the sky is open and clear and there cannot possibly be any untoward foliage springing up over their heads.
[ this is getting embarassing. irritation is written all over her face for a brief moment before she carefully sets it aside. she's so tired of lunging into random people's arms. it makes for all too memorable introductions. ]
It's hardly your fault. We should have been more careful.
How often do people say that when something's actually their fault?
[Around a hospital, pretty much never - that kind of thing can get you sued. Regrets, though, get expressed a lot. And, oddly, he has to count this as a regret (although aspects of it may be being unconsciously filed away into an image bank he can feel guilty about later).
He takes a step back, putting air between them as well as above, trying not to quirk a smile at her irritation.]
[ yes, it did. but, as always, this is hardly about her. or natasha would prefer it not to be. this is about him, and she'd much prefer it if the conversation twisted around to focus on him instead. ]
Speaking of cliche Christmas traditions, Chase is standing quietly at the corner of one of the many offshoots from the City's main square, unobtrusively enough for no one to notice that he's looking for signs of life in the Cathedral. They have a nativity scene, the place can't have been entirely abandoned.]
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What are you looking for?
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Just trying to see if I remembered anything.
[In one sense, it's true.]
I used to live in an apartment building somewhere round here, before I went home.
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[ at least he knew. she'd been here before, and knew next to nothing of it. ]
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So, that's interesting. Finally he turns to look at her properly.]
You were here before? Anything familiar, or just a few people pissed you don't know to give them the time of day?
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[ her tone is carefully neutral. truth be told, it's irritating, the lack of information. ]
Is it the same for you?
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[He's all but forgotten the need for extra caution in interacting today. Hasn't noticed the green shrub sprouting from the brickwork above.]
I'd prefer to make introductions on my own terms.
[Like, oh, this one. Well, not quite like it. Usually he'd go with hello before drawing her close with one hand splayed in the small of her back, the other nudging her chin up, gently, as he leans in.]
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this is apparently just natasha's life today. ]
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there were those two steps.
It takes him a few seconds longer to register that he's kissing her back - he is. The magical mistletoe is two steps away, probably still over her head although he doesn't exactly have the head movement to check.
And then, because there's a bloody gentleman underneath all the layers of jerk he can throw up, he takes her arm.
And pulls her back, with him. Back into the street, to where the sky is open and clear and there cannot possibly be any untoward foliage springing up over their heads.
Now just let him catch his breath.]
Sorry.
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It's hardly your fault. We should have been more careful.
[ and stayed out in the open air. ]
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[Around a hospital, pretty much never - that kind of thing can get you sued. Regrets, though, get expressed a lot. And, oddly, he has to count this as a regret (although aspects of it may be being unconsciously filed away into an image bank he can feel guilty about later).
He takes a step back, putting air between them as well as above, trying not to quirk a smile at her irritation.]
It cut off an interesting conversation.
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[ yes, it did. but, as always, this is hardly about her. or natasha would prefer it not to be. this is about him, and she'd much prefer it if the conversation twisted around to focus on him instead. ]
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