I'm pretty flip, and I'm losing grip...

[omnomnomface]

Evenings in Chicago are often a busy time, as people rush home and others rush out.

Trinity McFasater has found a new place to hang. She's stretched out on one of the couches at the Luna, her feet up in the air, giggling as she grasps her drink and begins to sing--loudly. "JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL, LIVIN' IN A LONELY WOOOOOOOOORLD

Comments

[notenlightened]

Reese has ducked under an overhang to wait out the worst part of the storm.

Crews would be out in it, she thinks, just in time to witness a familiar face walk by.

"You heading anywhere in particular?" she calls out.

[notenlightened]

"Yeah," Reese says. "That's just what that was."

There's a contented look on her face now as she walks, still dripping, into the bar.

[stillaboyscout]

Vaughn just nods and follows her inside. He shakes the rain off like a dog, making sure not to spray her, and then glances over at her.

"Do you want to sit at the bar?" he asks. "Or do you want to get a table? Your pick."

[notenlightened]

Reese hides a grin at the obvious doglike behavior, and then points to a table.

"Let's avoid the bar part of the bar for now."

[stillaboyscout]

Vaughn nods, and leads her to the table at which she pointed. "Do you want appetizers, then?" he asks. "I mean... not just a drink?" He doesn't know why he's asking, beyond the fact that this doesn't seem like it's 'just out for a drink' anymore. It's not a date, by any stretch of the imagination... right?

Except that Vaughn never sat at a table when he was out getting a drink with Weiss. He sat at a table when out with Sydney. On dates.

Cue flailing.