2014.03.02 - Oddly Perfect

Dinner at Doctor Banner’s favorite Italian place has managed to entirely dissipate the jitters of the first ten minutes of being on her first ‘date’ in years. And now, under the influence of manicotti and a couple glasses of red wine, she’s languid enough to argue enough for a stroll through the park before the inevitable return to the helicarrier despite the gathering dark and the chill February mist that winds its way through the skeletal tree limbs like shreds of gossamer. To judge by the expression she’s wearing, neither the cold nor the lack of leaves seems to bother Etta.

”Tell me about India.” She says after a few moments of comfortable quiet. And while its not cold enough to bother her per se, her bare legs beneath the hem of her blue dress make a convenient excuse to move closer to his side and slip her arm through his. “I’ve never been, but always wanted to go. I expect you didn’t exactly go as a tourist...” She says with a hint of a playful smile, “But I expect you know it better for it.”

Bruce had been alternatingly garrulous and cheery and leery and almost... squirmy. Henrietta's interest in him had absolutely flabbergasted the doctor, who was more used to people edging away from him, very slowly.

"India's not the nicest place to live, unless you're very rich," Bruce answers easily, eyes going a bit distant in recollection. "Can't drink the tap water. /Thousands/ of people bathe in the Ganges. But it's gorgeous, and smells /alive/, like nowhere else I've ever been. It's strong and goes right up your nose into your brain, this entire, living city. I liked it there," he says, with a wry grin at Henrietta. "The food was amazing, and the people were very friendly and helpful." He tilts his head at her. "Your turn. You're a SHIELD agent- what's been your best vacation spot while working?"

Etta listens raptly to his description, a slightly dreamy little smile playing across her lips as he describes it so vividly. His question, though, inspires a few notes of amused laughter. “This posting excepted, they don’t tend to send us to the finest locales and resort destinations.” She admits wryly, adjusting her arm against his so that their shoulders brush briefly. She gives the question all due consideration though before saying, “I liked Hungary. I liked the mix of it. The Eastern edges of Europe just feel wilder... this mix of beautiful, baroque buildings next to these communist monstrosities, all surrounded by countryside that looks like you’ve gone back in time a hundred years or more...”

She turns her head and peers up at his face with amusement glinting in her blue-green eyes. “In the moments I wasn’t being shot at or chasing someone, it was quite beautiful. Though like India, the plumbing frequently left a lot to be desired.” And now that she’s looking at him instead of the landscape, she doesn’t seem to want to look away, trusting him to guide them along the path without leading them into a bush or a ditch. “Can I ask you something else? A bit less frivolous and more... personal I suppose.”

"Er... sure?" Bruce hedges. He tries to meet Etta's eyes, glances away nervously, and then back to her face, visibly sustaining that eye contact. He does keep an eye out to the space ahead of them, trying not to run them into a hedge, or something. "I mean, go ahead," he says, a bit flushed.

“Why have you stayed?” She sounds quite tentative herself, her voice quiet, pitched to just barely reach his ears and no further. “After... well, after being chased for so long I can see how it would be difficult to put so much trust in an organization like SHIELD. You mentioned it the other night and I was thinking about... it.” It. You. They’re fairly interchangeable words here, as evidenced by the deepening of the flush in her cheeks. “Not that I’m not delighted you did, but it’s a big step. I can’t help but admire it and wonder over it...”

"Oh!" The nervous sweat that had been hovering just short of breaking out vanishes, and Bruce smiles at Henrietta. "That's pretty simple. I was tired of running," he explains, shrugging his shoulders. "Tired of being chased, tired of.. all of it." He clears his throat. "So I came back to SHIELD. They'd never really stopped following me, so it wasn't hard to get a message to Fury. 'I want a lab, three assistants, decent food, and to be left alone. And once in a while, if you run into real trouble you can... aim me at your enemy.'" He pats Henrietta's hand. "And Fury seemed to think it was a square deal, so we met up and I took his offer. I've been with SHIELD for so long now that I barely remember being on the run. I think we make a good team. Uh, me and SHIELD, that is," he hastens to add.

“Just like that...?” She turns the idea over in her coppery head, falling silent for a moment as she moves along at his side along the winding darkened path. There’s a feeling of hesitation before she finally says with the same soft, thoughtful voice, “Sometimes I think that learning to see what other people were feeling was the very worst idea that I ever had. I didn’t trust people to begin with, and I suppose I thought it would make things ever so much easier if I could know when other people were lying...” Her voice goes even softer as she tilts her head down, watching their feet inch forward step by step. “But of course, you can’t turn it off. And so you see every little lie, or petty hatred or jealousy, and all the little bits of malice and wickedness that other people wisely ignore. And it doesn’t really make it as easy as you’d imagine to enjoy the company of others.”

"I can imagine," Bruce says softly. He looks down at his hand on Henrietta's, then suddenly looks a bit stricken. He pulls away from her a bit. "Oh, god- I'm sorry. I didn't realize. You must be an empath." The cogs behind his eyes whirl in high gear, that amazing intellect putting together a host of realizations. "And... and you weren't scared of me?" He seems confused. "I've had psychics come near me and run out of the room /screaming/. One fainted when she tried to read me. Howcome you're... y'know..." He gestures at her, heels to head.

"Vertical?"

Bruce’s arm is ripped away from hers so quickly that she half-spins a step away, facing him with look of bafflement and few rapid blinks. She doesn’t say anything at first, just watching him closely before a rueful little smile plays across her mouth that, mostly at least, masks the faintest touch of disappointment. “I’m not a psychic. I can’t read your thoughts or anything like that. I’m a psychologist. I’m trained to read people’s faces, their body language, the subtle little cues that exhibit what they’re feeling beyond what they say. The catch-all term is Kinesics, though it extends a bit beyond that...”

She could go on, and the getting tangled up in the clinical minutiae of her training is a lot easier to handle, in truth. It’s with some effort that she stops, unconsciously edging half a step back before she says quietly and a little crisply, “And no, I am no ‘afraid’ of you. And yes, I’ve seen the video and glanced at the dossier so I don’t say this out of ignorance or a ridiculous sense of overconfidence. I read people. I’m one of the best at it in the entire world, hence my being here at all. And what I said to you...” A little furrow knits her brows together and she hesitates before visibly steeling herself. Her chin lifts and she looks him squarely in the eye, almost defiantly. “You’re the kindest person I’ve met since I arrived. Markedly so, not despite of your situation, but I suspect because of it. Because you have to work at it. Because you /want/ to be kind in a way that hardly anyone else would even consider. And that’s... “

She doesn’t say what it is. She turns abruptly on a heel and continues on along the path at a slightly brisker pace, keeping the rest of her thoughts to herself.

"I.... " Wait, what? Bruce looks absolutely taken aback. He fidgets in place, smoothing his palms through his hair, then down his shirt. Did she just walk out on their date?

He paces back and forth a second or two, then makes up his mind and jogs after Henrietta, catching up to the SHIELD agent. "I, uh... I honestly don't know what to say," he confesses. "I feel like I should say 'I'm sorry', but I'm not sure for what. Maybe 'thank you?'" he tries, spreading his hands a bit. "I'm sor- I told you, I'm not good at this." A slight wave of frustration, immediately tamped down, passes through him. "People. Talking to people. I figure... the only way I can undo what I've done in the pass is to use my brains to help SHIELD. To protect the world from things that are like m-myself. And... yeah, to be nice to people," he admits. "Because it just seems like the human thing to do. Does that make sense?"

If she /is/ walking out on their date, she doesn’t actually get too far. Four feet, maybe five, then she spins back around to look pointedly at him as he explains. “Yes, it does make sense. And I don’t want you to be sorry. I just...” She takes a little breath and arches one brow before saying more smoothly, “I just find it ironic, I suppose, that having been chased for so long by so many people who all thought they knew what was best for you, and what was safest, that you’d not let me make my own decisions about what was in my own best interest.” The chill in her voice thaws quickly and instead she just sounds... perhaps a bit disappointed. “And I suppose I don’t know why you’d have asked me to dinner if... you didn’t want to be here. I assure you, I doubt I am so very much better at this sort of thing than you are, as doing what I do doesn’t leave a terrible lot of room for a social life, and as we’ve established, I have a skill set that tends to make me... too aware of the failings of others. But I thought... I thought it was worth buying a dress for. And I really liked dinner. But I seem to keep startling you.” A little sigh and she adds, “So perhaps I’m the one who ought to be sorry.”

"Well, I /am/ enjoying the dress," Banner says, instantly.

He flushes at the neck, but can't suppress a grin that makes him look a bit boyish. "I'm just used to being in control of a situation, in one way or another. Either I'm trying to keep my temper under control, or I'm running an escape plan. This is new for me. This is the first date I've been on in, god... five years? I'm surprised I'm not slack jawed and drooling."

"I just finally got acclimated to living on the ARGUS. I have my own rooms, my quiet, my privacy... no one to account to or answer to or bother. I just get to rest and relax, and work on interesting projects. No one's come down to actually /talk/ to me as a person since I've been at SHIELD." He exhales steadily, looking inwards. "Any half-baked psychiatrist could tell you that I'm keeping you at arm's length because I'm afraid you'll get hurt."

“And I’m telling you to stop.” She says in answer. It’s a good answer though, one that comes with a soft-focus warmth that colors her expression and is chased by the slow curve of a smile across her mouth as she looks back at him. “Or don’t, I suppose, though that wouldn’t be my choice, but decide if you’re going to let me worry about myself or if you’re going to shove me away for my own good and stick to it, because the back and forth is making me a bit dizzy.”

While she’s speaking she’s also moving, slowly closing the distance between the two of them with unhurried steps and a little sway that makes the aforementioned dress swish against her knees to best effect, proof that the compliment didn’t escape her notice. She trails to a halt no more than a few inches from him, chin tilted up just a little to look directly into his eyes. “I like you. I think you’re rather wonderful, in fact, and that you make an excellent person. Better than most other people, and I’m speaking as a professional in people.” There’s even a touch of her former impishness that shows for a moment, but it fades to soft earnestness as she says, “But pick a path.”

Bruce literally gulps. A series of emotions flash through him, each tightly wound as a spring- confusion, uncertainty, anger, a thrill of adrenaline... and for a moment, his eyes turn the slightest shade of green.

Then it all washes away as Bruce takes control of himself, not tamping the emotions down, but harnessing them, putting them up into their proper place like books on a shelf. His eyes turn back to their muddy brown color, unbeknownest to him, and a resolution sets into his face. "If you really want to take the risk..." he says, slowly. He leans forward and unhurriedly presses his lips against Henrietta's, a gentle but firmly assuring kiss. "Then I'm sure not going to stop you," he murmurs, his fingertips resting on her waist just above her hips.

As a scientist, Bruce is offered a wealth of evidence to support the conclusion that it’s a risk she quite wants to take. The way she arches towards his chest as his mouth meets hers, flattening the soft curves of her form against him. The fingers that curl against the nape of his neck, weaving themselves into his hair and ensuring that the kiss is drawn out to its fullest. The slow slip of her mouth against his and, when they do finally part, the breathless little nose she makes. She stays close, her forehead resting against his as she winds a lock of his hair around her fingertip.

”There... not as terrible as all that, was it?” She murmurs in a throaty purr as a rather wicked smile lights her face. She digs her teeth into her lower lip for a moment before adding, “And you certainly don’t seem to have lost much for lack of practice...”

Bruce laughs at that, holding her close for a moment, enjoying the mutual warmth. "You're not so bad yourself," he says with an impish grin, taking Henrietta's hand in his. He sways a bit, then takes her forward, continuing to walk the length of the park. "Very artistic. You've a little bit of vixen in you, don't you?" he asks the woman at his side. "With a thing for skinny scientists, floundering away in their labs at all hours. That's what it is," he says, snapping his fingers suddenly and turning to Etta.

"It's the lab coat."

He winks quickly and starts walking again, his hands firmly clasping hers.

She lets him get a step or two ahead, waiting until his grip on her hand propels her forward and then hurrying a few steps to catch up as she sighs an exaggerated sigh. “You’ve caught me out. The lab coat is enormously fetching. It was that and your singing voice and I was utterly smitten, Doctor Banner...” The little half-truth is followed by a spill of laughter that sounds utterly delighted. She nestles close against his side, letting her head loll a bit onto his shoulder before she gasps, “Oh how lovely...”

It’s well dark now in the park, and up ahead through the wispy tendrils of fog is either the entrance to fairyland or the famed Tavern on the Green. A multitude of little white lights glimmer through the mist and the faint strains of a band playing 1930s jazz can be heard, just a little bit muffled by trees and weather and distance.

"So, I guess awkward first date conversations are awkward," Banner says, after a few minutes of quiet bliss. "Weird stuff up front. I turn into a giant green monster when I get injured or angry, I smoke, my favorite band is Journey, Iiiii like to run but I hate lifting weights, and I hated The Godfather. Couldn't get into it." He shakes his head, bouncing their hands between their hips, and looks to Henrietta. "How about you? Any shocking secrets in your past? Let me guess- Cabaret dancer, Las Vegas," he says, painting a picture in the air with his free hand.

“Close actually.” She chirps, looking at him appreciatively out of the corner of her eyes. There’s the barest hesitation before she says, “I was with the circus for... oh, just a smidge over four years. Trick riding, tight rope and then trapeze and aerial silks.” She looks forward at the pretty lights and, with a straight face and a dry voice, teases, “It did involve a small, spangly costume though, if that’s what you were getting at. Last I checked most men preferred lingerie, but I’m happy to oblige...”

The music gets louder the closer they come to the little oasis of illumination in the sea of shadowy trees and fog. And when they arrive at one of the little patios next to the restaurant she stops and turns towards him, looking the tiniest bit uncertain as she asks, “You don’t dance, do you?”

"Bullsh- really? Wow. I did /not/ see that one coming," Bruce comments on her previous career. "I was joking around a bit. Aerial silks. That's... /very/ hot." He shakes his head ruefully, then pauses to watch the little band and the music playing with one another, a foot tapping in rhythm.

"Actually... yeah, I do," he says. "I mean, I'm not great, but I know the basics. Why? Would you care to dance?" he asks Henreitta with a gallant tone.

So proper. As a British girl, she can’t help but approve, though as airy as she’s feeling he’d likely have to stretch himself to find something he could do she’d take issue with. “Why thank you, Doctor. How kind of you to ask.” She says as she turns towards him, one hand slipping into his while the other settles atop his shoulder. Her eyes linger on his, one brow arching just before she leans close and brushes her cheek across his. “’Hot’, hmm?” She murmurs into his ear. “I really will have to convince them to put some proper equipment in the gym... and then an excuse to get you to come watch me practice.”

"Woah, slow down there," Bruce laughs easily, starting to lead her in a simple swaying step. He's not perfect, but he's got the basic rhythm and footwork down. He leans back just enough to give her a sideways glance. "Just.. y'know, give me some time to work up to things. This is the most physical contact I've had with a woman that didn't involve a doctor's exam," he points out to her. Still, he certainly doesn't object to her proximity, one hand on her waist holding her gently against his stomach. "Not that you are't..." he makes a vague gesture with his lead hand. "All that and a bag of chips, but... this is new. Is that ok?"

The expression makes her laugh and she draws back just enough to look back into his eyes. “I’m sorry. I have an awful tendency to tease the people I’m fondest of. Happily, there’s very few of them so I expect its really only you and my old partner who are going to bear the brunt of it.” She says with undiminished happiness and obvious pleasure. She pauses long enough to smile back at him as her feet trace a little box step on the concrete under his guidance. “And yes. No pressure or hurry. The truth is that... I’m rather out of practice myself. And you’re rather unique in every way, so... One step at a time.”

"Dancing puns? I thought you were above that," Bruce says with a sniff of disdain, walking her into a spin. He stumbles a bit, then catches the beat and moves in step with her, one hand held out to the side. "Then again, you keep teasing me like that, I might just have a relapse of my childhood asthma and fall over. On the other hand, it's certainly a provocative mental image," he considers, tongue in cheek. "I'll have to think about it a bit more."

“It almost sounds like an oddly perfect end to the evening...” She muses with another hint of laughter in her voice as she floats through the turn he sends her on. She really wasn’t kidding about the teasing it would seem. When he reels her back in she drapes herself against his chest, the hand that’s intended for his shoulder instead slipping its way along his back, her fingers curling lightly against the nape of his neck. “I’ll try and refrain from further terrible humor, but if the situation becomes dire, you may need to distract me. I’ve no notion how you might go about that, but I expect you’ll think of something...”

Bruce smiles warmly and sincerely at Henrietta, then leans in and kisses her once more, very softly. "I'm sure I will. Shall we dance, in the meantime?" he offers, leading her into a gentle, easy waltz. The night goes on, the musicians playing, and sound echoing across The Park, tied up in the cool, low clouds and the moonlight filtering down onto the couple, swaying in time to the music.