“Warren,” her voice echoed through his ears like moonlight spun into silk. “Warren! Wake up ass!” For a moment anyway. Warren “Revenant” Verona, resident ‘bad boy’ of Chicago and all around heavy drinker and professional jerk stood like a deer in the head lights of an on coming vehicle.

He came over to visit Velvet about twenty minutes ago and somehow got suckered into helping her hang her new drapes. The moment he had entered the door she had grabbed his wrist, placed drapes in his hands and she was up on the back of the sofa ready to hang them up. A woman like Velvet really left a man wondering at what point he lost control of a situation. Not that he minded. He held the drapes in his arms while she stood on the back of her sofa. Warren had to wonder if a pair of jeans could get any tighter. He was so lost in the possibility of this line of thinking he hardly heard her trying to get his attention.

“What?” He said, still riding the highway of her curves with his eyes.

“I said, wake up.” She grinned looking down at him. “You okay? You seem, I dunno, distant.”

“I’m alright.” He lied, there was a reason he came over: today was the day. Today he was going to ask her to go out with him. Today she would say yes and he could stop (un)living with this constant cyclone of emotional tension this damn woman put him through on a daily basis. Why were they so complicated? “Look, hey… do you uh, wanna get out of here? I thought maybe you’d like to maybe have lunch with me or something…” His voice trailed off. Why was it always so difficult to ask her to go places with him?

"Lunch?" the denim-clad woman repeated, twisting her torso slightly to peer at him from the corner of one lavender eye. Only now, several months after the grand opening of her club, had she begun investing again in slightly 'upgraded' versions of her furnishings. It wasn't a renovation, or even a major redecorating project, but it was enough to keep her occupied on the days her employees refused to let her back in the office, or during the nights she was too keyed-up from work to get any sleep. A quick glance at the grinning Kit-Cat clock in the kitchen provoked an answering rumble in her abdomen and a crooked, slightly embarrassed grin.

"Sure," she added, turning back to thread the matte black rings along the top edge of the red brocade she'd been holding over the curtain rod. As she tentatively nudged the fabric with one hand, tipping up the end of the sleek black bar with the other, she leaned precariously away from the safety of the couch. The tip of her tongue darted out between her compressed lips, and her forehead furrowed. "Just let me finish up here, and we'll grab something to eat. I've been starving all morning. You want Mexican today?"

"No." He said flatly, his voice resonated slightly through the rather bare room. "I try not to eat anything I can't pronounce." He grinned slightly to show he was attempting humor. Just. Say it. He had come over here to ask her out to lunch. Not just lunch, but a lunch date. Velvet had very strict rules regarding dating employees, but Revenant knew he was different. He didn’t care about rules, fuck rules, they fuckin’ suck, long live anarchy! He was getting sick of carrying around a whole mess of things to say to her and always keeping it bottled up. Flicker had given him advice a long while back. Like the hardheaded lug that he was, he never really quite followed it, but it was the best advice in the world:

Just, tell her the truth.

“I-I…,” He raised his hand up and supported her waist as she leaned almost to the point of falling off the couch. She was always doing things like that, simple careless things around him and he knew why. She knew he was watching her, she knew he wouldn’t let her fall, or slip, or anything else hazardous. He was her guardian angel. “I was thinking… maybe… ya know… s-something a little more different.”

“Oh,” she groaned out, still in the middle of stretching. “Like what?”

Oh, I thought maybe you and I could spend the day together someplace alone and romantic. A little wine, some laughter, a well over due passionate embrace under a setting sun. But it instead came out “Shit, you’re the mind reader.” His chest heaved, clearly amused with himself. “Seriously, there was someplace I wanted to take you. It’s not far from here, but since you haven’t flown with me yet I kinda figured… ya know… you’d let me take you there.”

As she set the curtain rod back on its bracket above the sliding doors, Velvet peered skeptically down at her pallid counterpart. It didn't take a telepath to see that he was being deliberately vague; if the shifty dart of his eyes wasn't an indication that he was hiding something, the hesitation in his voice was a dead giveaway.

He wants to take me somewhere... and he wants to fly. He's either trying to butter me up for something, or he's got bad news and wants to tell me while I'm a captive audience, she thought moodily. Knowing him, he's violated his probation and landed himself in trouble again. I still can't believe he arrested a Santa for panhandling... Exhaling sharply, her lips compressed into a thin line of fuschia-glossed disapproval, she allowed herself to fall back onto the sofa cushions with a muffled thump. Her body bounced as the springs protested the sudden impact, and for a moment it was uncertain whether or not the buttons of her shirt would hold. Startled, a small blur of purple fluff leapt from behind the couch and darted behind the entertainment center.

"All right," she said, folding her arms behind her head as she grinned, shifting her glance from the most cowardly kitten she'd ever seen to the self-styled Angel of Death. "Where? Do I need to change clothes? Have I got time to take a shower first, or will it matter? Do they serve drinks? Can I smoke inside? Oh, and what time do you think we'll be back? I was supposed to call Mom today."

Oh, for Christ's sake woman! It's lunch... why are there so many damn questions just to have a meal. God I just wanna shake the hell out of you some times! His mind lit up into a torrent as she seemed to be deliberately making this difficult for him. I hope she didn't hear that... He nervously added, reminded that she was an incredibly powerful telepath.

Hello? He tested... just in case. His eyes moved from side to side like he was waiting for someone to reply from above.

Although he was not the smartest man in the world (or the local 3rd grade class room) Warren's mind was incredibly accurate and fast, able to read, remember, and react to most instant stimuli. Like short term memory, and reflexive actions. He answered them all at once at a pace that Velvet could easily keep up with but would have left a baselines mind twisted and caught up on words. "With me. If you want to. Sure, feel free, clean always helps. There will be wine. Yes, it will be outside. Time doesn't matter, you have free long distance on your Op-phone."

There was just enough of a pause between his brief, swift replies to allow the prone nova to keep pace with his speech, but the rapid-fire responses still left her blinking dazedly once Warren had finished.

Wine? Outside? Well, this just gets stranger and stranger.

"Oh," was all she said when he was done and she'd processed the information, swinging her legs down and over the edge of the sofa and reluctantly sitting upright. "Give me half an hour to get ready, then?" she asked, raking a hand back through her dishevelled hair with a grimace. "I shouldn't be any longer than that, 'kay doll?"

Without waiting for a reply, she rose from the leopard-spotted couch with its gold fringe and velveteen pillows and vanished behind the large folding screen that separated her bed and bathroom from the rest of the apartment.

The warm scent of vanilla and hints of steam filtered out through the half-closed door for just over thirty minutes, accompanied by muffled, tuneless humming from within. When Velvet finally reappeared around the edge of the makeshift room divider, she wore the blissfully serene smile of a woman utterly and completely relaxed.

Her still-damp hair had been combed sleekly back, and the creamy ivory of her skin was dewy and slightly pink from the heat. No cosmetics accented her bright violet eyes or the thick fringe of dark lashes that framed them, or darkened the full, rosy curve of her lips; a rare occurrence for a woman so enamored with appearances. Even with all the clothes packed into her closet, she'd opted for her favorite pair of well-worn jeans, scuffed brown boots of indeterminate origin, and an undersized t-shirt emblazoned with a vintage mermaid and anchor tattoo that proudly proclaimed, 'Man's Ruin.'

"I'm ready," she offered as she forced her phone into the front pocket of her jeans. I hope.

As always, just the sight of her perfection was enough to shatter his resolve. Here she was, an angel of beauty, undeniably perfect in every way. Each time he say her he couldn’t help but feel that an ignorant lug head like him didn’t stand a chance in hell of ever making a woman like her fall in love with him.

I never get used to how beautiful you are Violet. His thought. I can do this, eye on the prize… eye on the prize. His gaze trailed off below her neckline, completely enamored by her more than ample chest stretching the fabric of her t-shirt to its limits. Not those prizes… stay focused. C’mon, I came here to do this damn it, and damn it I’m gonna do it.

“You look fantastic Vie.” Warren grinned approvingly. “Just follow me to the roof, I’ll give you pointers on flying on the way.”

Ten minutes later Warren help onto Violet as they soared over the skyline of Chicago. Often she giggled while pointing out her favorite stores and how convenient flight seemed to be (which Warren simply heard as “Warren, you can fly, can you run errands for me, thanks, you’re a doll!”) and he would no doubt do it because she has a vigina. Only a couple of times did she bury her head in his shoulder, a bit scared as he came too close (by her standards) to a few buildings.

Soon though the city grew smaller and smaller as the couple left it behind them and the ground below gave way to gorgeous countryside, spotted here and there with an obscure farmhouse and long forgotten stretch of empty highway. She knew they were traveling south, but at the speeds Warren was capable of reaching she was having difficulty determining exactly how far they had traveled.

Nearly thirty minutes of flight was filled with off the wall jokes, witty comments, and general discussion. Without much warning he cut her off while she was in mid sentence. “Close your eyes.” Warren asked.

“Why?” She asked, suddenly on the offensive.

“Just close them.” He said, smiling warmly. “It’s a surprise. I don’t want it ruined.”

She complied and slowly she felt them land. She heard him take a few soft steps on the earth and he released her a moment later, taking extra care to help her so his surprise was not ruined.

“Okay.” He whispered softly in her ear from his position behind her. “You can open them now.”

Purple. Fuschia. Magenta. Lavender. Amethyst. Rose.

Billowing clouds of violet, tinged with pink in impossibly delicate variations, surrounded the two novas. Velvet's signature colors filled her vision completely, blotting out the sky overhead and stretching out to encompass the limits of her sight as the faint, sweet fragrance she'd noticed earlier enveloped her fully.

My god, it's...

She tilted her face upward, staring in silent wonderment as the bright March sunshine filtered through the purplish petals on low-hanging branches. The corners of her mouth twitched, then curved into a full, childlike grin that first graced her lips and then illuminated her features with unrestrained admiration.

Beautiful? Amazing? Gorgeous? Breathtaking? C'mon, Vie, say something.

"...Wow."

Okay, Stripperella. Say something else.

Inwardly, Velvet winced. She wasn't always as eloquent as she'd like to be, and she knew it (dropping out of high school doesn't do much for one's vocabulary, sometimes), but this was pathetic even for her.

She stood in the middle of the grove, awestruck and not a little embarrassed, while patterns of golden sunlight flickered in and out of being as they danced across the grass.

Say something!

"I've never seen so many cherry blossoms before," she added absently. "How did you find this place?"

She left unspoken, of course, the additional, "And what are we doing here?"

As she gazed at the trees and the grass and all scenery around her Warren closed his mind. He had seen this place decay several times over the course of the past few days while he set up this little 'lunch date'. He shut himself down, allowing his node to seize up the abysmal flow of tainted quantum energy to his lifeless body. She never noticed it happening and the longer she lingered on the majesty of the purple trees and the emerald grass the more life returned to Warren's cold, dead body.

Gone were the visions of death and decay. Gone was the stillness in his chest replaced by the oddly felt thumping of his now beating heart as it pumped fresh blood instead of the dark ichor that ran as cold as ice water. The cacophony of the long dead no longer filled his words as he spoke.

Revenant, at least for the time being, was laid to rest.

His voice was smooth, and crisp yet deep. "No, not cherry blossoms, Vie." He said as he rested his hand on her shoulder with his arm draped over her. "Redbuds. They only bloom for a few weeks each spring before the petals fall away. I was hoping you'd like to have lunch with me here. I've set us up a spot under a rather nice canopy of your favorite color."

He didn't look at her, like her his eyes were locked on the beauty of the scene.

She felt, rather than saw, the changes that were transpiring in the nova behind her. The diminishing flow of quantum energy, the slow dimming of the psychic "beacon" that marked his presence, and the warmth of the hand on her shoulder were all obvious indicators that he'd (if only temporarily) forsaken the macabre persona that the pouty-lipped woman had come to know. The knowledge cast a brief pall over the loveliness of the surroundings as her mind raced with questions.

What's the deal, Warren? Velvet wondered without turning around. You drag me all the way out here for a picnic, apparently, when all I wanted was cheese fries or something, and now you decide to play human? I don't get it.

Something of her confusion echoed in her voice when she spoke, pulling away from the thug-turned-Knight and regarding him over her shoulder.

"Redbuds," she acknowledged tentatively, her eyes darkening into a murky shade of violet that bespoke her reservations. "They're beautiful, Warren, but..." Hesitating for a moment, she continued, "But why?"

She was even more beautiful to his senses while he was dormant. And for a moment longer than he would have considered appropriate all he could do was give her one hundred percent, and more of his attention while she spoke.

He snapped from his reverie only a second or two, or eight, ten... he wasn't quite sure. Just like the first night they had met, he was completely captivated by her presence. Unlike then however after over a year of friendship with the beautiful stripper turned goddess he stood here actually able to appreciate everything about her. "Well," He attempted a dodge, for the moment. Taking his hand across her shoulders he let his finger tips slide in a more than friendly manner down he arm where he grasped her hand softy. Slowly he began leading her through the spring wonderland. "How would you feel if everything, even someone as beautiful as you, withered and decayed as you stood helpless against it? I've seen it for over a year now Violet and I just wanted to spend some time with you." She noted his continual use of her first name (or nick names of her first name).

Nice start. Play it calm, and remember -- dormant... -- No super thinking and hyper fast wit to retort with. Play it safe, think before you answer a question. His mind was in constant communication with the rest of him while he was dormant, the world seemed to move at a snails pace as his hyper enhanced wit shattered against the frothy shoals of his node's dormant cliff face. He knew he had to throw in a finish, something to help drive his point home. "I just, I dunno. I wanted to be with you for a while alone and unbothered by all the things in the city. This place, well, it reminded me of you..." He looked to at her as she strolled warily along side him still confused and slightly skeptical. His tone changed pitch and grew enamored the moment his baseline eyes caught her features in the springtime sun. "Completely wonderful, and simply gorgeous."

As he finished, Velvet paused when she saw where he had led her. Warren had set out a picnic for them complete with cliché red and white-checkered picnic blanket. The basket/cooler that contained the afternoon’s meal rested quite sealed out of the way of wandering insects and animals. He knew Violet would take all day to get ready, and planned ahead for it. He had managed to find a spot in the greenest of the grass and under the canopy of the deepest and vibrant purple of the redbud trees. Obviously Warren had been scouting this place for quite some time, with no apparent civilization in sight for at least a few miles the grass looked rather well trodden in several directions.

As Velvet listened to his explanation, she nodded. Her brow furrowed slightly, forming a thin crease that would smooth away moments later without so much as a line to mark its passing. She was struck by the sincerity in his voice, and though the temptation arose to probe deeper...

He'd never know... Hell, without his gifts he's practically begging for someone to take a stroll through his memories.

...she contented herself with turning to face him. It was shocking, in a way, to see the earnestness in his warm, coffee-brown eyes and the shy smile that seemed oddly boyish when he looked away. He looked so... normal, in a rugged, man-on-a-Marlboro-billboard sort of way. Even his hand in hers was warm and sure, and she couldn't help but smile as he led her toward the picnic blanket.

"You know," she said, that trademark grin tugging at the corner of her mouth, "If you were really that tired of Szechuan, doll, all you had to do was say so."

"No, I'm not tired of it," His reply was smooth and even held a hint of playfulness. "Just thought, you know, this would be a bit different." He tugged her hand lightly and she sat with him on the blanket. "So, we have an entire three course meal of Sandwiches, Salads, Key Lime Pie, and a some snack crackers with cheese." He grinned wide, apparently rather pleased with himself.

Velvet giggled. The laughter was angelic as it filled the air and mingled with the breeze that danced on the edges of the leaves. "Warren, sweets, that's four courses."

His eyes gave away that he was dancing around the numbers again. "Oh... well... uh, whatever. Wine?” He said rather swiftly, in a horrible attempt to change the topic away from his lack of social graces and meal planning. “You want some wine? I brought pop too, in case you know... you didn't want to drink uh... wine." He slumped over onto his side and half rolled over to the cooler that was cleverly designed to look like a picnic basket. He popped the lid and quickly began rummaging around for beverages.

"Wine?" Violet replied, an eyebrow arching bemusedly as she took a seat on one side of the blanket, curling her legs beneath her shapely denim-clad posterior. "Actually, that sounds wonderful, Warren. I'd love some. It's definitely a beautiful day for it," the former stripper added, gazing admiringly up at the vibrant clouds of fuschia petals that swayed overhead. "How did you find this place, anyway? I can't see a house, much less a skyscraper, anywhere."

"Flying around mostly." He said as he poured her some wine. "It's no secret I have anger issues. The Crusader pissed me off some time back and I sped off the roof. Mind you I was going full tilt, not the casual stuff like what you just experienced."

Warren handed her a half filled glass. He had really planned this, it was her favorite wine and her own personal favorite wine glasses he was using to woo her. "Suddenly, there it was, completely beautiful, and that's when I knew it was someplace I would just have to show you." The topper on a can of soda popped and Warren sipped it rather loudly. "I've been thinking, a lot lately. I wanted to talk with you, away from the rest of the world. Just you, and me."

At the mention of a tiff between Revenant and poor, beloved, vacuous Sam Hill, Velvet couldn't help but wince a bit in sympathy. She was fairly sure that not even Warren's most viciously barbed retorts would have made an impact on the musclebound hero, and the sheer density of the Crusader's impenetrable optimism was probably the real source of Revenant's ire.

Talk about irresistible force meeting immovable object, the curvy telepath reflected as her grin widened. That's like trying to use a slingshot to bring down the Hoover Dam. She quickly took a sip of wine, lowering her head to conceal the effort she was making not to giggle out loud. Several strands of half-damp hair fell forward, veiling her features until she raked them back with her fingers moments later.

"So," Velvet said finally, breaking the silence as she settled back on her heels. "You've got something on your mind?" Her eyes roved over his features openly, frankly, as if seeking something in the cant of his head or the direction of his gaze. "At least you picked a scenic spot," she chuckled finally, shaking her head at his flabbergasted expression. "If it's all the same to you, though, I could go for some lunch... Since, of course, that's your pretense for bringing me out here, anyway." The vibrant hue of her eyes, squinted slightly from sunlight and smiles, mirrored the bright rose and amethyst of the flowering canopy.

"Oh!" He got a rather surprised look on his face. "Right. Heh... lunch." Rolling over again he suddenly became the worst server in history. "Cheese and crackers, cool with you? Appetizer, ya know?"

"Fabulous Warren, I'm starving." She mused sipping from her wine.

She watched the dormant nova produce a roll of Ritz crackers and a tub of cheese spread. The tub he almost dropped and made a daring rescue of it before it managed to actually fall to the blanket. He was moving too fast and no longer having access to his powers while in his current state was certainly not something he was accustomed too.

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Heh. Uh, sorry." He said, embarrassed by the scene. Slow. Down. This is going to blow up in my face, I know it. Nothing good will come from this. I'll just forget it, yeah... just have lunch and she'll never even know.

"I- I've never really done cheese n' the whole crackers thing... am I supposed to make em for you or we dip em’, how's this work?" He struggled with idle conversation, as he cracked the lid on the tub and started peeling off the plastic seal that kept its contents fresh.

The sound of rich, throaty feminine laughter once more filled the secluded glade amidst the redbud trees, rising and falling musically with the unrestrained expression of Velvet's amusement.

Okay, points for effort, if not execution. It's the thought that counts.

"You've never had cheese and crackers?" she asked skeptically, shoulders still shaking with mirth as she set her empty glass aside. Her expression indicated plainly that such a statement was nearly blasphemous in her eyes. "How about we compromise then, mm?" Gently, she tugged the container of processed cheddar from Warren's hands and peeled away the last remnants of thin plastic from the edges. "I'll spread, you eat. Here."

With a few deft motions of a knife procured from the basket, Violet had finished the first of many 'hors d'oeuvres' for their informal luncheon on this beautiful spring afternoon. Expectantly, she held it up for Warren's approval.

"I'll spread, you eat." The amethyst goddess stated. Slowly the tub of spread fell aside as Velvet crossed her arms at her hips and with a single smooth motion pulled her shirt off and over her head. Warren could only stare with slack jawed desire as she bared her considerable “charms” to him. "You did bring an appetite, right Warren?"

The poor man, his thoughts racing at the speed of mud, could only nod.

"Warren?" She leaned into him as her moist, glossy lips shimmered in the light. "Warren?"

"Warren!"

His reverie was shattered by a cheese covered Ritz cracker under his nose and his 'date' quickly growing sick of holding it out for him to take it. "You okay Sunshine? Thought I lost ya there."

"Huh? Oh!, no, yeah... I mean..." Sheepishly taking the appetizer from her it was apparent he was all but refusing eye contact. "I'm okay. The uhh, scenery got the breast, best... got the best of me. That's all."

He dragged his hand through his hair, and popped the cracker into his mouth in a single bite. "Mo rine?" He asked, chewing furiously to prevent another slip of the tongue.

"Mo rine," indeed. It didn't take long for several glasses more to disappear, the tart, cool liquid staining Velvet's lips berry red in the warm spring sun. She sprawled full-length across the checkered cloth, hands folded behind her head as she watched the clouds roll languidly across the sky. The empty bottle lay with the remnants of their meal nearby, and the sound of laughter filled the clearing for neither the first nor the last time that afternoon.

"You're kidding. No one could actually be that dense! That's like..." Velvet shook her head, searching for an analogy and grasping finally at a dim memory of high school academia. "Like neutron dense. And he just stood there and grinned the whole time? I'm not sure who to feel sorry for... Sam, or you." From the corner of her eye, she caught Revenant's half-indignant expression and grinned impishly. "What? Sometimes you get what you deserve, Sunshine. Karma."

Warren lay beside her as they shared silly stories and laughed well into the afternoon. "No." He replied. "No wrongness I could ever have done in my life, and I've done quite a bit mind you, could ever be worth a twelve hour shift with The Crusader. And his analogies... ugh."

It was no secret the office drama that unfolded between Sam Hill and Warren Verona. Sam "The Crusader" Hill was the epitome of every pure and right ideal in the world, and Warren "Revenant" Verona was the darkest side of everything Sam stood for. Velvet never tired of listening to Warren recite Sam's latest quotes for the day.

The two laughed a bit more and the giggling of pure joy seemed perfect in this little serene and majestic slice of the world.

Just out with it. Spill it!

"Hey, Vie." He blurted out. "Have you ever been in love with someone?"

Oh, lord, Velvet thought, groaning inwardly. Here it comes. First it's, "Have you ever been in love with someone?" and then it's "How did you know?" After that, it's only a matter of time before I hear, "See, I've been doing some thinking (which is always a lie where men are concerned, anyway), and maybe I wasn't fair to Chloe." Ugh.

It wasn't exactly a secret that the club owner disliked the self-styled "Sylvan," but neither was it dirty laundry aired for the benefit of the gossip-mongers. In point of fact, she preferred not to talk about the plant loving woman at all, if she could avoid it; to her way of thinking, Warren had been used and manipulated as a convenient distraction, a means to fill the vacancy left by an unhappy marriage. Whether her opinion was fair or not, justified or not, Velvet wasn't budging.

It figures. At least he's smart enough to realize he'd have to butter me up before I'd even be willing to listen to whatever sad excuse he's gonna use.

She only narrowly avoided rolling her eyes, even if she did have to literally bite her tongue to stop the invective before it began. Warren would only have defended the apparently helpless little nymph, and the violet-haired nova didn't feel like spoiling the afternoon just yet. It wasn't often that she had the chance to relax, particularly in such picturesque surroundings, and she was loathe to ruin it.

Still, Revenant hadn't spoken to Chloe in some time- not since she'd cast him off for Satyr in a fit of neo-pagan pique.

If not her, though...?

"No," she answered finally, forcing herself to focus on the answer to the question rather than the potential implications of the question itself. "No, I haven't, honestly. I've loved people, sure, but I've never been in love, I think. The one time I was close, or could have been, we were both too fucked up to realize it and then..." The ghost of a smile, bittersweet and full of lingering memories, curved her lips as she spoke. "Then she was gone. I miss her, as a person, but my sadness over her death isn't nearly as strong as the regret that I'll never know... Y'know?" she asked, turning her head to glance curiously at her companion.

"Yeah." He said. Sort of half way between acknowleding Velvet and understanding what she was saying and still lost at the breath taking view of the sky. It was silent for a moment before he spoke again. "I decided that I may only get one chance at this so, I don't want to screw it up. I've decided Violet," She quickly noticed the use of her rarely used first name. If I could have just one wish, and only one wish." He sat up resting on one elbow. Gently he stroked the backs of his fingers down her smooth alabaster cheek. "I would wish to wake up everyday to the sound of your breath on my neck, the warmth of your lips on my cheek, the touch of your fingers on my skin, and the feel of your heart beating against me, knowing that I could never find that feeling with anyone other than you."

"Velvet, I'm in love with you."

Time stopped.

...or at least plodded on so impossibly slowly as to make the shifting of the Earth's tectonic plates seem hypersonic.

A moment before those fateful words passed his lips, Velvet heard them with perfect clarity. They rang out in a psychic declaration that was so much clearer, so much more ardent than any combination of syllables he could have uttered, and for the seemingly infinite span of time between breaths her thoughts were pulled in several directions simultaneously. Disbelief warred with gratification, flattery with skepticism, desire with dismay.

In the end, skepticism won out, despite a last, desperate stand by desire involving creative uses for the remainder of the key lime pie. To her credit, she neither snickered nor choked- at least not audibly. Instead, she slowly sat up on the blanket and smiled warmly, if a bit uncertainly, at her friend.

"Warren," she began, voicing her thoughts aloud. "I'm honestly flattered, but I don't know what to say, or what you could possibly expect me to say to something like that. You know how I feel about relationships and all of that, and, besides..." The windblown veil of her hair was raked back haphazardly by pale fingers. "How would you know, anyway? You've never had anything good to say about love, or companionship, or... Well, anything. It just seems to go against your nature, the whole dark-and-brooding persona you've built up. I just..."

Her sigh vanished on the warm, mid-afternoon breeze that sent the limbs swaying overhead.

"I just don't know, and I mean that literally. I don't know. What am I supposed to think about this? What am I supposed to feel?" Frustration and confusion were evident in the empath's voice, spilling over into the dejected cant of her head and the pensive curl of her lips as dark lavender eyes met coffee brown one.

"Exactly Violet." Warren said calmly. "It goes against my nature, and that's why I know it has to be something powerful. Something pure. I mean, lemme ask you, what does it take to change the nature of a person?"

Warren continued to lie there on his back, letting his arms do most of the talking for him as he gestured. "Seriously Vie, I have no clue what to do either. I've never been in love; you claim to never have been in love. I've been thinking a lot about this, what do we have to lose with just giving it a shot, seeing what happens."

He turned his head to face her as she sat up beside him. "Success isn't ever certain, but it's not like failure is fatal. Ya'know?"

Divert his attention. Piss him off. Whatever you do, you have got to keep the conversation from moving down that road.

'That road, of course, being the quagmire-laden path that began with the question, "What do we have to lose?"

"Hang on," Violet began, thinking as quickly as she could under less-than-ideal circumstances. "What does it take to change the nature of a person? That's not a fair question." She shook her head emphatically, waving her hands as she warmed to her argument. "You can't expect a reasonable response to a question that can't possibly have an answer. There are too many factors to consider. Who's the person? What's their life been like so far? What are their options?"

With a sigh, she stood, pacing back and forth along the edge of the stereotypical picnic blanket as her gestures became more animated. Her hands moved decisively, swiftly, and with each pivot of her body she added another point to her side of what was apparently a one-sided debate.

"Example," she stated simply. "Bubba's a hardened criminal who's been turning over liquor stores and mugging little old ladies since he was twelve. He's now forty-three, and no better off than he was when his crackhead mom abandoned him."

The moment Warren opened his mouth to speak, the statuesque nova lifted one slender finger imperiously.

"Not yet. Example two," she continued, "is Esther, a sweet little Jewish lady in a tiny apartment who's been bullied for fifty years by her overbearing husband and money-grubbing kids. She's miserable, but smiles anyway just to keep everyone else happy. In fact, she's pretended to smile for so long she can't remember what it's really like."

"Both of these people could change. Anyone can, I'm sure. My point is, maybe all that'll change Bubba is thirty years in the Pen. Maybe what Esther needs is for Stan to fall down a flight of stairs. There's no way of knowing, and there's no way to come up with any kind of real answer because there isn't one!"

"What does it take to change the nature of a person? Sunshine, I've seen people change for no reason at all, and people who could've made something of themselves with just a little effort stay the same forever. There's no way to answer the question without asking everybody on the planet, because what would change Esther isn't necessarily what'd work for Bubba. God?"

She shrugged, a simple, eloquent gesture that suggested ambivalence.

"Maybe. Money? Prison? A near-death experience? Marriage? Birth of a child? Love? War? Hell, eruption! It could be anything, Warren, because they're all true if you ask the right people."

He stood up and look of determination etched on his face warned her empathic talents that her fight to change the subject was going to be a hard fought one. “I know you’re afraid to commit to relationships. Especially the ones that look like they might actually work.” He smiled to show her he was being moderately sarcastic.

In the springtime air the couple stood hanging delicately on each other’s words. Warren really wasn’t sure what to say, his mind had slowed down to a baseline crawl and the usually quick witted or snappy answers just would not come fast enough. Finally, he settled for direct.

“You love me, and you know I love you.” He took her hands in his and grasped them tightly. “So, I’m asking you. Would my love, for you, be enough to change your own nature just enough that you could give me a chance. Yours was enough to make me change, I know I could make you happy.”

"Oh, god," was all she could manage in response, and that only quietly. She could almost feel her heart clench within her chest, constricting with such force that for a moment, her vision swam and the color drained from the world. Bonelessly, her hands remained clasped in his.

He was serious. But how? Why? Wasn't it enough that they were friends?

Is it? a mutinous voice echoed in the back of her mind.

It was obvious she wasn't going to be able to dissuade him from continuing on his charted course, and a fleeting look of despair passed over her features like a brief shadow cast by a cloud.

"Warren," she began, speaking slowly and quietly as she chose her words with the utmost care. "You do make me happy, and I do love you, dearly. You're a very important part of my life, and a trusted friend. I'm just not entirely sure what else you're asking, or what else I could give. What sort of "chance" do you want? Why do you need more?"

Why do people always have to complicate things? she thought mournfully, remembering the few occasions on which she'd actually considered involvement with the pallid Knight, like the motorcycle ride at the previous year's Pow-Wow or his renovation of the club after its destruction. She remembered the sense of security she felt with him, remembered the complete adoration in his eyes, remembered the unrestrained surge of thought and emotion when she'd briefly opened fully the channel between their minds. She remembered the scents of leather, smoke, and gasoline which even now sent a little thrill rushing through her, warm and seductive, and wavered in her resolve for only a moment before she remembered Eve, turning blue as she lay next to the futon... Her mind recoiled and refused to go farther. Why can't we just be happy with what we've got, enjoy it, and not ask so many damned questions?

Warren had assumed it would end up this way. Velvet always did her best to ignore anything resembling relationship talk. He was willing to put up the fight but not press the issues. Something like this had been on his mind for quite some time, and he knew Violet would either accept his proposal for something resembling a relationship or decline him all together. Things ‘turning weird’