What's Up, Doc? (For Gwyndolin)

Drake kept his word.

Despite the various turns his latest match took, Irene seemed to genuinely want to see him again. The feeling was mutual. She's a very, very beautiful girl, and she seemed to have that dry wit thing going for her. Plus, she buried his face in her boobs. That was a first. But that was in the ring. How would she be when it's just the two of them, with no one watching? No one to impress other than the other person. So he did as he promised; he called her.

At this point, the teen is simply waiting for her. His clothing is classy, if casual, wearing a white t-shirt beneath an oversized, completely unbuttoned black dress shirt. Black slacks and matching sneakers finish the ensemble. Definitely a far cry from the amount of bared skin when they first met!

Drake's currently sitting on the edge of his bed, cellphone in his left hand tapping away at a ridiculously under-developed, free cellphone game while he waits. His Tension dorm is anything but impressive, sadly. Seating is sparse - there's the bed to choose from, and a single chair in front of his desk. A dresser contains a few changes of clothes, and a closet contains the rest. Other than that, it's a simple affair of muted colors, soft carpet, and a window overlooking the city streets from a few stories above.

When Irene got the call from her former match opponent, the girl's heart skipped a beat. She had been feeling melancholy that day, for reasons that she herself couldn't seem to place. Maybe, after having such rough physical interaction with another person, the girl was having trouble readjusting to her fairly boring default routine – the one that had left her feeling so isolated, it had been the thing to drive her toward the risky sport of wrestling in the first place. Some time with Domino – or Drake, as she would soon call him – was just what she needed. Fun, intimacy, relaxation, or excitement with someone that Irene pegged as a genuinely good person. She couldn't meet him fast enough...

On Saturday night, a few days after their eventful brawl, Irene braved the men's dorms of the Tension league to find the room that contained her man. A couple of the other competitors leered at her for being on their turf, but to be very frank, the girl didn't give a salted, half-backed fuck what they thought about her. As of now, only one person in this building commanded her imagination and attention.

Irene had no idea what the two of them would be doing tonight, so she had dressed semi-formally. She had her favorite skirt on, purple and green with organic chemistry compounds stenciled in white all over the skirt's front and back. She had added those herself, a personal touch to reflect her interests. A black blouse patterned with white dots to represent the heavens complimented her look, as well as a gray coat tied around her waist, meant to protect her in case things got chilly. She had packed a tank top and gym shorts as well, in case the two decided to get sweaty with each other.

The young scientist arrived at the room whose number matched the one given to Irene over the phone earlier. She knocked on the door, her breath caught in her throat as she waited for Dom...Drake...to answer.

Drake's on edge - or he would be, had he not found a means to keep his mind occupied. It's a coping mechanism, one worthy of his generation's general attention span. His thumb scoots across the screen of his phone, cutting up all the fruits. All of them.

Okay, not all. He's only using a thumb, after all.

"I've got a love-a-lee bunch of co-co-nuts...," murmur-sings the distracted Drake. In retrospect, he's glad he doesn't have a roommate. Getting caught with a tune like that can be hard to shake.

He isn't even really sure why he's nervous. Outside of things getting really rough and a few... unpleasant moves from his opponent, they got along really well. He should be feeling cocky about the whole thing. But-

Knock, knock.

The phone flies out of his hand and banks off the wall, thankfully not breaking, but certainly making a noisy 'thump' sound outside. A couple frantic seconds later, and the door opens to reveal Drake, who quickly takes up position on the doorframe to lean ever-so-casually. Though the somewhat sheepish look on his face probably ruins the effect.

"Hey, you," he greets. The door is nudged further open, and he tilts his head in boyish invitation. "C'mon in. We'll figure out what we wanna do. Unless you wanted to just wander around and see where it leads?"

Irene listened with a sense of amusement as Drake audibly fumbled about in his room. When the door flew open, he tried to cover up his nervousness by striking a cool pose, leaning up against the door frame. Irene giggled.

“Smooth as sandpaper, Drake,” Irene teased as he invited her inside. Despite the bit of snark, Irene was just as nervous as he was, and when she walked into his room, all she could bring herself to do was sit down on his bed, nervously twiddling her fingers together. Her tense, nervous demeanor lasted a few seconds, before she softened up. Feeling a little bad for mocking him earlier, Irene flashed a warm smile to her would-be boyfriend and patted the bedside, inviting him to sit with her as she addressed him more politely.

“It's good to see you again, Dom, especially since we don't have to beat each other up this time. I...uh...well, I'm not sure what we should do,” Irene expressed meekly. She didn't go on dates often, certainly not with people like Drake. “Maybe we can just go find a cafe or something, unless you had an idea.”

"Oh, shaddup," merfs the embarrassed teen. He shuts the door after her, much to the chagrin of nosy tenants. He turns around to face her in time to be invited to sit on the bed, only he doesn't do that immediately. He takes a few steps forward and props his left hand to his hip.

"Well, for starters..." He takes a moment to look her over, from that skirt to the blouse, and finally her face. "...You look perfect. Nerdy and beautiful. It's uniquely you, and I think it's just perfect." Her warm smile is returned, and he finally continues forward to sit beside her.

"There are a few things we could do, but I've gotta admit, I'm a little surprised at'cha." He tilts to the side to nudge his shoulder against hers in a playful, potentially disarming manner. "Back in the ring, you seemed to know exactly what'cha wanted." That warm smile turns teasing. "..But I digress! There are cafes around here in walking distance, but besides that, there's just the gym. So unless you wanted to blow off some steam and have a shot at pinning me..."

Of course he had to bring it up! She was very adamant about getting what was on her mind across, and he's not been able to get it out of his mind since!

A big, goofy grin spread across Irene's face as Drake complimented her on her appearance. “Oh, quit buttering me up,” she said, blushing fiercely and looking away for a bit. As he sat down with her, the girl eyed him up and down in return and overcame her awkward silence to return the compliment, though she wasn't nearly as eloquent as him. “You look good too, very classy.”

When Domino bumped his shoulder against hers and started teasing her over how forward she had been at the end of their fight, Irene grinned and shot back. “Oh, I remember the things that I said at the end of our match, but control those hormones, lover boy! We already got a taste of each other's bodies in the ring last week. I'd like to see what you've got going on in that captivating head of yours, and there's no better setting for small talk than a cafe. We can indulge our mutual lust when it's too late out to be doing anything socially respectable. Think you can keep your energy up long enough for all that?”

For all her bluster about a long-ish date, Irene was feeling a bit wiped out herself. Her plea for coffee was more than a method to encourage them to get to know each other; the girl really needed the energy from that coffee to keep her going.

Drake bursts into lighthearted laughter as she ribs him right back. "Oh, sure! A taste, she says!," he teases. "After shoving your chest in my face." He leans over to nudge his shoulder to hers again. He's a very tactile person. Affection is communicated through touch. And that means his notion of a personal bubble is practically non-existent! "..Oh, captivating head? Are you sure you're gonna be able to keep it together, yourself?" He perks an obsidian eyebrow at her challengingly.

But it seems just as soon as he'd sat down, he's popping back up to his feet! He promptly offers his hands out to her in a completely unnecessary offering to help her to her feet again. "Cafe sounds good. Seriously, I've been dying to get to know you a little more. Not every day I run into a... sciiieentist?" His head slowly turns aside as the word is drawn out, clearly fishing for verification.

“Hey, that was not a display of affection!” Irene claimed, feigning offense to Drake's comment as she lightly elbowed him in the stomach in retaliation for his nudging. “I was trying to suffocate you, nothing more!”

Of course, by the end of this day, it was possible that Irene and Domino would go further with each other than simple breast smothering, but for now Irene decided to deflect the boy's playful teasing. She rose up with him, accepting his extended hands out of courtesy, and lightly nudged Drake toward the door to get the two started toward their destination. She took her purse and a small bag containing her change of clothes with her, in case either would be needed.

“I'm studying to be a chemist,” Irene confirmed Drake's suspicions, “in fact, I think I told you that I was a scientist at the beginning of our match last week, but maybe my breast smother damaged your brain and made you forget.”

Irene stopped as she realized she might be coming off as curt to her companion. As they walked down the hallways of the Tension dorm toward the building exit, Irene tried to cover up her snark with some small talk. “So, what about you? I guessed from your demeanor in the ring that you're a career wrestler, was I right?”

Drake moves along with little need for nudging, getting the door, then shutting it behind her. "Oh yeah. Sure. It was aaall clinical," chides the teen. When she mentions having told him she's studying to be a chemist, he gives a soft laugh and links his hands innocently behind his back. "So it didn't sink in. I was distracted. I had a really pretty girl in a sportsbra in front of me." While she might have been worried, it seems Drake's taking it in stride.

The elevator ride to the ground floor is a musical one; some Japanese folksy tune done on piano.

"Yep," nods Drake. "Career. I started back in the States with a local fed, but..." He leans back against the wall. "Before I get into that, I should mention that I'm also a male model." He flashes her a quick smile. "Fashion'n fitness."

Irene nodded her head as Drake confirmed her suspicions. The girl had a feeling that people like her, who had just taken on an AFW persona as an ancillary feature in their lives, were in the minority. The few competitors she had met so far in her wrestling career valued the sport much more than her, and it made her worry about her chances for success in the ring. After all, if all her opponents were devoting their lives fully to honing their AFW skills, while she divided herself between that and her university work, she would probably keep losing. The wrestling lingo for people like that was the title “jobber”, and although Irene could live with being labeled as one, it was a fate that didn't thrill her.

Drake started talking about his past career as the elevator ground to a halt at the ground floor of the Tension dorms. As he dropped the revelation that he was a model, Irene sputtered with shock.

“You're a model?” the girl asked, audibly surprised by the notion. “Yeah, that's...pretty impressive.”

Irene was trying to keep her cool to keep Dom's ego from growing too large, but secretly, she was swooning at the prospect of a date who was not only a capable competitor, but a model as well. That was a jackpot for romantic prestige, and the girl had some friends back at MIT who she was going to be bragging to if they managed to hit it off on this date. At the same time, though, the girl wondered how he had managed to end up in a career that required him to put up with so many financial and physical risks.

“So, I'm not trying to be condescending,” Irene said nervously, not wanting to denigrate Drake's life choices, “but what made you join the AFW? I'm sure model work isn't as ideal as people think it is, but it's gotta be better than trading punches for a living...at least, that's what I would assume.”