What's Up, Doc? (For Gwyndolin)

Drake turns to her and lifts his hands to gently take hers, hoping to stop the flailing. His touch is gentle, hopefully calming, and those amethyst eyes set to her emeralds. They lack their typical vibrance, though, and have become laden with regret.

"I know what you meant," he replies, voice softened. "I said that about myself so it'd be clear that... that I wouldn't be expecting any kind of double standard. But the person I'm with, they'd mean a lot to me. They'd be special. And knowing that they're getting... ravaged by some dude, or doing the ravaging herself... I don't know if I could deal."

His eyes search hers, hoping without doubt in vain that she'd have a sudden change of heart about the type of matches she'd be accepting. But given her ardor just outside, that seems extremely unlikely. So the most he can hope for is that his personal position isn't offensive to her.

“Yeah...” Irene said, looking down as her heart sank, “I guess it would be hard for anyone to accept.”

They reached the front of the line, and the cashier mouthed some request to know what they would be having that night. Irene, distraught over the latest turn their date had taken, just asked for a latte. She really liked Drake, liked everything about him, but she wasn't going to be one of those women who abandons their work to please their man, even when her “work” was so seedy. Irene wasn't naive, though; she knew there was no explanation or rationale she could give Drake that would make him accept a relationship so lacking in intimacy. If he wasn't prepared to do so, being Irene's lover would just hurt him. She knew that, and as she thought more about it, she found herself fighting the urge to cry. As Drake looked into her eyes, he might have noticed it, as her eyes shimmered a little.

As soon as Drake ordered whatever he had the appetite for, Irene would take his hands and gently drag him aside, to one of the edges of the cafe. She didn't want people being tempted to gawp at her while she shared her tough realization with Drake. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out for a second.

“I...I'm not going to stop competing, Dom,” Irene said. “But I won't ask you to be okay with that. You'll have to find someone else to love if it can't be me..."

Across the floor of the cafe, the joint's jukebox jittered as a melancholic song started playing. Irene wrapped her arms around Drake and embraced him tenderly, burying her face in his chest. “Let's try to have fun tonight, Drake, because unless you change your mind, it's the only night we'll have together as anything more than friends.”

White hot chocolate. That's what Drake is having. Decadent, but a little kiddish. Elegant, but sort'a silly. The problem is, when someone orders something like that, they're supposed to be happy with it. He really isn't. And looking at Irene's eyes just seals that. It's heartbreaking, and just confirms to him that she won't back down from this career choice she's made.

She tugs him aside to a corner, and he follows along expecting the worst. That's why she wanted him away from everyone else, right?

Still holding her hands, he listens to what she has to say. His frame rises and falls with a slow, composing sigh. When he speaks, his voice is softened to a near-whisper, his dark gaze remaining unerringly fixed on hers with a somber warmth. "If... that's what you really wanna do, I can't try to make you not do it. That just wouldn't be right of me. And I admit, I don't know too much about you yet."

She leans into him and his arms loop around her in return, with one hand stroking through her long hair. "But I know that I like you, and that you deserve to do what makes you happy." He just wishes that didn't involve signing up for sexual assault. His head tilts to gently nuzzle against the top of her scalp. "We'll have fun tonight together. And if we both feel the same way when it's over, then... just friends."

From there, he's content to hold the girl to himself and take the moment for what it is. He's in no rush to break away from her. Until their order is up, she has a place in his arms.

“Yeah...” Irene purred softly as Drake's firm but gentle embrace warmed her up. She fidgeted in his grasp, rubbing herself softly against him, her facial features nuzzling between his firm pectorals as she shifted to cause their bodies to massage against each other. Eventually, she settled down and closed her eyes, a small grin spreading across her face as Drake's nose tickled her scalp. When he spoke, his warm breath coursed down her body, giving her goosebumps as his soft voice lulled her into calm. Behind him, her arms grasped a little lower to wrap loosely around his waist and brush along his rear end.

A couple minutes passed that way while Irene waited for their drinks to be up. Once they were ready, she resolved to postpone any further intimacy and go back to her cheerful, former self, at least until they left the coffee shop.

While Irene seems to be melting into the moment and savoring it, Drake can't help but be distracted with the nagging thoughts of this budding relationship's impending doom. It's a real buzz-kill. He wants to make his date happy, and has some weak hopes that she'll enjoy being with him so much that she'll forego the rapey matches. But it's difficult to see past the near-future. So the teen contents himself to hold her, to let her paw and nuzzle against him to her little heart's content. His head tilts a little again to rest his cheek against her head.

Then there order is ready.

Drake isn't in a terrible hurry to disengage from her. The closeness between them, feeling her brushing up on him, it's quickly becoming addictive. But they have the day to share. He finally takes a step back and puts on a smile for her. "I'll get the drinks. You get a seat." If she turns him loose, he departs to do just as he'd said. Though there's a guilty thought that crosses his mind - hoping that the seat she picks is somewhere outside of the cafe. If they're going to be together for just a day, he'd rather be somewhere more fun than a coffee shop. Sure, he'd like to get to know her more on a personal level, but they can do that out of public...

...Alright, maybe her brushing her body against him had more of an effect than he's willing to admit.

Drake would find it necessary to pull himself away from the girl, who clung to him for a second like a barnacle on the side of a ship. She didn't want this day, or this moment, to end, but she relented and took a step back, smiling at Drake when he smiled at her.

“Alright, thanks...” Irene trailed off when she tried to finish her sentence with a doting nickname for her date, but couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't embarrass them both. She blushed fiercely as her unfinished sentence hung over them. “I...I'll just go...pick the seats, then,” she said awkwardly, waving her hand at the cafe seats before darting off. She had planned to simply sit in one of the booths, but when she looked back at her raven-haired paramour (hey, maybe that could be his dumb, lovey nickname!), she noticed that he was frowning at her choice. Concerned, she walked back over to him and took her latte off of his hands when an employee handed both drinks to him from behind the counter.

“Hey, since we don't have that much to carry, do you want to go somewhere else with our drinks?” she asked. She didn't know what he had in mind, but she was open to any suggestions he had.

Aw, geeze. Did she pick up on his thoughts? He hopes that didn't tarnish her mood. But he turns her latte over when she reaches for it.

"Well...," Drake considers, brow knit and glancing aside. "Aside from just heading back to the dorm..." And then he clues in. She's been carrying a backpack all this time. His eyes zip to it and he cants his head. "What'cha got in there?"

In the midst of that pause, he did two things. First; sipped from his decadent hot chocolate. Second; eased an arm around Irene's waist simply for the sake of touching her again.

"Did you have plans already? Something in mind?"

“What, these?” Irene lifted up her small bag, which contained the black shorts and sports bra she wore in the ring. As she pulled her bag into view, she took the opportunity to lean into Drake, tipping her head to rest it against his sturdy upper arm and shoulder.

“These are just my gym clothes. I brought them just in case of the possibility that you'd ask me to spar with you down at the Tension gym or something. Mind you, not nearly as rough as our fight earlier this week, I definitely don't want to be kicked in the head again, and I think you want your 'boys' to be safe,” Irene motioned down to his gonads, taking the opportunity to give his inner thigh a teasing little pinch with one of her hands, although she didn't touch anything inappropriate.

“Rather, it'd just be something for the two of us to let a little steam out. Of course, if you'd rather just go back to the dorms and have some hot, steamy...drinks,” Irene pulled a bait-and-switch reference to sex in order to tease the boy, “we could totally do that instead. You pick.”

Drake's eyes light up noticeably when she mentions the gym and having a spar. That could be fun. They're both wrestlers. They like wrestling. They met while wrestling. And not having her foot embedded in his hip-bone would be a nice change of pace. The pinch at his thigh elicits a surprised, completely embarrassing little squeak, almost causing an accident with that hot chocolate.

Despite having cheeks now tinted a rosy hue from that completely unmanly squeak, Drake pretends it never happened and just focuses on Irene. "I pick the gym. We can finish off these and talk, then have our match in the ring." He tilts his head slightly. "But I didn't bring my ring gear." He lifts an eyebrow at her with a half-smile, challenging her to come up with a solution.

“Alright, sweet!” Irene cheered, smiling brightly as their earlier sorrow was forgotten. “Isn't your dorm kind of close to the gym. They are on the same premises, after all, so maybe I could wait at the gym's practice ring and you could run and change into some shorts or something. It doesn't really matter, as long as you'll be comfortable wrestling in it.”

Coffee in one hand, Irene took Drake's arm with the other and pulled him toward the door gently, so as not to make him spill his hot chocolate. The faster they got back to the Tension grounds, not far across the street, the faster they could have some real fun together. The two of them could talk on the way.

“So, we've talked each other's ears off about career stuff, how about telling me about something more personal. Hobbies, childhood stories, favorite color, stuff like that?” she expounded without really knowing what she wanted to talk about, listing random topics in the hope that something would stick.