What's Up, Doc? (For Gwyndolin)

Outstanding. She's not focusing on the embarrassing noise. What a sweetheart.

Drake hooks his arm with hers and gladly moves along to the exit. He's willing to further distract himself and her with chitchat, even finding the notion fun. Heck, the date's supposed to be fun. In fact, he's no longer thinking about the looming peril in their very near future. But she's given him quite a bit to work with here...

"Breathe, bright-eyes, breathe," he coos, tilting to nudge his shoulder against hers. "Hobbies would be things like... swimming, for one. Addicted to the water. Comes with the California upbringing. I like working out, training, wrestling - both partaking and spectating. Uh..." Isn't the hobby question one of the hardest ones to answer? He decides to move on. "Childhood story? I piledrive'd a kid in middleschool wrestling. That's, like, supposed to be the Greek-style stuff. I got sick of just wallowing around with'em, so I gave'em a piledriver. Coach was not pleased." He smiles ruefully. "It was about that time that I think my dad made a real push to start training me to do professional wrestling. I was obviously gonna use it anyway, may as well get paid for it." Favorite color? "Black? White? Dark colors. Like midnight blue, or really rich purple. Those are what look best on me."

...

"Did I ever mention my mother's a fashion designer? She's the reason I got into modeling in the first place."

If Irene was hoping to get rambly exposition from the teen, mission accomplished. But then he turns things around with the dreaded, "How about you?"

Irene gave Drake a playful punch in the shoulder when he bumped her with it, and sauntered back towards the crosswalk while he shared a bit about his life with her. She had been hoping that he would indulge one of her curiosities, but she didn't think he would indulge all of them! He was a real standup guy for not avoiding some sharing about his personal life. Outside of certain hentai matches, that was the barrier all men and women had to pass through before Irene would consider fooling around in bed with them. His answers didn't surprise her much, he was one of the strongest people she knew so it made sense that a lot of his life revolved around fitness. “So, you were a troublemaker since long before I met you, eh?” she added when he told the story of his middle school wrestling opponent who got way more than they bargained for.

With his addition of some of his favorite colors, Irene rolled her eyes. “So, what you're trying to tell me is that you like Batman's entire color scheme? Are you Batman? No, I guess not, if you were I would've lasted for even less time in our match.”

When he finished talking, Drake decided it was her turn to be on the spot. The girl took a loooong sip from her cup of coffee to stall for time, then shared some bits of her life's story.

“I read a lot, and watch cartoons when no one is looking,” Irene said with a smirk and a sideways glance. “When I was a kid, I learned that I wanted to be a chemist when I saw food go bad for the first time. I can't remember what it was, but I do remember that I started using my school locker for experiments to see what other food looked like when it went bad. Have you ever seen what happens to strawberries when they're left out in the heat? It's amazing, it's like magic!”

The crosswalk signal flashed to permit Irene and Drake to cross, and the girl took off without telling Drake what happened to the strawberries. She motioned after him to hurry up, swilling down more coffee as she did.

"That's my M.O.!," chirps Drake. Troublemaker through and through! "Mom thought the modeling career would actually curb my rambunctious ways! Didn't quite work out."

He then smiles devilishly at her. "If I were Batman, I'd be wearing a lot more to the ring. Then where would your fun be?"

And finally, his eyes widen. Idea! And true to form, he blurts what comes to mind: "We should totally veg' out in front of the t.v. and watch cartoons for our next date!" And just as soon as it's out in the air, his expression faulters. 'Oh. Right.' There won't be a next date. He glances away from her and brushes a hand to the back of his neck. "O-or just as friends, I guess..."

'Dammit.' He races across the crosswalk.

In an effort to get things back on track, he brings his gaze back to her. His smile lacks the energy he'd built before, but he's making a clear effort to keep things upbeat. "Don't they go all white and fuzzy? The... the strawberries, I mean?"

The gym won't be far from here. But he decides as a tactical move to occupy his mouth with the chocolate. That should prevent him from saying anything mood-killing.

Irene went blue for a moment as she was reminded of their relationship's predicament. Even though he had told her he wasn't comfortable being in an “open relationship”, some small part of her was still hoping he would relent and allow her body to be shared with others, even if he got her soul for himself.

Boy, that was a schmaltzy way of putting it...

“Yeah...as friends,” Irene echoed silently as she ran alongside Drake. She smiled and recaptured her cheerful attitude from earlier, but the way she was holding him, an arm around his waist pressing him into her a little too tightly, could tell him that she didn't want to lose him.

“They go white and fuzzy when they get old, but if they get old and it's hot...” Irene smirked mischievously, “they lose their bodily water and dissolve! I left them in there a week and it was like they had disappeared, all that was left was a red stain on the bottom of my locker.”

The science girl could've also mentioned that her 'experiments' had been shut down by the school after an ecosystem of insects moved into her locker, but she didn't want Drake to think ill of her and kept it to herself. The two of them approached the Tension buildings, their looming structures ominous with the dark night sky surrounding them.

Unsurprisingly, the same, yet opposite was running rampant in his mind. No, not about the strawberry. That's weird, but that's not what's important to him right now. The future of this thing they have, whatever it is, that's what matters. But the thoughts of someone else having her, even though he never has at this point, makes him feel queasy. Sick. The fact that she's now holding onto him tighter only makes it worse. It lets him know that she wants to be his - but she doesn't want it enough?

He doesn't know. He just knows there's that sick feeling, and it's keeping him from having any more of the hot chocolate. He pushes the feeling deep, deep down with a swallow.

"H'okay," says Drake once they stand at the crossroad between the Tension gym and the Tension dorm. "You head on to the gym and shoo people away, or find us a nice little corner. I'm gonna go get something to workout in, unless you just want me in my boxers." He winks an eye at her playfully. "And I'll meet you there?"

The drama surrounding her life choices being currently lost to her, Irene nodded to Drake when they reached the crossroads. “Okay, I'll meet you in the gym. Just wear whatever you'll be comfortable in. Try and keep it simple, no need for a snazzy uniform like those domino-themed things you were wearing last time...although that was a pretty fine outfit,” she complimented him off-handedly as she walked off toward the gym, waving a temporary goodbye to him.

Fortunately for the two of them, Irene didn't need to shoo many people out of the gym. It was late and thanks to it being the weekend, a lot of people were either in bed or out doing things more festive than working out. Irene found a room with a practice wrestling ring that only had one person working out on a nearby machine, and he gladly moved after the girl explained her situation to him. After that was done, it was just her, changing into her ring attire as she sat in the serene, almost hauntingly quiet room. Hopefully, Dom would hurry back to break the silence, even if things had been strained with him as of late.

And so, Drake races away from Irene to return to his dorm room. He moves at a full spring, weaving and dodging around the other males of the dorm, with his momentum coming to a grinding halt in - what else - the elevator.

Doot-doot-doo, doot-doot-doo-doo~

Bing!

Drake is a blur of motion! Once he finally hits his room, he sets the hot chocolate aside and begins rifling through his clothes. He has some workout duds to wear, but that's not exactly fun. Nothing says, "Check me out," quite like a pair of bland, black sweatpants. No, he'd rather entice Irene with something at least a little more sexy than something a pregnant chick could pull off.

Drawers open, clothes are pawed through, and finally, he finds what he's looking for! "Aha!"

...

Irene doesn't have to wait long, given how quickly Drake moved. He even changed before entering her private nook of the gym. His duffelbag is dropped aside, leaving the young model wearing only a pair of loose-fitted black nylon shorts with a white yang shape at either hip. His shoes? Simple black cross-trainers. This leaves his upper-body completely bare, from his toned chest to streamlined arms, right down to his sleekly-built abdominals.

With no more delay, he rushes for the ring to dive beneath the bottom rope and pop back up to his feet, ever the energetic one.

Irene's head turned toward one of the gym entrances as the sound of heavy footfalls striking the ground caught her attention. Drake was fast, and Irene gave a gentle smile to express her gratitude for not being kept waiting.

“Welcome back, Drake. You look...nice,” she said shyly, blushing as she scanned his body from head to toe. His decision to wear some shoes to the ring had been a smart one. By contrast, Irene had forgotten the black boots that she normally wore inside the ring, and her casual footwear wasn't ideal for combat, so her tootsies were completely bare right now. The rest of her attire matched what she had worn in their last fight.

“So, rules for our spar,” Irene uttered, starting to stretch her back, arm, and leg muscles in preparation as Domino popped into the ring. “Remember back when I told you that three seconds isn't long enough for someone to impress me with a pin? Well, I thought it might be fun if we did an 'extra long pin' match. One way to win: pin your opponent, and keep him or her down until they've given up trying to escape. Of course, I won't complain if you try softening me up with some hentai stuff as well...” Irene said with a sly smile and a blush. “So, what do you say?”

Drake looks the girl over from head to cute, bare toes, and back up again. He strolls across the mat to her and lifts a hand to gently tap her beneath the chin, an openly flirty, lighthearted touch. "I say I hope the mat's comfy for ya today. You're gonna be spending a while lying on it."

He winks at her, then moves his hands to her waist, brushing his thumbs along the skin of her exposed ribs. "So no punches, kicks, and slams, hrm? Just gotta.. wear ya down?"

When Drake placed a hand under her chin, Irene craned her head up to look into Drake's eyes, as if the hand had guided it there. His playful gestures gave her stomach butterflies, and the girl fidgeted uncontrollably when his fingers tickled her exposed ribs. Before she knew it, Irene was returning his gestures, wrapping her arms around his torso and tracing a finger lightly along the grooves in his back.

“Oh, I wouldn't ask you not to punch, kick, or slam me. If we can't be a little rough with each other, this wouldn't be a spar, it'd be public foreplay. Just try to hold back a bit,” she said, wagging a finger in his face. “I'm hoping to have a little energy left over after this, just in case we wanted to head back to your room for some private time with each other.”

Irene disentangled herself from her date, took a couple of steps back and made a mock ringing noise with her mouth to simulate a bell being rung. She assumed a grappling stance. “Come and get me, lover boy.”