bakerstreet | Mistletoe Meme

...Well this is awkward. He tries to give a nod in passing, only to find he can't get past, and for a minute he thinks he's caught his leg on something, but no, both feet seem to be simply stuck to the floor.

Oh dear.

Fortescue opens her mouth to say something to the affect of good morning or good day or anything other than what actually comes out of her mouth, which is a quiet noise at the back of her throat when she tries to move forward and a sensation seizes in her stomach.

Not the most eloquent sound in the world, but she doesn't think she can be blamed. Not when she notices what's rustling above them.

"...well, this is interesting," she manages, amusement seeping into her tone.

The heavyset gentleman frowns down at his feet, tapping a little with his cane, then glances back at the younger woman and sighs. "You as well? There must be some sort of prank..."

Then he follows her gaze up, sees the leaves and berries, and blushes.

"...oh dear."

Instead of chuckling at that blush of his, she bites her lower lip and attempts to step forward again. Nope. That highly uncomfortable sensation mounts again, until she moves her center of gravity back toward her fellow prisoner.

"Yes, this is by far the cleverest mistletoe I've ever encountered," Fortescue notes, unable to help a smile, at least. "Not yours, I take it?"

She winks, teasing.

He rocks on his feet a little and looks pained, trying a similar experiment with the aid of the cane. His balance isn't nearly as good, and it takes him a moment to catch himself.

"No! Oh... good lord, no... I mean not that..." He flails verbally, blushing still. "Well. I'm sure I've got the better end of the bargain, but perhaps if we just shake hands or something?"

Nothing about that verbal flail is planned, she's sure. As much as she was teasing, she wouldn't put it past someone to set a mistletoe trap and then catch someone else in it. But not this fellow, it seems. Fortescue continues to struggle against the urge to chuckle.

He's selling himself a bit short, she thinks.

"We can always try," Fortescue agrees, and holds out her hand.

Horvath has no particular romantic aims, especially since he gave his heart away once a long time ago, and has never fully gotten it back. He also knows he's middle-aged and overweight, with a bum leg. He doesn't court the ladies, not even in a sneaky way.

Smiling sheepishly, he takes her hand in his, large and with a ring on every finger, and gives her a firm and formal handshake.

Yeeeah. Probably not gonna do it.

Fortescue attempts to step backward, still holding his hand, and gulps when she feels that same sensation, correcting herself very quickly with the help of Horvath's hand. It's quite unpleasant, that sensation. Effective for keeping people trapped under mistletoe which, apparently, is out for blood. Metaphorically speaking.

"It appears our greenery wants more out of us." She smiles at him, trying very hard not to smirk. She doesn't want to make this any more uncomfortable for him than it already might be. "Don't worry, darling. I don't bite."

"...I'm sorry. I'll be more careful what I walk under, in the future..." He smiles weakly, because it already takes him a little more attention walking around than it does most people. That cane is not just for show.

She's going to have a hell of a time reaching him, though, since he's six-foot-three and a little bit looming. After a few second's thought, he leans on the cane and bends down... further than she might expect, over their joined hands, to kiss the back of hers. Also worth a try, also not enough. When he unbends a little and tries shifting his feet, they're both still stuck fast. Horvath sighs quietly, and gives her an apologetic look, but at least as long as he's bent in a kind of half-bow like that, he's in reach.

She can't help but feel a bit charmed when he kisses the back of her hand. That's not really a gesture anyone does, anymore, even though it was in fashion (if such a thing could be said) as close as her father's generation. But now it's seen as old fashioned. Fortescue really wishes it wasn't; it's far more pleasant for a perfect stranger to kiss your hand than your cheek. Not that she minds, but it's the principle of the thing, really.

Which is exactly what's going to happen, because Fortescue doesn't want to consider the shade of red Horvath would turn if she did the alternative. Unless, of course, the mistletoe isn't satisfied by what she's about to do. But it better be.

"I don't mind," she chuckles, smiling, and leans up to press a kiss to Horvath's cheek. It's reasonably chaste. Especially for her. "I'm sure people will take them down soon enough."

Or, you know, burn them on sight.

Horvath is not only old-fashioned, but also old. Older than he looks, and he's greying a little at the temples and the edges of his neatly-trimmed beard. The gesture is one that comes naturally, since he remembers a time when it was commonplace.

His cheek is soft, and very warm, since he's definitely blushing now. He wasn't expecting that, still half bent over more because he was looking at his own immobile feet than because he was trying to be in reach for a kiss. "...Oh..."

Just because he's blushing doesn't mean he's entirely displeased. Who can say no to being kissed by a pretty lady? His smile is a little apologetic, still, but when he rocks on his feet slightly, this time they seem able to move, and he nearly loses his balance in surprise.

Fortescue hooks a quick hand in the front of Horvath's coat, just in case. It would be a highly awkward ending for him to fall to the ground, and she's stronger than she looks. And even if she wasn't, she's got magic to pick up the slack.

"Careful, love," she chuckles, still smiling as she pulls her hand back, satisfied that he won't go tumbling to the ground. She's pleased to discover that she can shift backward herself and not experience any discomfort from the mistletoe's apparent magic. "It looks like we don't get any warning for before or after this little prank."

He steadies himself with the cane, looking sheepish still. "Thank you my dear. Perhaps we... should move away from the spot a bit?" With a rocking limp, he takes just a pace or two to get out from under the mistletoe. "But I'm terribly sorry, all that and I was so rude as to not even introduce myself. Maxim Horvath." They've already shaken hands, but if she lifts hers he'll do it again. Just so long as they're both safe from any further embarrassment.

She gives him a quick wink, to show how much she isn't bothered.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm not offended." By contrast, her hands are completely free of any rings, and very soft from all of the excessive skin care she does, given her line of work. It's very easy to get rough hands when you punch them into people for a living. Well, when things get dicey, anyway. "Fortescue. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Horvath."

Fortescue can't really help a grin. They've done a little more than meet each other, after all.

He's looking slightly embarrassed still, over that. It's been a while since he got a kiss from a pretty girl, and he's bothered she might have felt pressured into it, but she does seem to be all genuine smiles and friendliness still.

"Likewise. I'm... only sorry it was such an awkward way to meet. Although not at all unpleasant, at least on my end." He smooths down his vest-front self-consciously, blushing a little still. "It was very kind of you to release me from the spot."

"We released each other," Fortescue points out, in a quiet chuckle. "It's a very mischievous introduction, to be sure."

She glances up at the mistletoe again, trying to sense anything from it, but gets absolutely nothing as far as magic is concerned. That doesn't mean much. It could just meant that her kind of magic is nowhere involved.

"I suppose the worlds are very lucky that I can't do that kind of magic."

"It... could be an enchanted object..." He squints at the mistletoe, but he's not willing to get any closer to it again. Even if having to be kissed by a pretty lady is the best thing to happen to him all week. "I suppose I could try to disenchant it, if that's the case..."

On the other hand, it's pretty harmless, as these things go. He's not sure he should mess around with it, really. "What sort of magic do you do?"

"You might as well leave it alone. Someone else could have an interesting day." Her eyes are, possibly, twinkling as she sobers just a little to answer his question. But only a little. "I do some fire, but mostly I work with shadows. No mistletoe involved."

He blushes slightly, because clearly this has made his day more interesting, and while he may be a little embarrassed he's not really sorry either. "I suppose it's... harmless enough."

Horvath clears his throat and rocks on his feet a little, shifting his weight on the cane. "Sounds dangerous. I'm not as familiar with shadow magic..."

"Shadows are no different than any other kind of magic to do with energy," Fortescue notes, shrugging. She's one to loathe it when people bring good and evil into the mix. Magic is just magic; it's the people who use it who have morals.

Or who don't, in some cases.

"Or the other side of the card, anyway, since energy is the opposite. But semantics."

While Horvath is no stranger to the good and evil magic can do, he's also experienced enough not to think it's the elements themselves that hold that quality. "Oh dear, no, I meant fire magic can be dangerous. I've met some fire specialists without eyebrows-" He immediately looks sheepish and apologetic. "No offense my dear, clearly you've got better control than that." She has long hair, after all.

Moving along! Horvath is already feeling a little wrong-footed thanks to their awkward introduction, and when you've only got one real foot in the first place, wrong-footed is not the place to be. "When you say energy is the other side of the card, do you mean your shadow magic focuses on some sort of nullification?" He's always fascinated to learn about other methods of magic.

Fortescue smiles and makes a small shooing motion with her hand. "I keep my eyebrows by not using it much," she explains, of her fire magic and their little misunderstanding. Also, she almost burnt her kitchen down when she was a teenager, but she doesn't feel the need to add that into the conversation.

It's hardly flattering.

"It could nullify, I suppose, if I worked on it like that. Most of the time, I nullify people. Self defense, of course," she adds. Or people who the world is much better off without. "Grabbing them and taking them out of a fight, for example."

Horvath's social skills are a little out of practice these days, but he tries. They don't know each other well enough to go into tales of the magic accidents of their youth, though.

"That sounds terribly useful, and I can always stand to learn new defensive tactics. Do elaborate?" He has a need for magic defenses on a fairly regular basis, after all. Especially now that he's less mobile than he used to be.

"Well, for example—" She turns, and holds up a hand. Instantly the room appears to brighten, only because all of its shadows slide along the walls and ground until they gather in a thick tendril by Fortescue. "If I feel overwhelmed by a large number of combatants, I can do this."

There's a chair nearby, abandoned, and Fortescue uses it as a demonstration as she picks it up with the tendril, like a huge black snake grasping it in its jaws.

"Or I could throw it, but I'll refrain from breaking any furniture." She winks, teasingly. "For now."

One eyebrow rises, and there's a hint of something wary in his body language- this is indeed somebody who is used to keeping his guard up, and even here and now he can't quite help being ready to raise a shield just in case. He's been fighting so long it's reflexive. He doesn't actually make a move, though, apart from shifting on his feet yet again.

"Very useful. But how do the shadows gain tangibility? I'm not certain the school of magic I'm used to has any spells like that..."

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