While I'm sure that they're nothing I can't handle, I do very much appreciate the consideration.
Perhaps it would be best if one of us hosts the other? It's much easier than having to find transportation at the end of the evening. My guest room has housed many of my teammates in the past for that very reason.
Besides, I would feel much better knowing that we're both out of harm's way for the night.
your place might be better than mine, so i'll bring the drinks.
what's your poison?
[ ... given that his "place" is usually the cheapest available motel room. He doesn't have the luxury of being able to stay at one address permanently. ]
[While she wouldn't mind hanging out in a motel room if it meant catching up with him, she admittedly does like the idea of him having access to accommodations that are less...questionable than that. The whole reason she bought a house with multiple rooms was so that she could host the people she cares about, which she hasn't been able to do much since Overwatch disbanded. As much as she enjoys peace and quiet, it will be nice to have company for a change.]
Super! I'll start setting up as soon as I arrive back home.
[She's just finished setting the table when she hears the knock at the door. It takes her a moment to answer, but when she does, she's clearly as radiant as ever. She's wearing a bright, modest dress, and instead of her usual ponytail, her hair is down. Given that her Valkyrie armor is so form-fitting, she tends to opt for more comfortable clothing when she's at home. She also tends to negate putting her hair up if she doesn't have to, though there is a hair band around her wrist in case it gets in the way.]
Howdy, stranger.
[She can't help a smile -- both to see him in one piece, and because she knows that American colloquialisms never sound quite right with her accent.]
[ It isn't terribly often that he has a chance to just sit down and chew the fat with any of his former (current?) teammates, not with his life being the on-the-move saga that it is. Technically speaking he's already stayed around here a little longer than he's comfortable with, can already feel trouble closing in on him, and he ought to get moving on sooner rather than later. There's a part of him that wonders if this little dinner date is a touch foolish.
Then the door opens, and with one look at her he can tell it isn't so foolish after all.
His grin is wide and a little crooked at her phrasing, resting his free hand on his waist - the other holds a shopping bag. ]
Stranger? Hurt a man's feelings that way, Angela.
[ His outfit is... well, it's not his usual anachronistic attire, but it still fits his western motif all the same. He lifts the shopping bag up a bit, shaking it briefly. ]
Was thinkin' whiskey at first, but if there's gonna be a meal... well, the phrase is "wine and dine", ain't it?
[ Which is what is in the bag. Wine.
... she may notice the package in the bag is rectangular. That's because this is boxed wine. Look he's not made of money, okay. ]
[If anyone knows his tendency to stay moving, it's her. It's one of the main reasons she worries about him so much more than her other teammates. Still, she's practically glowing with how happy she is to see him, so she's glad he decided to make such a concession for her.
Besides, as far as she's concerned, he's in the safest place he could possibly be. Between his marksmanship and her healing, there isn't much that poses a threat as long as they're together.
At his reply, she gives a light laugh.]
We can't have that now, can we?
[She teases as she moves forward for a friendly hug. It feels like it's been forever since she's been around someone that calls her Angela, rather than any of her professional names.]
It's so good to see you, Jesse.
[Despite all their good-natured hassling of one another, her tone is warm and sincere in those words, with an audible hint of relief.
Once she pulls back, she takes a moment to get a good look at him while he speaks. That outfit fits him so well, it's hard not to grin a little. Seeing him so scruffy is a bit worrisome, since she's used to seeing him clean shaven, but it works well for the cowboy theme.]
Ah, that's perfect! It should go well with the dinner I picked up.
[She does notice the shape, but seems excited all the same. The quality of the wine doesn't seem to matter at all, as long as she's sharing it with someone she enjoys spending time with. Stepping aside to lead the way into the house, she speaks while looking over her shoulder.]
Who knows -- maybe whiskey is still an option for the after dinner conversation. There may or may not be a bottle reserved, just in case you ever decide to drop by.
[Meaning, of course, that there totally is. Items with a long shelf life, like alcohol (and peanut butter for Winston) are things she always keeps on hand in case one of her teammates shows up unexpectedly.]
[ He's not sure if he can recall the last time someone hugged him - truth be told it was probably her the last time they crossed paths. The warmth of it is almost a bit alien, but he manages to reciprocate with his free hand all the same, squeezing lightly before she draws back. ]
Pleasure's mine, doc.
[ He means it.
Following behind her, he takes a moment to glance over her appearance - her dress, her hair, so different than the way she carried herself when they were on missions. The way she looks now it's almost preposterous to imagine her in the middle of the battlefield, ducking between bullets to provide desperately-needed healing to an ally in trouble. Not that he had any trouble with her combat appearance - lord knows he'd been on the receiving end of those heals plenty - but it was... relieving, maybe, to know she could enjoy some normalcy. It's a luxury he can rarely afford.
Her comments on the dinner and drinks make him hum in thought, fingers scratching dully at the scruff under his neck. ]
If I didn't know better, I might surmise you've planned this out in advance.
[This whole encounter has absolutely made her day already, and all they've done is exchanged greetings.
The overcast evening makes sure that it isn't forgotten by the closing of the front door, as the sound of distant thunder precedes the chuckle of her response.]
Naturally. I'm always planning to see you again, you know.
[Which is part friendly teasing, and part good-natured chiding that no matter how many enemies he runs across, someone will always be expecting him, so he has to come out of it alive.
Whether she ever outright says it or not, she's much more tense when he isn't directly in her field of vision. Texting helps, but only so much, as she knows that he would somehow manage to carry on a cavalier conversation even if he was gravely wounded. Being able to physically see that he's alright eases her tremendously. The resulting ease of tension is one of the many reasons that she's always at her happiest when he's around.
The journey from the door to the kitchen is a short one, and arriving at the dining table will find two places set: the head of the table at the far end, and the seat beside it. Set out is a large aluminum pan full of sausage lasagna from a nearby Italian restaurant. She's housed the pan in a ceramic casserole dish, both to keep it warm and for presentation. Beside it is a large plate of sliced pretzel bread -- the last of which is still cooling on a baking sheet, as she'd taken it out just as the doorbell rang -- covered in perfectly melted raclette cheese. There's enough of it to serve as 'bar snacks' for later, or appetizers for now.]
Make yourself at home!
[She says as she moves to get two wine glasses from the cabinet.]
I'm sorry I didn't have time to actually cook.
[Something she clearly wishes she had been able to do, though it's classic Angela that she tried to at least prepare the bread and cheese herself, even under such time constraints. She literally just got home about thirty minutes prior to his arrival.]
On the plus side, ordering from a restaurant means that there is also an apology chocolate cake in the refrigerator, if you have room for dessert.
[ He's just reaching up to (finally) remove his hat as they make it to the table, and there's a momentary look of surprise at the food on the table. Hell, he just expected a pizza. This was a step beyond that, but then again when was Angela not one to go the extra mile? ]
Don't even think about apologizin'. Could've put a few crackers on a plate and it would beat my best cooking by a mile.
[ ... Well, that wasn't entirely true. He could at least put something on a grill and make it edible, but the finer nuances of cooking were beyond him. Probably better to leave that to the good doctor.
Setting his hat down on one of the chairs not being used, he takes a moment to reach out and grab a slice of the pretzel bread, wasting no time in trying it out... which is maybe a mistake, because it's hot and he nearly burns his tongue like a damn fool, trying not to audibly hiss as he sucks in some air to cool the food in his mouth.
... He's hungry, okay. Make no mistake, he won't have any difficulty fitting dessert. ]
[She couldn't have stopped the snicker that followed that comment if she wanted to. On her way back to the table, she decides to take a moment to finish preparing the last of the bread on the baking sheet as she responds.]
I seem to remember you having much more skill than that.
[In all the years they'd known each other, she's almost surely had his cooking -- either as a result of necessity during a mission, or during a group celebration. She's definitely been subjected to bad cooking before, but she's certain that his was never on that list.
Finishing the last of the food, she makes sure that all of the appliances are off before sitting down to join him, taking to pouring the wine while he eats.
While he's always had a healthy appetite, she can't help but worry if part of the reason he's so hungry now is that he hasn't been eating enough. His nomadic lifestyle really doesn't lend itself well to proper self-care, and the fact that he doesn't have a lot of money only adds to that. While she knows that to be the reality of the life he's chosen, it's always a little hard for her to see the evidence.
Still, the fact that he's so happy with the one thing she was able to make is enough to make her put those thoughts aside in favor of gratitude.]
I'm glad you like it! There's a new bakery in town that I've been addicted to lately, and they make the best pretzel bread. I thought it would be a more filling version of what you might expect from bar food.
[Now it's her turn to try not to burn her mouth. Which, of course, fails miserably, leaving her in a similar position, with her mouth delicately shielded by her hand as she tries to balance the temperature.
Clearly, Angela's biggest downfall when it comes to food is that she can never resist molten cheese. No regrets.]
Places I frequent don't often offer much more'n a bowl of mixed nuts. I may be a bold son of a gun, but I ain't never dipped my fingers in there, on account of not knowin' who else's done similar.
[ See, Angela? He may not always be able to avoid getting shot at, but he isn't taking food from questionable places. That has to count for something in the realm of being careful and looking after himself, right?
It's a topic he can't focus on for long, though, because seeing her make the same blunder he did brings an amused sort of gleam to his eye. He leans an elbow on the table, cheek resting in his hand as he shakes his head slightly. ]
You know, doc, I've known you a long time. Can't count how many times I've seen you burn your tongue, anymore. Here I thought you were a professional at caretakin', can't even keep your own mouth in one piece.
[ He's teasing, clearly, feigning a disappointed sigh as he reaches for one of the glasses. ]
[She's clearly entertained by the revelation, but it definitely does ease her mind a little about whether or not he's looking after himself when he's gone.]
That's very sensible of you. If it weren't for the fact that you still frequent such places to begin with, I'd almost think that I had less to worry about when you're out on the road!
[She's mostly teasing, but of course she is always concerned about the seedy places he tends to find himself.
Hearing his "criticism", she can't seem to wipe the grin off her face.]
I would worry greatly for the general health of the person that could resist molten cheese. Besides, it's a sign of a healthy appetite! If anything, knowing that I'm keeping my body in working order should bolster your faith.
[As if to punctuate her statement, she takes another bite of her bread, again covering her mouth when it proves to still be hot.
Once she's finished with it, she hears her phone make a sound. Murmuring an apology as the hand that had covered her mouth moves to indicate a pause in the conversation, she reaches to the empty place beside her and picks up her device.]
I have different alarms set to go off every hour while I'm at work so that I can manage my time better. Since I got home early tonight, it still has a few more to go.
[She's always had a bad habit of getting absorbed in one thing or another when it comes to working. It's an old enough trait that he might remember well how often she used to get so caught up in her research that she would neglect smaller tasks, resulting in a ridiculous backlog. She was also bad about putting off meals in favor of work back then, which she's gotten a lot better with thanks to this method.
While she's muting the alerts, she laughs and moves a bit closer to him, holding the phone between them so he can hear it better.]
I have customized tones for each alert, and I think you'd appreciate the one I've set for noon.
[When she plays it, it's a western-style guitar tone, like you might expect to hear during a showdown.]
No matter how busy I get, or how frustrating my teammates are, I'm guaranteed at least one smile a day.
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no subject
Perhaps it would be best if one of us hosts the other? It's much easier than having to find transportation at the end of the evening. My guest room has housed many of my teammates in the past for that very reason.
Besides, I would feel much better knowing that we're both out of harm's way for the night.
no subject
your place might be better than mine, so i'll bring the drinks.
what's your poison?
[ ... given that his "place" is usually the cheapest available motel room. He doesn't have the luxury of being able to stay at one address permanently. ]
no subject
Super! I'll start setting up as soon as I arrive back home.
As for drinks, I'll have whatever you prefer.
And don't go easy on me!
no subject
what time do you finish up there, anyway?
no subject
Just another hour left, thankfully.
Do you want anything to eat? I can pick something up on the way back, or call for delivery.
no subject
i ain't picky neither, so whatever you feel like works for me
i'll swing by once I pick up the drinks
no subject
I'll be waiting~
[She's just finished setting the table when she hears the knock at the door. It takes her a moment to answer, but when she does, she's clearly as radiant as ever. She's wearing a bright, modest dress, and instead of her usual ponytail, her hair is down. Given that her Valkyrie armor is so form-fitting, she tends to opt for more comfortable clothing when she's at home. She also tends to negate putting her hair up if she doesn't have to, though there is a hair band around her wrist in case it gets in the way.]
Howdy, stranger.
[She can't help a smile -- both to see him in one piece, and because she knows that American colloquialisms never sound quite right with her accent.]
no subject
Then the door opens, and with one look at her he can tell it isn't so foolish after all.
His grin is wide and a little crooked at her phrasing, resting his free hand on his waist - the other holds a shopping bag. ]
Stranger? Hurt a man's feelings that way, Angela.
[ His outfit is... well, it's not his usual anachronistic attire, but it still fits his western motif all the same. He lifts the shopping bag up a bit, shaking it briefly. ]
Was thinkin' whiskey at first, but if there's gonna be a meal... well, the phrase is "wine and dine", ain't it?
[ Which is what is in the bag. Wine.
... she may notice the package in the bag is rectangular. That's because this is boxed wine. Look he's not made of money, okay. ]
no subject
Besides, as far as she's concerned, he's in the safest place he could possibly be. Between his marksmanship and her healing, there isn't much that poses a threat as long as they're together.
At his reply, she gives a light laugh.]
We can't have that now, can we?
[She teases as she moves forward for a friendly hug. It feels like it's been forever since she's been around someone that calls her Angela, rather than any of her professional names.]
It's so good to see you, Jesse.
[Despite all their good-natured hassling of one another, her tone is warm and sincere in those words, with an audible hint of relief.
Once she pulls back, she takes a moment to get a good look at him while he speaks. That outfit fits him so well, it's hard not to grin a little. Seeing him so scruffy is a bit worrisome, since she's used to seeing him clean shaven, but it works well for the cowboy theme.]
Ah, that's perfect! It should go well with the dinner I picked up.
[She does notice the shape, but seems excited all the same. The quality of the wine doesn't seem to matter at all, as long as she's sharing it with someone she enjoys spending time with. Stepping aside to lead the way into the house, she speaks while looking over her shoulder.]
Who knows -- maybe whiskey is still an option for the after dinner conversation. There may or may not be a bottle reserved, just in case you ever decide to drop by.
[Meaning, of course, that there totally is. Items with a long shelf life, like alcohol (and peanut butter for Winston) are things she always keeps on hand in case one of her teammates shows up unexpectedly.]
no subject
Pleasure's mine, doc.
[ He means it.
Following behind her, he takes a moment to glance over her appearance - her dress, her hair, so different than the way she carried herself when they were on missions. The way she looks now it's almost preposterous to imagine her in the middle of the battlefield, ducking between bullets to provide desperately-needed healing to an ally in trouble. Not that he had any trouble with her combat appearance - lord knows he'd been on the receiving end of those heals plenty - but it was... relieving, maybe, to know she could enjoy some normalcy. It's a luxury he can rarely afford.
Her comments on the dinner and drinks make him hum in thought, fingers scratching dully at the scruff under his neck. ]
If I didn't know better, I might surmise you've planned this out in advance.
no subject
The overcast evening makes sure that it isn't forgotten by the closing of the front door, as the sound of distant thunder precedes the chuckle of her response.]
Naturally. I'm always planning to see you again, you know.
[Which is part friendly teasing, and part good-natured chiding that no matter how many enemies he runs across, someone will always be expecting him, so he has to come out of it alive.
Whether she ever outright says it or not, she's much more tense when he isn't directly in her field of vision. Texting helps, but only so much, as she knows that he would somehow manage to carry on a cavalier conversation even if he was gravely wounded. Being able to physically see that he's alright eases her tremendously. The resulting ease of tension is one of the many reasons that she's always at her happiest when he's around.
The journey from the door to the kitchen is a short one, and arriving at the dining table will find two places set: the head of the table at the far end, and the seat beside it. Set out is a large aluminum pan full of sausage lasagna from a nearby Italian restaurant. She's housed the pan in a ceramic casserole dish, both to keep it warm and for presentation. Beside it is a large plate of sliced pretzel bread -- the last of which is still cooling on a baking sheet, as she'd taken it out just as the doorbell rang -- covered in perfectly melted raclette cheese. There's enough of it to serve as 'bar snacks' for later, or appetizers for now.]
Make yourself at home!
[She says as she moves to get two wine glasses from the cabinet.]
I'm sorry I didn't have time to actually cook.
[Something she clearly wishes she had been able to do, though it's classic Angela that she tried to at least prepare the bread and cheese herself, even under such time constraints. She literally just got home about thirty minutes prior to his arrival.]
On the plus side, ordering from a restaurant means that there is also an apology chocolate cake in the refrigerator, if you have room for dessert.
no subject
Don't even think about apologizin'. Could've put a few crackers on a plate and it would beat my best cooking by a mile.
[ ... Well, that wasn't entirely true. He could at least put something on a grill and make it edible, but the finer nuances of cooking were beyond him. Probably better to leave that to the good doctor.
Setting his hat down on one of the chairs not being used, he takes a moment to reach out and grab a slice of the pretzel bread, wasting no time in trying it out... which is maybe a mistake, because it's hot and he nearly burns his tongue like a damn fool, trying not to audibly hiss as he sucks in some air to cool the food in his mouth.
... He's hungry, okay. Make no mistake, he won't have any difficulty fitting dessert. ]
Case in point, the bread's delicious.
no subject
I seem to remember you having much more skill than that.
[In all the years they'd known each other, she's almost surely had his cooking -- either as a result of necessity during a mission, or during a group celebration. She's definitely been subjected to bad cooking before, but she's certain that his was never on that list.
Finishing the last of the food, she makes sure that all of the appliances are off before sitting down to join him, taking to pouring the wine while he eats.
While he's always had a healthy appetite, she can't help but worry if part of the reason he's so hungry now is that he hasn't been eating enough. His nomadic lifestyle really doesn't lend itself well to proper self-care, and the fact that he doesn't have a lot of money only adds to that. While she knows that to be the reality of the life he's chosen, it's always a little hard for her to see the evidence.
Still, the fact that he's so happy with the one thing she was able to make is enough to make her put those thoughts aside in favor of gratitude.]
I'm glad you like it! There's a new bakery in town that I've been addicted to lately, and they make the best pretzel bread. I thought it would be a more filling version of what you might expect from bar food.
[Now it's her turn to try not to burn her mouth. Which, of course, fails miserably, leaving her in a similar position, with her mouth delicately shielded by her hand as she tries to balance the temperature.
Clearly, Angela's biggest downfall when it comes to food is that she can never resist molten cheese. No regrets.]
no subject
Places I frequent don't often offer much more'n a bowl of mixed nuts. I may be a bold son of a gun, but I ain't never dipped my fingers in there, on account of not knowin' who else's done similar.
[ See, Angela? He may not always be able to avoid getting shot at, but he isn't taking food from questionable places. That has to count for something in the realm of being careful and looking after himself, right?
It's a topic he can't focus on for long, though, because seeing her make the same blunder he did brings an amused sort of gleam to his eye. He leans an elbow on the table, cheek resting in his hand as he shakes his head slightly. ]
You know, doc, I've known you a long time. Can't count how many times I've seen you burn your tongue, anymore. Here I thought you were a professional at caretakin', can't even keep your own mouth in one piece.
[ He's teasing, clearly, feigning a disappointed sigh as he reaches for one of the glasses. ]
Makin' me question my faith, and whatnot.
no subject
That's very sensible of you. If it weren't for the fact that you still frequent such places to begin with, I'd almost think that I had less to worry about when you're out on the road!
[She's mostly teasing, but of course she is always concerned about the seedy places he tends to find himself.
Hearing his "criticism", she can't seem to wipe the grin off her face.]
I would worry greatly for the general health of the person that could resist molten cheese. Besides, it's a sign of a healthy appetite! If anything, knowing that I'm keeping my body in working order should bolster your faith.
[As if to punctuate her statement, she takes another bite of her bread, again covering her mouth when it proves to still be hot.
Once she's finished with it, she hears her phone make a sound. Murmuring an apology as the hand that had covered her mouth moves to indicate a pause in the conversation, she reaches to the empty place beside her and picks up her device.]
I have different alarms set to go off every hour while I'm at work so that I can manage my time better. Since I got home early tonight, it still has a few more to go.
[She's always had a bad habit of getting absorbed in one thing or another when it comes to working. It's an old enough trait that he might remember well how often she used to get so caught up in her research that she would neglect smaller tasks, resulting in a ridiculous backlog. She was also bad about putting off meals in favor of work back then, which she's gotten a lot better with thanks to this method.
While she's muting the alerts, she laughs and moves a bit closer to him, holding the phone between them so he can hear it better.]
I have customized tones for each alert, and I think you'd appreciate the one I've set for noon.
[When she plays it, it's a western-style guitar tone, like you might expect to hear during a showdown.]
No matter how busy I get, or how frustrating my teammates are, I'm guaranteed at least one smile a day.