2007-02-15: ...And Confidence Kindled


Clint_icon.gif Jane_icon.gif

Summary: After Tamara wanders off and falls asleep in a park, Jane and Clint talk further. They end up at her hotel and talk things over, eventually reaching understandings.

Date It Happened: February 15th, 2007

And Confidence Kindled…

Midtown, NYC - Times Square, later an alley and finally room 1651 at the Wellington Hotel, midtown Manhattan

( Continued from A Moment Shared…)

Clint nods his head, "Hello." He says, "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt your playing. I guess I was just kinda curious, is all. You're pretty good."

"Thanks," she answers. "I spent a lot of time working on it, slipping time to make music in among… other things." Jane sizes the man up, noting his height which towers over her even given her five feet eight inch stature. "No interruption at all. Is there something particular you want to hear?" Fingers slide down the frets, depressing two of the strings at once, as her other hand moves over the lower parts and produce something of a standard blues riff.

Clint hmms a bit, "Nah.." He says, "I mean, unless you know anything by Linkin Park or Disturbed." He says, with a bit of a chuckle, "Seriously, though, anything's good.."

"Disturbed," she remarks quietly. "I liked what they did with a Genesis tune. Land of Confusion. It's rare someone makes a recorded cover of things from well established acts without it sounding butchered, but they pulled it off." Jane's face shows concentration for a moment, then her fingers move to play out a few bars from their take on that one as best she can remember the sound. "I should probably learn more newer stuff, right now it's mostly my influences. Classics."

Clint hmms, "Hey, Nonpoint did a good cover of In The Air Tonight." He says, as he listens to the tune as it plays, tapping his foot, "Some covers are good. Just most of them suck, you are right about that.."

"But we still can't resist trying, wanting to be the people we grew up listening to." She laughs softly, her head tilting as she looks up at him. "Name's Jane." She doesn't wait for him to answer or ask his name, the guitarist opts to begin something else and her fingers are moving again. Her voice, soprano in pitch, joins in with words a few seconds in. "When we grew up and went to school there were certain teachers…"

Clint listens in, "I'm Clint." He says, as he lets her sing, doing his best to not really interupt while he still talks to her. Somehow he figures she can still hear him even though she's working on her song.

Her eyes flash, perhaps teasingly, as she hears his name while playing, and to let him know she heard the words are altered slightly. "But around the town it was well known, when Clint got home at night…" Her fingers falter at that point, dropping away from the strings as she bursts into laughter. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't finish it like that. There's no way it'd happen to you."

A smirk crosses Clint's face as she sings her lyrics, "What'd happen to me?" He asks, curious, "Do you know something I don't or something?" He asks, "You're not one of those crazy stalker fans, are you?" He asks, mostly in joking.

"Well," she begins, her voice half serious and half playful in the reply, "if you know the words to Happiest Days of Their Lives, I don't have to tell you. But if you don't… I won't tell you. Let's just say putting a guy I just met into the end of that one might not go over well." Jane studies his face, still laughing a little, and something like vague recognition comes into her eyes. "I can't place it, but… you look familiar, Clint."

Clint hmms a little bit, "Well.." He says, as he rubs the back of his head, "I don't suppose you follow college football at all?" He asks, "Or if you watch Sports Center. I mean…Well, I was a pretty hot topic on most sports networks all last year.."

"Oh," she replies with a chuckle. "That's where I've seen you. I was home for a weekend. Dad was watching a game, I think it was Florida Gators versus the Seminoles or something. Or maybe it was the Georgia Bulldogs. Anyway, I wasn't in the room for long but he was talking about something that happened just after a fairly wild play, and mentioned a name. Clint, Clint, Evans?" A grin flashes. "I hope the Bulldogs got thrashed if it was them. Not really into football, but anyone who steals my school's team name should be soundly whipped."

Clint chuckles a little bit, "Well." He says, as he grins, "Yes. That's me, Clint Evans." He says, "I've been, well…Out of the spotlight for a little bit, I'll admit. Everyone's still wondering why I didn't go pro.." He says, "Truthfully, so am I.."

Her head tilts to one side, she studies him quietly and suggests "So do it, Mr. Evans. Worst that can happen is you don't get what you already don't have. If you want something, go after it. That's what I'm doing, here on the streets of New York playing guitar. That, and enjoying my freedom."

Clint hmms a bit, "Maybe I will.." He says, as he smiles at her, "I bet I could walk on with the Giants and make the team.." He says, "Or throw my name out as a free agent.."

"You'll never know until you try. Might even be more fun this way, with the challenge and all." Jane shifts, her winter coat gapping open a bit and exposing the Yale in blue letters on her grey hooded sweatshirt. "What're you doing now, Clint?" A smile is flashed, she looks up and studies his eyes, seeming to perhaps get briefly lost in them.

Clint gives a faint shrug, "Well.." He says, "I'm working for this company, doing engineering design.." He says, as he rubs a had over the back of his head. Well, he's doing that, and also doing his best not to get caught using his powers, he thinks to himself. It was stupid of him to show Paige. But he's been keeping it secret for so long..

"So you studied engineering in college while you played ball," Jane concludes. "It sounds like it could be both really exciting and supremely boring." Her voice, speaking those words, suggest she's had similar experience in life, and she closes her eyes for a moment. "I have to confess something, Clint. I'm not just a cool, hot street guitarist trying to make a name for herself in the big city. I'm also an…" she trails off, lowering her voice to a hushed tone, "Ivy League lawyer."

Clint blinks a bit, "Wait.." He says, "You're an Ivy League lawyer?" He asks, as he does look at her shirt, "Man.." He says, "Look, uh. I mean, I don't mean offense.." He says, "Shouldn't you be making a ton of money doing that?" He asks, "Unless there's a reason you don't.."

"Yeah," she replies, "but where's the fun in that? You see, what I really wanted to do was music, but my parents insisted, and I've always just wanted to have them proud of me, so I went to Yale and did law school. I gave them what they wanted, now it's my turn." Jane chuckles slightly, adding "It's their fault, actually, insisting I should be well rounded growing up, sending me to music and dance classes. How were they to know my passion would be more for this…" she lifts up the guitar, "than suits, offices, and books?"

Unseen by her, a thirty-something couple walking a group of dogs pass nearby.

"Yeah.." He says, "See…I'm kinda the opposite, I'll admit.." He says, "I mean, everybody expected me to go pro…And then I dropped out of the spotlight to try to have some normalicy in my life.." And to keep his secret a secret, "But now I realize that I miss the game. I think I might just do it.."

"I get that," she replies quietly, trying for eye contact again. "In the end, your passion is your passion, it won't go away. If you don't explore it, that'll haunt you for ages." Jane's fingers run slowly along the strings while she pauses, perhaps adrift in memories for that moment, before her voice returns. "I like challenges. It was definitely a challenge, studying law while wanting to do something else and struggling not to lose touch with it, but… I pulled it off."

From somewhere behind the Yale alumna, two of the dogs being walked by that couple pull free and start to run off toward the park. They pull out whistles and blow into them, but no sound seems to be made. All the same, the guitarist/lawyer suddenly winces and raises hands to quickly cover her ears. "Crap," she hisses. Under her breath she mutters "This is just going to keep happening."

Clint blinks a bit, as she suddenly reacts to a noise like somebody just blew an air horn in her ear. Too bad Clint doesn't hear it, "What's wrong?" He asks, as he moves over to her, to check and see if she's okay. He's never seen somebody just grab their ears like that at nothing. All he hears is ambiant city sounds.
Jane turns, seeing and watching the couple retrieve their dogs after the whistle stops them cold, and shakes her head a few times. "Really got to find a way of preventing that." Her hands lower as the pair and their canines continue on, and she faces the man again. Embarrassment and nervousness show on her face, she looks ready to bolt. "You saw," she states in a subdued voice. "And you didn't hear it."

Clint hmms faintly, "Stop." He says, "Don't go. You can hear really high pitched stuff, can't you?" He asks. He did graduate college. He knows what a dog whistle is, "How long have you been able to do that?"

Her eyes lift and fix on his face, she attempts to catch and hold his, to see the expression in them and guage his reaction to it. A deep breath is taken, and Jane admits "About a week. You know, you saw, and now I have to trust you. Can I trust you?" Her face shows nervousness, fear that she can't, and the hope she can.
"Trust me." He says, "I can keep a secret." He says, with a faint smile that, if she knows people well enough, might tell her that he has his own secrets that he keeps, "You can tell me."

"Thank you," Jane replies plainly. "There's another side to this. I found out the reason my brain processes ultrasound. Because I can make it. A few days ago I had an episode, worse than this, and screamed from the pain. That is, I heard myself screaming. The person with me didn't, and a street lamp shattered." She closes her eyes, shakes her head a few times, and turns in the direction the dog walkers went. "This is just going to keep happening and usually I won't see it coming. I have to find a way not to react."

Clint hmms a little bit, "I see.." He says, "Well.." He says, "I guess…I mean, it's different.." He says, "But I suppose…Well, it's a little more covert than what I do, I guess.." He says, with a faint shrug, "If you're just starting to discover it, you need time to work with it.."

"Covert," she chuckles ruefully. "Yeah, it's really clandestine to cover up from a dog whistle or a mechanical hum in the middle of Times Square. But you're right about working with it, Clint. I told you I like challenges, seems I found one. Or got found by it. I've been doing research, looking into quietly buying machines that'll make ultrasound without drawing attention on me so I can build a tolerance." Jane faces him again, to consider something, and state "Something tells me you've got your own private… issues."

Clint hmms softly, and nods, "You could say that, yes." He says, "I'll admit it's actually part of why I didn't go pro right away…I mean, I have it under control, but it's, well…Rather obvious when I use it." He says, "It's not something you can hide, really."

"You can tell me, or not," she solemnly informs. "I won't press. If you do share, I won't betray your trust." Jane's words are spoken with eye contact, her face entirely serious. "These aren't secrets to share lightly. I've no desire to be someone's lab rat."

Clint looks around a bit, "I can tell you, but it's easier to show you. We just can't really do it out here in public.." He says, "We'd need somewhere more…Secure." He says.

"Tell me about it," she agrees. Jane places her guitar and amp in the case and closes it up, slinging the thing over her shoulder, and turns in the direction she saw Tamara wander off. "I'll be just a minute getting my other gear back." And she's striding to accomplish that goal.

Clint nods, and waits, looking around. A nice secluded alleyway would be perfect to show her what he can do. That way nobody will be able to see anything besides her. Of course, he'll have to get her to trust him enough to follow him into said secluded alleyway.

She finds the girl sleeping in the park a short distance away and retrieves her backpack, slinging it over a shoulder, then makes her way back to the athlete. "Let's go," she offers, glancing around for a direction to travel. "Maybe over there, between those two stores." A hand gestures in that direction, Jane looks at him questioningly and waits for the answer.

Clint nods a little bit, "Right. That'd be a good place.." He says, as he heads over there quickly, "This is perfect, actually.." He says, as he slips into the darkened, but not pitch black, alleyway, "This is very, very good.."

She follows him in, curiosity evident. Her eyes watch him in the dim light once the darkened area is reached, waiting for whatever's to be done or demonstrated. "Thank you for trusting me, Clint," Jane somberly offers.

Clint hmms a bit, "Now then.." He says, "Watch closely." He gives her a smile, and then disapears in a blink of an eye and a distortion of the air. Only to reappear a moment later, ten feet away from where he had been standing.

Her eyes widen, she looks from the spot where he was to the place he is now, and back again, several times. "Impressive, Clint," Jane remarks. "What, what exactly is that? High speed, invisibility, maybe a combination?" A few deep breaths are taken, she adds with an awed chuckle "This has certainly been an enlightening week for me."

"Uh. Teleportation, if I had to guess." He says, "Honestly, I can go anywhere within about a hundred miles of where we are right now. Though the further away it is, the more, well, draining it is." He says, "I mean, if you wanted to go home right now, I could take you there."

She thinks for a moment, watching him intently, as her mind works to wrap around what he's shared. "So…" Jane begins, "it is a combination. Can't get faster than that, and… you were certainly invisible when you moved. And, ah, home. Home's in Hartford, I'm at a hotel here for the time being. Haven't snagged an apartment yet. This is…" The lawyer, briefly at a loss for words, finally speaks the only one she can come up with. "Wow."

Clint hmms, "Hartford.." He says, as he thinks, "Might be a bit outside of my range, yes." He says, "I could take you back to your hotel if you want, though.." He says, "I seem to be able to take other people with me.."

"I'm at the Wellington in midtown Manhattan," Jane states. "Room 1651. Does it mess up your range, taking others along, Clint?" She looks briefly concerned by that, and perhaps by the entire concept of being teleported, but she feels she has to take the risk. Can't ask him to trust her without returning it in kind, so… "What do I need to do?"

Clint nods, "A little.." He says, "But I can get to the hotel.." He says, "Give me a quick idea of what the inside looks like, so I don't hit any walls or anything." And then he offers his hand, "Take my hand and don't let go, that's all you really need to do.."

"It's at 55th and 7th. The room is fairly large. Television, one bed, the window is perpendicular to it and faces east, a table and chairs, lots of open floor space. Three stars." Her hand extends, sliding into his own and gripping firmly. Her skin is mostly warm and soft, but the fingertips show signs of calluses which are likely from guitarism. "Whenever you're ready," Jane offers, closing her eyes and drawing in a slow deep breath.

Clint grins faintly, "Alright.." He says, as he thinks about the location at hand. He thinks of the room number. The address, and the layout as described by Jane. For Clint, it's an instantanious transition. For Jane, well, she might feel a sudden wrenching sensation as she's jerked across the city in an instant, and deposited, still holding Clint's hand, into her own hotel room.

On arriving, the air rushes quickly out of her lungs and she goes weak in the knees, starting to fall forward, her eyes opening wide and jaw dropping open. It's a shock to her, the physical sensation, which leaves her momentarily stunned, something like the feeling of going rapidly downhill multipled by a hundred. Or a thousand. Her mouth moves, trying to form words, and the eyes glaze over. The ability to stay on her feet dissolves completely, along with consciousness.

Clint holds onto her, and then moves to catch her when she faints, "Damnit." He says, as he picks her up, along with her gear, and moves her over to the bed, laying her on top of it, and then taking her gear and setting it asside, "Jane?" He asks, "Hey, c'mon. Wake up."

Caught, she escapes impacting the floor and is set down. It doesn't take long to begin stirring, she groans a few times and reopens her eyes within thirty seconds. "Ohmygod," Jane gasps, her chest rising and falling quickly with accelerated breath once she comes to. "That was… I can't describe it, words totally fail, Clint… Damn. Did I just faint like one of those silly Victorian maidens?"

Clint nods a bit, "Afraid so." He says, "I can't really blame you. I almost did too, first time I did it.." He says, as he smiles and sits on the bed next to her, "Well, looks like we know each other's secrets now.."

Her face reddens from embarrassment quickly and is hidden in her hands as she sits up, collecting her bearings. "Ohmygod. So, so sorry to go all nineteenth century on you. Thanks a million times for the catch. Ohmygodohmygod." Jane goes silent then, working to get her breath under control and ponder what she just did.

Clint smiles a little bit, "It's quite alright.." He says, with a chuckle, "I'm a good guy at heart. Really." Even if he does things some people wouldn't consider 'good'. Personal gain…Well, it's for the best, in his mind. He sits next to her, "Here, lemme give you my cell phone number, Jane.." He says, "You can call me if you need me."

"Yeah, contact info," she replies quickly, choosing to focus on that and let the feeling of embarrassment slip away through it. Jane reaches for one of the hotel notepads and a pen from a drawer in the bedside table, on it she neatly writes Dr. Jane Forrest and a phone number with a Connecticut area code. The sheet is pulled free and offered to him as she turns back facing the man next to her.

Clint takes the peice of paper, and folds it up into a pocket. He takes the pad, and writes upon it 'Clint Evans' with his phone number. Then he signs the bottom of the paper, including the number 21, which he wore in college, "There, you get an autograph too. Just in case." He smirks faintly and hands the pad back.

"Thanks," she breathes, taking the sheet and reading it before tucking it into a pocket of her jeans. "I'll sell it on E-Bay for ten thousand dollars when you win the Super Bowl." A quiet laugh escapes, and she moves to stand. The room is crossed, she opens the minibar and pulls out a small bottle of scotch. Johnny Walker black. It's poured into a small glass, ice is added, an amount of cola, and she quickly drinks from it.

Clint grins, "I hope it'll be worth that much." He chuckles a bit, "You've got my number if you need anything, Jane." He says, with a smile, "I'll get out of your hair. If you want to talk, just give me a call, and I'll pop right over." A joke, really. Well, the pop right over part.

"Yeah," she replies quietly, turning back to face him with drink in hand, already half gone. "I… I'll call. But, you don't have to go. Are you thirsty?" Jane's eyes seek to make contact with his own and explore them.

Clint returns the eye contact, and nods a little, "Well, okay.." He says, as he moves towards her, "I suppose a drink or two wouldn't hurt before I leave.." He says, softly, "Besides, I do want to make sure you're okay before I go.."

"I'm okay," she replies. "Really. Just… exhilarated, amazed, mystified… so many things all at once." Jane reaches into the minibar and reads off a list of what's in there, glancing back to ask without asking which appeals to him. "The discoveries just keep coming, my head's like a whirlwind. I went out there today to explore and play a bit, and I meet the most incredible man I've ever seen." She blushes again when it hits her what she just said, and turns away to hide it.

"Just some Jack Daniels wold be good," Clint begins, as she reads off what's inside. Then her comment makes him blink a bit, and blush slightly, "I.." He clears his throat a bit, "Hmm.." He gets this faint little smile on his face, "Go ahead and make that drink for me.." He says, "I'll be back in a flash.." And with that said, he disapears, leaving only a momentary distortion in the air where he had been.

She pulls out a minibar size bottle of JD and a glass to pour it in and turns, just in time to see him vanish. Jane stares at the spot for several long seconds, her eyes wide with still latent disbelief, her mind in some quarters battling to reject the reality of what she just saw. Of what she did. Her own glass is raised, with her eyes closing, and she quickly downs the rest of it. "My voice, an unsolid girl, a teleporting man… Ohmygod, what's next?"

After his vanishing act, about five minutes pass, with no Clint to be seen. Did he run off? That doesn't seem very much like him. She may have just met him, but does he seem like the type to just up and leave? Well, it seems not, as just when Jane may be starting to think that he had run away, he reappears in her hotel room. Only he holds in his hands a bouquet of red roses, "So yeah, I know Valentine's Day was yesterday, but to be fair, we did only just meet today." He says, as he offers them to her, with a smile, "Besides, these things always go on sale the day after a major holiday like that."

The bottle she pulled out for him is sitting on the minibar's top when he returns, along with the glass to pour it in, ice in a tray and cola if he wants it. Jane's found sitting on the bed again, contemplating a wall, with a second drink three quarters gone. A gasp escapes her when the man reappears, she stands and closes the distance swiftly. She reaches out to take the flowers and make eye contact, arms reaching to circle around him and her head moving to rest on his shoulder. "They're… extraordinary."

Clint smiles a little bit, "I'm glad you like them." He says, as he sets them down on a nearby counter when she moves to hug him, he hugs her back, pulling her tight against him, "I'm glad you think so." He says, "I knew you'd like them, call it a hunch." He did date women in college, after all. Still, he's never met somebody quite like Jane in his life, "It makes me happy to see you happy." He's not even sure why he likes her as much as he does. They just met, but he already knows he has feelings for her. How deep do they go? He's not even sure yet..

She just leans on him, her eyes closed and head resting on his shoulder, not speaking, for however long he'll permit it. The mind, as she said, is a whirlwind, Jane's feeling and thinking so many things at once, his solidity after being seen to vanish and reappear seems to ground her in reality, help quiet the parts of her mind that want to reject it all.

Clint runs his hands along her back, just holding onto her until she lets go of him herself. He's not going to force her off. He knows this whole thing is probably somewhat hard to wrap her head around. He remembers when he first figured out he had powers. It was so confusing. He wants to help her as best he can…He knows he can help her, somehow. He helped himself, after all.

Time passes, how much she has no idea, but Jane does eventually pull back and open up a step of space between them. Her voice is soft as she begins to speak. "It was six days ago, outside a bookstore. I was talking to the owner and a snippy teen who went there to ask for a job, set up outside the place with my guitar. A man and his dog passed by, the pooch got away, he blew a whistle only I could hear. It freaked me out, I had to wonder if I had a brain tumor or something. Called a doctor, set up an appointment, but before I could keep it I got hit hard by a mechanical hum in Times Square. My scream shattered a street lamp, and it was then I realized this wasn't caused by some medical condition. I tested it, aimed my voice at a glass bottle, and it broke when I sang two octaves above high C. Someone was with me, she placed fingers on my throat to prove to herself I could go above the range of human ears, felt the vibrations." Arms slide out of her coat, she lets it drop to the floor.

"To be honest," Clint considers for a few minutes as he listens to her story, "Whatever it is that's affected me, it seems to have affected you and that girl.." He rubs a hand under his chin as he finally grabs the bottle of Jack, pops the top off of it, and takes a quick shot from it, "What it is that's affected us, I couldn't tell you.." He says, "Cosmic radiation, some sort of mutation in our DNA, secret government experiments..It's hard to say, really." He takes another drink, "Your voice could probably be used, well…" He ponders for a second, "Have you ever heard of sonic wave disruption?" He doesn't actually wait to see if she has or not, before he explains it, "Basically, it's where you use either an extremely high frequency or an extremely low frequency to disrupt a person's normal bodily functions." There's a pause, "i.e. The Brown Note." He coughs a bit, "What I'm getting at, though, is that you could possibly use your voice to defend yourself, if you needed to do so.."

She nods slowly, replying "I thought about that. If nothing else, extended exposure could cause headaches, irritability… Just because the brain doesn't register the sound for what it is at that high a pitch doesn't mean the tiny ear bones aren't vibrating off the hook, that'd eventually take a toll in other ways. Aside from that, ultrasound's been used in medicine for ages. Any pregnant woman knows." Jane reaches for her pack and opens it, pulling out the book she bought. Activating Evolution. "I've not read much of this, but it's the closest thing I've found yet to a rationally scientific coverage of… things."

There's a blink from Clint, "I've seen that book before.." He says, "Somewhere else…The coffee shop.." He rubs his chin, "Hrm…I don't think it's a coincidence.." He says, "I think it's fate trying to slap me upside the head and tell me that whatever's in this book is the answer to what's happening to us.."

"It isn't just us," Jane relates. "You're the third… talented person I've met since my development. I won't tell you who they are or what they do, that's all confidential unless they agree to it, likewise I won't tell them of or about you without permission." She pauses to flash a quiet smile. "What I said earlier, about you being the most incredible guy, it's true in multiple ways. The other two are female. But… I wouldn't say that just because of your talent."

This gets a little smile out of Clint, "Jane, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to ask you to go out with me. A nice dinner. Nothing too fancy, and no super powers. Just to, you know, get to know you better. And you can get to know me better.." He has to admit, they met under rather unique circumstances, after all, "What do you say?" He hopes she says yes.

"Yes," she replies without hesitation or haste. "Certainly. And… while I'm tempted to ask you staying here the night with me, I really shouldn't. I… I thought I was doing fine with all of this and on the path, then tonight everything piled up and the dam broke. I wouldn't want it to ever seem anything intimate between us was simply because of that down the road. I also don't want it to seem like rejection. It isn't." Her eyes lift to meet his, in them hope what she says is understood, a need for it to be understood.

Clint understands better than she can imagine, "Don't worry." He says, as he gives her a little hug, just to make sure she knows he's there for her, smiling as she looks into his eyes, "I should go." He says, "It's late, and I think after all this excitement, we could both use some sleep.." He smiles and lets go of the hug, heading for the door, "I'll call you when I know when and where we're going."

"Thank you, Clint," she replies, accepting and returning the hug. After it ends, and he's headed for the door, she says "There's two more things I have to share tonight. First, my name's Michelle. My parents wanted me to use Jane a few years back, it sounded more Ivy League to call myself M. Jane Forrest, and it stuck. Everyone at college called me that. Now it's Doctor M. Jane Forrest, or M. Jane Forrest, Juris Doctor. Second…" she smiles and lets out a playful laugh, "you probably already guessed, but if I got cut my blood just might be blue instead of red."

"Well," Clint says, with a grin, "Doctor. Before I go, I'll tell you that I come from a lower-middle class family in Florida, and if I couldn't play football, I'd probably be working at a Target or Best Buy instead of here, talking to you." He chuckles, "So don't let my current white collar fool you, 'cause it's still blue underneath." Clint moves back over to her, and leans in, "And also, before I leave, I do belive I should give you a kiss." He hopes she'll agree to that much, before he goes and disapears for the night.

Her eyes close, the head tilts to one side slightly, preparing to accept and return his kiss. "Yes," she agrees, "you should."

Clint leans in the rest of the way, and puts his lips against her's, kissing her gently, not taking it too far, since it is the very first time. He holds it for a few moments, putting his arms around her to hug her again, before he finally breaks the kiss, "Thanks." He says, as he finally stands fully, "I'll call you." He says, as he finally heads for the door again.

Her breath is warm and flavored with the scent of her drink as the gentle kiss is shared, the hug from her end tender. Once they've broken apart and he's headed out, she quietly says "Good night, Clint," and watches him depart.

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