Not a Security Sweep

[Pietro Maximoff]

::For the last few minutes, Pietro had been running all across the grounds, every which way. It wasn't a security sweep; those were done for the protection of them all. This was simply his way of burning up his excess energy and anger.

As he circled the grounds for the third time, he came to a stop by the basketball courts. Remembering a time when he was younger, and he would play against Hank and Scott. It had seemed fair then. In safer, better times.::

[Typhoid]

Sitting in the shelter of the bushes surrounding the basketball court, Ty winced when the sun shifted directions and pulled her sunglasses on, swearing never to drink that much vodka again.

[Pietro Maximoff]

::Pietro stood, reminiscing about those games. Life had been less complicated, although he had his share of villains then. When his father had become Magneto, nobody was safe. It was the beginning of the end. Pleasant memories overshadowed, he turned to leave.

Then he caught sight of her, of Typhoid. He hadn't seen her since that evening at the club, where she had drank to forget. The evening had begun depressing as could be, with him and the spit-fire trying to help her forget the indiscretions of her now ex-boyfriend. Matters had taken a turn for the worse, when she, completely lost in an alcoholic haze, told him that she could have been happier had she fallen for him first. Words that caught him completely off guard. He had long since resigned himself to unrequited feelings. And they had remained so, because she was drunk, and he had honor.

He had told nobody, not even Wanda, of the encounter. Had not spoken with the spit-fire about it, and he doubted himself that Typhoid remebered those words today. Nevertheless, he was elated to see her, and wished, if nothing else, to see how she was. So he approached her.:: "Good afternoon, Typhoid."

[Typhoid]

Ty jumped, and then winced. "It's good if it's very quiet..." Her head throbbed, and she was dimly aware of what she'd said to both Phoebe and Pietro the night before. That didn't make it any better.

[Pietro Maximoff]

::The hangover, the one part of drinking that Pietro didn't regret never experiencing. He nodded his head in both understanding and apology, lowering the volume of his voice. They could speak of inconsequential matters and hangover remedies, as though the night before had never happened.:: "I could get you some aspirin or tea."

[Typhoid]

She waved a dismissive hand. "Tried both, didn't work." She recalled the night before, though some of the details were understandably fuzzy. "How'd I get back here?"

[Pietro Maximoff]

::How indeed? After Typhoid had nearly lost consciousness, drunk enough from the night, Pietro had decided she needed to get to bed, and away from those who might take advantage of her, as quickly as possible. They could have taken a taxi or a train back, which would have taken an hour. Or he could have run there with her, which would have taken all of a mintue, less in fact. Concerned for her, he chose the quickest option, returning to Phoebe mere moments after bringing Typhoid back.:: "I carried you."

[Typhoid]

She swallowed. Under normal circumstances that would have made her uncomfortable enough; after what she thought she'd said to him before she passed out, it was damn near unbearable. Her voice tightened noticeably. "I guess you were careful, then."

[Pietro Maximoff]

::Her voice grew tighter, growing from begruded aftermath to the disquiet of a reminded regret. Apparently, Pietro wasn't the only one who remebered what she had said last evening. Still, he wouldn't mention it; instead would only defend his honor. He replied with a nod of his head.:: "As careful as could be."

[Typhoid]

She nodded. "I don't want to hurt anyone." The double meaning of the statement suddenly hit her and she just shook her head, slowly against the headache. Out with it, Ty, or you're going to burn another bridge...

"I did mean what I said." The words were out before she thought about it again.

[Pietro Maximoff]

::The world had always been slow to Pietro, the side effect of life in the fast lane. With her words, time froze then resumed its motion, but at the pace of a snail, slower than usual.

His own heart seemed the only thing at normal speed, blood rushing as it swelled. Here she was, sober, telling him that her words last night had been true. Not mere drunken ramblings of a broken heart. Pietro Maximoff, the man of careful words, was at a loss for them.:: "I..."

[Typhoid]

She shook her head too fast, then winced when the world tipped a little from the hangover. His shock was evident. "You don't have to say anything, honestly." She felt worse, as she'd figured, but at least he knew she just hadn't been drunk off her ass and spitting lies. "I'm just a kid to you. Don't worry about it."

[Pietro Maximoff]

::Pietro shook his head, immediately after she spoke. The world had resumed its normal motion, and he would need to act quickly to keep her here. Speed and resourcefulness were his gifts, and now, more than ever, he relied upon them.

He spoke, his accent thicker with the subject and his feeling of hurriedness.:: "You're not just a kid to me."

[Typhoid]

She shrugged. "A friend, then." Friend or kid, neither came anywhere near the type of relationship she'd implied with what she'd said, and that made her miserable. It was just a whole new can of worms, opened up for nothing. So much for not hurting anyone. "Either way, I need to learn to shut my mouth."

[Pietro Maximoff]

"I need to learn to open mine," ::Pietro replied, accent all too noticable. The statement wasn't exactly true. Had he mentioned it before, it would have only made her relationship more complicated. It would have been dishonorable, and would have changed little, if anything. Still, had he spoken last evening, he could have spared her this.::