nexus_sages | Snowstorms and matchmaking: An early Valentine's post

Winter in the Nexus has been especially present this year. The weather has presented plenty of hardships for the past few months, something which numerous people have bemoaned. It doesn't look set to change, either. If anything, Winter seems to be going stronger than ever. There are no signs of it winding down at all.

Everything seems normal at first, the usual hustle and bustle has the Nexus thrumming now that people have adapted to the cold conditions. Then, rather suddenly, everything kicks into gear. The wind starts to howl, battering people to and fro. Not long after that, the sky becomes thick with snow, making it nearly impossible to see, the biting cold driving people back inside. It soon becomes completely inhospitable to all wandering around outside.

In the hurry to get out of the storm, people end up scurrying to the nearest available shelter. Apartment lobbies, houses, cafés, shops, restaurants, the library... Anywhere and everywhere that offers some shelter. Peculiarly, people seem to end up in pairs as they hide away from the cold. Looks like everyone is going to have to huddle close together. For... warmth... We'll say it's for warmth.

((This is entirely an excuse to shove characters together and force them to spend time with each other. Feel free to have as many threads as you like, trying as many combinations as you like, where ever you like. Brave souls can try and berate Reynard if they really want to.))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"True, that's possible. For a while. But I don't think that kind of secret can be kept for long." Look at those poor kids at the school. They ended up surrounded by Sentinels.

She doesn't need deets about the hobo layer, no. Thanks, but no. No even thankful for the offer, honestly. "Okay, I will call Schön." Out comes her phone. Frown. Poke. More frown. "Once the storm lets up enough for me to get a signal. So much for the robust network here. Guess you're stuck with me for company until then."

Stop trying to ruin his dream that there could be superheroes back in his world. "Guess that makes sense." Bummer.

He hadn't expected her to go ahead and try to make a call right now, and isn't surprised that it doesn't go through. The effort is greatly appreciated, however. "I could always go back outside, freeze to death. But I guess I could hang out with you instead."

She was trying to point out that they'd be public news someday. "Not every world gets its supers at the same time. Maybe someday you'll be telling your grandkids about the day you and the world first saw one." This is a thing she's noticed. Even worlds with very similar heroes sometimes have them starting much later. ~~Lookin' at you, MCU.~~

Ver prefers to try and do things right away before she forgets. Otherwise, she starts to fret and overthink things. "I'll try not to be terrible. Hopefully, the wine will help. So, where were you headed before all this started?"

There's a shine to his eyes when she mentions that it could happen, but his gaze briefly lowers when he considers the implications. He's knows he'd welcome the magnificence of superheroes, but he also wonders if he would consider the safety of normalcy for his own mental preservation.

"Trying to get a feel of the money and barter system. I've collected some junk, and I wanted to see what I could get with it."

She knows that feeling. That's how she felt the first time she met a superhero. Well, on the inside. On the outside, she was awkward af, as per usual. In her defense, being in the same room as Thor and Loki is always volatile.

"Hmm. You'll probably get more if you stop calling it 'junk'. If you don't value the things you're offering, why should anyone else?"

"Another man's trash is another man's treasure, right?" Not to say what he has is literal garbage. He wouldn't go around with an old sock and have high expectations to get something good. "Besides, it's like a beta test."

"True, but you call that 'old junk' an antique or vintage, and you can charge more. People are easily influenced by your choice of words. Language is... tricky and imprecise." He looks hipster enough to understand the crazy markups shopping at the curated vintage shop instead of rooting through the Salvation Army himself.

"Verity." A pause. "You're a genius, you know that? Literally a genius." Maybe he shouldn't loudly profess that he's trying to sell junk. He's trying to sell vintage treasures. That works.

She laughs, but isn't shaking her head at the compliment this time. Progress? "I'm just happy to help."

Oh, look at that, fresh hot chocolate for both of them, liberally libated.

"Want to practice your pitch on me, while we're here?"

Hot chocolate first, words after. All he offers is an arched brow at her suggestion before taking a long sip. The warmth is happily welcomes, and the unexpected tang of alcohol is an added bonus.

"Seriously?" He finally asks.

The hot chocolate is easily the star of the show today. Or at least the next five minutes. In the Parisian style, it's melted chocolate with just enough milk and wine added to make it drinkable.

She gives a little shrug along with her nod. "Why not? Looks like we've got plenty of time to fill."

Snowstorms and matchmaking: An early Valentine's post

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