A Chance Meeting [Anastasia]

[Ezekiel Benedict]

The last year had been pretty productive, Ezekiel concluded. He had slotted in nicely to his new position at Hammel, and had received good feedback from his superiors. The fact that he knew for a fact that, behind his back, people were unnerved by his lack of emotion was of importance to him only insofar as he knew he could use it as a tool should the need ever arise. By his standards, most of his fellow staff were good people, and what little hostility he'd met had tended to be the product of his...quirks.

Apparently, he needed to get out of the Institute for the day, as working every day of the year was considered 'unhealthy'. Ezekiel certainly didn't feel unhealthy, but he obeyed orders because he respected his superiors. Besides, if he didn't then they might send him to the doctor. If he could have felt emotion, he would have let out an involuntary shudder at the thought. As it was, his brain linked the thought of the doctor with his youth, and offered a firm 'no', in the same way that when one saw a flame, one did not touch it because it was associated with being burnt. Not that he really attached any importance to his own well-being, but he owed a duty to his employers.

Anyway, that was what had led him to be here at the mall. The gentle hum of activity surrounded him, a long, droning note. Children shrieked, occasionally laughter would break out, but generally the sound had a low, murmuring quality, you might even say it was like a cat purring. An interesting thought, he mused, people purring in pleasure as they spent their money and acquired items of 'worth'.

Lost in thought, he didn't notice the expensively-dressed woman marching past him, and without a glance he moved to wander towards the nearest shop. The first he knew was the feeling of her colliding with his back. His training took over, and he almost instantaneously increased his mass, just enough to ensure that he would keep his feet and the 'assailant' – unless they happened to weigh 35 stone – would not.

Spinning round, he noted her for the first time, and realised that he had almost certainly made a mistake. The woman reeked of...he wanted to say class, but there was definitely power in there too. The look on her face told him that she was not a person who got knocked off her feet, nor someone who would tolerate it. Still, that didn't matter to him so much as the fact that it had evidently been his fault.

“I'm terribly sorry ma'am, can I help you up?”

[Anastasia van Drakke]

She was upset. Anastasia was a little upset. Australia was a small island, famine was a little problem in Africa, and Anastasia was a little upset. She could kill Sean Neville. She would kill him. She would watch Ivan cut his tongue out then she would make him watch as she skewered it with her stiletto.

How dare he tell his mousey little boyfriend not to talk to her? How dare he? She hadn't even done anything... yet.

There was nothing to drink t their house, and Ivan was painting. She didn't want to interrupt, he had already let her lie on his lap for hours as she ranted about the extreme horribleness of human beings, and telepaths in general who poked their noses into her business. But she needed a drink. She needed a few drinks. A bottle or two of something. So she had pulled on a coat (hardly paying attention as to what, she was that infuriated) and taken a car down to the mall.

The bottle shop was just ahead, the empath moved quickly. There wasn't exactly a crowd but feelings pushed against her like foreign things in a swamp. Anastasia was only feet away when a man turned into her path. No time to slow or stop. She contacted with him solidly and fell, rocking back as her heels slipped from under her. Her vision went red as her hands tensed, ready to take their <oopssorry> and make them hurt with it when....

< >

She reached out again.

< >

Nothing. It was like having her skin wrapped in cotton wool. Only dead space. "Please," she answered and took the opportunity to touch his hand.

< / / / >

"Who are you?" she asked slowly, feeling dizzy and disorientated. The nothing was like a black spot in the middle of her vision. "I don't think we've met."

[Ezekiel Benedict]

Taking a firm grasp of the womans hand, Ezekiel helped her to her feet. He didn't get things like high heels at the best of times, and they certainly didn't make this particular task any easier, but ever so subtly lightening her already lithe form did.

As she rose to her feet and spoke, he hesitated. She seemed a little...slow. He looked her up and down, internally running through a list of symptoms of concussion. Her eyes seemed...well, he had never been in the best position to read what people were feeling anyway, and the eyes were more of a mystery than most of that field - it certainly wasn't covered in the 'aggressive body language' part of training - but if he had to guess he would say conflicted.

"My name is Ezekiel Benedict," he replied, noticing dully that the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up, "I work at Hammel. Did you hit your head when you fell? Is there any pain anywhere?"

It would be untrue to say that he was worried, but concussing an innocent shopper would be one step too close to that moment in Iraq for his professional comfort.

[Anastasia van Drakke]

"Anastasia van Drakke," the heiress said slowly, pulling her hand away. The black spot grew smaller, but it was still there. She blinked, then inhaled slowly. A Hammel employee. Thank goodness Ivan wasn't here, or she would have had to explain why her boyfriend had tried to knife a teacher. Or a trainer. Or... something. That wasn't important. "No, no, I'm fine," she assured him with a smile.

It was worth a try... a blank slate. She'd never had a blank slate before. <curiosity/mildguilt/interest>. She waited, seeing if it would stick. It was.... different. Usually, she just found what was there and re-twisted and rewove, changing and amplifying or burying. She'd never had... nothing to work with. It was like sinking her hands in an oil slick.

"You can get me a coffee?" she offered, <acceptance/agreement>. "To clear my head, you know." Another smile, nothing too forward.

[Ezekiel Benedict]

Ezekiel smiled back at the girl, subconsciously ripping up his letter of resignation. With a start, he realised he had heard the woman's name before, he had been warned - his train of thought juddered, and then went spinning off the rails.

"You can get me a coffee? To clear my head, you know."

Something was wrong. So very wrong. He staggered backwards, his head reeling. Something was...he was...

He was curious. Curious, and guilty, and a whole swathe of emotions, all at once. So intense; so powerful, a great burning mass of feelings washing over him, terrible and incredible all at once. It was a rush like no other, adrenaline surged through his body. He was alive.

The mass manipulator's eyes blazed, and he gasped. Where had that come from? As the feelings subsided into the familiar blankness, he managed to readdress the situation at hand.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea to me," he replied, "where do you want to go?"

[Anastasia van Drakke]

Well now...

Anastasia's mouth twitched into a very different smile as she took a quick breath. Her heart skidded. This was.. Oh this was new. This was like giving someone heroin and sapping it out of them. This was better. This was even better.

It didn't last, of course. Suggestions fell flat when there was no network, no web to hold it in place. This would take concentration. A lot of it. "There's a Starbucks," Anastasia offered, shrugging to show that she didn't think much of it but, it was a mall after all. Then, because why not, she took a breath, weaved out a nice, simple and not too strong net of <open/friendly/trusting/enjoyment> and like a skilled fisherman, or perhaps a roman gladiator, cast it out over the security guard and kept hold of the ends. "You work at Hammel, you said? I graduated, what, eight or nine years ago now."

She laughed guilty. "That makes me feel old."

[Ezekiel Benedict]

Ezekiel was numb.

Not that this was anything other than his usual state, but now he could feel it. He was no longer simply blank, he was empty, with a hole where those feelings had been.

Dully, he remembered that he had indeed heard the girls name before; a colleague had warned him to avoid her because...ah. Suddenly the whole situation made sense. Anastasia was an Empath and Emotional Manipulator.

He knew that he should break off the conversation, make an excuse to leave, but still...

The new wave of emotion hit him, and even though he had only been without for a matter of seconds, it was a relief like he had never felt before. For the first time, something felt good.

"Starbucks sounds great to me," he exclaimed,"lead on."