12969/Catching up with Hank

Catching up with Hank
Date of Scene:	05 April 2021
Location:	Grand Central Park, NYC
Synopsis:	Sandy and Hank reconnect now that he is gaining his memories back. They are still very much in love.
Cast of Characters:	Sandra Billings, Beast

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Sandra Billings has posed:
When Doctor Hank McCoy finally got around to turning his phone on after having it charged, he would have found several text messages from: Sandy Billings. Maybe he put a cute nickname in for her as well. Who knows.

Ding: << Hey, I haven't heard from you in a few days and the news is getting really scary. Work has picked up and I haven't slept in two days. Call me. I love you. >>

Ding: << Hey, baby, are you okay? I saw your friends on the news. There was a terrorist attack on that lab you told me about. Please call me. I love you. >>

Ding: << Hank, Jean called me and told me what happened. I know you probably won't see this. If you do, please call me, please. I miss you so much. I'm really worried. >>

Ding: << I love you. >>

Ding: << Jean told me that you woke up. Please call me, please text me. I've been so scared. >>

The ER nurse is now at home, currently sitting on the couch on a day off and staring at the TV. She is exhausted after another overnight shift that went beyond her normal hours. At this rate, she just absorbs all the overtime she can get just to keep her mind off from all the noise. She's dressed in a pair of sweat pants and a baggy top, her hair pulled up behind her into a messy bun.

Next to her is a cat, a fat orange tabby that is snoring away in a loud wheezing rattle. He's old and chonky.

Beast has posed:
Men. Sometimes, you just want to shake up the whole darn lot of them and throw ice-cream. This is an understandable, but still a rather appalling situation to be and yes, when the texts rolled in, there might just have been a whole lot of staring at the screen and rubbing of the face.

"Henry m'boy, where do you even start?" declared quietly as he heads to his convertable, Beast pauses by the vehicle and slides into the driver's seat without even bothering to open the door. He fixes the phone to its holder and stares at it a while, looks at the wheel, back at the phone and hovers his hand over the drag-screen type pad.

<<Sandy, I am an idiot. Can we perhaps meet someplace nice and quiet and open?>>

Sandra Billings has posed:
When the message comes through, Sandy gives a casual glance at her phone. If it's work, she will just ignore it. When she sees 'Blueberry Muffin <3' show up on the screen, she lets out a loud squawk as she flails to one side to snatch up the phone. She stares at the message, then starts to tap the glass rapidly.

Ding: << Hank! Is that you? Are you okay? We can meet anywhere you want. Can you call me? I've missed your voice. >>

She finds her heart pounding away in her chest, her hands trembling as she swallows tightly. She rises upwards and heads to her bedroom, loud feet 'thumping' around the ground as she goes. Usually she is more careful to tip toe around the apartment so not to disturb her neighbors, but in this moment, she's almost in a panic.

Beast has posed:
"Right -- Hippocrates, please pair up my phone to the blue tooth, activate video." Hank takes a little rectangle out of the glove box, fits it behind the phone holder and extends each side of it, almost like one of those protectors over the keypad on an ATM. The material is full of tiny holes, which creates a tiny little doppler sound-box around the phone, cutting out wind and traffic noise quite considerably. Putting an earbud in his ear, he starts on the road. "Call Sandy..."

And therefore, the video comes through of a rather protracted image of Beast from a low angle, with the sky and clouds rolling behind him and the windows of the car glinting in the afternoon sun. There's an occasional tree zipping by. "Hello, Nutty?" it's a rather anglophile kind of affection, but red-brick institutions did have an effect.

Sandra Billings has posed:
When the call comes through, Sandy yanks the fresh shirt up and over her head, then fumbles for the phone as she taps it on. She looks tired, dark eyes and dark hair strewn up behind her in a messy manner. She just stares at him for a long moment, then gives a visible sniff. She reaches up to wipe at her eyes. "Henry. Hey. It's really you." She says with a weak voice as she sinks down on to her bed. She's now wearing a fresh red blouse with a flattering V Cut in the front.

She swallows tightly for a moment, then says, "I love you." She says, giving him a smile before brushing a tear away from her cheek. "You okay? Jean said you were in a coma and that .. that you took some bad medicine. I wanted to come see you but I couldn't."

She is clearly emotional, waiting to hear what he has to say. Obviously the last few weeks has been hard for her.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy's usually jovial and friendly face looks pained as the connection is made and image starts to show. AS he's driving, the eye contact is periodical, likely a blessing for him at the moment, given that he looks ever so slightly constipated. "Yes, it's really me. I ..." do I love you? I probably do, but everything is a big blur of feelings and half-remembered instincts and some very, very foggy details. But saying that outloud is difficult. "...I was. I was sedated for my own safety and that of others. Nutty, I have been terribly confused these last twenty four hours and ah..."

The gamut rolls across his face, from all the conversation lines he could be having, all those things he could be saying, they war for dominance and leave him twitterpated and very slightly looking like grumpy cat. Some people deserve the greatest respect of honesty: "...I need to see you. I am having a good deal of trouble with my recent memory. Long term seems to be intact, but recent is a blur and mixed up with some truly horrendous recollections. When I think of you, look at the pictures, read our message history, I feel warm, but I need your help. I need your anchor."

Sandra Billings has posed:
He doesn't remember her? Sandy takes a moment to try and collect herself as she struggles to hold back a sob. She knew it was bad, but not that bad. Jean warned her that it may be difficult. She may be a powerful woman on the outside, thick skin, hard to break, but on the inside she's just a young woman feeling her heart crack.

"Okay. We can meet at Central Park at the Ornamental Bridge. They have those benches nearby that we have picnics at." She glances away from the phone, biting her bottom lip and trying to hold herself back from breaking down. She runs a hand through her hair.

"I'll take a quick shower and be over in an hour. I'll have to catch the bus, but I'll be there. I'll bring something to eat." Her voice is soft and raspy as she gives a visible sniff.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy's eyes flit to the screen fully and he nods, wincing at the distress he can very clearly see. That pain? That he can feel like a mirror and he has to look back to the road, his glasses absent as he doesn't need them to read with. "I'll be there," and be there early no less, after he's found a place to park. Before the connection ends, he looks back, feline eyes luminous as he looks at her. "Love you nutty," maybe that will help? But click, the connection is gone.

That gives a little over an hour for both parties to compose themselves. Used to being stared at here and there and everywhere, the big Blue took the jogging path to the ornamental bridge, arriving at least fifteen minutes before the 'hour' has gone past -- to stare at the water. To argue at the ducks. "You are not helping," quaackquackquack "...yes, I'm nervous. Wouldn't you be? Augh, I feel like an absolute /heel/." A swan eyes him and he turns his back to the water, adjusts a pink rose set in his lapel buttonhole and stares at the bouquet of queen-anne's that he's holding like a shield.

Sandra Billings has posed:
After they hang up, Sandy made her way into the shower to clean up adn get herself together. She groomed herself proper with fresh body wash, shampoo and a hint of makeup in the form of concealers and lip gloss. Once she arrives and makes her way down the three long blocks to the park, she can be seen approaching with a basket on one arm. She's wearing that red v-cut shirt with a pair of flexible slim jeans on and new sneakers. Most of her wardrobe consists of clothes she doesn't wear due to living in scrubs, but when she does dress up, at least it's casual and trendy.

Spotting him is easy. He stands out easily against the beautiful backdrop of the park. She takes in a deep breath, steadies herself, then starts towards the bench. She puts the basket down, then makes her way over towards him. "Hey." She says softly to him, swallowing. She brushes some of her long dark hair back behind her ear, staring up at him with her chocolate brown eyes.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy heard her coming. Darn those keen senses -- or perhaps it was the scent, familiar and a good deal better at prompting memories than the more regularly used senses people are accustomed to. Thus why you can smell a certain kind of cookie baking, a certain smell of mulch and moss and be back and your granparents, playing in the sandpit, feeling cares wash away.

He becomes very still, nostrils flaring just a little frozen at the approach, watching her intensely. And when she's close enough? A small, sheepish smile and the roses are lifted, a swallow follows and "...you truly are a vision." He clears his throat. "I, uh, I'm... well, all sorts of pleased to see you." It comes after a pause, like the thought bubble popped. "Sandy," gesture-gesture with bouquet like its a baton. "I know your face!" A burst of laughter, nervous, relieved. "The smell of your hair. Odd's teeth!"

Sandra Billings has posed:
As she reaches out to take the flowers from him, Sandy's hands are trembling lightly. "You know my face, huh? That's good. I remember when you told me once you'd never forget my smile." She takes in a deep breath, trying to keep her eyes upon his. Don't cry. Be strong. Her hands brush along his furry paws, then steps forward. She curls her arms around him for a hug, pushing her face in against his shoulder with a soft sigh. She needed this. She needs him.

Her embrace is strong as he will find. She's not a normal hugger. She is holding herself back, so not to crack him in half, but firm enough to let him feel the emotions through it. She takes in a deep breath before she leans back, reaching up to brush her fingers along his cheek and the side of his muzzle. "I missed you." She whispers to him. "I.. how do you want to do this? How can I help you?"

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy's breath leaves him in a rush in the hug. The strength of that hug something familiar also, he at least is a durable sort and not a weakling, but the reminder is helpful. Big, burly arms wrap around her too and he stoops his head to the crown of her's, inhaling the scent of shampoo, the muskiness that is unique to Sandy Billings beneath. The swallow is caught, tight in his throat for a moment, then steady breaths are a necessity. His heart is quickened, she can likely hear that.

The brush of fingers brings a small smile, "It sounds like something I'd say," eye contact was maintained though, there is no lie in him, no duplicity, merely a genuine need to reaquaint, to reawaken. The pupils are slightly narrower than normal though, as if in fear. Nerves? Most likely. He gestures to the picnic areas, staggering the next breath in. "You know when you've read a thousand papers on psychology and behavioural analyses? And you never think you have to apply it to yourself? I need your help to trick my mind, to give it some solid nudges. Oh, Sandy..." things he hasn't told others, they come out with hesitancy now. "It's like delerium; the last weeks make so little sense and the dominant force is a cloud of almost foreign emotion. I am told that I devolved, became more beast than man. I even had a tail, which has mercifully gone West, like that nightmare. Psychologically speaking, the activation of the hindbrain and subsequent enlargement of more primitive regions of grey matter have... I hope not done irreperable damage to my neural pathways, but I am quite -sure- that my cerebral cortex was hijacked and did not have time or ability with my neurotransmitter changes, to transfer short term to long term as well as I might like. We've known each other for long enough that some of that is there. I KNOW it is, but... the mind that I was, was instinct. I'll..."

And after all the babbling there, he literally deflates some, fur flattening in a display of fear he can't hide. "I can't remember. That, quite frankly, is terrifying. I can remember details from my second birthday. I threw my cake at the cat and there were animal baloons. I can remember every lecture I've ever attended, formulae from obscure textbooks, how to conjugate in Japanese, russian, latin... Swahili even, but the last month? Nothing at all clear." Haaaaaalp.

Sandra Billings has posed:
As she listens to him, Sandy feels her heart pounding in her chest. She's trained in psychology, on how to handle pressure on the operating table, to deal with intense emotions in high risk situations. But this? She feels as if she is on the table now. Both of them. Waiting for their doctor to finally meander his way in to 'fix' them with a scratch of ink on paper. Her fingers continue to brush the fur along his cheek and along his jaw, giving a nod of her head here and there.

"I understand. I get it. You've had a traumatic experience that has affected you in multiple ways. It will take time to work through it. Consider it like .. physical therapy. You just need to massage and retrain those muscles again."

Her other hand slides down to lace hr fingers into his furry ones, curling about them in a tight squeeze. "Do you remember the first day we met? It was the ice cream shop. You ordered a huge sundae with a million toppings and we talked about genetic sequencing. You then asked me out to dinner afterwards. It was the most romantic moment I've ever had in my life." She takes his paw and draws it to her waist so that it can settle, then leans forward slowly, carefully.

Her mouth meets his, just a soft kiss, then tucks her head in against his shoulder and neck. "Do you remember our camping trip to the Jersey Shore? We spent the entiere weekend in single sleeping bag, roasting marshmallows at night and laying in each other's arms watching the stars without phones turned off. No work, no saving the world, no 911's."

Beast has posed:
The kiss is returned, gentled and probably just a little tickly on the end of the nose. Warm fur and all. Hank spreads his palm against her hip, brushes his thumb at the small of her back and listens to her speak. It's profoundly still, this tableau, but a light april breeze blowing over the park. "Evocative -- I remember..." the taste of sugar, the meeting of minds, hopefulness, daring to believe that you might just exit the friend zone. "...onion fry..." he holds his breath a moment "...breaking the bed..." the tips of his claws briefly emerge, five little pinpricks through the fabric of her jeans as he clutches at the moment to stop it slipping away. They retract after and he presses the grip more solidly. "We renamed some of the stars..." peace. "I remember the quiet. Just the sound of bugs at night. Wondering how I got this lucky."

Sandra Billings has posed:
There's a soft giggle from Sandy. ".. Breaking the bed two times." She says with a flush along her cheeks. Her hand continues to rest against his cheek, her thumb brushing light circles. "Do you remember the day you found out I was a mutant? There was that bigot at the coffee shop. He went to shoot you and I stepped in front of him and took the bullet." She says softly to him. "You were so worried, you thought I was going to die in your arms. Then the night Doctor Octopus kidnapped me and held me hostage?"

There is an amused noise in her throat. "You climbed the side of the hospital to my office like a real super hero, swooping in to knock him around with his mechanical arms flailing about." She tilts her chin upwards, placing another kiss against him, softly sighing against his furred muzzle. "The night I first told you that I loved you? It was at that fancy Italian place you took me too. Candles and rooftops. We slow danced in each other's arms to the sound of violins."

Beast has posed:
"Pusatinos," It might have been, it might have indeed. Beast turns his cheek further into her palm, nuzzles there gently, a kiss given to the skin with his head bowed down. "I remember anxiety, feeling as if my heart was going to leap out of my chest. Anger." He... remembers the emotions? He remembers the emotions! "Wonderment. /Amazement/." He trails off softly, the words coming quieter. "Trust. Contentment. Quite a lot of disbelief. Feeling lucky. Feeling like I did when I was sixteen again." Eeeeeeeeeever so still now.

"I want to make new memories. Find new things we never knew we had in common. I love you. I know I do."

Sandra Billings has posed:
"I love you too, Henry. I love you with every beat of my heart. You've been the man of my dreams the moment I saw you walk into that ice cream shop." Sandy says with another soft laugh as she gives his fur a gentle scritching with her fingers along his cheek. The kiss to her wrist causes her to sigh happily.

"I'm ready to make a lot of new memories with you." She pulls him closer by the hips, leaning up on her tip toes so that her mouth can press to his once more, giving him a more longer kiss, one that she hopes to stir some more memories from him. She lets out a soft noise of content before their mouths part, followed by a light bump of her nose against his.

"I brought some garlic bread and raviolis. They should still be warm. Not that it matters because we both like cold pasta."

Beast has posed:
Be careful what you wish for, m'lady! There is a moment of 'OOoh, Nursey!' that lifts with such delights as only the fairer sex might stir. The doctor lets a low rumble loose the deepening of affection, all vibrations looooooooooow in the diaphragm. The hand at her hip fleetingly gets adventurous with compass or map to find its way, t'would seem as it roves over and low, up and around to trail along her ribs -- then to the BOOP and the floating back to earth from the highs he was riding.
    "To new memories and the restoration of Days. It will be an adventure, if nothing else might be said of it /that/ is Truth." Hank laces his fingers in hers, guiding toward the grass, the sunshine and the possibilities of rekindling the flames of recollection by Italian (food) romance.