9068/And the award goes to...

And the award goes to...
Date of Scene:	04 September 2019
Location:	Uptown, St. Martin's Island
Synopsis:	Betsy and Barry attend a Forensic Science Awards Banquet
Cast of Characters:	Flash, Psylocke

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Flash has posed:
A while back, Barry Allen had met Betsy Braddock while playing basketball in the park. He had taken a selfie with her, and gotten an E-Mail, a working one at that, where he could send her a copy, which he did. He'd gotten back a polite reply, and had replied to her reply, which led to a reply to his reply to her reply, and so on.

It had been fairly casual, without a great deal of substance to them, and then came a somewhat awkward, and incredibly brief message.

Barry had E-Mailed her, "So, I got invited to the American Academy of Forensic Sciences Awards. It's being held in Metropolis, at the St. Martin's Convention Centre, between the 1st and 3rd of September, with the award ceremonies taking place on the 3rd. Would you like to come?"

He kept it short and to the point. He had agonised over it, whether to send it, how to write it, but that's what he got. Short and to the point. If he had been given a phone number, he would have asked that way. If he had met her in person, he'd have tried that too. So, it was worth a shot, right?

Psylocke has posed:
The reply came back almost immediately. Betsy found she had more free time in the afternoons now that she was teaching martial arts. It meant no papers to be graded. The only grading was based on testing in class itself. She had her phone in hand as she sat in her room with the tv going in the background.

Reading the message, she had to laugh softly as she glanced at the tv where Forensic Files was running. It was a rerun. Weren't they all? But she had always enjoyed those types of shows, even if she didn't have the patience level required to have pursued that as a career.

Her response came back: "Never been to a Forensics Award Ceremony. I didn't even know they existed. Nothing on my calendar for that night so I'd love to attend with you. Just be prepared to answer lots of questions."

Flash has posed:
Barry had finally sent the message off after going for a jog to clear his head. He was currently on a road, not too far from a place called Fort Smith, Arkansas, near the border with Oklahoma. When his phone beeped with the message, he came to a n abrupt stop. As he read the message, and re-read the message three more times, a yellow Dodge Viper drove by and threw out a big gulp from 7-Eleven.

Barry, or the Flash as he was dressed for the moment, nearly missed it, but at the last moment, he noticed it, ducked, caught the cup, and then tried to collect all the flying liquid out of the air. He then ran after the guy, catching up and then matching the speed. He did the universal winding a window sign, "excuse me sir, but I think you dropped this. I know you wouldn't want to litter, now would you?"

The poor man nearly had an accident, skidding to a stop. Fortunately, there no other traffic on the road. Shaking his head, the man accepted the big gulp. "I knew it must have been a mistake. Well, drive safe, and have a great day."

Running off again, he wound up in Patrick's Butcher Boy Burgers, where he ordered a Coach's Combo, a Grilled Cheese Combo, and a Lunch Special Combo, keeping it light today, since he knew he had a date coming up.

Then, as he waited for the food, he e-mailed back, 'where may I pick you up? By the way, here's my phone number. It might help.' And then he listed his phone number, which was curiously an 816 area code, which was Central City, Missouri.

Psylocke has posed:
"I can meet you in Metropolis on the night of the event. I think my brother has a place over there I can use to get ready. Give me a minute."

Betsy then fired off a message to her brother, getting the address and confirming she could use the condo there for the future date.

Once she had it, she sent the information by text first. That way he would have a copy of the address and not have to write it down or memorize it. After that, she actually pushed the phone number on her screen. A quick flicking of her thumbs had him added as a contact then she pushed the dial button.

Flash has posed:
There was no reason to send an E-Mail in response to her first comment, so Barry just waited. He had food on the way in any event. Just as the food was handed to him, the phone began to ring. 'Uh oh' he said verbally on the first ring, and ran, with the food, someplace a little more private, though being careful to remain in the same cell phone tower area. He found a back alley, where he could quickly change into his regular clothes, and set his bag down on a wooden crate that had been left out there. "Hello, Barry Allen speaking."

Psylocke has posed:
"Hello, Barry," came the dulcet voice with the British accent that he had heard in person once. The night of the basketball match against Daken. Betsy continued, reaching back to prop a pillow against the headboard before leaning back against it. Much more comfortable that way. "Thank you for the invitation. I have to ask what exactly a Forensics Awards Ceremony might have in store for me. Also, is it a formal event or...?"

Flash has posed:
"Betsy!" Yeah, Barry's voice was just a shade too excited there. But it was to be expected. He had put himself out on a limb, and she was responding favourably, so he was more than a little excited. "Hi Betsy," yes, he did repeat her name, trying not to sound flustered. While she was comfortable on his bed, he was in a back alley with a couple of burgers, fries, and a grilled cheese sandwich. They lived very different lives.

"It'll be my first time attending, but from what I've heard, there's a reception to gather and talk before hand, some dancing, then dinner and the award ceremony. Pretty much formal... except, a lot of these people are forensic scientists, so there might be a few Professor Frink types." He referenced the scientist from the Simpsons.

Psylocke has posed:
"Professor who?" Dead giveaway she did not watch The Simpsons. She had no idea who that might be. Not that it mattered. She could get the idea from the warning he gave. They were not people she might have rubbed elbows with at a fashion week.

She had no idea where he was and what he was doing. Later tonight, after darkness fell, she would go out on patrol in New York City. Although she avoided the areas she used to patrol, she had found she enjoyed the adrenaline rush and tended to go out most nights if she could. Even if she went to different neighborhoods than in the past. Different lives indeed.

"I think I have the perfect gown though. Purple will be involved." She laughs softly. "That likely comes as very little surprise."

Flash has posed:
"An American pop culture reference. No need to worry about it. I'm sure you'll look stunning. That's one of the nice things about being a guy. A tuxedo, as long as it's cut right, looks good on all of us. Or at least makes us look better than pretty much any other article of clothing. Perhaps I should get a new one. Know any good tailors?" Yes, he was hoping to go shopping with her. He was a sneaky one.

Psylocke has posed:
"I can put you in touch with quite a few designers. Armani owes me a dress. I could trade it for a new tuxedo for you instead. I have plenty of their gowns already, which is why the offer is still outstanding." Betsy offered as she stretched her legs out in front of her, crossing them at the ankles. She reached over to pick up the remote control, putting the tv on mute although it hadn't been up loud in the first place so was likely unnecessary.

Flash has posed:
"Armani, wow, that's an incredible offer. I'd love that, if it's not too much?" Barry lived a somewhat more modest life style. He could afford to buy direct, quite literally, which did give him some advantages. If he wanted an Italian suit, he could run to Italy. If he wanted sushi, he could run to Japan. If he wanted scotch whiskey, he would go to Scotland. Sometimes you could get a discount by buying direct from the manufacturer. He loved to take advantage of those deals. He tried his best to eat between parts of the conversation, careful not to make it sound like he wasn't listening.

Psylocke has posed:
"I would not have offered were it a problem," Betsy says with a soft laugh. "As I said, I am owed so it is nothing extra out of pocket." She sounds like this is just a chat about the weather or what to have for lunch, instead of discussing the acquisition of a tux worth thousands.

A moment later, she pulls the phone away from her ear. The vibration let her know a message had come in. It was from the team and she needed to meet them. A frown touched her expression but thankfully, he wouldn't be able to see it. Good thing they hadn't facetimed. "Unfortunately, I just got a message and I have to run to meet some friends. I will call you later to solidify our plans, alright?" She was already on her feet, moving to her dresser to open it and find her iconic purple costume within.

Flash has posed:
"All right, sounds great, amazing even." And then he paused, "okay, let me get this out there early. I don't want to jinx anything, but I'm of somewhat more modest means. I hope you'll forgive me for being excited and surprised by things along the lines of, oh, by the way, this incredible fashion designer owes me a favour. It's, well, Randy Studer over at the Skylark Drive-In theatre owes me a favour. Just say the word and we could borrow the projector. We could binge watch Forged in Fire at a moment's notice. Well, maybe a week's notice. He does have a business to run." But then she had to go, "oh, right, gotcha. Have fun. I look forward to hearing from you. And thanks again."

Psylocke has posed:
"A theater with a projector and we could watch anything we want on the big screen? Sounds like a great favor to be oweed," Betsy replied, the smile apparent in her tone of voice even over a telephone. "I'm not worried about stuff. I have stuff. It...is just nice to be asked out. It doesn't happen very often," she admits. "But I really must go. I am so sorry. Talk soon!" Then she pushes the off button and she takes the outfit out of the drawer. The phone is left on the dresser for now.

Flash has posed:
"Yeah, well, if we have a good time, maybe that can be our second date. Of course, it would involve a twelve hundred mile road trip..." His mind started to wander to possibilities, before he discarded them in favour of the moment. Better not to get too far ahead of himself. "I'm glad I did." He decided not to touch her not being asked out with a ten foot pole. "Have fun, we'll talk soon." And with the conversation over, she hung up on him. He wanted to hang up on her, but couldn't bring himself to it until he heard that click.

A few days later, he would text or call again, getting arrangements on the Armani location, which he ended up going to by himself, and would arrive, in a rental car, at her brother's apartment building in Metropolis on the night of the event. Greeting the doorman, he was on the list, so headed on up towards the apartment. Once there, he knocked.

Standing behind the door, Barry dressed up nicely. He wore a black Italian tuxedo, made from wool and cashmere by Giorgio Armani, well, the brand, as the man himself had since passed on. When the door opened, he said in his best Scottish accent, "the name is Allen, Barry Allen."

Psylocke has posed:
"Just a minute!"

It was the inevitable cry of a woman when she was finishing up those last minute details and hadn't expected her escort to arrive so promptly. Being on time was wonderful yet it always seemed to surprise Betsy when someone was. She quickly put the back on the diamond teardrop earring as she headed toward the front door.

When she opened the door, she was wearing a strapless gown that was multiple shades of color. It started black at the squared neckline down to the waist. There it faded to a dark purple then lower yet a lighter shade. Further down it became more pink and finally ended in white at floor level. A pair of black stiletto heels were on her feet though only the tips were visible really when she walked. Her lavender hair went well with the dress, pulled into an up-do with just a few little curls hanging down here and there in that slightly messy but really carefully planned way. A diamond necklace, with a teardrop shaped pendant that matched her earrings, adorned her slim neck.

"You couldn't have picked a single English actor for your impression?" she asked in a teasing tone.

(OOC: Dress - )

Flash has posed:
Being on time was wonderful. And it was a surprise when it happened. But this was Barry Allen. The man had never been on time for anything in his life. Still, showing up only 5 minutes late was a personal record for him, and a testament to how excited he was by the prospect of going to the awards with Betsy.

Just having gotten out his greeting, as he began to speak even before seeing her, Barry's jaw figuratively hit the floor. Literally, he probably dislocated it, but it didn't drop cartoonishly low. Just, it was low, really low, almost painfully low. "Wow" was the first word that came to mind. It was also the second and third, as he repeated himself, "wow," and again, "wow." Then, realising his last three words had been the same, he reached behind his ear, pressed, "sorry about that, I think I needed a hard reset. That's an, you look, I mean, I could use a thesaurus right now. Because wow is all that comes to mind."

At her tease, he paused, considering, and then did his best Michael Caine voice from the Man Who Would Be King, "Keep looking at me. It helps to keep my soul from flying off."

(OOC: Tuxedo - )

Psylocke has posed:
"Much better. Though still awful. Stick to American," Betsy suggests with a bright smile. The compliments helped after all. Repeated ones at that. It was nice to know she still had 'it' as the saying went. A triple Wow had to mean she did.

"I just need to get my wrap and clutch. I'll be but a moment. Feel free to step in." And with that she turned away from him, heading off through the living room and into a bedroom. Her wrap and bag were laying on the bed, along with about a half dozen dresses that had been tried on and discarded until she elected for this one. The wrap was pulled on around her shoulder then the clutch gripped in her left hand before she returned to where he was waiting.

"Should I call for a car or...?"

Flash has posed:
Barry still hadn't gotten used to just how spectacular she looked in that dress. He was pretty sure that he was still whispering 'wow' every 15 seconds, like clockwork, was he just thinking it. But still, at least it was quiet adulation.

Stepping into the apartment, it was fairly traditional, since no one actually lived there. Barry didn't know it, but it was just an apartment that her brother kept for when either one of them was visiting Metropolis. Sure it was more expensive than staying in a hotel, but it was certainly a lot more private. "I uh, love what you've done with the place," he said as he walked in, immediately stepping towards a bookcase where he found a copy of 'The Lifestyle of Software Objects' by Ted Chiang. "Oh, I enjoyed this." The copy in the apartment though was still in plastic wrap, untouched.

"I uh, okay, I probably went overboard," and put a serious dent in his bank account, "but I uh, hired a limo. That wasn't bad, was it?" He also happened to be holding a bouquet of flowers. He hadn't been holding them when he walked in. Secretly, he had left them in the hallway, and quickly ran back to grab them as a surprise. The flowers were a mixture of white and purple, not far off from her dress. "For you." He offered and held them out to her after he crossed the distance, though he still had the plastic wrapped copy of the book in his other hand.

Psylocke has posed:
"You didn't have to do that, Barry. I could've used one of ours." Yes, they have limos. Yes, they are on call. Yes, he is in the Twilight Zone. Or probably just feels like it. As she comes into the room, she spots the flowers and the smile is back. "Oh they are lovely."

She takes the bouquet, doing the quick sniff because that was always required upon receiving flowers. Then she was off to the kitchen, setting her clutch on the counter as she dug into a cabinet to find a perfect crystal vase. She quickly filled it partway with water then put the flowers in, messing with them a moment to make sure they were sitting ever so perfectly. Then they were placed on the counter where she would see them everytime she went into the living room.

She picked up her clutch then glanced at the book in his hand, tilting her head to try to read the spine. "Lifestyle of Software Objects?" She giggles softly. "Brian. That's my brother. This is technically his place. No idea why it is wrapped in plastic though."

Flash has posed:
She has limousines on call. Yeah, he was so far out of his league, on a number of levels, but so far, so good. Or at least he had been doing well ever having tried to fake a Scottish, and then English accent. He followed after her, not crowding, but just curious what she was up to as she took the flowers and prepared them.

When they were all set, and she explained about the book, he put it back where he had found it. "Ah, well, it's a good book. It talks about raising artificial intelligences more like human beings, as a sufficiently complex artificial program will... and yeah, I know that glazed look well." He paused, looking sheepish and self-aware, "yeah, trust me, I'm a pretty normal guy, just, I also like science." And they were heading towards a Forensic Science Award show. He looked so nervous, but hopefully in a cute and charming way.

Psylocke has posed:
"I wasn't glazed over yet. It's when you get into quantum anything that happens," Betsy says with a shrug. "My brother loves science. Thus, I am used to him just talking over my head and I try to pretend I understand. I don't. I pretend quite well."

She motions to the door though, intending for them to head out. Wouldn't do for them to be late for a ceremony like this. "Shall we go?"

Flash has posed:
They make some small talk along the way to the elevator, while waiting for it to arrive, on the way down to the parking lot, where the limo driver was waiting, patiently. He was on the clock, so it made no difference to him whether he was driving or waiting outside. The driver wasn't that good, as Barry opened the door for her, and then followed her in, closing the door on the other side.

The drive was pretty smooth, during which more small talk took place. Finally, they arrived at the St. Martin's Convention Centre for the 2027 American Academy of Forensic Sciences Awards. He got out, and held the door open for her. On their way in, they had to check with a desk, where he said, "Barry Allen, Central City Police Department, and guest" and the girl said, "Allen, Allen, ah, Barry Allen. And it looks like you two are at table five. Wow." Barry didn't seem to get the wow, or why the girl whispered 'good luck' to him. Turning to Betsy as they headed in, "I wonder what that was about?"

Psylocke has posed:
"Table five. Could be good or bad depending on if they numbered horizontally or vertically," Betsy says as she walks along beside him. She was glancing around curiously at the decor the convention centre had in place for the event, including the banners announcing the awards. They were drawing a few eyes but not a lot. Perhaps people in these circles were less famliar with her work and for that, she was grateful.

She glanced back at the woman working the check in, reaching out briefly to get an idea of what the 'wow' was about. She didn't like surprises and it was an innocent enough use of her powers. Not that she wouldn't find out in a moment anyway as they entered the room proper, where all the tables were set up. Some people were milling around being social. Some were looking for their tables. Others were already seated.

They made their way toward table five.

Flash has posed:
As it turned out, they numbered them horizontally and table five was second row, one away from a centre tables. Barry pulled out the chair for Betsy, acting every bit as a gentleman. He was a little concerned by the odd glances they were getting, but Betsy had warned him about it. Most knew who she was, but few reacted poorly. It was nice. Mostly it was the husbands and wives of the forensic scientists that reacted, as they were often more into popular culture than their significant others.

As for the wow, it was due to the fact that Barry Allen was a finalist for the R.B.H Gradwohl Laureate Medallion, and apparently, he was the first to be part of it without first having won the Distinguished Fellow award in a previous year. He was also the youngest ever finalist... by some margin. The Gradwohl was meant to be a shining achievement on a lifetime of work. But Barry wasn't even 30 yet.

As they sat, they weren't the youngest people at the table, though they did have the combined lowest age. One silver haired gentleman was there with a young lady, who his thoughts would reveal as his daughter, while another, well, the girl wasn't his daughter, and yet he had introduced her to the others as his 'niece'.

Everyone at the table had a name plate facing inwards and outwards, so that people could know who each other were without needing to ask. Still, Barry said, "Hello, my name is Barry Allen, a Forensic Scientist from Central City, Missouri, and this is Betsy Braddock."

Psylocke has posed:
Betsy had no idea what those awards were but the information in the mind of the lady at check-in filled in some blanks for her. Barry was playing down his attendance when he was up for a major award, despite being so young and having not met what some might consider the criteria for being considered. She stood a little taller next to him, proud of him for his achievements already, whether he won or not.

At the table, she made sure to acknowledge each person there. The niece was given the same grace as all the others. It was not Betsy's place to judge such things. If both parties were happy, so be it. "A pleasure to meet you all. It's an honor to be in such esteemed company." She gave a smile to Barry, showing he was included in that number.

Flash has posed:
The smile made Barry pause, visibly, he just sort of stared back at her, lost in those lips, that smile, which was just when a woman named Deborah Whistler nudged her husband, Sean, "ah, young love," which only made Barry blush, "uh, no, er, it's our first date, second?" He wasn't sure if the basketball meeting counted. Sean Whistler joked, "see what you did there Deb, the boy can't even figure out whether he's on his first or second date now." Meanwhile, the 'niece' kept staring at Betsy, "I love your dress, and I've seen all your stuff." Which made a third man, Carl Escobar, say, "oh, do we have a celebrity in our midst?"

Psylocke has posed:
As Barry stared, Betsy had to look away or she knew she was going to embarass him. Unfortunately, Deborah Whistler managed to do it anyway. As the conversation continue about which date it might be, she had to laugh softly. "First date. Our other meeting was more an unofficial." Him playing basketball with Daken was not a date in her book. It was cute he was lost though.

At the compliment, Betsy gave a nod of her head to Stephanie 'the niece' Jones. "I couldn't resist it when I saw it on the runway at Milan. So I got with the designer right away and purchased it." At the question of celebrity, she shook her head. "Only celebrities I see are those with a talent for science, who are sitting around this table."

Flash has posed:
Mr. Escobar mimed tipping his hat to her at the way she handled his compliment. Sean Whistler seemed to drag Barry into brief conversation, the kind that would go over most laymen's heads, as it was about his nomination and what caused it. Barry was terribly embarrassed by it, and trying to play it down, "oh, don't worry, it's probably a typo. I'm fairly certain that they meant the Barry Allen of Bangor, Maine," who had incidentally died 3 years ago, but still, he couldn't be up for this award.

Stpehanie was showing so much more attention to Betsy than her 'uncle', but then so was Deborah now, as they talked about the dress, Milan, fashion, trying to pick the brain of a model, the things she had seen and done. And then Deborah asked, "how's the first date going?"

Psylocke has posed:
The talk of fashion was simple enough. Places she had visited, designers she had been able to model for and the honor it was to work with them. All the proper things said. It's what Betsy was good at and she performed swimmingly.

At the more personal question, she leaned toward the ladies but her voice was pitched to be heard by Barry. If he was even paying attention considering the scientific talk going on over there.

"Quite well so far. He's charming and polite. A sense of humor which is a must. Very handsome. Cleans up nice, as they say, although I think he looked just as good in jeans," she says, turning her violet gaze toward her date to see if she has embarassed him now.

Flash has posed:
Having overheard that, Barry couldn't help but smile. He felt rather much the same. She was elegant and engaging, had a sense of timing, incredibly beautiful, cleaned up splendidly, and she looked just as good when dressed down, though he was curious to see how she might look dressed in something truly comfortable, like a tank top, yoga pants, and a bowl of popcorn to share over a movie. His cheeks were quite red at this point, but he was easing into things, and it helped that she was publicly saying how well their date was going.

Thing is, he kind of stared at her again, and Mr. Escobar had to repeat his question, "Barry? Barry?" And then turning to his wife, Jennifer, he was about to say something, except she interrupted with, "you two remind me of Carl and I, when we were younger." And to Betsy in particular, she added, "just remember to let him think that he's won, from time to time. It confuses the hell out of them."

Psylocke has posed:
"I think we have some time before we reach that point but I will keep that in mind," Betsy responds to Jennifer. "After all, first date." So doesn't mention she's also technicaly on the rebound, which is never good for going into a new relationship. Been there, done that. It was better to just take time, be friends, then see if more developed in the future.

She did give Barry an arched brow, trying to guess why he was that red. She hadn't said anything quite that embarassing, she didn't think. Having made small talk, she did lean over to him to ask. "So...how does one even get nominated here?"

Flash has posed:
As the group conversation subsided into some smaller private conversations, Barry got to talk with Betsy, "we file reports, which are shared. There's a committee that flags anything of interest. I have to assume at this point that it's largely done by computer. Way too many reports for them to read them all, or it's a random sampling. No one knows for certain. The committee votes, and winners are named."

"There's the Gradwohl, the Distinguished Fellow, Outstanding Early Career Achievement, then awards for anthropology, criminalistics, that's my background, digital and multimedia, engineering, odontology, questioned documents, toxicology, and others."

"This is actually my first time being invited." Which is sad, as he had hoped to be up for the Early Career Achivement, yet had been bypassed, going straight on to nominated for the Gradwohl. He was doing a good job of pretending he wasn't that exited. He had no chance of winning it. It was shocking that he'd even been nominated.

Psylocke has posed:
"And you are nominated for the Gradwohl. That's an unsual sounding word. What does it mean? Was it named after a person or ....?" Betsy knows some languages but that word isn't triggering anything for her. She could peak. But that would not be polite so she instead relies on her companion to explain it more fully to her.

"As for the nominations, it sounds rather random if there is just a sampling taken of all the thnigs out there."

Flash has posed:
Leaning in to explain, "The award is named after Dr. Rutherford Birchard Hayes Gradwohl, the father of American forensic science. Back in 1904, Amanda Watson's body was pulled from the Salt River. She had suffered blunt force trauma to the head, resulting in a concussion. Her husband, Dr. Taylor Jonas Watson was the prime suspect as she had disappeared while travelling with him in a buggy."

Continuing, he said that "Dr. Gradwohl was able to determine that she had died from drowning, not from the head injury, in support of Dr. Watson's version of events. He said that something had spooked their horse as they were crossing the Organ Ferry Bridge, and she had fallen in. She hit her head on a rock at some point after drowning and before being pulled from it. Dr. Gradwohl went on to give testimony in a lot of cases, getting the St. Louis police to abandon the Bertillon system, where they painstakingly used calipers to measure skulls, ears, hands, and feet to track repeat offenders. He revolutionised forensic science."

"Although he was American, I think that it's an Austrian surname, maybe Bavaria, certainly in that general area. People migrate. It can be hard to pinpoint. My surname, Allen, is Scottish in origin, but pretty common in Ireland, Wales, and England. A-i-l-i-n," he spelt it, "in Scottish and Irish Gaelic, means little rock and harmony. A-l-u-i-n-n, which is Celtic, means handsome. Wheras Braddock is a combination of brad or broad in modern English, and oc or oak. Your name, Elizabeth, derives from the Hebrew Elisheva, or My God is an Oath. So your name would be My God is an Oath Broad Oak. My name, which is... er, really Bartholomew, comes from the Aramaic, and translates to son of furrows, or rich in land. Thus, I'm rich in land handsome."

And he had managed to talk all the way through the awards revelation. He hadn't won, but Jennifer Escobar, who was at their table, had. He looked to take it well, being the second, after her husband, to congratulate her. He was doing on hell of a job putting on a brave face as he shook her hand and then clapped, smiling. His mind was reeling. He had thought he was going to win. He had really wanted to win. And it was crushing, despite knowing the world was against him, that he had no chance, still, he had lost.

Psylocke has posed:
As Jennifer went up to accept her award, Betsy added her applause to that from the rest of the room. Yet, she could sense that disappointment from Barry. It didn't matter that she wasn't actively reading his mind, the emotions were there. She did 'peak' even though she shouldn't.

As the applause died and Jennifer gave ehr little acceptance speech, Betsy leaned in to hug Barry from behind (since he was facing the stage at the moment). She leaned up to his ear and whispered. "You'll get it next time, I'm sure of it." It wasn't much but hopefully the consolation of her hug was enough to help make it hurt less.

Flash has posed:
He was never going to win it. He was too young. Way too young. He was the youngest nominee in the history of the award, by some margin. And yet, he had wanted to. He wasn't exactly an egotistical guy, but he thought, perhaps foolishly, that he had demonstrated enough to earn an award like that. He was happy for Mrs. Escobar. There was no jealousy. He didn't blame her. Growing up in Fallville, Iowa, he had been taught that when you get beat, you said fair play to them, and move on.

The hug though was unexpected, but not unwelcome. He leaned his head against her, finding comfort. As she peeked in at his thoughts, his disappointment seemed to wash away, thinking instead about her, and how angelic her voice sounded as she gave him encouragement. "Someday," he agreed, setting his sights lower than hers. "But awards don't matter. It's the work. Helping people. Like how Dr. Gradwohl saved Dr. Watson from a murder charge." Turning around after the hug, looking into her eyes as he placed a hand on hers, "thank you."

Psylocke has posed:
Betsy turned her hand over underneath his, gripping his in a gentle squeeze. He might notice that there were calluses on her hand, mainly along the bladed edge of it. Things that were common enough for a well trained martial artist, but perhaps not so much in forensic circles.

"You're welcome. I do believe it though. You will get that award someday," she says with a smile. "Until then, we can enjoy this lovely dinner and good company."

Flash has posed:
If she was still peeking in on his mind, he was wondering about the calluses. The lighting wasn't great to examine the colour or her hands, but he knew what he was feeling. And despite her role as a wealthy model, there were telltale signs of a more active lifestyle at work here. Smiling at her thought about the dinner and company, he agreed, saying that "there is nowhere I'd rather be." And very likely no one he'd rather be with.