Some Light-Hearted Wren Fun

[Verdana]

Bree loitered on the street until the temperature (as well as the stares of the hungry males around her) began to make her uncomfortable. Malberry wasn't coming. It took Bree all of one signpost to know where she was going. She assumed that she would find him closer to the convention. She tried to slow her heart rate down. This wasn't a big deal. She had done far more frightening things in her short lifetime.

But, then again, she'd always had a plan, some sense of goal. This time, she didn't. Malberry did.

She had to find Malberry.

Slowly, but with increasing purpose, she began to wander through the crowds. Men pressed against her. She resisted the urge to disable them. They didn't mean harm. They were not threats. Not as far as she knew. Absently, Bree rubbed her left shoulder, a nervous tic. Her hand dropped as she corrected herself. No nerves. She was fine. She owned her space. The space she was in, was hers.

She took a deep breath, and began to search.

Her costume, she began to realise, was a good one. So good, in fact, that other faux Star Trek cast members began to accumulate, wishing to pose for photographs. She refused the first few, until she thought about how little she looked like herself.
'Surely,' she thought, 'surely it won't hurt to pose for a couple.'

She began to relax. She didn't let her guard down, she didn't lose her nerve. She just... Allowed herself to show off a bit. She swung her hips when she walked. She smiled for photos, and pouted, and smouldered. When music played on somebody's phone, she danced, and danced well. Bree never got to dance. She was never on those sorts of jobs. If her mother had seen her, she wouldn't have approved. However, Shay was not there to watch her, to judge, to criticise.

And if Bree was to be forced to spend time at a convention, she could at least enjoy it.

All the while, she kept an eye out for Malberry. She was aware that he would have changed into some sort of costume. She did not allow herself to assume that it would be themed like her own. However, the more she searched and scanned, the more conspicuous his absence became. She frowned slightly. Where was he? Had he left? Was this some sort of ambush? Her fingers traced the shape of her gun, concealed with great effort under her skintight outfit. She would not be caught out so easily. If Malberry threw something at her, she'd take it. He'd bested her once. He'd never, ever do so again.

She saw many men in costumes. She even accosted a few, feigning drunkenness or a foreign language. None were Malberry. Her hatred, previously successfully dulled, began to rekindle.

Walking past a female figure, Bree caught a whiff of him. She had been nearing desperation. Two hours had passed, and he had not made an appearance. For a moment, she believed that she'd imagined his smell. It got stronger. She did not spin around like a dog chasing its tail. Not physically, at least. She turned slowly. Female figur... Wait a second... She sniffed again. Her sense of smell was nothing like her mother's, but it was good enough. She raised an eyebrow, and approached the figure from behind. With an air of camaraderie, she slung an arm around the male-woman's neck. The motion looked gentle. The choke-hold was anything but.

Cunning, Bree growled in his ear. Very cunning. Are you done making a fool of yourself now, madam?

[Derelict Draught]

A faint smile wraps about Malberry's face mirroring the arm wrapping about his neck, she'd taken her sweet time in getting there but she'd found him. With the gentlest of sways, he rounds on her, pinning her lower body against his side in a pose for the photographers around them. Her grip was tight but the costume granted him some additional protection around his throat and diminished the pressure.

"I was just telling the girls about you. Was starting to worry you wouldn't make it in time."

Stepping forward with passenger in tow, Malberry begins to venture towards a small janitor's closet partly concealed by a merchant's table. Keeping Bree pinned in place, he opens the door and slips inside. Once concealed from the prying eyes of the public and secure from any prying eyes or ears, Malberry releases the girl.

"2 hours? Shameful Bree. Just shameful. I expected you to take longer. Had you simply been looking for me I would have expected only a few minutes for you to arrive at the fourth floor. And since you stopped to take advantage of your suit it should have been down to the last second if at all."

With a knowing laugh, he strips the Klingon garb from his body revealing another underneath, one similar to that which Bree wore only colored yellow instead. Straightening spaces where the fabric had rolled up or wrinkled, he carefully stores the Klingon costume in a bag he had been wearing beneath the two layers.

"We still have a little while before we need to head to the panels. Might I recommend a drink or twelve?"

-------

Taking a seat among the panel's audience, Malberry shifts the phaser at his side to be more comfortable as he leans back in the chair. The forum itself would take about forty minutes and then Stan Lee would accept questions that the audience member's presented. Such was the normal format of these panel forums and they sated a great number of nerds hunger for exposure and their desire to delve deeper into the man's mind.

The forty minutes drag on over an eternity as the forum bounces from one topic to the next, discussing everything from the origins and inspirations for many of his characters to the new projects he will be appearing in. As the last of his cameo's faded from the screen above him the audience were finally invited to ask questions. In a heartbeat, Malberry was at the head of the line. A silent smile passed between him and the men at the panel as a microphone arrived in his hand.

Turning from the panel members and facing where he'd left Bree sitting, a warm and soulful smile spreads about his face. With a pride which seemed to swell from some man which Malberry never knew. His voice boomed as he spoke into the handheld device.

"Jessica. We have been through so much together. We have walked through the gates of hell itself and still made it out the other side. The two of us have experienced horrors like no other, but we always made it out, together. Without you I don't know if I'd even be alive right now. So, Jessica, will you marry me?"

[Verdana]

Malberry turned, and it was Malberry, not some random masculine-looking woman who Bree would have to feign drunkenness to placate. She was relieved, but slightly disappointed to. Despite herself, she'd been having some fun, and finding Malberry had turned her game back into work. He softened her chokehold, although she didn't let go. She was too good to be thwarted without some serious effort. She posed, smirking, for a photograph, and answered nonchalantly,
Oh, I was just checking out the panels. Good turn-out this year.

In reality, she couldn't compare anything. She didn't get out much, and when she did...

Well, this was more Ty's scene than hers.

She allowed herself to be pulled into a closet, half wary, half curious. Malberry shut the door, and then proceeded to get undressed. Horrified, Bree averted her eyes. Why would he do that? Was he planning to... No, no he wasn't. He had an outfit on underneath. She returned her gaze to him, relieved. Only to puff herself up indignantly as the young man criticised her arrival time. She drew herself up to her full height. She was not exceptionally tall, but she stood head and shoulders over her mother.
So what if I did? she demanded.
What's so wrong about that? I hardly ever look good, and tonight I get to flaunt it. Is that so terrible?

She wasn't only talking to Malberry, even though he was the only person around to hear her.

..................................................

A drink. That's all she'd agreed to. One drink, and one with low alcohol content, at that. A beer, she'd thought. Half a beer. Beer was supposed to have low alcohol in it, wasn't it?

Only, she didn't like beer, and it seemed a waste, for her only drink of the night to be a drink she didn't like. So she'd ordered a glass of wine, only the wine was vinegary (served her right, ordering wine at a sci-fi convention) but she only noticed halfway through her glass, and it wasn't fair to only have beer and vinegar. She certainly hadn't gotten her one drink. Bree may have been an assassin, but she was pitifully young. She'd always worked so hard that she'd never had the chance to discover her alcohol tolerance, or to discover that it was disastrously low. She'd never had anything to drink before. Not properly. She'd never drank on the job.

And nobody'd ever thought to tell her never to mix drinks.

As she sat in a panel
'So this is a panel!
with beer, wine, tequila shots and bread in her otherwise empty stomach,
tequila was really, really good. Sharp, like surgical spirits, but it burnt like fire through her nerves
listening to some guy she'd never heard of speak
Stan Lee. That was his name. Huh. Stanlee. Stanley. Teehee. Poor guy. His parents must've hated him
she felt pleasantly jovial. She was getting admiring looks (or thought she was), which were inflating her ego. She fluffed her hair, and tried to pay attention to the speaker. Odd. She'd never had any trouble paying attention to anything before. It was fun. Being not-serious was fun.

Bree applauded with the crowd without having absorbed a word of the presentation, and wanted Malberry take the mike with detachment. Good. He'd ask a question. Someone somewhere had once told her that questions were good. Or something. She blinked, as bright lights were on her and Malberry was addressing her and
by the blade he just proposed he just proposed to me what do I do what do I do
she was expected to answer.

Bree froze, her hand going to her mouth. She was holding her body well, keeping her face under control. Outwardly, she looked completely sober, if more relaxed than usual. She started at Malberry, not only acting dumbstruck. What was he doing? She glanced to the cameras. She was furious with him for putting her on the spot, but recognised the test when she saw it.

Fortunately, she'd made this choice long before that moment. When she had turned twelve, her mother had sat her down and said, very seriously, that it was time for her to choose. She could be an assassin, if that was what she really wanted, but that's what she'd be. No other options. No other life. A half-hearted assassin was a dead assassin. Bree'd taken three whole weeks to make her choice. It seemed short, looking back. Naive. But, she'd made her choice and there was no going back. Playing a role, fitting into a suit, a mask, defined her.

A slow, astonished smile broke across her face, and she leapt into Malberry's arms, planting a kiss on his lips. She didn't hold back. She may have been young, but she had been trained very thoroughly.

Oh, Jonah! Yes, yes of course! Of course I will!

I win, sucker, she thought.

[Derelict Draught]

Malberry's blood runs cold as Bree lunges forward. She said yes. Why would she say yes? He had anticipated just about every option she had, but he would never have expected her to say yes. She had though. They were to be wed. Or at least their covers were...were to be married. His mind struggles with the concept and the sea of memories which flooded his mind. Sure he had been close to a woman before, numerous in fact, but he hadn't allowed himself to get close to any in so long. To have the intimacy of touch and the trust shared within. Now...Now he was jumping through the traditions in a matter of hours. Straight to marriage.

Instinctively his hands grip her sides as his body returns the girl's kiss. Her lips were moist and soft, had he not known her he might have believed them to have been spared every harshness in the world. Never once having uttered a harsh word much less barking some spiteful comment. Her breath smelled and tasted of the various alcohol's she'd downed but the realization that she was probably drunk failed to dawn on him.

Underneath the palms of his hands, he could feel the muscles of the girl's powerful sides. Despite her frail appearance the girl possessed a strength that could break some of the strongest men as though they were no more than toothpicks. Each breath sent ripples through the girl's muscles, faint but still present. Each muscle movement seemed to draw him deeper into the trance threatening to leave the man Malberry behind in favor of Jonah.

With each moment that slipped between them, Malberry wished to linger longer and longer. He knew once she drew back the moment would be gone. That there would be no repeat. They had each chosen solitude for the sake of a greater family. Such was the demand as he understood it. Everything about her was maddening though. Her scent. Her touch. The way the light struck her face...His heartbeat began to race as impossible thoughts raced about his mind. He wanted nothing more than to pull away now and hide, to keep the moment all to himself and to preserve it for eternity.

Pushing Bree back ever so gingerly, the love struck fool, Jonah, produces a small and plain band from the bag on his back. With trembling fingers, he slides the ring into place on his fiancé's finger. She was his now. Jonah's...Malberry's. A cry rings out from the crowd surrounding them as Stan Lee and the gathered speak in unison: "Excelsior!" Taking his fiance into his arms, Jonah carries his partner from the panel room with applause in the background.

Once clear of the room, Malberry's delusions seem to evaporate as he starts towards the hotel. Each step brings more clarity as the motion helps to free his memory of the many drinks he'd downed. There was only one explanation for what had happened back there. They were drunk. Madly so. Neither of them should have had anything to drink before they went in there. He should never have let her have anything to drink at all. This mistake was on him. The best move was to get her to the hotel room and lock her in where she could rest. Even set in his explanation, he refuses to stop carrying the girl...and he makes no attempt to remove the ring.

[Verdana]

Bree noted, with detachment, that Malberry kissed very well. She'd kissed humans before, and in her experience, they tended to be sloppy and moist. He was fine, though. Just the right amount of tongue. The only factor which surprised her in the situation was how eager he was to continue with the kiss. Her tongue was so saturated with alcohol that she could not taste the spirits on his breath. Sober, she would have been bristling and interrogating in an instant. Inebriated, she accepted it, closed her eyes, and enjoyed the moment, leaning into his hands and toying with his lips. Even the cheering in the background couldn't faze her. She liked science fiction lovers, she liked conventions. She could even learn to tolerate Malberry.

They drew away, breathless, and Malberry
Jonah, he's Jonah, whatever you do don't break character and don't forget that he's Jonah
Jonah slipped a ring onto her finger. It was plain, it was simple. It was a promise, and it surprised Bree. Had he been so sure that she was devoted enough to stay in character? Was she really so transparent? Was her zealous devotion to her job a good or bad thing? Nonetheless, the ring caught the light pleasantly
Ooh, look. It's shiny
and distracted Bree long enough for Malberry to pick her up and carry her out of the room.

At first, Bree didn't really register the change. She was used to being picked up unexpectedly and carried from place to place. Her nose registered male scent, her brain instantly connected to the other times she had been picked up. It gave her two possible scenarios:
1. Something was wrong and an assassin was carrying her off of a job, in which case moving would have been very unwise, if not fatal.
Or, alternatively:
2. Ty was being his usual mad self.
Both scenarios were not potentially dangerous, and did not encourage movement, and so Bree stayed still, resting her head
suddenly heavy and tired
on Malberry's shoulder.

Malberry's shoulder.

Malberry.

Convention. Stay with it, girl.

She lifted her head abruptly, and looked around. She was disconcerted to find that, while her mind would instantly have identified her route on a usual day, it took her a moment to establish familiarity. They were backtracking, going the way they'd come. Or, the way Bree had come, to find Malberry. That meant that they were making their way to the door. Which meant that they were leaving.

Hadn't there been something she'd wanted to do?

Her brain registered incapability, and years of training kicked in. She slipped into the shallow character that Malberry had drafted for her and she had spent the evening filling up. She was Jessica and he was Jonah, until they got into the hotel room and were sure that they weren't being monitored.

Jonah. Her voice was soft, but persistent.
Jonah, babe? You can put me down now.
Slightly louder, Seriously, babe. I can walk.
Jonah?

Bree began to struggle, moving her body in sinuous, cat-like, snake-like arches and loops, becoming an unwieldy coil, a loaded spring, uncannily difficult to hold onto.

Jonah, love? Where are you taking me? We were supposed to go past the Furries, remember? Oh, don't tell me you forgot! I've been looking forward to this all year! Can't we just go back? Just for five minutes? Please?

For your new fiance?

[Derelict Draught]

What are you doing? You shouldn't still be carrying her. Everyone is watching. They'd understand. She's heavy. Just set her down gently and move on. You'll get to the hotel faster if you both walk.

A soft pressure combined with a sweet scent reminds him of his precious cargo. The girl of his dreams and who held his heart. His entire world. The gentle touch of her body against his sent warm pulses tingling through his body. The sensation mixed with the liquor already within him causing his face to dawn a deep red flush. He shouldn't have drunken so much...

No. Jonah wouldn't put his new fiance down just yet. He'd carry her all the way. He proposed to her at one of the largest gathering of people within range. He loves this girl and would spare her the world no matter the cost to himself. He would carry her to the ends of the Earth if he had to.

The girl's soft voice slides past his consciousness as his mind continues to struggle with its identity. The words repeated their assault on his ear drums to no avail. Finally, as the girl's nerve broke, her voice stabbed deep into his stupor. Concealing his decayed cognition, he gently angles Bree to her feet.

"Sorry...Just..."

A single tears forms in his left eye as a weak smile creeps across his face.

"I...I've never been so happy..."

The man's hands take a life of their own, rubbing nervously against his pants legs as he speaks. His anxiety was high. His uncertainty was great. Above all else, he astonished himself.

"I'm getting married..."

His eyes glitter as the smile about his face grows wider, fuller...Real. Taking his fiance by the hand, he gives a gentle squeeze before taking up pace in the direction of the next panel.

"I didn't forget...I was only distracted."

MARRIED!

[Verdana]

After an impressive struggle, Bree felt herself being tipped, and her feet touched the floor. She had to search for a minuto to make sure it really was the floor
it felt a little funny. Not as solid as usual
but soon regained her balance and stood up straight. She did not frown, because that was out of character. She was happy. She was getting married. She had to remember that. It was important.

She reached up and touched the tear on the young man's cheek. She smiled. Had she been plumper, her left cheek would have dimpled.
Did you really think I'd say no? she whispered, stretching up to kiss him again as someone from the panel walked past. This comment was two-sided: Both a loving confirmation and a snide reminder of victory. He took her hand, and they were soon walking. However, Bree's sudden interest in Furries was waning. Something wasn't right. Malberry wasn't right. Something was wrong with him. She wasn't herself, either.

They were in danger.

Bree glanced around. A wookie met her eyes, and was instantly a threat. Who knew how many guns could be hidden under that furry suit? Which hostile eyes were peering out at her, waiting for her to lose focus, to forget? She turned her head, only to see a wrinkled vampyre baring its fangs at her. Good place to go undercover, she realised. Humans wouldn't notice if you weren't precisely human yourself. They'd think it was part of your costume. They wouldn't help you. They wouldn't be able to. She did need human intervention of course.

She looked up at her supposed partner on the job. She did, however, need him. And he didn't seem to be in his right mind at that moment. It may have been the alcohol, but Bree wasn't sure if he knew what was going on. Her chest froze. If the wookie decided to attack her, Malberry would be no use, and she'd be hopeless. She was off-balance, confused and all too aware that she wasn't thinking clearly. They needed to get out of the convention and to relative safety, before the wookies got her. She was sure that there were more of them, hiding and waiting to ambush her, just like they'd waited for Velia out in the garden. In fact, the wookies were definitely the same people who killed Vee, only in disguise. They'd come back for her, after all this time.

This time, Vee wasn't there to take her place.

Bree stopped abruptly, and kissed Malberry again. She smiled, but her lips were stiff with fear. Usually, that fear, that constant, numbing fear, was carefully concealed behind anger and belligerent arrogance. Alcohol was a cruel, cruel substance.
You know what? she said, her voice low and seductive,
The Furry panel will wait until tomorrow. We can hit it in the morning. Tonight... Well, tonight is special.
She put a hand against his face.
We have some celebrating to do, she whispered, close to his ear.

She hoped that he was too drunk to notice the slight tremors in her fingers.

[Derelict Draught]

Jonah let his fiance have her way with him. He knew Jessica meant him no harm. That she would never do anything to hurt him. She'd never risk them...Still, the girl's eyes seemed to linger on a wookie. Man or woman could lurk beneath the heavy shag carpet. He didn't like the way they were looking at his girl...

Instinctively his hand drifts to the phaser at his hip. One shot. Thats all he would need. After that the Spartans and Klingons would help him to fend off any other offenders. They had to. They were the good guys. The thought was lost as Jessica drew him down into another kiss. He liked that. He could get used to the touch of her lips against his.

The touch of her lips. The gentle presence of her fingers against his cheek. The warmth of her breath on his ear. The scent of her body so near to him. The low pull of her voice. Each threatened to pull him deeper into his trance. They made him want to run a marathon only to return to her side.

Even inebriated, the allure of her presence failed to blind him from her changes in behavior. She trembled. Her fingers were clammy and she was sweating. Her lips were stiff. Her eyes moved rapidly, clearly agitated. She was terrified. Of what, he had not the faintest clue.

Pulling her close, he places a kiss of his own on her brow. He would protect her from anyone or anything that dared attack them. He wouldn't let anything befall her. Not now. Not ever. Replacing his drunken docility with a powerful bravado, he offers his arm to his fiance.

"We'd best be off then. Don't want to lose the entire night now do we?"

A healthy smile brandishes across his face as the alcohol allows the seduction to sink past the barrier around his mind. Gripping her hand firmly, he hurries them back to the hotel and the seclusion offered by their room.

[Verdana]

//Back at Base//

Shaygrin prided herself in knowing what her assassins were doing. She always took a particular interest in what her daughter was up to. As a result, she was watching a flat-screen television in the temporary base's small lounge (the TV, of course, was Ty-altered) and was tuned to the convention footage when a celebration was announced.

Her eyes widened as the scene cut to a particular panel. She watched a young man propose with surprise, but took the very familiar-looking recipient's answer with even more astonishment. She laughed softly, under her breath, and dipped her hand into a packet of salty crisps.
Well well, she murmured, leaning forward and observing keenly.

Well well well.

//Attack of the Wookies//

For a heart-wrenching moment, Bree thought that Malberry would disregard her gut instinct (shaky though it was) and force her to stay. She didn't know what she could have done then. Would she have had the courage t leave him, and find her way back to the hotel alone? Probably, but she would not have enjoyed it. However, after a very brief hesitation, he pulled her close and kissed her forehead. The gesture surprised her. Her seduced targets were usually too lust-filled to bother with gestures of tenderness. The only person who had ever shown Bree such affection was her mother, and this was altogether different. It made her go warm and fuzzy inside.

Or, warmer and fuzzier, at least.

She took Malberry's hand gratefully, leaning into his shoulder and shooting a suspicious, angry look at the Wookie. 'Hah! Joke's on you, Wookie,' she thought. 'I'm going to get away from you now. You won't kill me today.' Then she realised that she was shooting death scares at someone in a furry suit, and felt slightly stupid. She told herself that one could never be too careful, and felt a bit better. Snatching a drink lightly out of someone's hand (her head was still clear enough for speed and enough skill to pluck beer from a drunk's palm) she downed it, for confidence. She found that she rather liked beer, after all. The taste was growing on her.

As soon as the two of them got outside, Bree began to feel better. The paranoia melted away, to be replaced by a fuzzy dizziness. It wasn't a bad dizziness, though. Not like when she was sick, or something was wrong. This was a good dizzy. A happy dizzy. She began to smile slightly, and then more broadly. She rested her head against JonahMalberry's arm with a soft sigh.

Then she started to feel playful.

She started slowly at first: Plucking wallets out of pockets, swapping purses. Then she got more brave, and began to swap handbags. This was trickier, as she had to gauge mass of handbags to swap correctly. She almost slipped up, once, but corrected herself.
She got braver. She broke away from Malberry, and began to play more daring tricks. She took off a man's jacket, and placed it on a woman. She was good; they didn't notice. She undid a woman's sash, untied it and knotted it around a man's neck. Then, with a spirited laugh, darted back to Malberry's arm and took it, as if she'd been there the whole time.

Feeling elated by her own audacity, she started to hum. Everything seemed wonderful and right and funny. She nuzzled into MalberryJonahMalberry's arm, pulling at his hand. She broke into song for a moment, but soon returned to humming.

She wasn't quite that brave.

In a sudden fit of euphoria, she stopped, grabbed Malberry's face, and kissed him again, smiling into his lips.

Come on, she urged.
Let's get back. Maybe... Maybe have some fun. The night's not over yet.

[Derelict Draught]

Malberry's mind races with the possibilities. Was that some kind of code? Did she just want to have some more fun before they retired for the night? He had a thermal scope for the MacMilan that they could use to snipe bats and stuff. That would be fun. Get in some target practice. He forgot the silencer though...

Maybe if he wasn't so drunk...Or if he weren't as giddy. Seemed like every time they kissed his heart started scampering about like a rabbit. Where did she keep running off to? And where were they even? The hotel should be just around the next corner...right? Forcing his loss of direction out of his mind, Malberry puts on a show for his fiance's sake.

His arms remained relaxed and he smiled down at her. He liked the way she clung to his arm. She was warm and she smelled good to. Almost good enough to eat. A soft chuckle escapes him. Cannibals were funny. Lazily, he rests his head against hers. What an odd sight they must look. A pair of bickering assassins linked together like a pair of long lived lovers.

The next few moments slip past his absent mind as his legs carry him through the hotel and to the entryway of the room. Opening the door, he holds the portal open wide to allow Bree to pass. All illusions would evaporate once he set foot over the threshold. Only the truth would remain, their identities, their thoughts...their feelings. Dreading the reversion, Malberry stands outside the door frame staring blankly at the wall.