trans_9 | What's Your Fantasy? [Closed]

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What's Your Fantasy? [Closed]

Punchy reads everyone's thoughtful responses to his pressing question on the omnicomm.

And promptly ignores them.

Hooking up the media library and the Sensoriums to make a Broadway production of Wicked isn't difficult. What is difficult is Punchy's insistence on getting dressed up the old-fashioned way. An insistence that doesn't, in fact, translate to any skill whatsoever when it comes to knotting a tie or getting the buttons in the right holes of a suit jacket. It takes him a grand total of nearly two hours to figure out the stupid tie. Thankfully, being a superhero comes with inhuman amounts of patience with one's self.

Having finally gotten all gussied up for his big night, Punchy waits on a bench outside a replica theatre. He's even set the weather just perfect - a starry night with just the slightest occasional breeze (so he may need to, in an ever so manly fashion, lend her his jacket) and a crowd of enthused socialites waiting at the box office, muttering 'peas and carrots' over and over.

He even left the Puppet at home.

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Punchy nods. He still thinks the whole thing is silly, but he's not about to tell Maxine that. "Word to that. It's good to have goals. Keeps you trucking."

The curtain starts to rise again as intermission ends. Punchy does not remove his arm from around Maxine's shoulders.

"Right!" Maxine agrees, with an emphatic nod. "Without something to work toward, sometimes you can feel kind of... lost--"

She might have said more, but the curtain rises again, and she quite abruptly closes her mouth as her attention is called back to the stage, with bright eyes. She shifts forward slightly, but not away from Punchy's arm.

If Punchy was bored by the first half of the play, the second half puts him into a coma. He's fighting off the urge to fall asleep when Elphaba does her disappearing act, and then, oh God, there's still a reprise.

But he's pretty sure Maxine will probably never talk to him again if he falls asleep (especially if he drools on her), so when the curtain goes down again he pretends his grin is not from relief but from genuine exhilaration.

Somehow, Maxine's smile, from the general feeling she got from the show she loved, magnifies when she sees Punchy's grin. She lets herself sit in the feeling for a moment, before she turns that smile on him.

"Isn't it great?" Maxine asked simply. But she was bursting at the seams with enthusiasm to talk about it.

"Completely dope," Punchy agrees, channeling his usual enthusiasm for subwoofers and bling into pretend enthusiasm for Maxine's sake. "Bangin'."

He cracks his neck and gets up out of the chair, holding a hand out to help Maxine up. "So uh, does this sorta shizz got an afterparty and all?"

Maxine is truly delighted that he's sharing her enthusiasm for this. "I'm so glad," she says. "I love it so much. Most of my friends back home didn't really know much about theatre, though I talked to them about it a lot. I guess they were into other things, mostly, but that's okay!"

She takes the hand gratefully, lifting herself up carefully. She lets out a thoughtful, but pleased, hum. "Well, not necessarily. It kind of depends, most of the time. We could make our own after party though, right? I mean, we can do whatever we want, here."

"Well, I don't know jack about theatre, but you're free to chat me up about it anytime, you know. I could learn." Reluctantly.

"Want to head over to some joint I'd be flossing? So you get a taste of my side?"

"Alright!" Maxine says, with a confident nod. "I'll definitely tell you anything you want to know. I'd love to teach you everything!" ~~Punchy will learn to love it.~~

Excitedly, she nods again. "Oh, I'd love that, Punchy! So then we'll both have shared a little."

Well, if it's coming from those lips...~~not like that's the only thing Punchy wants to learn from those lips.~~

"So, ah. I we were to get some din or something in the future and all...would that be a second date?"

Maxine looks a little flustered at that. Well, it made sense that they'd kind of have to address that for real sooner or later. She shifts, but then quickly starts speaking again.

"Well, I guess if we were to do dinner or something, after doing a really nice and fancy show like this-- and it really was great, thank you Punchy, I think that was just what I needed-- then it would kind of be crossing into 'date' material. Only I've nearly really done one of those before, so I'm not really sure how to handle it or anything, or what you're supposed to do, so maybe you'd be better at saying than I would. But I guess-- um, I guess if you wanted it to be like that, then that'd be okay! I might like that, anyway, I had fun with this."

His grin threatens to break off his face and take liftoff.

"We can do some nice chow or something, I mean, we wouldn't even have to switch duds up, we're already all flossed up to go style..." he's babbling almost as much as she does. "Uh. Right. Whatcha like to eat?"

Maxine smiles. Still embarrassed, but smiling.

"Okay! Yeah, we're already ready to go, huh?" She laughs, then says, "I'm not picky though. I mean, we can do anything we want to in here, right? But I don't know, I don't mind anything. I guess I kind of like home-y meals, though, I always loved when my grandmother cooked for me; but that's not really 'fancy,' either, so... hm. Well, those really fancy restaurants that people always go to in the movies, those are always so nice. I've never actually been to one. How about something like that?"

He nods, scratching his chin in an exaggerated take-me-seriously-for-I-am-thoughtful way. "We could always do homey shizz in a swanking joint, you know. No one said the food's gotta be cash to be fly."

"Okay!" Maxine says brightly, and nods vigorously. "That sounds great! So we can kind of combine the two, right? Best of both worlds." She shifts, then smiles up at him. "You want to set the scene, then?"

Punchy decides it's safest to go with the most stereotypically romantic restaurant he can imagine. Unfortunately, he can't read French, so he's going to have significant trouble with that menu. Not that it's even legible beyond the curly-que cursive.

Roses on the table. Candlelight. Fine wine. Some guy playing some classical bullshit on a violin across the room.

He holds his arm out for her. "This what you got in mind?"

Maxine's face is reminiscent of a 300-watt light bulb. Or something else really bright.

"It looks perfect," she says, and she reaches out to take that arm. "Thank you. It really is just like in the movies."

Punchy thinks his whole nervous system kind of lights up when Maxine links her arm around his. The waiter, a tall man in a tux with a curly little mustache, escorts them to their table.

"Anything you want, shawty." Punchy waits on Maxine's order - he'd like to do some homestyle food like his mom makes, but it might give away his terrible secret of being Southern if he orders grits or something.

Maxine settles carefully in her seat, with a soft hum to herself. She really does find it amazing. Punchy's been so kind to her.

"Okay! But I'm not sure what. A lot of things might be really nice-- if we can have literally anything, then it's kind of hard to pick. I don't really have a favourite food or anything, anyway, so it's not like one thing would really be any better than anything else. But what about meatloaf? Oh, or Shepherd's Pie? Or even a roast, that's a little nicer, to go with the scene. And I bet for dessert, some apple pie would be really nice..."

Well, it's easier to be flossin' when you can afford everything you can imagine.

"I'm down like dominoes with apple pie." Punchy tries with minimal success to unfold his napkin swan and tuck it under his chin like someone super sophisticated. The waiter comes over on roller blades because Punchy thinks that's cool. "We can just start with dessert, if you want."

Maxine giggles faintly at that, but smiles. She very neatly and deliberately unfolds her napkin, and places it on her lap, before she sees the waiter. One hand shoots up to her mouth, holding back a laugh or a comment-- she thinks it would be awfully rude to make a jesting comment about the waiter, even if he's not a really person. Still, it's a funny sight.

"Okay," she says, once she has her composure. "Dessert first. Just this once."

Punchy blushes and laughs at Maxine's response. That's a good thing, right? Girls like a sense of humor, or so he's been told.

"Apple pie, then."

The waiter delivers it on a silver platter, along with chopsticks because that's classier, right? Punchy pauses and waits for Maxine to start, hoping to meet any standards she might set for table manners. Punchy's leave some to be desired. Punchy's leave a lot to be desired.

Somehow he suddenly feels inadequate.

Fortunately for Punchy, most of Maxine's table manners were absorbed through watching movies of fancy people, and Broadway productions. As opposed to any kind of formal training, though her grandmother had always been adamant about manners and being polite.

Carefully, she serves herself a piece of the pie, taking care to not make a mess, and to not take too big a piece, though she does like sweets a lot. She picks up the chopsticks, and eyes them for a moment. She's not entirely sure how to eat pie with them.

"Uh." Punchy serves himself a slightly larger slice of pie than the one Maxine took for herself (he is a teenage boy, after all, and a six pack gives you one hell of a metabolism!). Unfortunately, he's as clueless as her when it comes to using chopsticks. Maybe he should have opted for those super classy tiny forks instead.

After wrangling with his piece of pie, all he's really managed to do is spread it around across the plate. He looks at Maxine a little helplessly.

Maxine giggles a little; honestly, she's having no better luck, but she thinks it's fine. "No big," she says happily. She hums a little in thought, trying to get a bite one more time before she laughs a little more fully. She closes her eyes for a split second, and changes her chopsticks to a fork.

A beat, and then she asks, "You don't mind, right? I was having a little trouble."

Punchy laughs. "Shawty, I thought I had to be the first to cave on that one. I got more grub on the tablecloth than on the chopstick."

Besides now they can and should totally feed each other like some sickeningly cute couple. Punchy's thinking it. But Punchy's thinking a lot of things about Maxine, some romantic and some decidedly more 'inside the head of a teenage boy' style.

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My spellcheck does not recognize 'bling'. /SOB

blasphemy :c

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