Somewhere To Be Flying
Betsy has learned to expect the unexpected, both when it comes to the battles she constantly finds herself as a member of the X-Men and also when it comes to the men she dates.
Lately her equilibrium has been a little off, and that's putting it mildly. Near death experiences have a tendency to have that kind of emotional and pyshical effect on a person. She fancies what the jagged red scar on her cheek makes her somehow less open and approachable.
Betsy has never been the shy or retiring wall flower type, at least not since was a young girl of the upper crust of British high- society and felt understandably overshadowed by her older twin brother, Brian. As Captain Britian Brian has had had his own share of adventures. Bety wishes him well as he embarks on his new life as a married man with his wife, Meggan.
Those cheerful thoughts don't last very long as Betsy gazes into the mirror hanging on the back of door and caresses the scar on her face. Courtesy of a mystical force known as the Crimson Dawn. Her life was on the line and her friends, Warren among them, retrieved it at a not inconsiderable danger to their own lives to save hers.
Still, she appreciates not just the fact of the scar left on her face by the effects of the Crimson Dawn, but also the powers that come with it, but it permeates almost of her attention to keep it under control. And she wonders if this struggle for balance, for control is what has drawn her current boyfriend to her. Warren Worringthon III, better known as Archangel has his own problems, and sometimes it seems as if these two people can really understand what the other is dealing with right now. It's common ground.
In a mansion filled with firends it's not like their relationship and the fact that they're dating is any secret for long. She really could use a break from these melancholy thoughts, after all she needs to use this time to prepare for the date Warren has arranged.
Betsy strides over to her closet and shuffles through rows of articles of clothing, discarding each one by one, before selecting a guazy, floor length burgundy gown. Warren has expensive taste, and she respects that. She gets dressed and stands before the mirror again this time to run a ivory handled brush through the dark purple hair.
After the dinner at an expensive elegant Mediterran resturant, and they begin to talk. At first its to fill the space and then they become more relaxed. They discuss the arts, politics, and its getting late.
Warren tells her an rather amusing anecdote about how he remembers dinners here when his family still had an insane amount money, losing it to an old villan of the X-Men's back in the day, Arcade. Now there's one for the scrapbook," and they both laugh.
After the dessert comes, and against her better judgment and inner reseravation, somehow finds herself coaxed into playing a renidition of 'You Must Remember This' on the baby grand piano, for all the world like she was vamping the role of in the movie "The Fabulous Baker Boys."
Warren is expressive and appreciate of her performance and she allows herself a grin and then is taken by surprise again as Warren picks her up and they depart from the lounge in a most unorthodox matter, through the sliding glass doors and Warren launches into the air, feathery wings spread wide.
With the wind in her face, eyes tearing from the speed and height of their passage, Warren is concerned that the might be spotted from the ground, it's a valid concern, but at this point neither cares to be overly concerned about it.
They come to a landing on Coney Island and skirt the outskkirts of the amusement park, trying to avoid being noticed.
Betsy is beginning to loosen up and enjoy the rare down time when Warren notices that several of the fairgoers have been trapped at the maximum height ofthe stalled ferris wheel.
The carnies fluttering around at the base like ants from this height. "We'd better go help them," Warren grins.
"My hero." She teases.
They get the riders down and the ride's operator with wrench in hand gets the machine back in operation. And when it's all over and everyone has left they both exchange sheepish grins. "Not bad for a night's work."
"We're putting this one in scrapbook."