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"Completely wrecked it. From the look on my aunt's face you'd have thought that I'd started an extra unexpected world war."

Anathema current state could best be described as 'delightfully buzzed'. There was always the fear in these circumstances that she could veer rather quickly into 'a bit sloshed' and then 'completely pissed' territories. Fortunately one of the many minor perks that came from being who she was, was the one wherein she had the foresight to eat a rather large dinner^*. It might not be much, but it had come in remarkably handy during her schooldays.

The fact of the matter was that she deserved a bit of a celebratory drink. Or five. It was her birthday and sure, she might not be entirely certain if she was turning twenty (actual number of years she'd be alive) or thirty-seven (number of years according to this place) but it was just another minor detail. Just like the fact that she hadn't explicitly told Chuck that her birthday was what she was privately celebrating in her head. She'd just mentioned grabbing a drink and here they were.

Besides, wasn't it enough to privately celebrating getting another birthday at all? Dealing with the End of Days typically results in No More Birthdays. Having a confusing one was better than none at all.

Taking another sip of her drink^§, she set it down on the bar and opened her mouth to continue. Instead she hiccuped. This made her laugh as she covered her mouth with her hand.

"Sorry. Happens sometimes. Not dignified, but real."

* That and she'd inherited a fantastic hangover cure with a 94% success rate. It was best to never ask her what was in it.

§ A dark and stormy, despite it being neither stormy out nor summer where such a drink is usually consumed.

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When Anathema had suggested going for a drink, Chuck hadn't seen anything to do but agree. Of course, he hadn't mentioned that he'd almost certainly have wound up doing the same thing had he spent the evening on his own. Some days, it doesn't seem like there's anything better for him here, and he doesn't think he can entirely help it if his best friend being in a coma has his nerves more than a little shot. More than anything, he wants to find the son of a bitch who did that to Newt and make him pay for it. In the absence of being able to, and perhaps a bit to distract himself from how utterly useless it makes him, someone who once stood face to face with monsters and decimated them and now can't take a stand against just some guy, drinking seems like the best use of his time. Drinking with Anathema is just an improvement on that.

"I won't hold it against you," he says with a crooked grin, taking a long swig of his own drink. "Is starting unexpected world wars something that's happened before?"

"In a grand, sweeping historical context? Yes."

Another sip of her drip went down the hatch with barely a twitch of her nose at the burn. By now Anathema can hardly taste the burn of it, in a good way. Experience (and a few other things) told her that anything more than two additional drinks was going to lead to her being sick in the gutter and cursing everything in the morning. Right now she was at just that sweet spot where everything was a bit fuzzy and delightful.

Sweeping a strand of hair behind her ear, she smiled broadly especially enjoying his crooked smile. "In my own life? Hardly ever. Like I said, typically a bystander unless we're direct causes. That's how us legacy Nutters and certain Devices are. Just you wait and see."

"Yeah, I meant for you," Chuck says with a laugh, one that comes a little easier than it would have if he were sober. Relaxing has never actually been his strong suit; there've been too few opportunities for it over the past half of his life, something that being here has thrown into sharp contrast. Before, it only seemed normal. Now, it leaves him at a loss. It's less so at times like this, where the alcohol's gone to his head just enough to cancel out worries that he might have otherwise had. "So does hardly ever mean that you have before?"

"Sorry. I've reached the literal point of this evening, I'm afraid."

For helpful measure Anathema demonstrated this roughly by giving her glass a bit of swirl so that the ice clinked against the side. If the bar staff hadn't been so helpful in removing the empty glasses, the evidence would be a lot more apparent. Ah well, there were decidedly more terrible ways to spend a twentieth birthday than with a handsome man in a bar. Especially when that birthday had not originally been anticipated. "Sort of? Possibly? I was a bystander to the middle of a world war and I'm fairly certain the whale thing might've been my suggestion. So there's that."

She scrunched up her face for a moment, mentally running through list before relaxing once more. Turning to face him a bit more she leaned against the bar to resist the urge to lean forward and seriously invade his personal space. "Have I told you that you're unfairly good-looking? Because you are. Like gold apples, foretold doom levels of unfairly good-looking. I can't say that I'm opposed."

He can't exactly fault her for having reached the literal portion of the evening when he's about as far gone as she is, all things considered. Granted, the drinks probably go to her head a little more quickly than they do his, but regardless, Chuck isn't one to judge. At least, not about something like that. Besides, when this past while hasn't exactly been all that pleasant, it's nice to have an excuse to relax for a while, to find something to laugh about, and Anathema's stories are always interesting. Not many other people here know what it's like to experience the apocalypse, even if theirs are quite different ones.

What follows, though, that's not new. Not in the sense that it's nothing Chuck has heard before, because he has, plenty — as the youngest and most successful Jaeger pilot, there was never any shortage of girls who were interested in him, though he never paid any of that much mind — but it hasn't before now come from Anathema. He grins slowly, crookedly, some combination of amused and intrigued. "Is that so?" he asks. "Well, it's a good thing you aren't so bad yourself."

The version of Chuck's story that Anathema was privy to was definitely fascinating. She had a soft spot for the different and the difficult and a penchant for picking up the weird. All of that more or less described the life that he'd lived and she liked it. Plus she liked his face and deeply suspected she'd like the rest of him. At least the parts of the future that kept flickering into her mind suggested as much. It was just a matter of making that more or less come true. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

Sliding a bit more forward on her stool until her knees brushed his, she laughed. "It's exactly so. And lucky me, then?" Another laugh. "I just became a cliché with that line, didn't I? Cause I could try another. Or do something else."

"Clichés aren't always so bad," Chuck says with a shrug, looking more amused than anything else. Given what she's saying, he has a feeling he knows where this is headed, but that's all the more reason to wait and see what she's got up her sleeve. From the sound of things so far, he's likely to enjoy it, and God knows it's about time he had something like a break, even if his whole stay in this place has been an enforced one of those. "But what did you have in mind?"

Drumming her fingers on his knee she nodded as she laughed. "Perhaps, but it doesn't make them any less corny."

This was one of those times where having the ability to project her thoughts into other people's heads would have been incredibly useful. Alas given that she lacked such psychic prowess, she was just going to have to settle for the old fashioned way. Fortunately she was pretty brilliant at the old fashioned way, especially when she was a few drinks in.

"Oh, just a little something like this." A half-remembered flash of something just like this had woken her up over a week ago. It had been picking away at the back of her mind ever since, waiting for the elaborate 'aha!' moment to come along. And come along it did as she leaned forward, ever grateful that sitting down did a little something to correct their height difference as she kissed him.

Chuck can't say he's surprised at all, but then, he doesn't think he'd enjoy it half as much if he were. This isn't the sort of thing that he thinks most people would like to have sprung on them without warning, probably. He can hardly complain about kissing Anathema, though. If anything, he'd have to wonder why it took so long for them to get around to this in the first place, except that he's never been able to prioritize such matters, and has had trouble breaking old habits here. Now, though, half-drunk and badly in need of a distraction and sitting next to a very attractive woman, he can't begin to see the harm in it, leaning slightly towards her, a clear sign of encouragement.

Forethought was a devastatingly helpful thing, especially in moments like this. If part of Anathema hadn't already recalled where this was in all likelihood going, then she might have needed the encouragement. As it was she simply added it to the running checklist in her head, sliding her hands up his chest before knotting them in the fabric of his shirt. There was very little that was particularly prudish about her (example: Newt Pulsifier) but it was delightful to be kissing someone who not only was good at it, but also good at it.

Something can be added about delayed gratification, but that was best muttered before being told to shut it. Pulling away slightly, she smirked. "Better than I remembered. So far at least."

It's a hell of a kiss to be shared while sitting at a bar. When her hands curl in his shirt, Chuck has to remind himself of where they are, something that takes more effort than it should, though he's not sure if that's because of her or because of the drinks. Probably both. They're a pretty goddamn heady combination. Grinning at her when she draws back, he gives a slight shake of his head. "So far?"

"So far," she repeated her smile turning just a hint more wicked than it had been a moment ago. It was easy to get caught up in this, in kissing him, in comparing to what she knew was coming and what was happening in that moment. She could trip over the details, lose herself in everything else and forget that they were still very much in a bar where people where undoubtedly watching.

(She couldn't blame them. She'd be doing the same.)

"Should we get out of here?" There was no use dancing around it at this point.

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