diewalkure | CuddleCity Inbox

Val is not exactly like any other woman Nate has met before - let alone dated. She doesn't seem to want the whole flowers and chocolate and romance thing, which, excuse you, Nate is great at, but also not always very bothered with. He prefers adventure, bad decisions, laughter.

So a date that is starting in CriminALES (don't look at him, Mick) with a set of shots, filled and ready to be drunk in front of Nate at the bar as he waits for Val, well. It seems like the kind of date that can only end in great memories.

Or, possibly, with one or both of them in the hospital.

Again, great memories.

Valkyrie hasn't been on a date in just long enough it might count as never. It's not like she's had a shortage of people that find her attractive, were willing to overlook her thorns and armor and go to bed with her, but this is different. And it's been amusing and fun and she hadn't been looking for it, but hell if she isn't going to keep enjoying it.

Of course, Nate managed to pick the kind of bar she could live in, so he's continuing to rise in her estimation.

Her boots stick to the floor in places and she's actually grinning by the time she gets to Nate at the bar, and she reaches out to grab a shot, knocks it back, and sets the empty glass back on the bar as she takes a seat.

"Nice place," she says by way of greeting. Her grin says she means it.

Seriously, he's most probably in wayyyyy over his head with this woman, but Nate is diving head first all the same. She's probably the kind of woman that would steamroll and stomp all over him and Nate... is kinda looking forward to seeing it happen. Maybe. Don't tell anyone.

He looks around at the bar when she mentions she likes it - which doesn't surprise him - and takes a shot for himself, knocking it back before putting it rim down on the bar. He manages not to wince as the alcohol burns down his throat, licking his lips afterwards.

"Yeah? My buddy Mick owns it. Back home, we work together," he says, not mentioning the whole time traveling thing again. "You'd think he'd give me a discount, huh? But nooooooo."

She grins brightly, just for a moment, and takes another shot immediately after he does, and hopes he realizes what he's getting himself into taking on her tab. However, she was also serious when she said she wouldn't hold it against him (much) for not keeping up with her. A fish wouldn't mock a bird for being unable to breathe the same water.

Much.

Valkyrie takes a seat beside Nate, facing him. “Some buddy,” she decides, already eyeing the bottles behind the counter. She might be wondering if stealing booze could just be added to her “good deeds” tab. She pulls another shot closer, not taking it yet, and waits to see if he's going to match her for the second one, first. While stomping all over him is hardly on her agenda, well... if he'd really like to be thrown around a bit, metaphorically or otherwise, she might just be feeling obliging.

At the very least, she'll drink him under the table before they go off to make complete asses of themselves on the ice.

Oh, she can drink up, he doesn't mind. He's a gentleman and a scholar, and he'll pay up whatever is necessary. And he won't even care about trailing behind, either - he's competitive, but not so much when it comes to alcohol. Still, he brings one of the shots to himself, holding it up and tipping it towards Valkyrie.

"You have no idea," because Mick is a lot of things, but not many would be considered 'good buddy' material. "But he's on my team. We've got each other's backs."

The good thing about Nate is that, well, if she does feel like roughing him up, he can take it much better than most. She doesn't know that - yet - but he has a feeling his weird little power might come out sooner rather than later, considering their plans.

"You got any friends in town?"

Just as well, perhaps they can both reach that pleasantly intoxicated stage around the same time, that way. She knows it takes a good deal of alcohol to get her there, and she has yet to find someone who can keep up, ounce for ounce. Of course, it has been a long time since she's been in the company of fellow Asgardians. She nods, understanding team without being buddies. Sometimes it meant even more.

“Friends,” she says slowly, chewing on it a moment. “I suppose you could say so,” she finally decides, a shot later. “Thor is here, if you missed his lightning show a few weeks back,” she says, utterly unimpressed. “And I wouldn't call Loki a friend, but he's still here.” Another shot for that, and a curl of her lip, to boot.

“That leaves one friend,” she continues, just holding another shot now, choosing her words carefully. “But I haven't seen him here, and he's a little hard to miss, so I'm guessing he hasn't joined us.”

"Loki, the... eight-legged horse mother guy?"

Because of course, the God of mischief would be hanging around Cadelle. It's not actually all that surprising. Nate takes one shot while Valkyrie takes two, and motions for the bartender to bring some more out. He has a feeling this is going to be going on for a while, and a part of it wants to ask, but he also values his life, so.

"You've only got three friends? Okay. I'll be your friend," Nate says after a moment, before taking another shot, the alcohol burning down his throat. "Or more, if you want."

Which is sincere, but he can also blame it on the alcohol already, if needs be. But he's found that sometimes, bluntness is the way to go, and what has he got to lose? A lot, considering who he's propositioning, but he's almost 80% sure she won't kick him in the nuts for it.

Okay, make that 70%.

Valkyrie can't help her bark of laughter. “Yes, him.” She's eternally indebted to Nate for that particular ammunition.

Nate isn't the only one who would like to remember this night, and while she plans to get well and truly drunk enough to think skating is a good idea, she'd like to stop before her balance suffers too much. It takes effort to get to that point, however, and she's really not planning on spending all night in the bar. For once. She still takes another shot when more appear.

“More than friends?” she asks, somewhere between playful and bemused. He'd already asked her on a date, the date they are presently on, and during some kind of holiday for such things. But it's sweet, and the bluntness goes a long way for her.

She's hardly thinking about kicking him in the nuts.

“I think we already are,” she assesses and downs another shot.

He clicks his fingers out of habit, giving Valkyrie a fingergun as she laughs. He's pretty sure this Loki guy will regret Nate telling Valkyrie about Sleipnir, but... not Nate's problem. Especially if he's getting her to laugh.

And yeah, sure, they're on a date, but it's not like it's anything... 'proper'. Meeting in a bar and getting really drunk before attempting to ice skate is not really the way Nate thinks of first dates. Not exactly romantic, or showing his intentions.

But then she looks at him, in that way that tells him they're on the same page, and Nate grins, letting the alcohol loosen his smile and his tongue and his hands as he takes another shot, leaning over to clink it against hers.

"That means if I try to kiss you later, you'll let me?"

Just bold and blunt, or drunk? Your pick.

It's going to be awhile, possibly a long while, possibly not, before Valkyrie agrees to anything like a real date. Drinks in a dirty bar before heading off to do something stupid, though? That sounds like a good time. Always. She clinks her glass against his and flashes a grin before she downs it, sets the glass down and answers him.

"Yes," she declares, equally bold and blunt. She might even make it easy for him. Assuming they don't manage to kill each other skating, assuming they don't get too drunk and just skip to the end.

"Sooner or later."

Nate leans closer, smiling like he knows a secret only the two of them share. He doesn't really want to be serious with anyone, himself - he doesn't plan on staying, doesn't want his heart, or someone else's heart broken because he's let himself get in too deep. Sure, he's not actually the best at staying casual, but he's absolutely going to try.

He licks his lips, before raising an eyebrow.

"You want more drinks, or you feel up for skating, yet? I say, we buy ourselves a bottle or two of something, and then hit the rink."

He's not trying to speed things up, really, but he's interested in seeing her trying to skate, in making her laugh with his antics - he just knows he's going to be terrible, especially now, a little drunk and loose and warm under the collar.

"You really should see how grateful I am, it's something else."

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action; date night

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