2019-11-06 - Candy Like Lies

Wednesday at one o'clock was the agreed upon time, so that's when Patrick exits City Hall proper, leaving the nice, warm interior to step onto the landing at the top of the exterior steps. Just like a normal human, he checks his phone the second he's outside the door, milling a few steps away from the entrance - which seems like it's the polite thing to do, to not block the entrance, but it's probably got more to do with the squeaky noise the front door makes than any wish to make life easier for those coming-and-going.

Assuming he has no 'running late' and/or 'standing you up' texts... he's just going to arrange himself next to one of those long, rectangular windows, arms loosely crossed, and wait. And read the news on his phone, frowning.

There are no 'standing you up' texts, and Anne is not one to run late; she is punctual, organized and too old to play games even with ancient ex-whatevers. Besides, while she would never admit it? She was excited about the idea of eating magic candy with Patrick. Not that Patrick had anything to do with it, of course. So promptly at [whatever time they agreed on], Anne comes out of the massive squeaky doors of City Hall. She's not dressed for some Alice in Wonderland-esque descent into weirdness, but that's what he gets for planning this sort of thing right after work. It's a gray pencil skirt and a white silk blouse with floral print, her golden brown hair done up in a clean French braid.

She stops short on the front porch, cocking her head to the man against the window, before she frames him with her hands like she's holding an imaginary camera. "Someone from the Gazette would have a perfect headline right now. 'ADDINGTON MAN FROWNS AT PHONE, WHAT IS THE FAMILY PLANNING NOW?' I bet they'd sell tens of papers," she jokes, taking a step forward while maintaining a decent amount of distance between them. "Busy day?"

Before he looks up, still thumbing through whatever is making him frown, he answers, "I like to think they'd know that it's Patrick Addington specifically. But," now he looks up, smiles across at Anne, turns off the phone and pockets it, "that would be giving a lot of credit to the press in this town." There's a blithe shake of his head for that question of hers with no qualifiers as to what kind of day it might be if not a busy one.

If her one-step-forward maintained a decent distance, does his one-step-forward necessarily cross into the indecent distance? He takes it, regardless, but it would probably make him happier if it made things improper. "This is where you work, right?" With a point toward the door to City Hall. "Because I know that you made a point that we're meeting in public," he finds that amusing, "but I'm not sure..." The trail-off leads into a shrug; whatever, she can take her chances, he fishes the candy baggie out of his pocket.

"You have been gone a considerable length of time," Anne points out, draping an arm across her waist as she considers him there against the window. It means he'll catch her looking, if he's in the mood to note that sort of thing, but she mirrors his smile when he does finally look up. "Maybe you just need to give the press a reason to know your name. Though, really, the 'Addington' part is more than enough."

The smile fades a touch at his one-step forward, dropping a glance briefly to the ground to count the paces between her foot and his own. The sweep of her heel and the lean back onto that foot should probably speak lengths to the appropriateness of the distance. "This is where I work, yes," she agrees with him, looking back up to his eyes and then over to the door of City Hall. It lingers there for only a second; he steals her attention back to him with the rustle of the candy baggie that he's taking out of his pocket. "But I wasn't suggesting we eat them here on the front porch. I'm cautious, not insane." She takes a step back, towards the steps that will lead them outta here. "We can go down to the park."

A brow-twitch for the 'catch her looking,' so she knows he knows, and then Patrick will return the favor of giving her a once-over. Before his eyes finished wandering, he agrees amiably, "It has been a considerable length of time, I'll grant you that." He inhales, smiles pleasantly, and shakes his head as if to dispel whatever thoughts were trying to occupy his brain just then.

"Nooo, no no." He'll just be hurrying a step after Anne to catch her by the elbow with the hand not holding the baggie, to stop her from fleeing down those steps. "Definitely not the park. There are bound to be children there." A half-turn has him surveying the steps, with the few people wandering around on whatever their errands are. "No children here, though. And it's Very Public. We've ticked all the boxes, so let's experiment." The baggie rustles invitingly when he holds it open toward her, way too keen about all this.

"It has," Anne agrees to his own agreement, though there's a certain inflection there, something thoughtful and out of place. But whatever's occupied her head is gone with a furrow of her brow and a small crinkle of her nose, though perhaps the latter is the cause of his brow-twitch. Either way, she's turning, and if it weren't for his quick-catch of her elbow, she'd already be down the stairs. As it stands, she dangles precariously on the edge of the first step, blue eyes widening.

It takes a second, longer than it really should, for her to dislodge her elbow from his hand. "Oh," about the children, maybe. Probably about his hand on her. She gives her head a quick shake and slips down that first step so she doesn't accidentally fall down them. It means he more than towers above her now, forcing her to crane her neck to look up at him. "Well I'm more worried about losing my job because I got high on your magic candies than I am giggling around a bunch of kids, but.." Think, Anne, think! She hooks a thumb, pointing it around the side of the Hall. "We could do it in the back," probably the first and only time Patrick's heard that.

Patrick's umpteenth-cousin some-number-of-times removed is the Mayor, so there is some little weight to this half-assed reassurance: "You probably won't lose your job." Thank you, steps. He really needed another four-inches on Anne, so that he has turn his head down quite a lot, chin touching his neck unprettily, in order to find her eyes and agree, "But I respect your concerns." While she's dithering on some better location, he continues to put all the blame at her feet. "Unfortunately, you were very clear about this needing to happen in public. So my hands are effectively tied here."

YAY THEY CAN DO IT IN THE BACK! He brightens right up.

"Whatever makes you comfortable, Anne." Except the park. The hand she didn't want touching her elbow, the one that dropped loosely to his side after that, lifts in the direction that Anne's pointing, lead the way.

"Hmm," Anne makes a thoughtful noise, lips pursing together, as she considers the angle of his face from down here. It's probably not pretty, this kind of angle never makes anyone look good. Still, the smile blossoms quickly as she states: "You never struck me as the type of guy who let his hands be tied willingly." And then she turns with a quickness, bounding down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk.

She doesn't wait for him. His hands are effectively tied, but his feet aren't - he can follow, or he won't. It's a little side alley that scoots around the building to a meticulous garden area; it's not anywhere near as extravagant as the Addington House gardens, but this was once a residence, so the backyard's been maintained. There's even a gazebo, where all those government workers will congregate for smoke breaks, so there's a faint odor around. But hey, it's semi-private, while still remaining public enough to fit Anne's strict criteria.

Which is why she heads for the gazebo and perches on the bench seat, waiting for him to come.

Re: Tied hands. "Things change when considerable lengths of time pass."

Then he'll just be dallying along after her, ambling with intentional slowness to counterpoint her brisk pace there. It's not easy, to go that much slower than someone when you out-stride them by nearly a foot, but goshdarn if Patrick doesn't give it the old college try, leaving him to duck into the gazebo well after Anne is all nice and settled. He takes a quick survey of the immediate surroundings. If she's being especially watchful, she might notice that he doesn't uncurl his hand from the bag of candy till those gray eyes trip across the IN CASE OF EMERGENCY BREAK GLASS fire extinguisher bolted to the exterior of the main building.

Satisfied, he stays standing to offer the bag. "No time like the present."

At least the lag between his appearance and her settling gives her enough time to consider his words, leaving her looking particularly thoughtful when he finally does emerge. She cants her head to the side, flicking a glance back up to his gray eyes that are busy scoping out the emergency preparedness equipment, a slim brow lifting but not because she saw what he was staring at. Whatever is on her mind isn't spoken though, and she's rather quick to drop her focus to the bag of mystery candy that he finally unveils. Now, her brow hitches up further.

"Indeed," no time like the present. But she doesn't reach for the candy; she slides over, pat-pats the bench beside her, and slides a bit more to the left. "I need some background first. Where did you find these 'magical' candies?"

"Dear god, you little coward." Patrick doesn't sit. Instead, he comes over to crouch in front of Anne, holding the bag flat on his upturned palm directly in between her face and his. "Just. Eat. The candy. Anne." She's already ruined his grand plan to make her scream German profanity on the front steps of City Hall, sheesh.

"I am not a coward!" Anne straightens with irritation, tipping her chin up as he comes to crouch in front of her. "I'm cautious, I can be cautious! You came back out of nowhere and randomly invite me to.." her voice was just a touch loud, too defensive, so she hisses out the last word, "do drugs with you at my work place and.. Arg!" It's a little squeal of frustration before she snatches the candy out of his hand. The little piece is pointed at him aggressively. "I'm not a coward," she stresses, and then pops the candy in her mouth, chewing with brows raised. SEE? Not a coward!

Patrick very much enjoys when she runs the needle up like that. Instead of defending himself or making a big fuss about how HE NEVER SAID DRUGS AND SHE'S THE ONE THAT WAS LIKE 'IN PUBLIC THO' (meta argument, deal with it), he just rocks his weight back onto his heels and concludes, "Thank you." Already on the flats of his feet, it's easy enough to straighten up from there. He still doesn't come and sit down, but instead takes a step backward toward the exit - his turn to be worried about safe distances, hah!

The candy is lovely. Like, the best candy of all time. Whatever Anne's favorite candy as a child was? It's like that - but better, it's like the memory of that. It tastes like innocence and Halloween and delight and stickiness and joy. Buuuuut now she's mute. No sounds come out of her mouth, just speech-bubbles whose font and bubble-type correspond to volume and emotional intensity. Like in a comic book.

Anne rolls her eyes as he thanks her and scampers back, but really, the taste of the candy settles her, calms whatever ire he's stoked. She leans back into the gazebo and closes her eyes, savoring the flavor - or the memory of the flavor? - either way, she looks delighted. "Wow," is what she breathes out.

Or, rather, it's what she would say if she could speak. Instead, the bubble that appears beside her looks quite like a cloud, with the word filtering in and then melting into a happy little puddle. It's the lack of sound that brings Anne immediately out of the moment, blue eyes blinking back open. The next speech bubble that appears has a jagged edge to it, a fearful sort of vibration to the words: What did you do to me?! Why can't I talk?!

"I told you it was magic candy. What did you think was going to happen?" Tidily, Patrick folds over the open top of the bag of candy and tucks it away into the breast pocket of his coat, giving it a nice little pat with the flat of his palm, all safe and sound. "Don't worry, it only lasts for ten or fifteen minutes." It's easy for him to be cavalier about all this; he can talk just fine.

NOW he comes and sits down next to her on the bench, turning at the waist to face her with his arms folding neatly over his middle, with his legs stretched out in front of him, loosely crossed at the ankles. "So let's catch up, dear Anne. Tell me how the last - what has it been? A decade? How has the time treated you." He just wants to read the cartoon bubbles. 😃

The speech bubble BURSTS with frustration. I thought it was POT! screams out, the words big and bold and in all capital letters. She looks at him with wide eyes, fists clenched, and waves one in the air at him. I can't believe you! pops next, followed by a red-framed bubble that just reads ARG.

Then she's sinking back against the bench, her glare hot as she keeps it focused on him. Her pointer finger extends from the clench of her fist to point accusingly at his breast pocket, where he stuck the candy. You have to eat some too the speech bubble demands.

An amusedly enlightened, "Ohoho," comes out as half of a laugh. "So you were all on-board as long as it was some sort of mind-altering substance, but, when it's just harmless fun, suddenly all bets are off? Tsk." Patrick clucks his tongue against the back of his teeth, chidingly, while he draws a line in the air from the tip of her index finger to the pocket where she's pointing, connecting the dots. "I think perhaps... not. It made me tell lie after lie after lie." So gravely, "It was terrible. Completely against my nature."

He puts his hand to his pocket as if hesitantly, crinkling the wrapper inside it. "One of them made it so some woman lit my pants on fire. Do you want to try your luck?"

EeexxxCuuUuuuSsseeee me the pop bubble displays, the words rolling around like Anne's eyes are doing in the moment. Pot is harmless fun. This is .. this is .. I can't believe you! Those last four words burst into flames, before she folds her arms over her chest. HMPH! comes now in a wisp of smoke, when she rolls her eyes again. I'm surprised you noticed the difference about the lies, the words taking on dagger-sharp pointed edges, before they fall off into the bottom of the bubble.

I guess you're the coward now the words turn yellow, but then the edges turn green: You were doing this with some girl?

Patrick dips his forehead in a way that suggests the two-of-them specifically. "I've always been a coward. Surely, this isn't news to you?" He laughs briefly at the dagger-tipped remark, and his eyes flash across hers to acknowledge the barbed repartee as a good'un. Then, with the candy bag tucked into his palm by three fingers, he uses his index finger to draw an invisible X over the word girl . "Woman," he reiterates importantly.

"Several of them, actually."

And then he fishes a candy out and wags it in the air. "You're sure you don't want to try for a more devastating effect?"

It's a really good thing that the speech bubble doesn't display thoughts, because Anne's weren't pretty at the moment. I see is all the reply he gets, the words touched with a bit of snow and frost that seems to drift on a breeze. Her blue eyes focus on his gray ones for half a second, before she drops it to the piece of candy that he wags in the air.

There's a quick scoot of her bottom across the bench to move a mark or two closer, reaching over to pluck the piece of candy from his fingers. I get to choose comes out in mildly excited bubbling text as she wiggles her fingers for the bag. For you.

I see. "Do you." It's not a question. Patrick is positive(ly amused!) that she doesn't see at all. But since that was the point... He just goes on to make an 'ah!' sound when she plucks the candy from his fingers, leaving him with a wrinkled nose and a slow, grudging release of the bag - with its five remaining candies! - into Anne's keeping. "I expect that back once you've made your decision." He waits, arms crossed, mouth open wide like he's trying to catch flies.

Anne lays the candy that she's rescued from Patrick's fingers to the opposite side of her - away from him - and readily accepts the baggie with greedy fingers. Hmm floats across the top of her head, a gaggle of '. . .' trailing after as she shifts through the candies. One is picked up, considered, and then dropped back into the bag with a shake of her head. Then she closes her eyes, combs her fingers through the candies to mix them up, and picks blind.

The 'winning' candy is regarded with a squint of her blue eyes before a smile deepens the dimples on either of her cheeks. She holds it out to him, the ends of the brightly colored letters of her next words teased lightly upward, suggesting the humor of her thought: Are you expecting me to feed you?

Just, "Yes." Patrick has to close his mouth partially to say that. Then he opens it back up again, big old gaping maw. DO IT. He makes no effort to claim the other candy, so she can keep that one and find out what it does later (makes your speech come out in animal-noises).

Maybe fearful of what the speech bubbles would expose, Anne keeps herself tight-lipped while he opens his own. For a moment though, she's perfectly still, considering his open maw and the candy in her hand. There's a faint furrow to her brow, but she pushes away whatever thoughts cross her mind, hoisting the candy up to put it between his lips and give it a quick push in. It does mean the tip of her finger skates quickly across his bottom lip in the escape, but she still says ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. The pink cheeks give enough away.

It's hard to maintain both an open expression and a wide open mouth, but Patrick figures it out somehow. His questioning look while he waits invites her to share her thoughts; he even looks around with his eyes, in case the bubbles are just materializing outside his peripheral vision. This quits when he gets his candy, though, and chases the pass of her finger with a quick brush of his tongue across his lip. "At least it doesn't taste like lotion this time," is the last thing he'll get out before settling back to enjoy his candy.

"Mm, revolting," he says like it's goddamn delicious. Then immediately perks up, finding a dazzling smile. "This is new."

Anne is smart enough to tuck herself out of the way when he starts chewing, scooting quite a bit far down the bench. It was just her being overly cautious - she didn't want him setting her skirt on fire! But she perks while she watches him, waiting for something to happen. The disappointment comes after, when flames don't shoot out of his ass and he doesn't have thought bubbles coming out of him.

Nothing happened she points out, the words gray and dreary with a raincloud hanging over them. You didn't turn violet or burst into song, or .. I actually have no idea what these candies do, I just thought.. Aww, she's sad. The text of her words bends and twists into the shape of a frowny face, which reflects the subtle frown she's wearing on her lips. Maybe that one's just defunct.

"You're right. Nothing happened." Patrick follows her scooting away by scooting closer. How has she not figured this out yet? Ostensibly, it's so he can reach across her toward the bag of candy that he wants back, grabbing for it with the whole length of his arm -

• there is quite a bit of a tussle over the package, but he's eventually going to get the upper-hand here, specifically by catching her one in both of his and prying the package out of her fingers. "Christ, man. You have got to be the least stubborn person on the planet." He sniffs and stays all up in her personal space to straighten out the bag of candy.

There's a lot of noise when Patrick gets all up in her business and tries to take the bag of candy from her. It's not actual noise, but vividly colored pops of speech bubbles with hey! what? let go! and then just a bunch of exclamation points when he finally catches her in one of his arms and peels her fingers off the package. HUFF! appears and disappears in a wispy puff of smoke, as Anne wriggles and squirms in his grip. Whether she is intentionally rubbing up against him or trying to use him as leverage to get herself away is a question for the ages.

You don't have to be so sarcastic! she complains, looking every bit as frustrated as her words do.

"Stop that, it's not even remotely pleasant." So saying, Patrick leaves himself situated like this until the candy is safely put away, sparing a moment to catch the #4 candy before it gets knocked off the bench by all this extremely uncoordinated rassling they're doing. Now then, sitting properly, he presses the one stray candy into her palm, folds her fingers around it, and then detaches himself from her, except where sitting side-by-side on half of a bench means he's necessarily still in contact, knee-to-knee.

Eyeing her speech-bubbles, he counters, "I speak nothing but truth, you ugly little wretch." A burst of laughter follows that, so that he even has to wipe the corner of his eye. "This is awful, and I hate you for it."

Excuse me! You're the one who put your arm around me, if you don't like it - get off! Those last two words came as quiet explosions, bold and underlined with a bit of red tint, but not yet fully irritated. She twists to give him a shove, only to have his hand catching her own to put another candy into her palm, lips curving into a deeper frown. Here comes the smoke again, curving into the sound she makes: Huff. But at least she was no longer ensnared, and she sits up a little straighter, making faces at the candy that he's folded her fingers about, before there's a glance to their knees where they touch.

And maybe she was going to say something else, but what comes out of him next is positively vile. There's no need for the visualization of emotion in her speech, the pained expression was right there in her face. //You invited me here, you wanted to do this! she points out, the tips of each letter sharp and pointed, glinting. But the hurt comes next, her words bending as though they were being twisted, bitterness and hurt coming out now. Maybe you should have invited one of those other women to experiment your stupid candy with//.

Even with the obviousness of her hurt feelings, it still takes Patrick some amount of time to contain his giggles. Longer than it should. He lifts laughing gray eyes to the floating speech-bubbles, reading them one after the other, shaking his head the further she goes down the road to Misunderstanding Town. Eventually, a few seconds after the other women come back into the conversation, he wags his index finger in the air between them and shakes his head. "Tune me out, will you?" And then wags his finger some more, no no no.

Deep breath, leaning with a hand resting on her knee, he ducks to look Anne squarely in the eyes for the delivery of his next li(n)e. "I didn't tell you that it made me tell lies last time." He's trying to communicate with his eyeballs: PLEASE CATCH ON.

(nvm he's a fucking telepath and could set the record straight any time he gets over himself wants to)

Tune him out, eh? Already working on it the speech bubbles proclaim, each and every word turning it's 'back' to him so he'll end up having to read the sentence backwards. But his wagging finger earns him a confused furrow of her brow, deepening further still when he puts his hand on her knee and tries to look her in the eye. She's as stiff as a board, knee tense under his hand, and the visual flatness of her words reflect that. That's not what you said, is her reply.

It's clearly going to take her a minute to catch on. So before the realization hits her, she might as well say some really stupid stuff! This was a mistake and she'll just go ahead and peel his fingers right off her knee so that she can get to her feet off the bench. The little candy is tucked into her pocket as she goes. //I feel like such an idiot right now. I was actually excited to come and see.. 'see' gets a bright red X suddenly slashed through it, the next word scribbled above instead, eat these stupid little candies with you, and.. and reconnect! These were heavy words, visually so; they were being attached to chains and weights, dragged down into a brewing emotional storm that is her thought bubble. But maybe.. maybe some history is better left in the past.//

"Anne." He can say that word since it doesn't have an exact opposite. Patrick can even say it with more emphasis a second time, "Anne." It's funny right up until it isn't, when he has to push himself off the bench hurriedly and intercept her path before she can get out of the gazebo. The entrance is too big for him to really block, but he stands in the middle of it and holds up a finger at her importantly.

Then it basically looks like he's answering his text messages. Which would be a real dick-move, so hopefully - if she runs off or shoves him or something - she'll check her phone at some point.

"Auto-correct is amazing."

//It's fine, Patrick comes Anne's response at the second time that he says her name, the word 'fine' appearing in italics with every suggestion that things were anything but. Regardless, she was just going to save face, sweep her hands down her skirt and march to the gazebo's exit. She could avoid him, the town wasn't that// small, it's not like they were even in the same social group - and these were the thoughts that keep her occupied, so much so that she almost knocks into him when he hurries to intercept her exit.

She stops short, blinking, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth as she stares up at him. Her brows hitch, the impatience vibrating off the words that appear next, What else do you need to say? And then he whips out his phone.

The laughter that follows is soundless, but it sparkles around her thought bubble. You've GOT to be KIDDING me! She was just about to scoot right around him when her phone buzzes in her pocket and stills her again. He's very lucky she had it on her, and she glares at him while she tugs it out of her pocket.

Then there is quiet. There is the wrinkling of her nose, the glance upward from the screen to him and then back again, then to him once more. The candy's lying to you? the thought bubbles are filled with little question marks now as she tries to wrap her brain around all of this. No, no. The candy's making you lie? You expect me to BELIEVE that? that word, 'believe', it bursts out of the thought bubble and INTO HIS FACE before it vanishes. Then, she rolls her eyes again, straightens out her shoulders, and folds her arms over her chest, lifting her ice cold blue eyes to his own. This was a challenging stare. Fine. Fine! Prove it. Say something about yourself.

Patrick has GOT to be KIDDING her; WAIT, says the emphatically held finger while he finishes and then fixes his texts, then slides his phone back into his pocket. When the penny drops, he goes, "Ah-hah. That was very quick and astute of you." Though the smarminess is diminished when he leans away from her thought-bubble, ducking beneath it, then fanning the air in front of his face. For all they know, those things could be lethal!

The challenge is a reasonable one, and he nods at her, quickly flashes a thumbs-up, and casts around for something he can say about himself. "I'm ugly," but wait, there's more. "Incompetent. Short. Terrible in bed." Eyebrows. "Annnnnd not at all sorry if I caused you pain, today or all those years ago." He fans his fingers vaguely, like that last bit was every bit as trite as the bits that worked up to it. Also, he gives his watch a glance because omg this better wear off so he can go back to being sarcastic by choice!

Anne doesn't need words, the evil eye she gives him at his 'quick and astute' comment is enough. But no matter, she's going to stand here and wait for him to tell these 'lies' about himself, taking one step back so that she can assess him properly. He's ugly? Yep, she even bobs her head in agreement. Incompetent? That makes her cant her head. Short? That makes her laugh, the 'ha ha ha' floating around her with little wings. But terrible in bed? That just makes the apples of her cheeks redden. No comment.

It's the last thing though that makes her look down at her feet, considering her words with a furrow of her brow. I don't know what you're talking about the words are tiny print to suggest a quiet voice, coloured in a dark blue to suggest something of a sad tone. "You didn't hurt me anymore than I hurt you," this is said aloud, which makes her blink and almost fall over on her ass. She looks up, wide-eyed and suddenly excited, forgetful of the more serious moment. "I can talk! Oh thank God, it work off!"

Scowling at her agreement that he's ugly, Patrick takes a moment to sort himself out so he's very definitely the opposite of ugly. He needs a tie to straighten to really sell it, but he's not quiiiiite that level of preppie to wear one when he's not actively working, so just chasing the wrinkles from his shirt and smoothing his hair and beard will have to suffice. "Just absolutely hideous," he persists, like that particular insult really sticks in his craw. Not at all like, having glanced at her word-bubble and then heard the comment that followed it, he'd like to walk back any suggestion that he feels an apology is in order.

Rest assured that henceforth, she will find his sorries to be few and far between.

"Oh wonderful," it wore off. That means he's only got a few more minutes of this. "I'm so happy for you. We should definitely do this again some time." He shrugs and opens his hands toward the sky helplessly.

Anne tips her head to watch him fuss with himself, her pretty smile dazzling when she shows it to him. "Just about the most hideous person that I know," she agrees, though at least the sarcasm comes across well in her tone. She reaches up to dust an imaginary hair off his shoulder, a quick sweep-sweep of fingers which linger only a moment, before her hand drops and she returns to the bench with a laugh. "It wasn't that bad. I mean, except for not knowing what the candy did to you. Which is probably why you should warn a girl first," she points out, leaning towards her knees to watch him, eyes faintly glimmering. "Why did you invite me out to do this with you anyway? Considering you had all those ... women," her nose crinkles at the word, giving her feels about that away, "Who were there with you the first time anyway?"

Patrick doesn't say a goddamn thing after her 'warn a girl first' comment, but his face speaks volumes when his eyes snap up and find hers, widening along with the crease that ripples across his forehead. If he were to put that look into words, it would probably sound something like WOMAN I WILL END YOU.

"Yes, it's very important that we talk about those women." He curls his hand, puts it against his mouth, and shakes his head a few times, because that's not what he actually said; it's just what came out. Looking up at the ceiling with a long-suffering smile in place, "They were all old friends of mine, people I've known practically since birth. Their names are tattooed in my memory, and I shall never forget them. Obviously, I preferred their company to yours."

Anne meets his look with a brilliantly dimpled smile as she leans casually back into the bench. At least she looks faintly amused now. Oh, wait, never mind, the expression quickly drops when he mentions the women. In her defense, it's very hard to acknowledge someone's lying to your face, especially when the words are those gut-twisty kind. Still, she collects herself, scoffing (aloud! YAY!). "Okay, that explains that. You were just.. randomly thrown together when you .. found? Were given?" she tips her head this way, that way, "Magic candy, and decided to experiment." See, she's got it. "Makes sense. I bet these candies aren't from here." Wow, she's like Sherlock Holmes, except hotter.

"But.." she holds up a finger and points it at him. "Why did you invite me?" It's okay, she'll wait.

"How long will this go on before you wonder if I'm doing it on purpose now." It's not a real question; Patrick's just musing aloud.

To answer the question of why her, "It certainly wasn't because I was hoping you would scream in German on the steps of City Hall while I watched and laughed." He drifts over at that point, taking out the bag of candy and shaking its four remaining occupants onto his upturned palm, holding that down to Anne. "Take half. It's the least I can do." To give her random candy with awful side-effects, what a swell guy he is. "Just do me a favor? Tell me what they do at some point. Otherwise, the not-knowing will be my undoing." (Yeah, he's almost definitely recovered from his candy-induced pathology.)

"You have at least another," Anne glances down at her wrist watch, then back up at him. "Two minutes." It wasn't a real question, but dammit! She was going to give him a real answer.

Just like he gives her a real answer as to why her. There's a subtle deflating to her shoulders, but she maintains the smile, even if it dims. "Ah, I see," she replies, shrugging away the way that answer made her bristle. "I suppose.. that's a reason." She clears her throat, focusing on the candies that he pulls back out to hold out to her. She's hesitant to go picking, but.. she's got one in her pocket, so she takes two more. It's more than half, but he's already had his fun. "Is that what one of these does? Make people speak German? Hmm," she considers this, smiling up at him. "I wonder what the other two do." Since she now knows what four out of the six do.

Well, this will give away that the effects are off, but Patrick answers her anyway, ho hum. "So far? The dialogue bubbles," with a tip of his fingers to Anne. He puts the two remaining candies away, smoothing his jacket once more. "The lying. There was the woman shouting in German. Someone spewed flowers. And the fire, I mentioned that one already." After thinking about it for a few extra seconds, he commits to the list with a shrug. "God knows what else. People in the park were just handing them out."

He holds up a forestalling hand. Quickly. "At one of those 'safe candy' events that ruin the spirit of Halloween. Trunk-or-treat?" Is that a term? He doesn't have kids, so he must have heard it somewhere. Then his fingers snap suddenly, once twice thrice, and he recalls, "The woman from the meeting about the casino, the one sitting with Clayton, she was the one speaking German."

Anne's quick on the uptake this time, a brow hiking up as he speaks plainly. "Huh," she comments to all of that, blinking at all the snapping he's doing. "Isabella, I think that was her name. Isabella.. Reede? Maybe, it was noisy in there. What were you doing at a trunk or treat in the park?" But wait. She shakes her head. "No, never mind. It's none of my business." Anyway, she scoots towards the edge of the bench, patting her pocket where half the candies now lay. She looks back to him, considering him for a longer moment ... and then gets up to her feet without so much as an announcement.

"I should go. Home, I mean. I.." She nibbles on her bottom lip. "Have things to do." Like put on her PJs, pour herself a glass of wine, and watch TV with her dogs! "If you want to do the rest of the candies, we could.. do them together," she is already scooting towards the gazebo, trying to protect her pride by adding with a light little laugh, "I mean, it'd be way better to experiment with you than with like, a date or something, you know? Anyway, think about it!"

Patrick would have answered, but fine. It's none of her business. He closes his mouth and just watches her make the abrupt decision to stand up. "I'd prefer cocktails," is all he manages to get out in response to whatever it is she just invited him to do. In fact, he'd prefer cocktails right now, but he's committed to pretending that he's very happy loitering here, so he'll have to stay at least until she's out of sight.

"Oh." Beat. "I see." Another beat, while her eyes go briefly owlishly wide. Then she just shakes off whatever thought passes through her mind, plasters on a smile far wider than she really felt in the moment, and wiggled her fingers in parting. "I'll text you." It was not a confirmation of cocktails, but it wasn't a denial either, so that's something! "Have a good night, Patrick," she says, before off she skitters, disappearing down the side street beside the City Hall.

Patrick should add prepositional phrases to things. 'I'd prefer cocktails' vs 'I'd prefer cocktails WITH YOU.' Oh well. Maybe next time.