beautiful_ann | (no subject)

It's probably not usual to see nice cars where Ann lives, nor to see them park in front of that building. It's more unusual to see someone as well-known as Jack Driscoll drive up in a nice car, park, and honk the horn. People may stare. Jack Driscoll doesn't care.

She starts, heads to the window, and grins, waving.

Whether or not he can see her from her second-floor window is debatable, but not particularly important. She grabs her long tan coat and heads for the stairs.

And then darts back to her rooms to grab her purse, and then heads for the stairs, and then darts back to the room to put something in the purse, and then heads for the stairs, and then darts back the room to take something else out of the purse, and . . .

She'll be down in a minute.

Jack waves back, fully expecting Ann to be down in a few seconds.

When those few seconds turn into a few minutes, Jack becomes a mite concerned. If he leans over the wheel enough to peer into her room, maybe he can use the psychic powers concealed within his worried eyebrows to lure her down!

Here she comes! That wasn't that long, was it?

She leans over a little to peer in the window. "Hi."

"...hi" he says, bewildered, as he opens the door for her.

She slips in, shaking snow off her hair.

"Merry Christmas."

An Ann in vicinity means one thing: Jack tries to kiss her! Lightly.

Ann is really not going to argue with that one.

Kiss delivery: successful!

"Merry Christmas to you, too."

"I think mine's a little merrier already."

Jack grins slyly and pulls the car away from the curb.

"Mine, too--although you should wait until you see the present I got you."

"I'm all a-flutter," she deadpans.

(She is, actually. A little.)

"You make it sound like I got you a bunch of socks."

"Well, did you?"

He gives her a sideways look. "You think I'd really tell you if I did?"

"So."

She fans herself.

"A-flutter."

He smirks. "Well, yes, they're socks. Very exciting, socks. You can use them to warm your feet, and, uh, wear with shoes and they make for very entertaining hours when you happen to lose one."

She laughs. "And there's always the old favorite -- the sock puppet."

"Now I wish I'd actually gotten you socks."

"I don't know that 'sock puppeteer' is the impression I want to give to your family."

He gives her a look.

"If you actually knew my family you wouldn't worry about that."

"No?"

She returns the look, amused. "What should I worry about?"

"My mother."

"Ah, how so?"

"Everyone in my family is strange except my mother. She's normal. Dreadfully normal."