The wind moaned menacingly through the buildings, rushing by his ears in one of the infrequent gusts that had punctuated the night. It tugged at his painfully in season jacket, and pressed his shirt flat against his body. The moon was hidden behind some clouds that had rolled in late afternoon, trapping the heat. City lights glowed all around, and the ground gave a sway that had nothing to do with the intoxicants running through his blood. Andre, as he was called that night, steadied himself on the railing, peering out over once more at the eight hundred foot gulf below them as they swung at the side of the glass and steel titan that was 4WTC.

"Faaaaaark!" His accent had a funny way of coming back when he cursed, and when he was drunk, which meant pretty much every night, "That's so mad. Worth the break in." He rocked the window washer platform as best he could, and it swayed just a little more. He turned back to his accomplice, and ran his eyes over her without a hint of subtlety. "And you. You were worth the run through that rip." His smirk was as smug as it was salacious. He held out a bottle, unsteady as his center of gravity shifted. "But fair's fair." He slurred, "I got us up, you gotta drink." He wobbled on his feet and had to adjust his footing some. He sniffed, but couldn't feel his nose. That was all as it was meant to be.

He had no idea what time it was, he had no idea what time it had been when they started, but he had plenty of ideas what they had both been driving at all night. Had he approached her? Had she approached him? He knew he'd liked the look of her. She felt dangerous. It was the sort of night for that. He'd been right, too, that's why they were winched outside a darkened conference room window, on a platform the size of a single bed, 70 floors over Manhattan. He didn't know exactly when they'd started their current game, but he was sure glad they had. This was gonna be a new one, or so he hoped. God this chick was making it easy too.

"So gorgeous, what's it gonna be, truth or dare?" His grin grew positively wolfish.

Charlie Sinclair had a habit of finding herself in absurd situations. Some might have called it a bad one, but she liked to think of it as a good way to spend her time. Besides, if you had oodles of time on earth, was there really a better way to waste them away than to do the stupidest things that you could imagine?

That night, the stupidest thing that she could imagine involved picking up an attractive stranger at a bar (or had he picked her up? Whatever, it didn’t matter) and getting involved in an extreme game of truth or dare. This guy really knew how to live. Charlie liked that in random strangers.

She hiccuped as she shifted on her foot and rocked the entire window-cleaning platform that they had wound up on. She didn’t remember exactly what she had dared him to do, but it had gotten them through a series of crazy things and onto that platform, so it was well worth it. She could feel the whisky that she’d been drinking for most of the night affecting her, and she loved it. There was no telling what would happen next, and with all the responsibility that she’d recently made the poor move of taking on, she needed a night like that.

The blonde’s shirt lay somewhere behind her, abandoned in the building that they’d used to get onto the platform. She held her arms out in the air as she stood out in front of New York city in just a bra. The wind whipped against her back with a brutal cold, but she ignored it, focusing instead on the adrenaline that was coursing through her veins. This was the life. ”How long do you think it would take me to fall to the pavement from here?” she asked above the wind. She’d never fallen from that specific height. She figured it might be fun to give it a whirl.

>>"But fair's fair. I got us up, you gotta drink."

Charlie turned to face him head on, and with a wink, she took a long swig from the bottle in her hand. Rules were rules after all. They only needed to be broken if they weren’t fun.

>>"So gorgeous, what's it gonna be, truth or dare?"

The rules also dictated that it was now her turn. Her turn to do something absolutely stupid. What a way to spend a night! ”You know it’s gotta be dare, love,” she told him with a sly grin, her English accent intensified and slurred by the alcohol.

He glanced over again and shrugged. He had no idea. He didn't particularly care to find out either. Kinda wished he'd recorded her saying that though. Sure would make for an easy excuse if it did happen. By some chance. She had time to prove too much trouble yet. He liked her though. That didn't happen every day. Her entire energy excited him. Her body too. Damn if he couldn't see himself writing her number somewhere it wouldn't get lost. "****ed if I know. Like, ten seconds? Long enough to regret it."

Still, he wouldn't be sad if she died. That was for chumps. Searching his pockets he pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He pulled one from the packet with just his mouth in a practised manoeuvre, then tossed the pack in the blonde's direction. "Help yourself." He lit and took a drag from his cigarette, lighter flame flickering in the calm between the gusts. He set it, still open and lit, on the control panel. The smoke hung with cool casualness from his lips. "Andre" stepped in and ran his hand down the woman's toned side, thumb gently tugging at her waistband in silent suggestion.

"Got a few ideas for those. Trouble's choosin'." He winked and took another swig. He kept his hand on her hip as he searched her alcohol glazed eyes for his timing. He knew how quickly an easy lay could be thrown away with bad timing on the final move. Then things got more difficult. A subconscious trickle of electricity hit his fingers. Little more than static, though he'd been in contact for longer than the fall beside them could possibly have taken.

"How about a chin up. On the outside." He jerked his head toward the edge, ash spilling from the lit tip of his cigarette and tumbling off the dge, caught in a light zephyr. It was wild, and it would be so cool. Plus, adrenaline was always a good addition. Made things far more exciting. There was also potential for her to forfeit, and he was just fine with her getting more drunk. His sharp blue eyes held hers, almost taunting her. He didn't think she would. He was sure he'd found her limit. Then he could do it, and she'd be all over him.

He loved how easy it was with women. He loved that men were even easier.

Charlie liked to be dared. She liked to feel things out of the ordinary, and have her life flash before her eyes in new, exciting ways. There was only so much else that you could fill your time with in all those years, after all. Who the hell would want to spend their entire life working? Certainly not her. She wanted to spend it living. Living in all the best ways.

She caught the pack of cigarettes and pulled one out, holding it toward him for a light. She pulled it back afterward and let a slow drag settle into her lungs. It was good, at least, that she came from a time period of heavy smoking so she didn’t have to build up her tolerance for that each time she died. If only she had been an alcoholic, then everything would be so much easier.

The man she was with came closer to her and let his hands wander. She knew what he wanted, and she wasn’t really inclined to say no, but she was also having fun, and that would take away from it. She wanted a bit more time before they got there. Andre’s hands ran along her waist and let off a shock. It was more than just that shock that you sometimes got when touching someone. No, it was something more. Something almost like a mutation. How interesting.

Charlie turned to look at him briefly, as if asking him whether or not that had been on purpose. She almost hoped that it had so she could find out what else he could do. He was already providing her with a good night, but that would be so much better!

>>"How about a chin up. On the outside."

”I like your thinking,” she said with a low growl. For most people, such a thing would be completely out of the question, but not for Charlie. The thought excited her and she wanted nothing more than to do it. She wondered if Andre knew what he was getting into with her.

A long leg swung over the side of the platform after she had set down the bottle she was drinking from. The whole structure swung wildly as she did so, and the few items that the actual window washer had left behind.

The blonde stuck her two feet in a little bar on the outside and bent herself in half so she could hold the railing with her hands. She sucked in a breath, tensed her stomach muscles, and in a rather dramatic way, let her legs drop off the side. She swung down and grabbed the lowest possible place, which was still too high. She was balanced awkwardly, her abdomen tense as she held herself up at a 45 degree bent angle.

Charlie looked up, winked at Andre, and then let her legs fall altogether. They dangled in the cold air as she held herself to that platform entirely with her arms. It was just a good thing that she was wearing snug boots rather than heels that likely would have fallen off and killed someone down below.

She took another breath in and pulled herself up on the platform, resting her chin for a few seconds on the top bar. ”There. Ch-chin up,” she huffed as she repositioned herself. That had been fun. Her heart was racing. There was still more to be done, though.

Maybe today she would find out exactly would be the day that she found out exactly how long that fall would take. The blonde let out an excited scream as she let go of the bar for just a second, letting herself feel the drop. As quickly as she had let go, though she thrust her hands forward and caught the lowest bar, preventing herself from plummeting to her momentary doom. If Andre hadn’t been there and been so damn attractive, she would’ve just let herself fall.

Charlie let out an exaggerated yell of excitement as she stretched her legs out to either side of her, enjoying the complete freedom.

He was well beyond noticing meaningful looks. Honestly, it was all he could do to keep her steady in his vision.

>>”I like your thinking,”

Oh he liked his thinking too. His hand made to slide right out of discretion when it was no longer holding anything. He blinked down into the empty space, slightly confused. She couldn't have meant the dare, surely? Yet there she was, swinging onto and over the edge in a move that could only be described as promising for the rest of his night. He laughed in disbelief, eyebrows creeping upward, his cigarette bouncing off his chin into empty space, an orange point spinning off into the void.

"No way!"

Yes way, it appeared.

>>”There. Ch-chin up,”

"No ****in' way!" He held out a hand to help her back on. He'd expected her to grab at it immediately, desperate to be back in, but he was really starting to think this one might not be predictable at all. With a scream, she drove all doubt out of his mind. He leaned over to watch her drop when the platform gave a violent lurch, sending him stumbling straight into the rail. If he hadn't been ready to grab her hand, he never would have caught the rail. His foot caught the opposite rail as he tipped. Between the two points of contact, he saved himself a closed casket funeral.

That just set him laughing harder, falling clumsily to his knees still clutching the rail with white knuckles. "You're ****in' crazy! Holy," A string of language spilled out in a cascade of Australianisms and expletives, punctuated the whole way through with laughter. "Alright, fair go, you did it." He put the bottle to his lips and tipped it fully upside down, draining it in one long chug. Little did she know that was probably the most sincere compliment he'd ever payed anyone. When it was empty he sent the bottle to follow his cigarette.

"It's a good thing I'm bi, cos you've got a real big pair tucked down there. Now, you gotta have a drink hangin' there, that's nuts." He fumbled and grabbed the girl's bottle sticking it and his arm out beneath the lowest beam of the rail, trying to get it near her mouth. He ended up with his head and shoulder fully hanging out of the washing carriage. His free hand fished his phone from his pocket, leaving him holding on only with a foot hooked through the opposite rail. "Here, this **** needs a selfie."

Numb fingers managed to grab a series of brief videos as he tried to snap multiple photos. Far below, a scream and angry yelling. About ten seconds.

The game that they were playing was lots of fun. She got to do things that got her blood pumping, and he clearly got to be turned on. Win-win.

Charlie had done far more dangerous things than hang on the outside of a window-washing platform, but she’d been keeping things fairly tame for the last while, and it was exciting to be back out in the world like that, feeling the wind on her bare skin and getting a good glimpse of the audience who was enjoying it. The older she got, the more reminders she needed that she couldn’t settle down and miss something like that.

She’d lost the cigarette somewhere along the way when she’d climbed over the side, and now was the moment that she missed it. It would have looked so cool to be smoking a cigarette while hanging off the edge like that. Oh well, too late.

The blonde adjusted her grip, trying to ignore the pain of the cold metal on her straining hands. It was fun to be hanging there, but it was also a little difficult. Eventually, her hands were going to give out. Either she would be climbing back up soon, or some people were going to have to get out of the way down below. How much would it f*** up this dude to see her die and then disappear? She laughed at the thought.

Andre sent the bottle flying after finishing off the rest of the liquid, which made Charlie laugh even harder. It hurt to be laughing while hanging like that. Apparently she needed to drink, too, though, and before she could dispute that fact, there he was pushing his arm through a little hole to put a bottle near her face.

Andre apparently didn’t know what it was like to be hanging like that, because when he tipped the bottle, whisky poured onto her face and down her bare skin, only about one fifth of it actually landing in her mouth. It was more of a shower than a drink. The photos and videos would catch Charlie with her eyes closed, trying to avoid the burning sensation of alcohol in her eyes.

Once he was finished, Charlie began to climb back up. As she expected, it was more difficult to get up than it was to get down, but in the very least, he hadn’t gotten whisky on her hands, so it wasn’t like she was slipping down. Her muscles stretched and strained as she climbed from bar to bar, her legs swinging. Twice, there were close calls and she nearly fell, but she held strong. In front of her, the platform swung dangerously against the building, causing cracks to form in the two windows that it was positioned against.

Eventually, Charlie reached the top bar and was able to stretch herself up to put her feet on the bottom. She then repeated the process with her feet and stepped from bar to bar until she had nowhere else to go. With a dramatic finish she dropped back into the platform.

”I think that makes it my turn now, right? Truth or dare, love?” she asked with a malevolent grin.

HE'd been less than successful with the bottle, but in fairness he'd been trying to pour it while facing the camera, and taking the pictures. She really could have helped him more with that. Whatever, it was funny. He laughed an intoxicated laugh as the drink splashed over the precariously hanging woman. She might not like it, but that had been funny as hell.

Cafas pulled himself back in to the carriage with some difficulty, getting the edge stuck in his armpit until he could figure out exactly how he'd squeezed through in the first place. With quite a lot of wriggling and muttered swearing he finally managed to squeeze through. It left him with his shirt and jacket tugged up to expose half his midriff, all bunched to one side. He straightened everything out as Charlie climbed back over the rail into the relative safety of their private, if grossly unstable, balcony.

"Fer real sweetheart, you're nuts. That's pretty hot." He shook his head and tried to focus on her properly. It didn't want to happen, which was unfortunate, because she was there looking all sexy, and he knew from experience she was only likely to have gotten hotter after that workout. Speaking of hotter, he felt like he was boiling in his jacket. He began to strip at it off in the most subtly showy way he could. Wasn't his fault it tugged his shirt up to show his abs. Couldn't possibly be his fault that his t-shirt sleeves slid down his arms as he lifted the jacket over his head. None of that was his fault, it was utter coincidence. He dropped the jacket onto the ground.

"That shmile says I shouldn't," It said it very clearly, "But I'm gonna say dealer'sh choice." He wanted to see exactly what that smile entailed. He wanted it. He wanted her. He wanted something he hadn't had before. "What d'you want me t' do?" His voice was low, carrying the ever present hint of suggestion. His face was set in his best smoulder, chewing his bottom lip. His eyes said he really was ready to do almost anything. That mood was how the best fun was had. He held the bottle out to her "You're gonna need this. I ain't losing tonight. There's only one second place I accept."

He fished for and lit another cigarette.

There were great views all around; standing on the window cleaning platform gave them a great vantage point of the entire city, and there was a man slowly undressing beside her. The night was going quite well. It was probably a good thing that she hadn’t plummeted to her death a few minutes ago. It would probably be much harder to get any once he had seen her resurrected. That part tended to turn people off.

It was the dealer’s choice for his next truth or dare, though. Dare, of course, was the obvious choice. She didn’t really care to know that much about him, and there seemed to be an understanding between the two of them that nothing would go beyond the fun they had that night. If all went well, it would be a lot of fun.

Thankfully, she had just the dare in mind. He seemed to be suggesting something a little more… private, but she had ideas for a bit more fun. Charlie took the bottle from him, raised it to her lips for a moment, and then wiped her face as she stepped forward. The window that they had smashed through to get onto the platform in the first place was close and ready for them to step back inside.

She climbed back into the building that they had come from and beaconed for Andre to follow after her. Oh, she had things in mind. A mischievous grin appeared on her lips as she walked a little farther in. ”Alright, mister confident,” she began, ”there’s a safe in that wall. I want to see what’s inside.”

She leaned against the wall that she had just gestured to and set her hand on the cold, metal safe. It was a mid-size thing that could contain any number of things. She hoped it would be money, though. That would be a nice bonus. ”I dare you to break in.”

The drunk party boy watched his prize walk away. He wasn't terribly upset to do so, as long as she didn't go out of line of sight. Back inside she went, taking the bottle with her. If nothing else, that dragged him along after her. He hopped clumsily through the broken glass, narrowly avoiding losing an eye, stumbling the landing. He caught himself on an office chair. At leas,t he tried. Turned out it swivelled. He probably should have remembered that from when he'd tried to shatter the window with it.

He rose from his sprawled position, red in the face, his ego damaged and in urgent need of triage. He laughed, but only because he knew it was the easiest way to save face. From experience, getting all mad didn't help him score. He wanted to score. At least his cigarette was okay. He picked it up off the floor and stuck it back in his mouth.

>>”Alright, mister confident, there’s a safe in that wall. I want to see what’s inside.”

That sounded like a real her problem.

>>”I dare you to break in.”

Yeah that made sense. Thunderclap eyed the safe. It kept swimming in his vision, but it certainly did look like a safe. He took an unsteady step towards it. How the hell was he meant to open a safe? He'd never broken into a safe before. Still, admitting defeat wasn't good for his odds, was it? No. Absolutely not. He stumbled the rest of the way to it and took a good hard look. Electronic lock, fancy display, numbers and letter. There was just no way. Even if he fried it, it'd stay closed, that's what it was designed for.

But he had to try something.

Cafas pressed his palm onto the display, and suddenly the room was dimly lit around him as tiny plasma arcs played across his exposed skin. He pushed several second of shock into the safe, feeling it drain his energy, making him feel that much drunker. The screen of the safe shattered, the lights in it briefly flared, then it went dull. He stopped, not at all happy with the failure.

"Sorry babe, that'sh all I got. 'Nless you're hidin' a blowtorcsh s'mwhere." He ran his eyes over her once more. Somehow he doubted it/ God he needed a boost up. Maybe he could find a socket and fork.

If she was being honest, the safe wasn’t really all that important to her. Sure, Charlie wanted to see if there was money inside, and if not, what else they would have put inside, but it was less interesting to her than the process of actually getting inside of it. She wanted to see whether or not Andre would be able to do it. It was a big task, considering the quality of the safe, and she figured that she had the game in the bag.

She really hadn’t been expecting him to do that thing with his hands, though. She had been expecting to think something along those lines later on, but definitely not concerning the safe. The way he displayed that power made it abundantly clear that he was a mutant. Interesting. Maybe he could be useful. That was a thought for another time, though; she was far too drunk to work.

As much as his powers were cool, they didn’t open the safe. The dare went unresolved, which meant that she won the game. No, no hidden blow torch in her pocket.

With a quick stride forward, Charlie closed the distance between the two of them, running her hands up his bare chest. ”Does that mean that you’re giving up, mister secret mutant?” she questioned, giving him one more chance to reclaim the game, ”because I think that means that I win the game.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the adrenaline, but Charlie felt like making him suffer. Her hands travelled lower, but she looked to the side and put on her best pout. ”It’s such a shame, though… I really, really wanted to see what was inside. That would have really turned me on…”

The voice that she had put on made her a little sick, but she knew that it would probably do different things for Andre. The meek, quiet thing got those super macho guys going like nothing else. Of course, it always helped to taunt them with something that they couldn’t have. It was the perfect combination.

Oh right. Oops. He wasn't meant to show people that. It was one of Devon's little rules. Whatever, he didn't even like rules. didn't like Devon that much either. He was pretty easy and reliable as a lay, and he payed the bills, but dude was kind of too into himself. Weirdly moody too. Sort of guy Thunderclap didn't like to put up with too often if he could avoid it. Terrible wing man.

The hands on his chest distracted him from his little mistake. She'd won. They'd been playing all night, and she'd won? Damn it, he was meant to win! Then her hands slipped lower and winning seemed kind of secondary. He didn't seem to be losing anything by not winning. It didn't sit right with him, but who even cared. He didn't care. How the hell was he meant to get into a safe anyway? He couldn't just melt through the door.

The whole vulnerable girl act was different. Kind of new. Where was danger girl with her chin ups hundreds of feet in the air? Not that he was really complaining, but she'd been hot. Now she was like the rest of them? Oh, no, she was playing him. He knew he was being played, even drunk. Can't play a player and all that. Except his body didn't really know, only his brain, and his brain was losing its grip of the situation real fast.

His hands were on her hips before he'd really registered it, and while hers travelled lower, his slid higher. He smirked drunkenly, arrogantly, with confidence like he owned her. "Well, y' played t' win and did. Can't open a safe babe, tha's the point. Open plenty of othr stuff though." He snapped his fingers on her bra clasp in a well practised movement. It was a little clumsier than normal, but he'd done it drunk before.

"Doeshn't really seem t've bin necessary. Now, lemme get ridda that fake liddle pout." He leaned in, and went for the kiss.

Charlie enjoyed taunting him, especially when he was that drunk. She’d won the game, fair and square, and that meant that she’d cut down just a little of his manhood. That made her all warm inside to know that he was experiencing a loss. He had probably greatly underestimated her to begin with. Every once and awhile, she needed to cut a man down for a really good self-esteem boost.

Still, he couldn’t seem to get enough of her. Losing hadn’t made him as angry as she thought it would, and instead he continued to try to make moves on her. He was either beyond drunk or completely starved of human touch. Either way, Charlie didn’t care all that much. There was no harm done if she got multiple things out of the night.

She let him unclasp her bra, held out her arms in front of her, and shimmied just a little to let it fall to the ground between them. It was actually kind of impressive that he had even managed to do that when he was that drunk. He put some of the guys that Charlie had been with to shame, and they had been sober. She just hoped that he would be just as successful at finding other things.

Instead of trying to please her, he was just attempted to make her pout go away by kissing it. Charlie stepped back, pulling herself away from the kiss that he was leaning into. There was nothing wrong with the situation, but she still enjoyed watching him suffer. She stepped farther into the middle of the room and looked over her shoulder at him as she hopped up onto the desk in the corner of the room. She beaconed him over with a finger waggle and brushed some of the objects from the desktop.

”I think I deserve a prize for winning, don’t you?” she asked with a smirk, waiting for him to amble over to where she was.

He was pretty sure that wasn't how he'd planned it to go. Actually, he was very sure. Still, she wasn't trying to BS him any more. He wasn't gonna be played so easily.

That thought lasted perhaps half a second before it was driven from his mind by far more important things. At least, far more insistent. He'd been pretty keen to see those, and she went and turned her back on him? What kind of cruel woman was this? Did she think she could possibly be his match? She was certainly trying her best.

The come hither was utterly unnecessary, though it didn't go unappreciated. He was willing to go along with her, for sure. Now that everything seemed rather nice a guaranteed, playing hard to get seemed self sabotaging. Still, he kept his amble over to a casual strut. Rushing over was just going to seem desperate, and that wasn't the look he was going for. Desperate guys didn't get laid. That's why the sad ****s were desperate.

”I think I deserve a prize for winning, don’t you?”

He matched her smirk with one of his own, and a cocked eyebrow. "Y'know, I reckon y' do. Shame, don't sheem t' have anythin'" He patted his jacket pockets down with mock concern, then discarded it onto the floor. With more prep time he might have tried to set his phone up, but offices just weren't cluttered enough to make a recording phone look casual. "Any suggestions?" He cast an unsubtle glance.