The core relay blinks, blue light illuminating Delsin's features every other minute. And when it does, Fetch could practically see the delight dancing in his eyes at the thought of a new trick.

"This your idea of a date, Smokes?" She says. Out of the corner of her eye, she barely makes out the hunched figure of another drug dealer and in a flash of movement and neon, the dealer is wriggling on the floor and struggling to escape.

"So, this is a date, huh?" He fixes his beanie, his signature smirk revealing a dimple on his left cheek she is sure shouldn't look that charming on a petty criminal. She manages to snap out of her reverie long enough to punch him in the shoulder, Delsin feigning hurt, and break open the Core Relay.

"Shut up and get your relay-induced epilepsy going," she shouts, her voice echoing as she materializes a few feet away from him. She watches the light slowly dim as blue specks swirl around him before settling and dissolving into his skin. In a few seconds, a burst of energy surges forth and his feet touch the ground.

"What'd you get this time?" Fetch asked, out of habit more than curiosity. She looked at him, expecting the usual plan to vandalize around half of Seattle with a curse word thrown in for good measure.

"Well," he leans against the wall, as casual as one can be after an epilepsy, "I think I caught myself a date."

Fetch looks at him like he's lost his mind. He looks the other way, mentally kicking himself for arguably one of the lamest pick up lines he's used since he hit puberty (and that's counting the time he tried to charm his way out of Augustine shooting concrete up his ass.)

"Uh, what?"

"Work with me here, Fetch. Don't leave a guy hanging." So much for conduit stud, he thinks. His cheeks flush with color and Fetch knows she's solid but that nervous smile has got her fidgety and bright as, well, neon.

"Sorry, the whole Curdun Cay training you into a killer thing didn't leave a whole lot of time for dating, y'know?" She kicks a stray can, pocketing her hands in a trench coat Brent used to wear.

"Well, Abbey-gail," that warrants another punch from Fetch — which actually hurts this time but Delsin won't admit that — and a smug grin from Delsin, " ow, watch the face, Abi— okay, Fetch, okay, don't shoot me." He throws his hand up in the air but he can't help that boyish smile he flashes her.

"You can make up to me with coffee, that Latte Owl joint and I am getting the most obnoxious, expensive drink there is, your treat." Fetch walks ahead of him, her heels clicking, raising her eyebrow at those who stare. "Delsin, tell it to me straight. Are these people staring at me because I can shoot them down with my hand or is it the hair?"

She looks at her reflection, fiddling with her nose ring and tucking in some stray strands of her bright pink hair.

"Definitely the hair," he chuckles, his arm draped comfortably on her shoulder, "Isn't being really hot and distracting an option?"

"Rowe, do you know how to do anything except flirt?"

"Well, hurry up, Fetch. Can't have the dupes catching us before we're done, can we?" He jogs up to catch up to her, his hand finding hers, and her stomach, filling up with butterflies. "So, for once, can we pause with the souped-up parkour and I don't know — walk? Like, oh heaven forbid, Normals."

"Sorry, D, not really my style. You can walk; I'll stick to roof jumping." She said, already propelling herself high up into the air.

"So, how about the coffee?" He dashes into a vent, not quite sure if the rush came from turning into smoke or Fetch.

"I'll keep your coffee warm, Normal." The wind carries her laugh, a sweet taunting echo of sorts. "Don't forget the money or else I might have to kick a few D.U.P. Asses. Maybe even yours."

And Reggie says he doesn't like the chase.