He had to admit it, Calle could hit the liquor hard. Angel watched the girl eagerly order her drink (oh my, and a big tipper too...) and then down it quickly. He hadn't seen that kind of drinking since... well, there was that one party he went to at NYU...
That was a memory he shoved aside as the pair to the floor. He took the compliment in stride as they claimed the dance area. Angel noticed the slight slur, not frowning on Calle for taking part in the celebration. It was New Year's Eve after all. A protective instinct that stirred up in him naturally; a subtle reminder to keep an eye on Calle and make sure she stayed safe. It was a big city and after what they'd been through, security was a necessity. Angel was discreet with this instinct, hopefully the girl wouldn't catch onto him and instead prove to be a good dance partner.
Then they danced.
It'd been a while since Angel found someone he could cut loose with. His mood skyrocketed through the roof with elation that Calle could dance. It might've been the excitement of the evening but Angel found himself dancing harder with Calle. Every pop and lock of each intricate step punctuated with a certain energy that came from truly having a good time. The area around them felt electric and alive with the mood that carried in the air. Normally Angel held a certain control over himself, a reserved quality that only few could break through. As he danced and kept in time with the beat he seemed more open. A certain finesse carried in his movements. He didn't care if people were watching them dance. He didn't feel self-conscious and in fact thrived on the attention.
Angel was now glad he'd come to the club and found a familiar face. When the song stopped and was about to change to the next track he leaned over with a big smile etched on his face. "Thank goodness there's at least one other person at home that can dance!"a sincere compliment.
Then he caught what he said: Home. Maybe it was the liquor or a Freudian slip, but it was the first time he called the mansion home. He was still acclimating to the mansion that calling it home was a shock to him. Maybe he was more attached to the place (and people) than he figured. "The mansion. I mean: Good to know there's someone else that can dance... at the mansion." Not quite the best save but the boy tried.
The next song started up, Angel once again focused on dancing. Even keeping Calle on her toes by taking her hand and offering the girl a quick spin. He laughed lightly, a sign that he was in good spirits... and a little drunk. The pair continued to dance away as Angel let the energy around him overtake him. Moves remained precise and quick. Angel kept building that charge, not realizing he was on the verge of triggering his powers.
It was a brief glance to the floor but the second he saw it, it was a record scratch. There was a familiar red glow coming from his palms. He wasn't about to project waves but his body was humming with the microwaves generated around him. In fact, the glow almost seemed to convey how happy he felt. "Oh shit," he cursed. Why would his powers trigger now? His hands glowed brighter and Angel did the only thing he could think of. He shoved them in his pockets and froze on the floor. A deep blush painted him as he took a deep breath. He needed to get his powers in control, he needed to relax... like now!
Angel couldn't afford to have his powers cause an accident in the club. Why did this have to happen now? He mentally cursed himself, the worry only exacerbating things as Angel stopped glowing... but caught the microwave signals emitting from the speakers and wireless system above the floor. A sharp feedback ripped through the speakers, the crowd flinching as Angel cringed. Smooth one Jones- you had to be the record scratch.
"Hey, I'm gonna... go... air. I need air. Wanna come with?" He said with a deep blush still on his face. As the red-head moved away the dance floor returned normal as Angel scolded himself for his power outburst. So much for a night where he forgot he was a mutant.