It'll be fun. Her friends had said that day at work as they all shed their lab coats and traded them for the heavier coats they'd brought to fend off the frigid fall air. They were all so different, some with denim or leather, and others wool pea coats, but they all agreed: tonight they were going to blow off some steam from a particularly frustrating day at the lab with drinks in yet another bar. C'mon, it's about time you got some good old Americana, Delphine.

She'd agreed, with a slight hesitation. "Americana" was a vague concept for her, blurred with the stereotypes she'd learned of what people were like in the United States. She'd expected more of it when she moved here, especially when she learned her destination was smack in the middle of the country. Minnesota. Looking on the map, it practically seemed a part of Canada. Still, she was never one to turn down a learning experience and she could certainly use a drink and a little company.

This was not exactly what she'd been expecting.

The bar was made of different shades of time-worn wood, something like a cabin in its décor. A deer head with a black and white trucker hat hung on the wall just above where the top shelf bottles proudly asserted their brands to the world, but aside from that and the occasional beer sign, the walls were surprisingly bare. A smattering of mostly empty tables were in the middle, except for an area that was designated for pool that had attracted a crowd of bearded men and one exceptionally tall, striking woman. Some of that group had also huddled into a nearby booth nestled in the corner. The only light came from one overhead light and the lamps that hung too low over the billiards table.

"See anyone you like, D?" Peter, a lab tech with large, plastic-frame glasses and side-swept brown hair, asked.

She did her best to muster a smile to appease him and the group of people now staring at her. "Non, I'm here to have fun with all of you, not to date."

"Oh c'mon." Jamie, a fellow immunologist with a weightlifting obsession and a ponytail pulled perpetually so tight Delphine thought it must be horribly uncomfortable, nudged her with an elbow and raised her eyebrows. "It's been a while, right? Get right back up on that horse, cowgirl!" She all but shouted the words, and everyone at the table raised their glasses, clinking them together in agreement.

"It's like Johnny Cash once said," Peter began, already beginning to slur his words, "'save a horse, ride a cowboy!'"

Lauren rolled her eyes and let out a little huff. "Please tell me you're joking, Pete."

"About what?"

"That wasn't Johnny Cash, doofus." She smacked the back of his head and he grabbed at it, feigning injury.

"Then who was it?"

Delphine didn't hear much more after that, the sounds of the argument (which soon everyone was involved in) fading out into the din of the bar.

"This isn't exactly how I'd planned on spending my Friday night, either." Cal, her favorite from this group of friends, said. He was smiling—he was always smiling. Somehow, the man was undyingly positive and it suited him well. "But it's interesting, isn't it?"

She nodded slowly, laughing lightly to herself. "Yes, interesting is a good word for it."

He nudged her with his shoulder and motioned to her now empty glass with his chin. "How about I get us another round?"

"That would be nice, thank you."

He stood and walked over to the bar where the bartender was pouring a drink for one of the pool players, one eye still on the football game on the screen above him. Delphine looked down at her empty glass and frowned. She wished she could have a glass of wine, but according to her friends that was "contrary to the experience." She'd been talked into a whiskey sour instead and, while it wasn't a bad drink, she found every sip slightly disappointing.

A chord broke out through the strains of a country song playing softly through the speakers. For atmosphere, she supposed, though it seemed absurd to her that one would want to promote such a morose feeling in a bar. She looked up to the makeshift stage in the corner, and saw a man holding a guitar. He frowned at it, flicked his long hair over his shoulder, and began fiddling with the knobs on the end. He struck another chord, and smirked. Apparently, that was the sound he'd wanted. A tall, dark-skinned woman stood next to him, face slackened into something resembling disinterest as she glanced around the bar.

Cal surprised her again by sliding a glass down in front of her and settling. "Hey."

"Oh. Hi, you startled me." She said, laughing slightly as she placed her hand to her chest to be sure her heartbeat was returning to its usual pace.

"Sorry about that." He was sitting perpendicular to the table, she realized suddenly, so that he was facing her directly. That was when she noticed the shape looming above her and she looked up at it, recognizing a man who had been standing at the bar earlier. "I brought a friend, too." He chuckled.

"Sid." The man held his hand out. He was short and thin, generally small-framed, with jeans, a t-shirt and an old baseball cap on his head. But his stature didn't seem to contain him at all. He sprawled, even just standing there. His legs were placed shoulder-width apart, one hand tucked casually in his hip pocket. He struck an imposing, aggressive figure somehow.

She took it, responding with her own name, and he nodded curtly at her.

"Sid just asked if I wanted to join him and his friends and I said I wanted to ask you first."

Delphine frowned. "You don't have to ask my permission."

"No, no. Of course not." He jumped, waving his hands. "No, I meant I wanted to ask if you wanted to come with."

Delphine looked from where the group gathered around the pool table was laughing and jostling one another back to her group of friends. Since she'd stopped paying attention, the discussion had moved on to a book she hadn't read, nor did she particularly care to. Lauren shook her head vehemently and seamlessly pushed her oversized glasses back up her nose as she formed her rebuttal. Peter just leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, smirking at her. Back at the pool table, one of the men was waving his hands around, apparently making a very emphatic point. The tall woman was laughing, and a second, shorter woman in a pink and white checkered dress whom she hadn't noticed before was frowning disapprovingly at the both of them.

The people at the pool table didn't seem all that different, really, but she wasn't sure if she could stand to sit at this table if Cal weren't there. So she nodded slightly and said, "yes. That would be nice, I think."

"Great." Sid said, and there was a twang there—but not an American one, she noted. It was more familiar than any American accent had seemed to her. They all stood, and Sid strolled casually in between the argument going on at the pool table, slinging his arm around the tall woman's shoulders and making himself look lopsided from the height difference. "Hey everyone, these are my new friends Cal and, uh... Cal's friend."

The twinge of accent was gone now, Delphine noted. Perhaps she'd imagined it.

The tall woman grinned, flashing perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. "Well, well, well. Who's Mr. Tall, dark and handsome?" She leaned forward with a sway, clearly already a little inebriated. And she definitely had an accent.

"Uh, Cal." He ran a hand through his hair. "Nice to meet you."

"Fifi." The woman responded, nudging into Sid and whispering something in his ear that made him chuckle.

"You're British." Delphine said suddenly, and the woman looked at her.

"Yeah, and you are?"

"Delphine." She smiled shyly, realizing the way everyone was watching her curiously. "I'm sorry, it's just I don't often meet other Europeans, especially not in places like this."

"Yeah, well, I don't often come to places like this myself. Just showing some support for brothersestra over there." She motioned to where the two people on stage had been joined by a third, a man in tight black jeans with a black cowboy shirt tucked in. His hair was coiffed back into a flawless pompadour.

"Brothersestra?"

"Long story." The man leaning against the pool table stuck his hand out to shake hers; he was wearing a pearl-snapped cowboy shirt tucked into his tight blue jeans which was all topped with a battered cowboy hat. Delphine took his hand in her own. "I'm Charlie."

His hand was soft, with tan lines on his fingers from where rings must have been over the long summer months. He was the same size as Sid, even similar in his facial structure, though there was something far less intimidating about him. Whereas Sid had stubble all across his cheeks in the messy beginnings of a beard, Charlie had a shortly trimmed goatee on his chin and above his lips that accented how soft and red they were. She looked up from his hand to his eyes and saw novas and galaxies nestled in warm brown. Her heartbeat quickened in her chest. It had been a long time since she'd felt this way upon meeting a stranger and she distantly registered a determination—no, a compulsion—to be near him.

"I'm Alison." The woman in the checkered dress introduced herself. In lieu of a smile, she'd simply raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips, as though it were all she could muster at the moment.

"Enchantee." Delphine was already growing bored of the lengthy introductions, and now, with a pair of piercing eyes watching her from a few feet to her right, she had lost all patience entirely.

"So, who won?" Sid asked suddenly, grabbing a pool stick off the rack on the wall.

"Me." Fifi cut in, grinning over at Charlie triumphantly. "Of course. Geek monkey here needs to brush up on her geometry."

Delphine's brow furrowed, and she cast her gaze back over to Charlie, who just rolled his eyes good-naturedly. But she had called him 'she.' The word had caught her attention instantly. It didn't seem to faze anyone else, so she decided to let it pass. Some sort of jibe at his masculinity, perhaps? In losing to a girl?

"Maybe I let you win so I could watch Sid shitkick that beautiful little ass of yours." Charlie grinned broadly, sharp canines glistening in the light above the pool table, shaded by green-tinted glass.

"I'm sure." Fifi rolled her eyes, and turned to where Sid had already racked up the balls and set the cue ball across the table. She nodded at him with her chin. "Your break."

"Or maybe," Charlie was right next to her now, and she felt the warmth of his closeness shudder through her body, "I let her win cause I saw you coming over."

Delphine looked down into his sparkling eyes and caught sharp teeth on her bottom lip. "Is that so?" Was all she could say because her brain had begun to start to short circuit, and nothing more clever popped into her mind.

"Mmm-hmm." He hummed, wrapping around her body without touching her to lean back against the side of the pool table. "I saw you sitting over there. You looked bored out of your mind."

"Oh." Delphine could feel the blush start to singe her cheeks, and she looked to the floor. "Yes. I'm just tired. I enjoy my friends."

He held his hands up. "Not saying you don't. Although, I'm sensing a 'but' in there somewhere."

Delphine crossed her arms over her chest, feeling suddenly very exposed to a man she'd never met before. He was different, this person who couldn't be older than twenty based on the youthful softness to his face. She'd never known a man to be so intuitive, so flirty and sensuous without being forward. She could feel his interest, but not in an overtly sexual sort of way. He looked deep into her eyes when he spoke to her; she wondered if he also saw the universe in hers.

"They can be a bit..." She sighed, then laughed at her own hesitance. "Pretentious, I suppose. And pushy."

"Mmm." He hummed his response, then nodded. "Friends are complicated like that sometimes, aren't they?"

"Yes, well. Moving across the ocean to a new job meant I had to make do with what I had." She realized the way it sounded, then shook her head vigorously. "Not that I don't enjoy their company—I do—it's just not the same as being grounded somewhere." She felt a blush begin to singe at her cheeks and she looked down to the ground to avoid the sparkling mirth in his eyes.

"I get it." He laughed. "Honestly, I do."

"I believe you." Desperate to change the subject and free herself from the intensity of his gaze, she nodded toward where Fifi—who had apparently been ousted from the game so that Sid could play with Cal—and Alison were downing tequila shots. "Fifi called you a geek." She said, realizing only after it left her mouth that it was a terribly awkward thing to say to someone she barely knew. But the drinks she'd ingested and the dazzle of Charlie's gaze had left her feeling shy, and giddy. She was desperate to say anything to get him to talk more.

"Mmm. Yeah. The geek monkey." He replied, a raspiness to his voice that hadn't been there before. "I'm a scientist."

Delphine's eyebrows shot up, and her mouth dropped open. "I'm a scientist, as well." She finally managed to stammer out. "Immunology, generally. Host-parasite relationships, specifically."

"Oh. Fascinating field." Charlie nodded solemnly. "And I guess I'm being a little disingenuous when I say I'm a scientist. I'm still a student, getting my Phd. In, uh, evo-devo." After a second, he added "Evolutionary Development."

"Ah. Yes." A student. She quickly did the math in her head. Undergrad until—what?-twenty-one? And then four to six in graduate school would mean he was in his mid-to-late twenties, much older than she'd expected. Good. "Also a fascinating field."

"I'd say so, but I'm dedicating my life to studying it, so maybe don't take my word for it." It was perhaps the softness of him that drew her in, the firm slackness around the mouth and eyes, or perhaps it was his self-effacing nature, the way he teased gently at himself and took his friends' ribbing so calmly.

"Non, I think you are right." She was doing it again, she noted faintly, she was biting her bottom lip, but it was stalling her desire to do anything less appropriate with them. This rarely happened to her, this instantaneous desire. "You're very sweet, you know that?"

He smiled and glanced down at the space between their bodies, at the shuffling of their feet. "Thanks."

"I mean it. You are not like your friends at all." She prodded, ducking her head to try to catch his eye.

She saw a gentle flush rise to his cheeks. "Nah, they're big softies deep down. They just come across a little harsh."

Sid came around the table and nudged Charlie forcefully. "Oi. Ass off the table, meathead." There it was again, the twinge. Was Sid British, too? Maybe he'd immigrated young, and had lost most of his accent, or was the child of English parents? She was broken from her thoughts again when Charlie stumbled a couple steps forward into her space, now just a foot in front of her.

"Well, since we're in the way here, wanna dance?" He held out his hand and raised his eyebrows, high wattage grin back in place on his face.

She just nodded, downed the rest of her drink, and took his hand. She hadn't even noticed the band had started playing, despite how much louder it was than the quiet dulcet tones of the music over the loudspeakers. The song was fast, and Delphine could tell it wasn't exactly Charlie's style of dancing. He stumbled over his own feet a few times, laughing at himself every time. She couldn't help but join, the sound landed electric in her body, sending jolts of glee through her. He pushed her back, and pulled away at the same time, but kept their hands joined. Then, he pulled her back to him and swung her under his arm, releasing her just long enough to untwist their hands. They bopped back and forth a little more, and then he let go of one hand and sent her flying out, making her laugh like a child, before pulling her back toward him once more, twirling, wrapping her up in his arms back-to-front and holding her close as the song segued into something slower and more somber.

The woman's vocals were soft, and slow. Nothing like what they'd been just seconds before. They swayed like that for a couple seconds, Delphine's back pressed tight against Charlie's front. It was nice, comfortable, safe, even though he was smaller than her. He let her go to turn her back around, and she put her hands on his shoulders—his went up to her hips, holding them with a light pressure. Heavy enough for her to feel the weight of them against her hips, to remind her they were holding her, but light enough to be comfortable and not at all possessive.

"Tell me about yourself." The drink she'd chugged and the delirium of her own laughter as they'd danced had left her a little too happy, a little too careless when usually she would be hesitant and cautious with a stranger. She wanted to know everything about him, to unravel the mystery of this Charlie.

"Honestly, I don't know what to say. Ask me a question." The slow, easy grin returned to his face and he added, "none of that softball stuff, though. Ask the hard questions."

"Hmm." She hummed, glancing up at the ceiling as she tried to think of a "hard" question. "Do you believe in God?" It hadn't seemed a particularly upfront or difficult one, if she were being truthful with herself. It was generally a given with most scientists she'd met that they were atheist or agnostic, compulsory religious at best.

He tipped his head off to the side, then nodded. "Yeah. I think so."

She raised her eyebrows. "Really?" He hadn't yet failed to surprise her.

"Yeah. I mean, not in the 'bearded man in the sky' sort of way." He said, raising a hand to roll it around on his wrist as he spoke. "But in a, like, force of the universe we can't fully understand kind of way—why not?"

"I find that surprising." She admitted. "In a scientist."

"There was this article I was reading a while back where the author said something along the lines of," he held the hand that had been gesturing before up cautiously, "and I'm paraphrasing here—but she said something like 'mythology is often thought of as the opposite of science when, in fact, it's central to it. Myths are simply the symbolism through which we interpret the world and, therefore, the significance of science in it."

"So are we now talking about religion?" Delphine asked.

"No, not necessarily. Just belief structures in general." He shrugged a shoulder, and smiled again, and looked back up into her eyes.

She felt her breath vanish from her chest when he did, when his gaze melted heat into her and seemed to tug her toward him. The moment stretched, beating restlessly in time with the soft boom of the bass drum and the crooning of the singer. Her stomach tightened and flipped and knotted impossibly taut. This was it. The perfect moment. She tipped his hat back and leaned her head down, lips hovering close to his, knuckles rising to graze along his cheek. He inhaled sharply and took a step back, repositioning the hat on his head. He cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder at the vacated pool table. "I think we're due for a game of pool, don't you? The table's empty." He turned and walked away without saying anything else, so she followed in silent resignation.

Hey everyone! This is going to be a story in two parts, but this site has size restrictions so it'll either be three or four, with two posted at a time. A huge thanks to cophinaphile for beta'ing for me and generally being sweet and supportive and awesome. As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and I hope you enjoy!