ArchivedLogs:Hits on High Schoolers

Hits on High Schoolers
Dramatis Personae Anette, Eric, Natalie
In Absentia	2016-02-10 "MID. Sutton. Hits on high schoolers. You're joking, right?"
Location <BOM> Common Room - Main Lodge - Ascension Island
The common room's rustic-lodge feel has been somewhat mitigated by the modern amenities inside its sturdy wooden walls. It has comfortable couches, several chairs, a refrigerator (stocked with snacks and drinks!), a pool table, a pinball machine (METALLICA!), an assortment of books, a television -- with several game systems! -- and a splendid view out the windows (when their lacy yellow curtains are drawn open) for the rest of the island. The pale wood floors have been covered in places -- by a pair of soft thick blue rugs, by a large squishy pair of beanbags that stand in front of the stone fireplace. There's also a board up on the wall, half corkboard, half whiteboard, with a variety of community notes (and occasional insults) to other Brotherhood members. Large doors on the right-hand side lead off to the kitchen and dining room. In the back of the room, the council room's heavy oak door bears solid locks that are almost never actually barred. A short hall adjacent to the council room's door leads to a trio of multi-stalled bathrooms; these might once have been marked with the typical man-woman-handicapped signs, but someone has given them new plaques on the door; a stick figure with horns and a long tail, one with wings. One -- the large single-user toilet -- has instead been given a helmet and a cape. The lodge is smelling Pretty Tasty tonight; over in the dining room things sound fairly rowdy where much of the island has gathered over dinner. For once that means it's actually quieter out here -- Natalie /had/ been in the dining room through much of the meal but now has brought her plate (only half-emptied; it still holds a fair amount of roasted pork, potatoes, grilled vegetables, green chili sauce, spicy-tangy smells that seem to hint at Ion's skilled hand in the kitchen) out to the common room where she's plunked down with a beer in front of the television. Dressed casual in blue jeans, heavy boots, a red tank top with a black canvas jacket over top, red hair pulled back in a ponytail. She has an X-Box remote in hand, where -- perhaps it's Ion on SCREEN too (probably not, though.) At any rate there's a good deal of lightning glowing across her screen, arcing blue-white around the body of her character as he zaps across a fence grate in the downtown of some city. Anette, oddly enough, doesn't come in from the dining room but rather the outside. The rosy circles on her cheeks, the lack of a coat, and the happy grin suggest she may have just enjoyed a recent flying adventure. Once in the doorway, she stomps the snow off her shoes before glancing towards the TV, watching the onscreen light show before making her way further in. "Oh man, did I miss Ion's night?" she asks, as that evening's meal finally makes its way to her nose. The door from the porch bangs first open then shut not long after Anette arrives through it, a chattered quiet curse muttered as a figure -- more of a blob of jackets, really -- presses both hands against the door to shut it from the wind. It stays in that position for several seconds, hands outstretched, before straightening back up and pulling the hood back from his face, teeth clinking against each other. "Been here how many years, now, and the cold still just /sucks/." Eric drawls, rubbing gloved hands over his arms. "Sucks, sucks, sucks." He blinks, sniffing at the air. "Damn, that smells good. Don't suppose there's any left?" Natalie glances up from the screen, quick smile spreading across her face when she sees Anette's grin. "Nope. Didn't miss anything. There's still plenty in there, you should grab a plate. I don't know what the fuck he does with this pork but it's like /some/ kind of magic." Her head tips towards her own plate -- though now she's swearing mildly under her breath as, onscreen, she's getting attacked. She hits pause, reaching instead for her beer to take a quick swig. Lowers it again as Eric enters, jerking her chin upward to him. "Yeah, plenty. And it's /fantastic/. Wait. You -- /you/." Her brows have lifted. "MID. Sutton. Hits on high schoolers." She tips the nose of her bottle out towards him as she identifies, smile twisting to the side. "You're joking, right? Oh my /god/." The amusement in her voice is very evident. "Didn't you know? That's his mutation. Just waves his hand and just makes food the best thing ever," Anette grins, making her way towards the TV and sits down in a nearby chair to watch Natalie play once she begins again. Anette glances towards the most rececent addition as Natalie suddenly becomes fixated, taking a moment to recognize him. "Huh, so you /are/ one of us," she says with a grin. "Hell, if I'd known that..." Eric unzips his jacket and then spreads his hands in a shrug, a smile on his face. "I hit on everyone. And I'm the /head/ a' MID, thank you very much. Got the strips n' everything." Eric winks at the two women, stepping into the main room. "I'll be right back. Don't miss me too much." His grin widens as he slips into the kitchen, to come back out a half-minute later with a plate piled with food. "I ain't come to group events that much. I think ya can guess why." In the time Eric was in the kitchen, he unzipped his jacket all the way, revealing a NYPD sweatshirt underneath as he steps back into the common room and sinks into a chair. "Dude, wipe that smirk off your face. Hitting on /kids/ is nothing to brag about." Natalie has a disgusted snort to follow this, head shaking as she pulls from her beer again. She picks up her plate while her game is paused, grabbing another bite of her dinner. "This is fucking wild, though. Somehow don't think when they created that department they /intended/ it to be run by -- well. Damn. /Damn/. Please tell me creating it was Regan's idea too." "Hell, even /I/ have standards," Anette says, in regards to hitting on high schoolers. She does raise a brow, looking over Eric once more. "Wow, we really do have our fingers everywhere, don't we?" She glances towards Natalie with a chuckle. "I'll be impressed when we have someone infiltrated as the President." When Eric returns and makes his comment, she grins to him with a playful wink. "Understood. A man in uniform would be much too distracting during important missions." "Shane's as old as me at heart. Maybe older'n me." Eric's tone is mild, and he shrugs his shoulder, taking a bite of the food and closing his eyes to savor it. "Damn. If ya'all have food like this all the time, I need to come by here more often." Eric says, before shoveling more of the food into his face. Chewing for a moment, he shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head once. "MID was my idea. But I ain't think it'd have happened if not for Regan. And what makes you think we /ain't/ got someone in the Oval Office?" He manages to keep a serious expression for only a few seconds before bursting out into laughter. Natalie lifts an eyebrow at Anette's wink, her lips compressing into an equally disgusted twist. "Shane?" She just looks blank at this. "I'm talking about the random girls you -- didn't even know and 'oh they /acted/ older than their age' is the defense of every other child abuser ever." She gets to her feet, picking up her plate and beer with a quick! bright! smile to the others. "That's alright, I'm sure there's /plenty/ of good work for you to be doing in the city. -- I'll leave you to your /distraction/." This last is to Anette, as she heads off in the direction of the cheerfully boisterous noises from the dining room. Anette's eyes narrow a bit at Natalie's reaction, pressing her own lips together as she listens to her before glancing towards Eric again, not quite as flirtatious. "I feel like I'm missing some very crucial details," she says, glancing over the cop again though this time with a very owl-like piercing gaze, as if she could see through him. Eric blinks at Natalie, eyebrows raising up his forehead. "Random girls...?" He tilts his head to one side as Natalie leaves, raising one hand and scratching at his head for a moment. "You ain't the only one." He shrugs his shoulders and lifts his fork once more, taking another bite of his food. He doesn't seem overly bothered by the hard glare, though he does glance back towards the kitchen doors curiously. "I ain't have a clue what bit her. n' it wasn't me, for the record." "Well, you seem to have made an impression of some sorts," Anette says, raising a brow accusingly. "I mean, do you go after high school girls a lot? Because that leaves a bitter taste in most people's mouths." Anette rises from her chair and takes the X-Box controller, switching to a different game. "Clearly." Eric chuckles and shakes his head once, a smile slanting on his face. "I do tend'ta make an impression. N', nah, it ain't a habit or nothing. I'm sure it happens when I pick people up, but it ain't anything I'm looking for. N' if she's not complaining about Shane..." Eric shrugs his shoulders, turning his attention over to the television. "Ain't got a clue." Anette gives a faint shrug, having no idea who this Shane is. "Usually I'm the one that tends to piss people off," she says, starting up some puzzle game on the X-Box, stretching out her wings and draping them over the back of the couch. "Somehow doubt you have no idea, but I'll let it go." Eric laughs and shakes his head. "Nah, I really ain't have a clue. I'm sure she's right ta' be pissed, but..." He spreads his hands out in a gesture of defeat, despite the grin on his face. "N' why would anyone get pissed off at ya?" The police officer asks, curiously. Anette chuckles and shakes her head. "Whole bunch of reasons. Apparently, getting pissed at people because they end up getting you killed in the future is frowned upon. I /may/ have also snapped at Ion for taking me drunk Sentinel destroying." She gives a light shrug. "I dunno, I just seem to have a talent for pissing people off." "Ion's certainly a prince of bad decision-making." Eric says, flashing his teeth in a wide grin and with an affectionate lilt to his words. "You and me both, sister. You and me both. Though as my Ma always used'ta tell me, it's usually my fault they're pissed." His fork clinks against the plate as he scoops up more of the food and chews on it thoughtfully. "That future was fucked. I ain't never given much credit to fate, n' I don't see any reason'ta start now." "You're telling me," Anette mumbles, just as she loses her puzzle game and she turns the console and controller off with a sigh. "I'm not going to say I overreacted but...the dreams got to me. I saw some of them and I...I just snapped. But I'm supposed to just believe there's no chance of them becoming what they did?" Her voice rises as she begins to get angry again, but she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "You're right though, about giving fate credit." Eric hums, tilting his head from side to side. "It ain't that I don't think it can happen. I hope not, but, if wishes were fishes..." Eric picks up another bit of food, silencing him for several seconds. "Still, my life now ain't look anything like I thought it would when I was a kid. Why should this be any different, ya know?" Anette glances towards Eric, grinning. "What? No dreams of being a cop leading a mutant division with secret ties to a terrorist organization? Isn't that every kid's dream?" She sighs and leans back against the couch, looking up to the ceiling as she thinks. "Yeah, can't say much of my life has gone according to plan either. Not necessarily a bad thing though." "Nah, it wasn't quite In The Plan, ya know?" Eric grins back at Anette. "I'm sure I thought I'd be still livin' down in Georgia, probably trick some nice lady inta marryin' me. Workin' for the Sheriff. Ain't think I was gonna get involved in /politics/, never min' come live up north with the Yankees. Maybe playin' some local football or somethin'. Still, I think this is more interestin'. Maybe not better, maybe not worse, but certainly more interestin'." Anette can't help but chuckle at Eric's 'plan'. "Gotta say that sounds...boring as hell. Came from pretty much the same though, except a bit north and colder. And I came to New York to escape that. Can't stand small town life. Too boring. Like you said..." she grins and motions broadly with her hand, "Much more interesting." "Borin' and traditional. Still, it'd probably have made my Ma a whole lot happier n' movin' up here n' gettin myself in the paper." A pause. "N' shot at. And fuckin' snowed on." This last one, if you believe his tone, is the worst offense of all. "Speakin' of interestin', I've got a bag ta pick up with some... equipment that I need. Any idea where it might be?" Anette gives a faint smile. "Can't imagine what my parents would say about my life now. Haven't talked to them in years. I thought it best, considering..." The question about equipment gets a quick shrug. "Not a clue. Probably have to ask Regan." Eric sighs and gives Anette a sheepish look. "Yeah, figured. Still, worth askin' just in case I ain't have ta bother her." He slides his fork along the plate, piling up the last bits of his dinner onto the fork and finishing them off with a smack of his lips. "I ain't tell my Ma much neither. Still, I'm sure she reads the paper." He stands up, rolling his shoulders to crack them with a soft crunching noise. "I've gotta get back before I'm missed. I'll see ya 'round, I'm sure." He grins, incorrigably. "If ya ever find yourself in need a' place to crash, I live out in Clinton." Anette glances to Eric with offers him a smile and slight shrug. "Sorry. Not usually good with these things. You could ask around though, someone might know." She rises and stretches her wings out for a second before tucking them back into place. "Clinton? My old neighborhood. Yeah, might have to take you up on that," she says, glancing towards the plate Eric just finished. "Right now...might have to get some of Ion's cooking." Eric's smile widens and he winks playfully at Anette. "Ya 're more n' welcome. Ya mind taking my plate back, if ya're going to the kitchen anyway?" Eric asks, putting down his fork and holding the plate out towards Anette.