Logs:Meerkats vs. X-Men: Difference between revisions
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The little blue shark sauntering into the lounge now certainly wasn't ''scheduled'' for any kind of training tonight, but sometimes, | The little blue shark sauntering into the lounge now certainly wasn't ''scheduled'' for any kind of training tonight, but sometimes, <s>the promise of adorable meerkats</s> duty calls even on the weekend. Shane's eyes have gone even wider, ''delighted'' and huge when he walks in and spies one of the meerkats where it has been, evidently, ''attempting'' to dig its way under an armchair. Probably Charles can afford new floorboards. "We're absolutely ''sure'' these aren't a student?" He's asking this with a cheerful upward tilt of chin to the growing knot of spectators; it's hard to say how earnest this concern is. "How hard can it ''be'' to catch a weasel?" And per''haps'' his confidence isn't misplaced, because he's hopping lightly over one of the displaced end tables and dropping down almost effortlessly to snag the small creature before it darts back beneath the chair. "-- see? Now -- ''ho''shit," his cheer is abruptly turning to a pained yelp as sharp teeth chomp down at his hand. He's dropping the meerkat harmlessly (to ''it'', anyway) onto the armchair cushion and retreating to the couch, sucking at the injured webbing of his hands. "Well damn get yourself home then." | ||
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Revision as of 04:38, 27 February 2024
Meerkats vs. X-Men | |
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Dramatis Personae
Scott, Cerebro, Tian-shin, Kitty, Shane, Jax, Charles, Joshua | |
In Absentia
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2024-02-24 "On second thought, you two seem like reasonable fellows." (begins right after meerkat summoning.) |
Location
<XAV> Teachers' Lounge - Xs Basement | |
Running a school for mutant teenagers just taking control of their powers is not an easy job, and the teachers at Xavier's deserve a place to come and relax. This lounge is their place to come and de-stress, and it does not skimp for relaxation. The room is elegant and luxurious, plush couches making up the seating in the lounge and a glossy glassy bar wrapping around one wall, well-stocked with alcohol (and perpetually fresh-brewed coffee, for those so inclined.) A large-screen high-def television hangs on one wall, stocked with about as many movies and games as the childrens' rec room upstairs. High bookshelves hold a wealth of books. The fridge here is always well stocked, and the cook is always willing to make deliveries down to this level. Far in the back, a hot tub is submerged into the floor, for still more unwinding. More days than not, there's some variety of snacks to be found on perched on an end of the bar -- quite often in the form of fresh-baked desserts. 'NOTE: Students are not allowed in the Teachers' Lounge at ANY time.' There is not actually a written rule that forbids meerkats in the Teachers' Lounge, which Scott is no doubt bitterly regretting as an obvious, lamentable oversight. He already looks a little harried, though no more than five minutes can have passed since he spotted the intruders -- in that time, he's rolled up the sleeves of his flannel, swapped his ruby-quartz glasses for his visor, and moved half of the furniture in the room out of place to apparently no effect; he is prowling in a great hurry around the room, aiming red laser-pointer dots around in an effort to corral the meerkats to -- probably anywhere, so long as he's corralling them -- but the meerkats are keeping about three steps ahead of him, and he evidently thinks better of trying to move the heavy TV stand. He sighs, then, with the hand that isn't carefully focusing the dial at his left temple, he digs his phone out of his pocket and starts to dictate a text message out loud: "Hey Joshua, comma. There are two meerkats in the lounge, period. Could..." He trails off, then shakes his head, then stoops over, trying to find the meerkats under the entertainment center. Now presumably addressing them, in his most amiable and unthreatening tone, he says, "On second thought, you two seem like reasonable fellows, so how about we -- no, shit, no!" --- It's only after Scott has given up with the meerkats still at large that the Sysadmin uploads a video montage of his misadventures to the X-Men-minus-Scott group chat. Is the Sysadmin a member of said group? No. Is that stopping him? Also no. Perhaps he feels bad about it, though (he probably does not feel bad about it), because at about the same time, one of the ubiquitous pillbug-esque cleaning drones is deploying from its charging dock and rolling easily under the couch after the furry intruders. The meerkats flee at once, trailing loud chirps equally alarmed and offended. The drone emerges on the other side and rocks from back and forth, uncertain. Then it unrolls itself, segmented body rearing up to give its camera a wider view -- that's suddenly full of meerkat! One of the creatures has dashed out to flip the drone over, little mechanical legs kicking grotesquely in the air. It rolls itself back up in an attempt to grapple its assailant, but the meerkat twists its unreasonably agile little body in mid-air and scampers off, clicking in warlike fashion. The drone starts to roll after it, only to get pounced by the second meerkat lying in wait on the couch above. Where is that string of profanity coming from, anyway? --- Tian-shin's lounge clothes, being a soft red tang suit, look like ass-kicking clothes, but she doesn't look very eager to kick any meerkat ass even if she probably could do so while talking (quietly!) (politely) to her brother on the phone. "{No, it's like a prairie dog, or a mongoose--}" She's stalking carefully amongst the relocated furniture in a bid to get a clear view of her quarry without blocking the basketball game. "{--like, that gay couple that adopts Simba in the Lion King? Yeah, yeah, Timon is a meerkat. I think.}" Suddenly one meerkat pops up from behind a pile of cushions on the couch, then the other. Both of them are sitting on their haunches and staring intently at Tian-shin. "{Okay, they're adorable but kind of creepy. You'll get a picture but I have to deal with this now.}" She hangs up and snaps a series of pictures, then looks past her phone at the trespassers. Her brows furrow slowly, then suddenly clear. "Nope," she mutters.
--- There is a flurry of texts one drive-to-Westchester amount of time later:
Kitty is definitely not dressed in her Shabbos best when she walks through the closed lounge door, cozy in a NASA hoodie and soft black pants. "You're not a teacher," she tuts softly at the first spotted meerkat, who is perched on top of the glossy bar. "And I'm pretty sure you can't drink." With that she drops into a crouch, crawls *into* the bar, and then pops up through the glossy surface, neatly cupping her hands around the little mammal before it can see her coming. Kitty beams at her victory, holding out the meerkat towards the duo on the couch (hopefully at least Tian-shin will snap a picture) with a broad smile on her face. Kitty is halfway across the room, walking toward the second meerkat currently darting across the bookshelves, when something occurs to her: "...So like. Where do they, uh, go?" In her brief moment of confusion, Meerkat One manages to wiggle out of Kitty's grip and scamper, once again, into the couch cushions. --- The little blue shark sauntering into the lounge now certainly wasn't scheduled for any kind of training tonight, but sometimes, --- Has Jax understood the assignment? At this point it is hard to say. Certainly the first faintly iridescent ramp that went up a while back was making a neat path to the door that, in another and more optimistic lifetime, might have been getting the meerkats home, and certainly he did breadcrumb it with small crumbs of boiled egg, and certainly one of the meerkats ventured promisingly far down the path before hopping off to abscond with its snack. That was some time and many treats ago, though, and now the glimmering pathways have proliferated. There's a veritable hamster maze of ramps and platforms and tunnels that have sprouted up along the walls and ceiling. One of the meerkats is clambering, clumsily, upward to get an even better vantage point for its lookout; another has disappeared into a tunnel to munch. Jax is leaning up against a shelf that -- well, it used to hold books, most of which are scattered on the floor now. "Well," he's offering brightly, "they ain't tearin' up the furniture no more." --- There's a general serenity in here not much disturbed by the occasional notification on someone's phone, nor by the gathered onlookers whispering to and/or shushing each other. Charles has two fingers pressed to each temple, rubbing slow contemplative circles there while he gazes fixedly at the meerkats. The animals seem...calmer? That might have more to do with all the treats and exercise they got than any psionic intervention. They're resting in a pile of torn-up throw pillows under one one of the end tables at the moment. One of them suddenly pops up and stares back at Charles...then starts grooming itself. "Hm..." Charles lowers his hands only to steeple them thoughtfully, which lends additional gravitas when he declares, solemnly, "They are most assuredly not a student." --- Did Joshua expect to find half his teammates crammed into one side of the mess that's been made of the Teacher's Lounge, at this late hour on a Saturday night? Given that he simply appears, in ready-for-bed-casual black and red plaid flannel pajama pants, OCCUPY LASSITER 2023 tee, fluffy socks, it's a fair bed he did not. He takes in the others -- the wake-of-tornado state of the lounge -- the meerkat poking out of a hole tunneled in an armchair cushion and now chittering a warning to its companion (burrowed down beneath it) at the abrupt new arrival. None of this changes his expression much; he showed up looking vaguely mournful to be here and now he is looking still vaguely mournful about the fiasco he's teleported into. He's picking his way through the wreckage over towards the counter to look behind the bar, frown, look in the bar; finally (a little triumphant) he snags his phone from where it's been wedged behind the paper towel roll. (Can he blame the meerkats for this? Perhaps later he will try.) Only after this does he fish a flattened cardboard box out of the recycling bin. He's folding its flaps into each other; by the time he reappears next to the recliner it's got a proper box shape, again. He sets the box down on its side beside the recliner, nudging some of the stray mess of treats into it before carefully nudging the cushion off the seat. Tipping it over, prodding at its underside until the disgruntled meerkats within scurry out and into the box. He's glancing -- brief -- at his phone screen now, as he pushes the top flaps closed, giving a concerned frown to the several missed calls before looking back to his teammates. "-- shit, did you need me?" |