ArchivedLogs:Tempting Fate

Tempting Fate
Dramatis Personae Mallory, Aloke
In Absentia	2013-11-18 Aloke tempts the gods
Location <XS> Teacher's Lounge - B1
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. The fridge has long since been emptied of its contents, either because they had expired, or been consumed. Even the bar is devoid of lemon wedges and other garnishes, and the only coffee left is, sadly, decaf. No one is touching that - they aren’t that desperate. It is currently between classes, but outside of normal lunch time, however, the teacher’s lounge is largely devoid of faculty, the quiet drone of the news on TV filling the otherwise oppressive emptiness of the room. Mallory has seated herself in a somewhat reclined position on the sofa in front of the television, her legs tucked up beside her, tail curled over her ankles with the point hanging limply down the front of the sofa. She leans against the arm of the sofa, a deep bowl of stew cradled gently in her hands, the steam rising off of it indicating it is relatively fresh - or at least recently microwaved. She is dressed in halfway professional attire - a pair of well made dark jeans hugging her legs, obviously made for them, and a black tunic top that hangs off of her even more so than normal. Occasionally, she pokes guiltily at a chunk of food in the bowl, dark eyes looking between the TV and her own extra portion of stew. Aloke appears in the doorway to the lounge looking freshly clean, but not well rested. He's going barefoot as usual, with tan chinos and a linen shirt. His hands are freshly washed as well, but apparently he couldn't quite get rid of every bit of paint from morning classes, as blue and yellow are stuck under a few of his fingernails. He comes in munching on another power bar, and smiles when he sees Mallory, "Oh good, you're actually /eating/ your rations." His smile turns gentle and he eases down onto the couch next to Mallory so as not to upset her bowl, and kisses her on the cheek. "I mean, I know you can take of yourself. But I worry about you anyway. Spologies." He doesn't even pause or make air-quotes around the word anymore. Just part of the vocabulary. Mallory snorts in response, her mouth full of the bite of food she’d just taken, regarding Aloke with tired, slightly exasperated eyes. Once she finishes chewing, a slow, deliberate process, she sighs, “Yes, I’m actually eating. Just… I can’t bring myself to go up for food at the same time the kids are all up there. I feel like a total prat getting double portions.” She sighs and takes another bite of her food, savoring it quietly, “So I hide down here with my food and hope no one finds me.” She shifts slightly to give him enough room on the sofa beside her, a weary smile forming at the kiss on her cheek. “I can. But I’m stubborn, so it’s sort of borderline not. But fair’s fair - I worry about you, too, you know,” she says, setting aside her soup bowl for a moment so she can kiss his cheek in return - her lips are notably cooler to the touch than in the past. There’s a smirk at the use of the word, and she chuckles quietly, but doesn’t object to the ‘spology’ this time. Shaking her head and retrieving her soup to continue the almost painfully slow meal, Mallory is still smiling. Her stomach somewhat loudly complains about the pace, though. "I know how you feel," Aloke says. "Everyone's on such short rations… I feel like a jerk eating my extra portions in front of everyone. On the other hand," Aloke remembers the bar in his hand takes a good sized bite off it, speaking around the mouthful. "We have to be there for the kids. If the dead show up again… or others… want to come in, we have to be ready to help protect them." Aloke maintains an uneasy expression, perhaps having to do with the fact that he's pretty much never done violence in his life. His voice hints at the subtle uneasiness of someone who /hopes/ but isn't sure of his own readiness to do a thing. "It's good that you worry though," he says, in dry, gallows humor. "My shopping trips with Josh? /Very/ dangerous. This woman almost knocked me down over a huge can of olives in a Philadelphia Costco." Aloke chuckles and peters off, looking like he wishes this came off funnier than it probably he does, but then his own caloric requirement isn't being met either, so he just resumes chewing his mouthful of power bar. Carefully setting her bowl on the coffee table in front of the sofa, Mallory then shifts to lean against Aloke, shifting her long legs under her and grimacing as she manages to sit on her tail for a moment. There is a little bit of a shudder in her movement, barely noticeable as she adjusts her position quickly. “You know the shopping trips are not what I’m most worried about,” she snorts, looking up at him, “Although I hear some of those little old ladies can be vicious little things about their food and coupons. Get between them and a deal, and all bets are off.” She sighs and shakes her head, making herself comfortable again on the sofa, unless Aloke protests the closeness. “I know. I… God, I hope it doesn’t come to that,” her voice catches slightly, and her nervousness shows, as she glances down at herself, frowning. “Can’t say they ever really covered defense in university - librarian isn’t a typically high-risk occupation,” Mallory chuckles, the sound dying off into a sigh at the realization that it may be a real possibility, needing to defend the school. “Please make sure you’re eating enough, Aloke. /That/ is what I worry most about. That something will go wrong, and I’ll lose you,” she says in a hushed voice, ducking her head slightly at the admission. “I know you can care for yourself. I just… ‘spologies,” she doesn’t pick her bowl of food back up quite yet, letting it steam away on the table. "What could possibly go wrong?" Aloke says with a air of defiance, face up, practically daring the gods to strike him down. He ducks his head with an embarrassed grin. He signs the word for 'sorry' and shakes his head. "I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it sometimes. Just… the fates. I mean, it feels like the worst has happened /already/. The city is in the grip of a zombie apocalypse." His flippancy fades suddenly though. He wraps up the bar, stuffs it into his pants pocket, and turns to face Mallory, tucking a leg underneath him. He reaches out to cup the back of her neck in his hand, and speaks quietly. "Scratch that. I'm an idiot. The worst hasn't happened, because you're still /here/. With me. Right now." He leans in an presses his lips to hers, lingering for just a moment before sitting back again. Mallory shudders at Aloke’s response, closing her eyes and resting her head against his shoulder, sighing quietly, “There is a literary term for what you just did, and it rarely ends well for the one issuing the challenge.” Curling up on the couch, Mallory looks up at Aloke, dark eyes wary, “You left out the fact that there is a food shortage, or is that part of the whole apocalypse thing?” When he says the word ‘city’ however, Mallory winces, and somewhat awkwardly motions the sign for ‘city’. There’s a tensing in her posture, when Aloke cups the back of her neck, freezing and looking him square in the eyes, her breath catching in her throat. Regardless of the hesitation as she listens to him, she melts into the kiss, sighing softly as they part. Laying her head against his chest, Mallory sighs, slowly drawing her hand over her face, chuckling quietly. “Tempting fate. You may well have doomed the both of us,” Mallory exhales, chuckling dryly, signing ‘sorry.’