Logs:Not-so-happy Hour

Not-so-happy Hour
Dramatis Personae Kurt, Shane
In Absentia Lucien, Nevaeh	2024-05-23 "I don’t know vas to believe."
Location <NYC> Harry's Hideaway - Salem Center
A cozy nook of a bar, Harry's has been run by the same grizzled proprietor for decades. The fare they serve is plain and typical bar food, but solid and well-prepared, and what the alcohol lacks in variety it makes up for in quality. Close proximity and long-developed relationships with the staff at Xavier's means they turn a blind eye to the mutants who frequent the bar. It's been a long day -- okay, it's been several, very long days. Shane isn't dressed in his usual dapper attire, but after his shift still in sturdy solid workboots, sturdy solid work pants, his sturdy solid jacket -- unnecessary for the temperature but judging by its grungy beaten look, pretty necessary for exploring caved-in buildings -- draped over the back of this booth. On his inhuman expression it would probably be hard for most people to read the signs of exhaustion, but to a familiar eye they're definitely there -- enormous black eyes a little too big, clear inner eyelids slow and slightly milky in their erratic blinks, his gills shifting restless open and closed. He's staring down at the bar menu as if he doesn't know it already. "Well," he says finally, ponderously, like there's some especial weight to deciding, "Chicken wings, maybe." “The wings are good, Bärchen,” Kurt says taking a seat near his former student. He’s grateful for the shadows the meld and flitter across his face. It hides the fatigue well. His eyes glow dimly— for a fact, he would probably say he looked less haggard after Stefan died. Kurt’s specialized boots are almost worn through and the black piping along his jacket is grown in with building debris and ripped in many places. He’d bet his last dollar and euro that this is likely the first meal Shane has had in a very long time, hours of not the day itself. "Not enough beer in this bar to wash them down with." Shane is setting his menu aside, though, in a universal Made My Selection indication. He looks somewhat tempted to simply drop his head onto the table in front of them for a nap, but instead slouches back in his seat. "Going back out there tomorrow, but --" He doesn't elaborate on the but, doesn't specify how the number of living survivors pulled from the wreckage of the attack has been precipitously dropping, but, he doesn't really need to. His head tips back. "... you still got classes and all?" “Ja, I’m available for students who would like more help in history and I’ve changed the exam in theater. It was going to be a scene acted out but under the circumstances, I’ve given them an option to do a scene analysis of a play by Lynn Nottage or August Wilson.” Kurt takes a look over the menu too but he generally gets the same thing here— sandwich and a Pilsner. He’s hungry but only vaguely aware of it. He’s been teaching, yes, and open for any students who need to talk to him. But the evening hours, day time hours when students don’t need him, he’s been doing whatever he could to help rescue. Or give meditation or prayer to those who are grieving and find comfort in that particular faith. For others, he’s simply there. “I’ve got this round of drinks for you, even if there’s not enough in the world to help.” "Shit, thanks." Shane doesn't say any more than this immediately -- he's busy summoning up an acceptably level of energy to greet their server, put his order in, issue his thanks, but once the man has taken both their orders and headed off he's slumping back again. "-- you ever wonder what on earth history books are gonna say about this kinda time?" For a second his mouth twitches into a humorless smile. "Or off earth, I guess." Kurt isn’t sure if the server is a mutant, psychic, or just really good at their job, but the orders are given, accepted with hush, and he’s grateful. It’s a far cry from the way things had once been, with Kurt talking (and yes, in some cases, flirting) and greatly enjoying Harry’s as a sort of escape. Now it’s more soothing. In a way. But quiet— he needs quiet. “Ach, if I could even have a suspicion as to what this will be concluded to, I’d tell you und Scott first.” Kurt’s tail spade moves over the top of the chair, a habit. “It reads like fiction for sure.” "Thought we'd already way jumped the shark with Trump but every year since the writers been like, you poor slobs ain't seen nothing yet. Makes you wonder what --" Nope, nope, Shane isn't tempting fate by finishing this thought. He just scrunches his face up and wriggles a little more upright before his slouching takes him down far enough to make it hard to see properly. "Okay but do you believe this stuff they're saying about like, Thor and all. I guess we could ask the Tessiers, Luci's apparently palling around with a Norse God these days." “I don’t know vas to believe. I’ve seen things— fought a fight that was sometimes good and sometimes neutral. This is beyond what even I’ve encountered.” He turns to Shane, taking a drink of the beer set before them. “And I was raised in the circus.” This time Shane's smile is a little easier, a touch of genuine humor in it. "Okay, but the circus is just a madhouse. This shit's insane." “And how.” Kurt lets out a sigh, looking up to the ceiling while doing it. “And to think, there were so many things I did not want to tell you for fear of giving you nightmares. I was a fool.” "I meeeean," Shane says, in much the teasing kind of tone of I don't want to agree with you BUT... As he picks up his own beer for a swallow, his free hand seesaws in the air. "I did spend most of my childhood locked in a cage being tortured for science or entertainment so I think the ship had kind of sailed on the nightmares front. But it was kind of cute how many adults were still like oh this is a lot for The Children like your Xavier's acceptance letter doesn't come with a recommendation for solid therapists cuz damn but if you're coming our way we know you need one." “A force of habit, I think.” And here a real (if somewhat tired) smile appears, a tiny bit of fang showing. “I remember I was a little hyper aware of my teeth. I find I always smile with my lips closed with new students so as to not frighten any.” So he’s not the one to hand wave therapy away. “We need some more mutant therapists on hand. Even the , I don’t think— vas ist the name of the mutant who can see the future? De-something?” He shakes his head. “I don’t think even she would have predicted this.” "I just go straight the other way. Smile real big because I'd rather they freak the fuck out at me than at their classmate who'se just getting used to the feathers he sprouted, y'know?" The heavy ridge of Shane's brow furrows, and he just shakes his head in uncertainty at the name Kurt is grasping for. What he comes up with instead is, "The littlest M-Kid, she sees the future. Think it kept her and her friends safe, Monday. Gotta imagine that's just a world of nightmares all its own. Could not pay me to have that kind of power." “I will stick with fur und shadows, teleporting und wall crawling. I do not wish to know the future or thoughts.” Margali comes to mind though, with her fake crystal ball but her very real powers of sight. He smiles again, briefly. “My adopted mother, Margali, she could see futures. For a dollar or two, she’d tell circus guests, the kind people all the happiness they could expect to find. Give serious warnings about bad husbands or girlfriends.” "Feels like a complicated sort of --" Shane's brow is pulling down further, and eventually he just shakes his head. "I mean, the moment you think you know the future you've probably already started to change it, right? Kind of a mindfuck." “Mm.” Kurt makes a sound of agreement. “But for the most part, people— mutants and humans alike— don’t think about that part. I don’t think I did until I was well into my adult years. And most of this job, X-Men, Avengers, all of it— there’s a lot of this sort of help.” Shane's gills ripple a little quicker in a silent kind of laughter. "I'd bet most people don't really think much at all about the practicalities of being able to see the future. Somehow just not widely applicable to normal people's lives." He shakes his head, and drags his chicken wings closer, but before he starts in on them he's lifting his beer in salute to Kurt. "-- well. Whatever crazy-ass shit the future brings, I'm just glad I've got a good team to meet it with." “Indeed. And we’re a sight lucky to have you as a teammate and family.” Kurt raises his glass back, a look of contentment flittering over his shaded features. He hopes better for Shane, always has and always will but so much of it is up to fate.