ArchivedLogs:Bait

Bait
Dramatis Personae Mina, Wolverine
In Absentia	2018-09-15 "Your business ain't really my business unless you pay for it to be."
Location <XS> Rec Room - FL2
School this may be, but life for Xavier's students certainly isn't all studying. Outside classes, this is a popular spot to find students in their downtime. An enormous tribute to slacking off, this room is a wealth of fun and relaxation. Comfortable armchairs, couches, and beanbags offer plentiful seating scattered throughout the room, and the cushioned windowseats by the high windows offer a cozy nook to curl up and look out on the grounds. The room is often filled with the noises of gaming -- whether it comes from the big-screen television (tall racks of DVDs beside it, if nothing can be found on the multitude of cable channels), tricked out with consoles from retro to the latest releases, or the less electronic clatter and thump of the pool table, air hockey, or foosball. For those a little more subdued in their gaming, the cabinets hold stacks and stacks of board and card games, ranging as classic as chess and go to as esoteric as Dixit, Catan, and Gloom. More days than not, there's some variety of snacks to be found on a table beside the gaming cabinet -- quite often in the form of fresh-baked desserts. It's been grey and miserable, on-and-off rainy through most of the day and only now, as the sun crawls down low behind the spread of trees outside, is it tapering off. It's the kind of weather that discourages most students from taking in too much of the outdoors, and the Rec Room has /been/ bustling, only now clearing out with the approach of both dinner and calmer weather. Mina, clearly, does not share many of her classmates' opinions on Proper Outdoor Weather. Only now bounding /into/ the Rec Room, her bare feet are still wet with shreds of grass clinging to them, her gauzy yellow-and-green layered skirt clinging damp to her calves. Her white tank top is dry, as are her arms; either she recently changed or had availed herself of /some/ protective rain gear while outside. Her single long braid is leaving a damp patch down the back of the shirt, though it doesn't seem to bother her much. She's humming to herself, something as sunny-bright as the outside /isn't/, as she traipses over to the games cabinet. Not to look at the games, but to look at the nearby table -- and then scowl. The platters sitting out on the table (still /smelling/ like the apple cinnamon cupcakes that had been there earlier) are empty, save for a lot of crumbs. Mina busies herself sweeping crumbs together, gathering as many as she can before licking them off her palm. It's not /quite/ a cupcake, but it'll do. He's not entirely clear on how he made it back here, or even found "his" room, which looks more like a guest room than anything else. Wolverine had meant his last vice run to extend his bender, but ultimately, he crashed and burned. The man looks rough, jeans and wifebeater dirty and reeking of the drug den he was in last night. Who was that he met? Oh right, Anette. He snrks to himself as he half staggers into the rec room. Steve's in for a real treat soon. He makes his way to the pool table and glances out the window at the clearing sky. So that's why everything he owns smells like wet dog. Was it raining last night too? Musta been. Would explain why his cowboy boots like like crap right now. He only hopes he used Scott's bike when he left the Mansion the other day, be a real shame to get his own bike all muddy. For that same reason - to annoy and antagonize Scott into proving he's really the dick Wolverine knows he is - he's been camping the pool table on and off the last couple of days just to ruin it for his, well, not frenemy, that would suggest either of the men liked or respected eachother in the slightest, and that's not the case. It's more of a love to hate situation. It takes Wolverine a moment to even notice Mina - his bar for weird and unusual behavior is, shall we say, skewed - but the crumbcake is hard to miss. His voice is rough, gravely, betraying the hard days' nights he's been up to, "What'sa matter? Miss snack time? If ya hurry I hear there's nap time and then freeplay coming up." A smile flashes across Mina's face, bright-bright as she turns to rest a hip against the table. Swipe her tongue against her palm again to clean up the last of the crumbs. Flick a quick up-down glance over Wolverine. "I /never/ hurry nap time. Especially not on a Saturday. Afternoon is the prime napping window." She dabs her finger absently against the platter, still picking up the last of the cinnamony crumble. "Why, does the Professor have /you/ on a schedule?" The other mutant snorts, "Yer one funny kid. Y'should do open mic night." His tone is playful and predatory at the same time. Wolverine smiles lop-sidedly at the petit brown-haired girl for a moment. Her lack of shame and table manners is refreshing in a way. And it gets his stomach grumbling. When was the last time he ate? Assuming booze doesn't count as food (he's pretty sure it does buuuuut-). "Anything good in the mess or we down to crumbs? Always figured Xavier was cheating in the stock market to fund this place, but then the economy's not so great even with insider trading." Mina cocks her head to one side, toes curling against the floor. "They have one at Evolve, but having my set interrupted by their weekly firebombing might kill the comedy." She sucks the crumbs off her fingertip, then pulls her damp braid around in front, fiddling with the loose end. "I'unno, dinner should be up soon? It's usually --" Her hand starts to lift, starts to waggle side-to-side in a 'so-so' gesture that lasts only a heartbeat before she knits her brow. Squints at Wolverine. Upgrades her assessment: "... pretty good, actually. I have no idea how they pay for it. I only know like /two/ people here who aren't on scholarship. I figured maybe he had a drug hustle on the side. He'd be a /hell/ of a salesman, you know?" Wolverine chuckles and shakes his head, "Y'know, I'm startin' ta believe y'actually /do/ work open mic night." He runs a hand down his face, which bristles with what is becoming a scraggly beard, "Heck, I'd come see it if ya did." He leans against the pool table, as if guarding it, marking it as his territory, "What's yer name, chuckles?" "Would you?" This pulls a smirk onto Mina's face, briefly. "Be careful, I totally throw tomatoes /back/." She hoists herself up to sit /properly/ on the table, now. Hands dropping to her knees, legs swinging freely. "It's Mina. What about you? You look way too old to be a student and way too --" Her hand waggles in the direction of Wolverine's face, though she doesn't elucidate further on what this is meant to indicate. "-- to be a teacher. You're not a /parent/, are you? If you're lost I can point out where they stash the adults around here." "Heh. Parent." Wolverine shakes his head and runs a hand through his unkempt hair, "Maybe. Maybe I got a one or a dozen little bastards runnin' round out there." He shrugs those muscular, stocky shoulders, "Wouldn't know." He looks Mina up and down, "Name's Wolverine," he tip his head back, "'n yeah, I'd show up 's long as there's booze, which there usually is- 's easy t'make a drunk laugh. And be thankful for those tomatoes, could be a bottle if ya get the wrong kinda drunk in your crowd." He chalks that same pool cue he always likes to use - he knows it by his own scent all over it - and starts taking those practice shots. It's like meditation for him. But then so's stabbing people. It varies. Is he hungry? Yeah. Is he hung over? Yeah probably that too, but it's fading away. Even so, when he leaves he's going to get some poutine. Nothing like grease and carbs for the booze blues, and meat is never a bad thing. "So what's yer power?" the man asks amidst the clack of the balls. He's half making idle conversation, half evaluating how useful this girl might be to him in his future endeavors... or how much of a threat if things go south with Chuck. "Okay so how about instead I point you towards our sex ed teacher? He's really good and it sounds like your school maaay have glossed over some things." Mina hops down from the table, wandering toward the window to peer out at the misty-drizzly dusk. "I'm going to take it yours /isn't/ minding your own business?" The man only scoffs at the sex ed joke, "I've fucked more people 'n you've ever known, kid. Can't say I recommend it." He smirks, "Can't say I don't either." He shrugs and paces around the table to line up another shot, not really thinking about it, "It can be," Wolverine offers with a grunt, "Your business ain't really my business unless you pay for it to be." "Wow is that not something I needed to know. And /believe/ me," Mina is drifting away from the window, now. Plucking at her still-damp skirt as she heads toward the exit, "I have /no/ intention of paying old men who hang around on the students' floor talking about their sex lives. For anything. Don't forget about dinner, all the best stuff goes fast." He doesn't take the bait. Fuckin kids. Always taking the bait, shooting off their smart mouths, and then surprised at the outcome. "Yeah," Wolverine snarls, "Don't wait up." He continues his Wolverine v. Wolverine tournament, content to let the dripping wet little girl do whatever the hell she wants. Well, content isn't the right word, but there is no substitute meaning couldn't give a fuck less. If anything, he's glad he chased this one away. Better for him, and better for her. Posted later that evening to the students' digital bboard: Mina N Sat, Sept 15, 2018 at 20:10 subject: Creepster There's some skeevy dude hanging around the rec room. Not a teacher, I don't think. Muscles, mid-tall, dark hair, forgot how to shave apparently. Anyway I just want to give the other girls a heads up because he thinks talking to teenage girls about how much sex he's had is Totally Appropriate.