Logs:Weird/Boring

Weird/Boring
Dramatis Personae Avi, Roscoe
In Absentia	2024-04-01 "Don't worry, nobody's actually from Boston except as a bit."
Location <XAV> Playground - Xs Grounds
Set on the still-expansive grounds around the side of the school, this area is to the outdoors rather what the rec room is to the indoors. There's a large basketball court out here; a fenced-off tennis court adjacent. Further distant there are setups for other sports -- a large track, a soccer field. Closer in to the school, though, in its own large enclosure adjacent to the basketball and tennis courts, is the playground, a huge expanse of equipment set up on alternating plots of slightly squishy flooring and mulch. Centrally there is a large sprinkler-fountain, not always on but it can be turned on with a push of a button; spreading out around this is the actual playground equipment, sturdy and varied. A huge dome constructed in honeycombed interlocked poles and rope netting rises hiiiigh for climbing; a large swingset holds four pairs of swings. A large roundabout in bright colours stands in one corner near a long see-saw. The huge bridge-and-tunnel castle structure at one end has many routes of entry, from poles to climb up (or slide down) to a small climbing wall. Monkeybars. Four different slides of varying lengths and spiraling. For the adventurous, between things to climb on and jump between and bounce across it is probably possible to skirt one end of the playground and back without touching the ground, though it might take a particularly adept feat of balance and agility. Or possibly wings. It is a mild and pleasant spring afternoon at Xavier's, getting safely into t-shirt weather -- the sun was out for long enough that most of the playground structures have been pleasantly warmed without getting hot. There are quite a number of spots that were clearly intended for safe, well-supported climbing in a way that, probably, Roscoe's route up to one of the far towers was not, and probably the fastest way to get down would involve jumping and breaking both his ankles, but this is a problem for Later Roscoe. Present Roscoe has settled in, half sprawled comfortably on sun-warmed molded plastic, but with his legs folded and wedged into the corner between this turret's roof and the turret next to it, his backpack in his lap. He is wearing bright blue basketball shorts and a plain white t-shirt with a small pixellated heart printed on the front, now streaked with dust and dirt from climbing up here. But the climb was for a super important cause -- Roscoe is digging a disposable vape (ombre yellow-green) from out of his bag. Avi is ambling over towards the tower in a roundabout kind of way; perhaps the floor is lava today because from monkeybars he's taking a large swing to grab onto the climbing dome and from that he does not bother descending but stretches a frozen bridge from the top of the dome to the tower next to Roscoe's. Maybe this wouldn't be the safest route for most people but his footing doesn't seem at all precarious as he treks over the icy walkway. He's dropped down to sit on the considerably warmer plastic, peering over at the neighboring tower. He's in jean shorts, a grey tee that reads UNITED STATES ARMY over a yellow star on the front and DUTY. HONOR. COUNTRY. on the back, and the small twists of his hair have grown out into proper if slim locs, higher on the top and then cut in a tightly edged fade at the back and sides, a geometric swoop of design shaved sharp along one side of his head. "Bruh. Half the afternoon I been tryna get that damn bird to say "Happy Birthday" and all she saying is "Oh my heck". I think y'all broke her this weekend or sum'n." Roscoe has made good headway on his relaxation, taking one long pull off his vape and then leaning back against the tower, his hand with the vape resting on his stomach and the other stretching up to pillow his head. His eyes drift shut, though he's probably watching Avi's approach -- his head tilts to follow the other teenager across the bridge, the movements of his eyes are still sort of creepily discernable under his eyelids, he knows to very politely turn his head away from Avi to blow out his cloud of pineapple-melony vapor. "Oh my heck was not me," he declares. "Is it your birthday? Happy birthday I -- did not get you anything." "OH naw my birthday in December. Kicking off winter, the best of seasons. My cuz birthday today which made it easier for me to remember s'Bryce's too. Thought maybe by the time he get back from his prayer meeting or whatever bird could be greeting him proper but she stuck full on repeat." Avi pulls one leg up underneath himself, the other dangling over the edge of the tower. "Oh my heck better than the preaching, at least. We need like, a game plan. Proper vocab list. Teach ol' girl some style." "Oh, it's Bryce's birthday." Roscoe looks fairly relieved to be saying, "I did not get him anything either." He straightens one leg to slide himself a liiittle higher on the tower roof, and opens his eyes. "Naw, what we need to teach that bird is how to shut up," he says, but he tilts his head to one side thoughtfully, chewing on his lower lip. "Shoot, I can't help with that, I don't have style," he says. "I'm from Boston and wicked pissah is probably a super serious swear in Mormon English. Like the f-word." "Aiight then," Avi replies, blithely amiable, "then we just teach you a lil flavor 'long with the bird. -- y'all say "wicked pissah" up there for real? Like for real for real? I definitely thought that was some shit Matt Damon made up. Anyway you say some shit like that I'on think the Mormons e'en gonna know what it means so it's prob'ly safe. Gonna raise up a multicultural bird, speaking errybody's slang soon enough." Roscoe laughs, his mouth tugging to one side in a lopsided grin. "Don't worry, nobody's actually from Boston except as a bit," he says reassuringly. "Except Matt Damon, he's for real." He extricates his arm from behind his head and pulls it back down, fiddling with his vape in both hands. "Dude, when all youse rolled up at Lassiter saying you went to school together I drove myself crazy tryna Pepe Silvia how you all go to the same school. All Math Lady about your accents. Could not figure out Nanami and Kelawini." "Man I been knew this had to be some elaborate prank, ain't nobody that excited 'bout Dunkin Donuts for true." Avi's smile is broad. He leans back on the prop of one arm, fingers crooked where they press against the plastic. "Real talk, we stationed in Hawai'i not long back and I been friends years with them islanders and I still don't got a clue half the time what Kelawini be saying. Solid women to have in your corner but damn if they don't sound from a whole other country sometimes. -- What was your running conspiracy-board theory on us?" Roscoe abandons the bit at once -- "Dunkin is different in Massachusetts," he insists. He does not back up this claim at all, instead pushing himself upright on one elbow to take another hit of his vape. "I mean, at first I thought you were all from some messed-up only-kids lab they had to close," he says. "Worked out real quick you tried to break in so I figured it couldn't be one of those schools for geniuses. I thought Spencer Fucking Holland might be from some anarcho-commune in the boonies but your family is military. I was running with some real-life Umbrella Academy theory for a bit, but Gae. Honestly by the time your superhero teachers showed up in the school jet I was like, ohhh sure that checks out." "Shit, you think there was some kids only lab out there, stories I been hearing I wouldn't eem be surprised now. Some real MKUltra stuff happening some with some those shitfucks." Avi is snorting, only a little sheepish in the hand that rubs at the back of his neck, but blithely skips past School for Definitely Not Geniuses to: "Still think we gonna find out Gae on some White Violin bullshit, the Professor been hiding his real power 'cuz it might end us all. Gonna whip out that bass one day and explode the sun." He looks back over to Roscoe, one eye squinching up pensively. "What got you to ditch the good Dunkins and join us?" "MK-what?" says Roscoe, who is fiddling with his vape again. "I used to really want to get moved to a kids-only lab but all the stories out of those were just weird. Plus I would still be the bottom of the pecking order but everyone above me is also a kid, ugh embarrassing. Plus plus the drama there has to be unbelievable." He slouches back against the roof, considering Gae's potential world-ending bass skills with his nose wrinkled thoughtfully -- "Pfft." Now he is looking at his vape in his hands again, flipping it over and over in one palm. "My parents are super clingy since I got disappeared into torture jail, we were spending way too much time together and I was -- I'unno, acting up again." "Damn." Quiet, a little wide-eyed, at this confirmation of Prometheus Jr. Avi's stunned disbelief lasts only a second before his mouth twists to the side, brows furrowing. "Guess lotsa those girls mighta preferred..." This thought trails off without coming to its inevitable conclusion. He's staring up at the sky, foot swinging with a slow hollow thump of heel against the side of the structure. "Oh that was some creepy-ass CIA nonsense. Tryna test LSD and hypnotizing people and shit, tryna figure out how to get people to spill in interrogations. Real conspiracy theory hours, but," his smile is crooked and wry, "turns out conspiracy theories only half as wild as real life gets." By the time he looks back to Roscoe his expression has mellowed back into its previous amusement. "Gotcha, junior vigilante training camp definitely gonna mellow you out. -- Your folks do not know bout the X-Men, do they?" "Well they didn't ask," is not an answer but Roscoe is grinning sort of ruefully as he pulls at his vape again. "I met the CIA at my first lab," he adds. "They were horrible." "Damn." Avi squints over at Roscoe. "They give you good drugs at least?" "Wouldn't you like to know," says Roscoe, but he goes ahead and answers anyway -- "No they did not, they found me very annoying stone cold sober I don't think they wanted to." He seems a little pleased by this thought -- he gives the vape a lazy spin between two fingers and huffs a short, vaguely contented sigh. "How come you end up here?" "Reality a freaking rip-off." Avi's sympathetic pronouncement comes with an exaggeratedly disappointed shake of head. "Man, who you think out there get less annoying with some mad scientist needling on 'em all day. Either really want to meet that person or really don't." One of his shoulders lifts at the question. "When I was a kid my cuz was in Oppenheimer with Mr. Tessier, so she been knew some'a these people. Works for Ryan Black," he says this more worried than like a brag, possibly because he follows it up with, "-- his security team. So, like, day one when I started freezing things all over she was like oh, I know some people if you wanna get a hang on that." When he chews idly at a stray flake of chap on his lip it pulls his smile more skewed than it was. "-- Superhero school somehow weirder and more boring than I thought it'd be." Roscoe scrunches his eyebrows together. "Some people in the labs get all Stockholm-y," he says, and though he seems about to elaborate, after a moment he just shakes his head, chewing on his lip. He tucks the vape into his fist and tucks his arms across his stomach, curling his shoulders in. "Yeah, same with mutant torture prison," he says. "Guess that's how it goes." Avi darts Roscoe a curious look, and though he seems about to ask, he just nods when Roscoe's shoulders curl in. "Heh." He flops onto his back, hands folding to pillow the back of his head. "Guess that's how it go."