ArchivedLogs:ROCK-O'-CLOCK

ROCK-O'-CLOCK
Dramatis Personae Ion, Kay, Rasputin
In Absentia	2014-01-10 Just another day in paradise.
Location <BOM> Common Room - Main Lodge - Ascension Island
The common room's rustic-lodge feel has been somewhat mitigated by the modern amenities inside its sturdy wooden walls. It has comfortable couches, several chairs, a refrigerator (stocked with snacks and drinks!), a pool table, a pinball machine (METALLICA!), an assortment of books, a television -- with several game systems! -- and a splendid view out the windows (when their lacy yellow curtains are drawn open) for the rest of the island. The pale wood floors have been covered in places -- by a pair of soft thick blue rugs, by a large squishy pair of beanbags that stand in front of the stone fireplace. There's also a board up on the wall, half corkboard, half whiteboard, with a variety of community notes (and occasional insults) to other Brotherhood members. Large doors on the right-hand side lead off to the kitchen and dining room. In the back of the room, the council room's heavy oak door bears solid locks that are almost never actually barred. A short hall adjacent to the council room's door leads to a trio of multi-stalled bathrooms; these might once have been marked with the typical man-woman-handicapped signs, but someone has given them new plaques on the door; a stick figure with horns and a long tail, one with wings. One -- the large single-user toilet -- has instead been given a helmet and a cape. The common room sound system is a proud and multi-faceted creature, tricked out royally from the booty of looting days past. At the moment, it reverberates softly where a young red-headed woman has selected for herself the trumpet and woodwind-heavy music of Mannheim Steamroller. It's Christmas-y. And has been playing for a while now. The room is semi-crowded, with a few mutants lounging on the couch, playing pinball. Kay is sitting up on the BACK of the couch like an old crow, one long leg raised up and folded in a way that makes him look like a punkrock CRICKET, all dark leather kutte and cut-off black sleeves, wallet chains and fingergless cloves. Also his ridiculous hundred-thousand dollar rainbow-diamond watch, sparkling magnificently as he breaks further Style Points by... knitting. With his tongue clamped in the side of his bad teeth. Ion is just now thumping his way up from the basement; it's evident he's been working out in the slick damp accumulation of SWEAT that is soaked into his grey sleeveless shirt and making him smell -- well, /sweaty/. He heads to the kitchen first to grab a glass of water, bringing this over to lean himself up against the back of the couch, drippy-wet shoulder thwumping up against Kay's side. "Yo. Dude. You got --" You know it's coming, "-- the time?" Trotting in from the kitchen is Rasputin! Flicking hir tail towards some of the mutants as a wave, ze spots Ion and Kay - knitting. Rasputin lunges towards them, trying to /smack at/ any yarn ze can. Because ze is a cat, of course. Spotting Kay's watch, Rasputin grins, head twisting. "Nice watch! Who'd you take it from?". Rasputin laughs lightly, still trying to bat at any yarn possible. "So cold outside. Like, antarctica." "Gee, /I/ dunno," Kay tosses a few hanks of hair off his brow and tips back his head to look up at Ion all BIG-EYED and boyish. With his other arm THRUSTING itself outwards and away from himself in the opposite direction, the gaudy watch glinting /menacingly/. "Is it..." he SWEEPS his arm in then, leaning back his head to peer down at it, "ROCK-O'-CLOCK? Better check me before you /wreck/ me, bro, what time you got?" Bwahaha, maybe he's showing off because Rasputin makes his favorite audience, dangling down a length of string and then sloooooowly dragging it up towards the back of the couch to lure him nearer, "Pshhh, 'take'. Like I was taking names. I got a sure-fire cure for /cold/, bro. C'mere." Let him WARM you. Ion has, at least, through his workout taken /off/ his own Ridiculously Expensive watch. Alligator skin strap. Diamonds crusting its face. But now he /whips/ it back out of a pocket, to strap it back on his (sweaty-gross) wrist and hooking his arm back in to look as the sparkling watch face. "Look like it's about-a half-past /fuck yeah/ to me." Though it might well /always/ be these times around here. "Fff. You know where is probably, cold, is jail." He turns to lean his back against the couch's back now, elbows propped lazily atop it. "You know, it'd probably be /easy/ to get in a cell. Nip in through a light socket, nip back out. It has been about seventy percent less /fly/ around here lately." Eying the string, Rasputin's kitty instincts kick in, and ze is chasing after it intensely. Paw paw, lunge lunge, MEOW. Loudly. Rasputin leaps up the couch, trying to get the string. "You guys are weirdos, this is why I love you. Also, I totally doubt you bought that, since I don't think we get paid. In anything but FREEDOM.". FUCK YEAH. Rasputin's purring loudly now, but Ion's jail mention cuts it out. "Oh damn, jail. Dusk. Gah, I miss him. They're probably torturing him or something in there, I don't think they treat terrorists pretty well, but that's just my opinion." A closer proximity with Kay will come into a dry zone of heat; it ripples faintly off his skin like a hearthfire. Not /burning/ hot; more akin to putting ones arm in a sun-heated windowsill. He /helps/ by sticking his needles into his... mess... of amalgamated knitting and shoving his warm fingers into Rasputin's fluff, ruffling it. He smiles, grimly, as he sets about this work, "--his wings in this cold? Pff, man." Ruffle. "...yeah. Probably. He'll come back /skinnier/." He could leave it there and not say it, but he says it anyway, "If we get him back." He grabs for Ion's wrist to look at the pretty face of it, which is apparently his way of addressing him, "-- ...if we got the layout of the place he's kept?" "Layout, yeah, I could do fine with that. But, firebug, we don't even know yet /where/ he's at. Mama she is on it but his fucking /prison/ is -- classified bullshit." His arm stretches out as it is commandeered, his other lifting so that he can take another swig of water. "Who you calling weirdo?" He asks this with a /grin/. "I thought everyone's family is like this." "Not everyone's family has a talking cat." Rasputin purrs this over to Ion, grinning again, before it vanishes with the Dusk stuff. "We don't even know if he's in New York. Hell, he might not even be in the US. He could be in Guam. Or Antarctica. OR LATVERIA.". The last one makes hir shudder, shaking hir head. Feeling the warmth, Rasputin begins to curl up on the couch. "I'm sleepy. NIGHT.". And then. PASSES OUT. Cats, man. "Hah," Kay says it like it's a victory when Rasputin GIVES OUT - magic fingers man. They'll put any kitty to sleep. "Could always just grab a few boys in blue," the sharp /rasp/ in his low voice doesn't touch the careful way Kay tucks in his knitstrosity alongside Rasputin to make a kind of barrier for anyone else that might sit down, "fry their feet down to char and a few black bones." For lack of a nearby wall, he thumps a frustrated fist down on the side of Ion's BODY, "I'm not gonna be able to sit around doin' nothing much longer, brother. We wouldn't /be/ here if it weren't for them. Something's gotta burn." Ion's grin remains as Rasputin topples off to sudden catnap, though it's grown harder and sharper at the talk of what remote location they might have shipped Dusk off to. "Oof," he's /swaying/ dramaticaly as though Kay's thump has /felled/ him. Except instead of toppling with the thump he's swaying /into/ Kay with a thud of shoulder against side. "You know she'll come through. For him. For /them/, Jax he ain't /this/ family but he's still blood, yeah?" His teeth grit. "But the waiting it's murder. Maybe on them too. You know though," he muses with a roll of dark eyes upwards to study the ceiling, "this shit, this registration shit, it's all -- all the same people handling. Mutant /problems/. Locking us up, registering us. They got new offices just freshly-populated downtown. Bet it's chock-full of men in dark-suits who know all /kind/ of things." For Kay, shit is prepared to get real at any given moment. Ion leaning into him sends him SPRINGING into action, throwing open both of his arms and legs and locking BOTH around Ion's torso like some terrible koala, trying to drag him over the couch edge and onto the CUSHIONS BELOW. All while mutters, "Think big momma'd get testy if we started char-broiling the Men In Black." ARGH-URGH, WRASTLE, he's just having a catfit on Ion, "Bet we could talk her into it. We let her pick the old boy out." Like Red Lobster of interrogation. "You gonna squish our fucking terrorcat man, ay-ay-ay --" Ion's sort of resisting and not really resisting, /fighting/ Kay with elbows digging back against ribs but not actually trying /not/ to go down with this drag. His legs lock against Kay's longer ones like a /stalemate/ of pinning. At least for the next half a second. "No but she /likes/ barbecue, hermano. We bring her back some, yeah? Cooked with your own two hands. -- Or maybe we leave the /information/-gathering to her and we just torch the places on general /principles/." "You mash senor Gato, you got your own, -uff!- as to blame." Kay luuuurchs and then rocks forward to instead, try and drag Ion forward and away from the couch again, "Son, I make a /crispy/ bacon. Cure all their mutant woes for them-" Behind him, the pleasant /cheerful/ Christmas music of Mannheim Steamrollers abruptly cuts off. The girl that had been listening to it closes up the laptop she'd been streaming from and stands up to take her leave. From a FEW places in the room, an abrupt pandemonium erupts as a number of other people SCRAMBLES for the sound system to try and get THEIR music in first. Kay is NO exception, trying to kick OFF from Ion to... head-first project himself in the right direction. It transforms into a wild slither on his belly over the couch-cushions and locking his arms around the FOOT of a young man that had been trying to rush forward. "NO, fuck you, augh!" His long arms make flailing look SPIDERY trying to get his feet under him. "Fff if I get one-those annoying cat /scratches/ I am launching cats at you in your fucking /sleep/, boyo -- waaagh." Ion /topples/ off the couch when Kay hurls himself off, thudding on his back to the floor. Which vibrates with the sudden stampede. "Pffff you'd think nobody here --" But then there's no more talking, just a quiet fzzt-fzzt, a faint ozone scent to the air, and suddenly just ahead of the mad rush there's an Ion. /Conveniently/ manifesting exactly from the plug where the sound system is plugged in. "Oh-oh-oh." He has a /wide/ shit-eater grin on his face as he switches on. The /radio/. To a Latin pop station. It's more out of obligation that the room erupts into a GROAN by all when the chase is up. Save maybe one speedster that had accelerated too abruptly and with a panicked 'woah-woah-woah - FUCK!' sinks in her toes and leans back, skidding to a thump against the wall beyond Ion. While Kay just... LIES there. Throws open his arms and DROPS them in surrender, before lifting his head. To show that he's GRINNING. It may look a little disconcerting that the Grin stays FIXED even as he begins to unevenly pull his hands beneath him and sloooowly push himself to rise like a predator in a crouch, "Y'know what they say about /fast/ men, lightning rod?" His legs are coming in beneath him as well, knees curled out to the sides. Crrouuuuuch. Ion lifts up his hands like bumpers to ward off this impending potential-collision, twisting half around to clap the girl on the shoulder once she has used the wall as brake instead. His hands turn up, shoulders lifting in an innocent shrug that does not match the fervor in his eyes as they lock on Kay's. "S'that, ey? That the world /dance/ to their music." Kay rises. And comes towards him. "Then let's dance."