ArchivedLogs:Friday Plans

Friday Plans
Dramatis Personae Marinov, Taylor	2017-03-20 "Some of us get together Friday nights for some of that. Venting. Fighting. Whatever."
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. Many students are coming back from their out of town visits on the evening of the spring break, so there are some students (much to Marinov's chagrin) currently using the video game system and the television set to play some smash bros, while a couple others are dominating the pool table. As such, Marinov instead has their reading glasses hooked around over their ears, looking terribly jury-rigged next to their semi-transparent plaid blouse under an unbuttoned shimmery black vest, slacks made of the same material. It appears that they are reading the rules to one of the games, one foot resting on a chair. << Why are these board games so complicated? They require a degree to understand. >> Quickly enough, they remove the glasses self-consciously upon hearing a snicker, without really knowing where it is directed. A long snakey black limb stretches out past Marinov, plucking up the lid of the board game to look at it. Taylor is one of those returning students, still dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a sleeveless A$AP FERG shirt that aren't quite weather-appropriate for the mid-Atlantic this time of year. He pulls a chair out with another limb as he draws closer, dropping down into a chair. "Can you /get/ a degree in that? Because I could go for a gaming degree. Better than my current plans of mooch off the school for as long as they'll allow. Yo how'd your break go?" Momentarily surprised by the sudden appearance of a tentacle, Marinov turns quickly to face Taylor. Their ears perk up, though, upon recognizing the older teen. "I bet you could, right? I think I read somewhere on the internet that people got degrees in Harry-Potterology or something. And if I know anything, it's that everything on the internet is true." The game is entitled Mysterium, with a misty looking haunted house in the background. "My break went great! Got a lot of shit done, but didn't neglect my me time either. How about you? You head back to the warmth for a little while? Musta been nice." "Yeah shit nobody would ever make something up on the internet. Gameology. I'mm'a go for it. This some kind of ghost thing?" Taylor's expression lights up, and he nods brightly. "Saw my family. /Lazed/ like a pro. Even surfed some. Hit up Austin with Shane on the way back he was playing a music festival there. Oh damn --" He reaches into his pocket for his wallet, which at the moment is kind of bulging. Sadly not with money -- when he unfolds it it is to wriggle out a stack of business cards, many quite colourful, to slide over to Marinov. "I talked up your project to any mutant artist we ran into. Grabbed contacts from anyone who seemed interested." "I think there's like, something haunted and if you're the ghost you like, try to give hints of stuff without saying or gesturing anything. I don't get it, but you might be better at it than I'd be," << 'cause there's no rules about mind reading, >> says (and then thinks) Marinov. They seem confused at first at all of these cards, repositioning their reading glasses to take a look at them. "Oh!" Layered with their speech, << You're a goddamn hero! >> "This is awesome! Yeah. I've been scheduling in the spring and it's suddenly... well, the spring now, kind of sneaks up on you. How was the music festival? See many new and exciting artists?" "Without saying or gesturing? Do you just like. Ruffle the curtains. Flicker the candles. Is this game designed for telekinetics?" Taylor sits up a little straighter, smile brightening at Marinov's reaction. "Time gets away from you like that. It's sort of a bastard that way. But /yeah/ it was fucking awesome. I don't think we slept for days. Well /I/ didn't because too many awesome shows to go to. I think Shane was having a bad case of nerves. He played with Ryan that's gotta be like -- ffffck. We met some /rad/ people though. Not just music there were filmakers and all kinds of artists. Some of the mutants we met weren't, uh, /out/, but the ones who were seemed pretty excited someone wants to make an art festival /for/ mutants." "I haven't finished reading the rules, but I think there are like. Cards. And you give like, hints with the cards, but the cards have nothing to do with anything. I dunno. It seems complicated," says Marinov, glancing back at the box warily. They finally plop down in the seat they were leaning against, eyes widening in wonder, "Shane got to play with Ryan? Holy shit. Yeah. I'd probably like. Die, I think." They sort through the cards and then carefully restack them. "That sounds like it was a blast, meeting artists, geez, the most interesting things I did were..." << Got boo'ed at. Snuck into a bar. >> "Well, less interesting than that sounds. So how'd Shane do? Did his nerves clear up?" "Hrm." Taylor's brow creases. He regards the box uncertainly, too. "I bet a /bit/ of candle-flickering would improve the atmosphere, at least." He rocks back in his seat, two noodly arms braced against the edge of the table. "Dunno if his nerves cleared but he did fine. Boo'd? Over what? Who the fuck? Was it before or after the bar because now I'm picturing drunk-you throwing down with hecklers." His smile is a little crooked. Marinov laughs at the thought, images of themselves drunken brawling immediately being conjured up. "This was before going to the bar, but I would've liked to have gotten into it with those shitheads. I did a karaoke thing is all, which in retrospect was not like... the best idea I ever had, but I was pretty steamed about it. The jeers were... ugh. Just wanted to hit something afterwards." They offer a bit of a helpless shrug, "Oh yeah! I wanted to ask, does Evolve have any like... karaoke? Should have that. Scratch the itch." "We /don't/, but we could, probably." Taylor lifts one slim arm, rubs at his chin with its tip. "I bet there'd be interest. Could ask Shane. See if it'd be possible to put something together." His brows lift. "Helps to hit something, sometimes. When the world's being crappy. Did you?" "No. We ended up going to a diner and buying sausages," says Marinov, a bit glumly, "Went on a run later, in the woods. At least did something physical. Helps a bit, you know?" They tap at the table with their claws and say, "Next time I see Shane, I'm gonna ask for karaoke, and then subject you all to an encore of my singing!" "/Subject/? How bad can it be?" There's amusement in Taylor's voice. "Sausages aren't -- /much/ like hitting things, but I guess it's sooomething." He sounds pretty skeptical, admittedly. "Sometimes when I'm pissed as fuck I just like to have someone to throw /down/ with." His eyes drift down to Marinov's tapping claws. "What do you usually do Friday nights?" "Well, I actually thought I sang well that night," admits Marinov, giving themselves that compliment a bit reluctantly. "I used to get into a lot of fights. Sometimes I still want to get into a lot of fights, but I've been more worried about really hurting people than I used to be, but I miss it," continues the younger teen, making a small air punch gesture. "I often run and jump around on Friday nights, on rooftops and stuff. Which now that I say it out loud is less like plans, and more like trespassing." "Fuck 'em some people deserve a beating." Taylor shrugs one shoulder. "And sometimes it's just friendly throwing-down. Still a good way to blow off steam. Especially when you know nobody means anyone /real/ harm. Some of us get together Friday nights for some of that. Venting. Fighting. Whatever." Taylor finally lets his chair rock back down onto all four legs. "If you've decided in advance to trespass that's still like plans, right?" There's a moment of silent thought before Marinov laughs, "Yeah, I guess it is plans. It's actually pretty fun." They pull their feet up onto the chair to sit cross-legged, tail swaying lazily behind them. "Venting and fighting? I think... I could probably use some of that." Their ears perk up and their expression gets a bit cheerier, "Get scrappy again!" "Sounds fun. I don't know where the best places to trespass are, but I bet you get some pretty great views from the rooftops at night." Taylor brightens at Marinov's cheerier expression. "You seem pretty scrappy already. Just need the right outlet for it. You should come with me this Friday. See if it's your speed. It gets pretty intense. Mutants only, powers allowed. But there's always healers around so you don't have to worry about hurting anyone. Just --" A small shrug. "Get to let go for a while. With a crowd who /aren't/ assholes." "Powers allowed is good, 'cause I am powers," says Marinov, flexing their claws in the air lazily. "Friday sounds good to me, I think it'd be great to check it out. And yeah. Sounds like a good crowd. And you better believe I'm scrappy already!" They hop up to their feet, grabbing the cards and the game off the table. "I should get going to bed. Someone's gotta tell Suga Mama that she's a good dog. I mean, I think K.C. will, but it's not a one person job. I'll seeya on Friday, yeah?" << And probably a bunch of times before Friday. >> "For sure. And tell her once /extra/ for me! Maybe it'll help with that burden. Sounds like it could be a whole school project, she's a /good/ dog." Taylor tips his chin up lazily to alsoTaylor. "Buenas noches."