ArchivedLogs:Gross

Gross
Dramatis Personae Ivan, Kai, Peter
In Absentia	2013-04-18 Peter is gross.
Location <XS> Gardens
From indoor gardens to outdoor, though without the protective greenhouse glass the back gardens do not last all year round. Still, the gardens out here are well-tended and well-worth spending time in, as well. The paths wending through the beds of flowers and herbs and vegetables spread out through the school's back grounds, tended by students as a credit class. Benches offer seating and a small pond is home to koi and turtles, as well as a few frogs. The Xavier school gardens are becoming more colourful with every day that passes, having traded its wintery deadness for fresh sprigs of green and a plethora of springtime flowers. Butterflies and busy bees and several other, smaller isects flit through the air and between flowers in search of nectar, occasionally nearly colliding with some of the students that move through the grounds. The three bee hives a small distance away from the gardens have a visitor! Ivan has been spending plenty of time here between the end of classes and dinner, and today he's chosen to bring a friend. He's seated in the shade of a line of trees, back against a trunk and a notebook in his lap. He's just finished sketching something, very poorly, and holds it up to said friend-- if he is still there. Peter is prone to distractions, after all. The page he's holding up shows a box, of some sort. A box in a backpack? There's... some sort of latch... thing on the inside of it? It's all very crudely drawn, really. He seems intent on getting OPINIONS. Peter has been being surprisingly good, actually. Dr. McCoy has been hellbent on teaching the young mutant how to /focus/; it started with wrestling and has quickly branched out into other activities - including meditation. Mind you, Peter's idea of meditation consists of fifteen seconds of ooooming (and even this is a stretch; fifteen seconds, oh my /God/ do you have any idea how many things Peter could do in fifteen seconds). Right now, he's trying to focus on /not/ running off to follow a buzzing bee or butterfly. Peter peers at Ivan's picture. Clad in his usual black hoodie, jeans, sneakers, and glasses. His eyebrows crumple together as he struggles to understand it. "...so, um. Inside the box," Peter begins, hesitantly, "are bees?" Kai is not a frequent visitor to the gardens -- he's only entered them once or twice, with the wonky weather and the acclimating and stuff. But today, he seems to have a purpose as he comes down the stairs from the back porch. He's in a dark blue zip-up hoodie and jeans, with sneakers that make his steps seem awkward and slow. Under his arm, he cradles an oversized book with a big DK and 'BIG BOOK OF BUGS' on the spine. He carries it carefully as he approaches the tree, offering a bright grin to the two seated there. "Ivan. Peter." Because they need identifying. "I am been looking for you." He holds up the book (with a giant picture of a grasshopper's face on the cover) out for inspection. "Look what I have found!" Nodnodnod. Ivan seems pleased with Peter's assessment, lowering the notebook again to add in terrible, terrible handwriting, 'opens from the inside : PERFECTLY SAFE'. It gets underlined a few times. And a few dots that are apparently bees are crudely added to the box o' wonders. Then-- his head snaps up and there is a Kai! The smile he offers looks like it might purely be one of habit, but amusement helps it grow more genuine when the book is presented. Almost immediately he starts to reach for it, both arms outstretched. Gimme gimme. "Have. /Have/ been." This is added with a largely neutral tone, clear but quiet. "But - /why/? Like - oh wait, would this be - like you'd carry it around in your backpack and use 'em to fight evil?" At this prospect, Peter immediately /brightens/, because - yes. Fighting evil is awesome. Also, PERFECTLY SAFE. "How would the bees open the box, though? Would you control them? Would they get hurt by jostling around - or would it be like a bee-hive, you could get them to snuggle up in their little honeycombs and just /sleep/ until you woke them up...?" Oh, hey, there's a Kai - Peter stops nattering long enough to peer at the book, then peer at Kai, and then: "Hey, Kai. You found a book!" Peter states, quite cheerfully. "With bugs." "Have been," Kai echoes, and this sounds automatic, although his face is solemn as he nods. "/Have/ been. Yes. I have been looking for you." The book is readily handed over. While clearly for young readers, it nevertheless has a multitude of insects from around the world in full-color pictures, with accompanying facts. Kai taps a picture of a colorful butterfly. "These were in my home," he notes. Peter gets a wide smile, and a happy nod. "Yes! I found it in the..." he narrows his eyes as he sounds out the next word. "Li..ber...ary. The woman there said it was good to learn with." He sits, then, folding his legs underneath him as he lowers to the grass. "There are many good bugs in it. Also some spiders." He leans forward to look at the drawing, supporting his weight on his fingers. "What is this you are making?" Ivan fumbles to land the book in his lap while pulling the notebook out from under it. Itis handed over to Kai in a flutter of class notesy mess but with the bee box page on top. He's already leafing through the book, tracing an index finger along with text as he reads, before he manages to answer Kai. "An idea." There's a pause, and another page is turned. Already he seems absorbed in the book, whether or not it is aimed at his age group. "Maybe more... defensive. I do not know about /evil/." "Li-braer-eee," Peter corrects, almost thoughtlessly. Then: "Bug-box, I think? Defensive," Peter repeats Ivan's words, thinking - frowning a little - before adding: "You know, it's probably kind of an engineering challenge. I mean, building a box that insects can all stay in and not get hurt inside. But you can - make them stay still, right? Make them stay /quiet/ and sleep, kinda? Like - hibernate." OH. Peter's eyes brighten, then, remembering: "I asked Kisha to build me a new set of webshooters. /Better/ ones. Webshooters three-point-oh." Kai narrows his eyes at Peter when he sounds out the word correctly, and his expression shows his suspicion of the information's accuracy. "Bug box?" he echoes, tracing his finger over the graphite lines, his expression thoughtful. "Why are you making defenses and wanting to fight?" is his next question, a frown working across his face. He seems troubled by the idea of Ivan /or/ Peter combatting anyone -- let alone evil, and he hands the pad back with that frown firmly in place. "What are web -- that thing you said?" "I do not want to fight." Ivan answers, "It is a... hypothetical situation." He briefly looks up to Kai as if whether to check if the boy is familiar with the words, before leafing through the book some more and finally pinning his finger down on on particular picture. It's of a particular weird looking grasshopper, with a freakishly long face extending faar further than looks comfortable. The text beside the picture says, '(Conocephalus discolor) the long-winged conehead'. "Did you have these?" He holds the book out to Kai again, and without looking to Peter, says, "Better how, Peter." "Better like, um, smaller. And with a monitor to tell me how much is left inside of them - that was something I couldn't quite figure out," Peter admits. "Also, sometimes they jam on the coccoon setting, and--" Peter only now seems to realize Kai has asked him a question! "Oh, they're like... um. Well." Peter thinks. There aren't many ways to /describe/ webshooters besides /shooting/ them. Finally, though, he gestures to Ivan's book, and says: "They're guns that make spiderwebs." Like that explains /everything/. Kai does not know the word 'hypothetical', and his brow furrows into a deep V as he struggles with it, looking back at the mansion, briefly. Where his dictionary is. Which will not help. So, he nods slowly, because that is the best way to respond to such things. He looks at the picture Ivan is pointing at, and wrinkles his nose. "I do not remember them," he confesses. "But they might have been there. It is pretty." Then Peter is explaining, and he listens intently. "Oh!" he says, his face brightening. "That is what you use to hang from the --" he points up. "I do not know the name. It is the inside part of the roof." He tilts his head. "You do this with a gun?" Ivan quiets again, turning his attention to his notes again and scrambling to locate his pencil. It's fallen on the floor somewhere, and has a bee on it when he finally finds it again. it stays on there when he picks it up and uses it to scribble something down on the corner of an empty page, careful not to slip and write on the book below, instead. His writing is slow, and a little clearer than that which was next to the sketch. When he tears off a scrap, it is presented to Kai. 'HYPOTHESIS', it reads, 'a thing that might happen but maybe not?' ... It's hard to explain, okay. "Kind of a gun," Peter explains, but the way his nose wrinkles indicates that 'gun' is probably not the right word here. His hands briefly convulse, as if trying to form the shape of the thing he's describing, yet somehow completely failing. "More like... like, a /water/ gun, I guess? No, that's not quite it - it's..." He watches Ivan scribble - and peers at the contents - watching him pass it to Kai with curiously upraised brows. And then Peter's digging inside of his backpack. DIG, DIG, DIG. He produces - a pair of wrist-watches attached to what appear to be strips of leather. The wrist-watches do not look /quite/ like wrist-watches, though. They're very crudely made. The scrap of paper is taken from Ivan with a curious look, and Kai turns it to read the words. His lips move soundlessly as he tries to make out the first word, and he nods at the definition. "It is like pretending," he says, in a moment of (almost) clarity, and he nods in some small understanding. Still, the scrap is carefully folded and tucked into the pocket of his hoodie as if it were a precious thing. He watches Peter as he explains, his nose wrinkling as he tries to make sense of it. When the watches are produced, he takes them carefully, turning them over in his palms before he loops one around a thin wrist and buckles it. "This is a gun?" he asks, holding it pointed in the general direction of the other two as his fingers play over the metallic disc. "It does not look like -- " There's a faint hiss as he presses down, and then...THWWWWWWWWP. Though his expression remains largely neutral, there is a nod from Ivan. Yes. Like pretending. For a brief moment, he looks utterly content. Teaching people, how fun. But his attention is on the book again a second afterward, and he flips through the pages as fast as his curiosity and interest fuels him. At least-- at least until there is that hiss. He has grown familiar with that hiss, and /immediately/ his shoulders pop up, his eyes close and his head turns to the side-- like a person who knows they're about to get splashed with water at the pool. Aaaaaa. Peter opens his mouth as Kai proceeds to take the wrist-watches out of his hands; eyebrows /shoot/ up as he inspects them and proceeds to /buckle/ one to his wrist. "...uh, you should be - uh, careful with..." Peter's words trail off. Unlike Ivan, there is no eye-closing and turning away; rather, there is just a resigned sigh, followed by Peter's arm diving into his backpack, scrounging about for something. When Kai depresses the contact point - it requires a double-tap to fire - there's that familiar THWP, a glue-string SPLATTING out to hit Ivan on the shoulder. SPLT. Peter proceeds to spray Ivan's shoulder. SPRITZ, SPRITZ. Kai's eyes widen into near-perfect circles as stuff HAPPENS, and there is webbing hanging from Ivan's shoulders. His face goes bright-red as he instinctively begins to withdraw. "Sorry, sorry. I am so sorry," his usually-soft voice verges on panic as he jerks back, and he untangles his legs to shift to a hands-and-knees position. "I did not mean to -- it was not on purpose!" He presses his forehead to the grass, his shoulders shaking. "Please forgive me," he mutters into the Earth. "I should not have touched them." Ivan's eyes stay closed even after the gluestring connects with his shoulder. One of his eyes peek open to peer toward it but the rustling tells him enough, and he closes it tight again before the spritzing happens. Vinegar in eyes, no thanks. But then... but then Kai is on the ground. Oh. His eyes open at once, and the book slides off of his lap. A brief and utterly distressed glance to Peter follows; help something social happened what do I DO. "{No--}" He starts, in Russian, before giving a quick shake of his head and continuing, "It is okay. See-- see." He reaches for his shoulder, grabbing the spritzed webbing in order to try and tug it away, but it dissolves before he even manages. Look look. Another quick glance to Peter. HELP. "It's fine, Kai," Peter quickly responds, carefully adding one more spritz as Ivan tugs at the webbing and pulls it apart - the material first turning fibruous and gooey, then into scarcely anything at all - evaporating like alcohol within Ivan's very hands! The bottle spritzer of vinegar is quickly shoved in his backpack - and then Peter is reaching forward to touch Kai's shoulder with a reassuring smile. "It's fine, it's /fine/, it's totally fine - they aren't dangerous. Just, uh, I'm not supposed to fire them on school grounds without supervision anymore," and now there's a careful glance, as if to make sure the coast is clear. "...I mean, I don't think I'll get in trouble, but, y'know." Peter reaches forward, then - carefully! - for Kai's wrist. And the device. Adding: "Anyway they're not dangerous, but they can gum stuff up if you're not careful." Kai remains in his face-down position even after reassurances have been offered, and his shoulders take a long time to stop trembling. "I did not know they would do that," he almost whispers into the grass before he lifts his head, revealing damp eyes and a forehead marked with loose grass. Peter gets a worried look. "I will tell them it is my fault," he insists. "I was the one who made them..." he waves his hand in Ivan's direction, then stops with a puzzled look at the other boy's now-clean shoulder. Peter's attempt to regain the webshooter isn't fought, in light of this new distraction. "Where did that go?" Still vaguely puzzled-looking, Ivan sits up straight. The bee previously on the pencil now buzzes around his head to head off into a different direction all together. Leaving the talking to Peter, somewhat predictably, he exhales sharply and cracks a timid smile. He looks a little surprised, perhaps, but ther eis not a fiber of anger to be seen. Slowly, then, he points up toward Kai's forehead before wiping his own with his other hand, per illustration. "Naw dude don't worry about it," Peter replies, flapping his hand as if to somehow wave away all of Kai's concerns. "Nobody saw I mean screw it, ain't no biggy. It's just /messy/, kinda like silly string but way more sticky." As he unstraps the webshooter with the other hand, Peter makes quick work of the device - gathering up both watches and sliding them back into his backpack. There's still a bit of string - although it's not attached to Ivan anymore. Peter gathers /this/ up, too, raveling it into a pile and shoving it into the pack with a shifty eye either way. "It evaporates. Dissolves. Um, /disappears/. When you spritz it with vinegar." Kai has no idea what fully half of Peter says means, so he nods. None of it sounds annoyed, anyway. One eyebrow twitches lower, briefly, as he commits the odd words to his memory -- he's going to have to look up 'biggy' and 'silly string', for sure. He sits there, on his knees, and he lifts a hand to mimick Ivan's actions, dislodging the grass from his forehead in a tiny shower of green. "It disappears?" he asks, watching the things being stowed away and chewing his lip. "It is very interesting," he says, then, offering a shy smile. "You are even more like Ivan's spiders, with that." Ivan gives half of a chuckle, attention turning downward so he can pick the book o' bugs back off the ground, brushing off some stray blades of grass. A few nods follow, before he offers the book back again. "Peter is my biggest spider." As if on cue, one, two, threefourfive-- a dozen or so thumbnail-sized spiders emerge from the neck of his shirt, skittering up onto his shoulders. Actually-- a few more on the shoulder that /wasn't/ hit with the glue, but that might be a detail easily missed. If Ivan's noticed, he certainly doesn't show it. He's just happy to /show off/. When Peter extends finger-antennae, Kai slaps a hand over his mouth, suppressing a giggle that is hard enough to squeeze his eyes shut. "You would look funny as a spider," he informs Peter when he finally catches his breath and lowers his hand. "And I think it would be hard for /anyone/ to control you." Funny Peters apparently are good for anxiety, and Kai shifts back to his former sitting position, reaching for the book and pulling it into his lap. "You are very hard to keep up with." He blanches a bit, eyes widening. "In a way that is good," he adds in a rush. Despite the jokes, there is a seriousness to Ivan that does not seem to fade even after Kai's lighthearted comments. WHAT IF HE COULD. What would he make Peter do... actually-- "If I could control Peter, I would make Peter do what Peter already does." He narrows his eyes, as if he had just said something /very deep/. It requires ponderment. "... Maybe less danger." "Yeah, my brain basically runs like sixty miles per second," Peter announces, apparently considering this to be No Big Deal. "It's pretty awesome, nobody can keep up with me." Peter relaxes back against his stoop, revelling in his status as being King of the Roost. At Ivan's mention, Peter hffs, arms going up back behind his head, one hand dutifully scritching. "Huh. Danger? I don't - huh yeah maybe I do." Not even Peter can deny this. "...though it'd be cool if I could, like, /bee/ brain you. I don't think I'd want to be a bug, though, because bugs are kind of - no offense, Ivan - they are /sometimes/ gross." He informs Ivan of this as if he were informing a child of the non-existence of Santa Claus. Very sternly, and very regretfully, but. Something Ivan must come to realize. Kai frowns. "If you could control Peter, you would leave him be?" he repeats, as if this concept is foreign to him. Well, it's foreign to /someone/ in there, anyway. Kai tilts his head as if listening, and he frowns. "That seems...unwise." It sounds as if he's echoing something; the cool detachment of a U.N. translator. Then he's BLINKING at Peter. "You are dangerous?" he asks, clearly not seeing it. His eyebrows lift. "Are you poisoning?" That is not something Ivan must come to realise, Peter. It isn't /at all/. The boy whose life lately has pretty much revolved around bugs has now cocked his head to the side, eyes fixed on Peter's face. Also regretfully, if a little less noticeably so. There's a buzz. Ever so subtly. Were those beehives always so audibly stocked with bees? Maybe it's just everyones imagination. He just sort of... stares all the way through Kai continuing to speak. The spiders on his shoulders twitch and lower close to his shirt, them crawl downward and into his sleeves as their ride starts gathering up his notepad and flipping it closed, stuffing the pencil into a pocket. "I am going to go eat." Matter-of-fact. He rises, promptly, and starts toward the building again. "No I'm not dangerous but sometimes I /get/ into trouble, I mean, I am not always -" As the buzzing picks up - and Ivan gets up - Peter wrinkles his nose, almost apologetically. "Bye Ivan! Um, bugs aren't /always/ gross, sorry if I... hm." Peter frowns forcefully at the back of Ivan's head. Thinking. Ivan /is/ really into bugs, isn't he? "I should get to class," he soon adds, glancing back to Kai. "Oh thanks for the book by the way...!" Kai frowns at Ivan's sudden departure, and he lifts a hand to wave after the boy, furrowing his brow. Then he turns back to Peter, unleashing that unhappy(!) frown on HIM. "You should not tease Ivan," he says seriously as he pushes to his feet, clutching the book to his chest. "He is a good friend. You should always be /nice/ to him." That having been said, he turns to follow Ivan back into the mansion. He pauses, though to turn back. "I have /seen/ gross things., he says softly. "And they were not bugs. They were men." Then he's turning and continuing on, back stiff even as he hurries to catch up to Ivan.