ArchivedLogs:Ivan Pickup

Ivan Pickup
Dramatis Personae Ivan, Jennifer, Peter	2013-04-15 In which Faelan is NOT picked up.
Location ???
Although her preferred mode of transportation is her beloved motorcycle named Sam, Jennifer also drives a dull car. It is a sixth generation Volkswagen Golf, built in the year 2009. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other intermittently switching between that and the transmission, the redhead is guiding the small vehicle towards the Chinatown. The destination isn't too far off, now. She is not alone in the car, of course. Oh, no. She is joined by Peter, the student who warned her about this ridiculous situation. Her displeasure was not elaborately worded, but it could be readily seen even without helpful hints from any telepath - her left hand is gripping that steering wheel as though it were the throat of her greatest foe. The way she angrily switches gears, one can't help but feel remorse for the car. The teacher's lips are pursed and twisted into a sneer, while even the simplest imagination would make it easy to picture her gaze carpet bombing the road ahead with disapproval munition. "Let me get this straight again. Just-- Just to be clear. Ivan touched... Faelan? Now, Ivan is in /Chinatown/. In New York, that is. I would be a /little/ bit upset if you meant /China/ Chinatown. Faelan is - what was it - the Bronx, you said? Right this before the class that is aptly named /Power and Social Responsibility/?" "B-but he didn't /get/ to class," Peter explains. "So how could he have /learned/ about power and social responsibility?!" Peter's logic. It is infallible. "--he's, um, he's a little bug-brained sometimes the bugs /eat/ his brains it's confusing look we just need to get him before he gets scared or frightened or stumbles across a nest of bees - okay? And Faelan, too, because when he gets scared he makes things /invisible/ and /teleports/ them so, fast, really fast, then I'll dart out and get him and--" Jennifer has probably had to deal with this endless nattering the whole way. Peter is like an unstoppable howler monkey; he will not stop moving in his seat. /Or/ stop talking. Once Jennifer and Peter arrive at their destination, it is not too terribly hard to spot which one of the people in Chinatown does not beling in Chinatown. Ivan stands in his black, wool coat with his back turned to a brightly painted wall on one of the wider, more car-friendly streets. A busy restaurant just to the side makes him look awfully still and static while people move to and fro around him, and in his arms-- he has a big white bag. It looks heavy and he's /clung onto it/ with both arms like it's a safety blanket. Which is a thing he sort of looks like he might need right about now. Like a puppy having been left out at a store, silently waiting to watch every bypasser for recognition. And getting /none/. Before poor Ivan is found, poor Peter undergoes a lesson in responsibility outside of class. "Fast? I'm sorry, did you say /fast/?" The traffic light at which they stopped blinks green. That sneer curves into a lopsided grin. The redhead's foot presses harshly against the gas while the other slowly lets go of clutch. Tires shriek and the car begins to accelerate at an uncomfortably fast rate. Clutch, second gear, gas. "You see, Peter, the lessons I was hired to teach are /very/ important." Clutch, third gear, gas. "There's a reason why it's mandatory." Clutch, fourth gear, gas. The woman's speed steadily approaches fifty miles per hour. The car gracefully swerves from lane to lane, avoiding cars not unlike the frog from the famous game. If need be, the little Golf even dares to pass into the oncoming lane. "See, this is called a /dangerous situation/." Either it's going to shut Peter up, or worsen his ramblings. "I could hit the back of a car and spin out of control. If I hit any of the oncoming cars head on, statistics say we would probably die instantly. See, this is the situation Ivan and Faelan are in." Given that the distance left is not great, it's not too long before Jennifer slows down. After all, prolonging this life lesson would likely cost her the attention of law enforcement. The vehicle slows to a more comfortable and fortunately legal speed before she turns off and starts driving on the rightmost lane, eyeing the streets for Ivan. "Do point him out if you see him, Peter." Peter /does/ get quiet, largely because of one thing: His danger sense has started tingling. He sinks into the backseat, /clutching/ the chair in front of him with a white-knuckled grip. OhGod. There might be the sound of rustling, occasionally, but otherwise, Peter is silent. But then she's slowing down, and - Peter's immediately back up, FACE PLASTERED AGAINST THE WINDOW. Then against the other. Then against the other. Then: "IVAN." Peter /chirps/, and at once he's moving to open the door - regardless of the fact that the vehicle is currently in movement. He /darts/ outside, all at once, sneakers scuffing against asphalt as he /charges/ Ivan in a berzerker hugrush. "IVAN IVAN HELLO IVAN GET IN!" The white bag and apparently plastic containers inside get /squished/ between Peter and Ivan, who manages to crash halfway into the wall behind him in the process. Ther eis a distinct smell of /food/ coming from the bags, warm and take-out-y. But having nearly been bowled over does little to stop the smile appearing on his face, even if his greeting is purely through PUSHing into the hug instead of actual hugging because he has the bag to hold onto. "They gave me food." He mutters, sounding a bit /baffled/ at this. The vehicle is /eyed/. That is not Jackson. Oh no. Although the car continues to drift at a slow speed, it is still very much in motion when Pete springs out of the vehicle as though a jumping spider, at which point Jennifer slows down some distance ahead of the reunited pair, pulling over slightly to the side of the road. A moment later, emergency lights start to blink, as if ominously reminding Peter and Ivan that the interior of the vehicle awaits. Truth be told, Jen is clumsily reaching over towards the glove compartment, out of which she summons her phone. What follows is a haphazard attempt to write a message one-handed, since the other hand is holding the wheel. Her lips shape the silent words that mirror what is typed on-screen. It is a short message, one that is pinged back to school purely to let them to know one of the miscreants is fetched. Peter proceeds to SEIZE HOLD of Ivan. Drag, drag. One arm around his waist, nearly /lifting/ the teenager off of the ground. Eyeing that big white bag full of food, nostrils flaring, even as he moves. "You brought food why did you - oh they /gave/ you food - did you pay? I mean, if you didn't pay - you didn't like, grab some random person's order by accident did you--" Peter babbles on, all the way to the car door. Once Ivan is secure, Peter hops right in, waving between Jennifer and Ivan. "Jennifer, this is Ivan, Ivan, this is Jennifer, she's a teacher at Xavier's she said she'd come help pick you up and stuff Jennifer Ivan controls bugs and also he has /Chinese/ food also we should probably pick up Faelan Ivan thank GOODNESS you aren't in the Atlantic Ocean why did you /scare/ him that was so /silly/--" Ivan hobbles along much like the puppy he looked to be before, waiting until he is seated in the car to speak up again, bag still tightly clutched. "I-- found these." On cue, five humongous cockroaches rise up from his coat, onto his neck. He tilts his head back to /show/ them better, giving the rest of the car a wary /peering/. "While looking for Lena? And-- they... gave me it." The answer of /why/ remains unanswered, seemingly so he can move onto staring at Jennifer. He sinks back a little, like a small child biding time to think of a /better answer/ while convinced no one will notice they're just full of it. In lieu of said answer, he offers a meek and somewhat fearful, "... Hello." The smell of food floods the car almost as soon as the two boys claim the back seats, and if anything is going to soften Jennifer's wrath, it's going to be food. Unfortunately for both Peter and Ivan, she is not going to let them know that. That phone of hers is tossed beneath the hand brake. When Jennifer shifts in the chair to look at the two, her face very nearly sports the sort of wrath that would make Kratos blush, albeit her femininity inevitably softens the disapproval. On the other hand, it almost makes her look motherly, which might only make matters worse. "I know who you are and your profiles, Peter. I've read your files." The judging look is prolonged another moment, before the She-Hulk extends her long reach to the back of the car to briskly and suddenly grab the bag from Ivan. Not that she hoards it all the food to herself, even if she is tempted. Noodles are handed both to Ivan; as she does so, she can't help but eye the cockroaches on Ivan's neck. "You feeding them, too?" Not quite expecting an answer, she shifts to hand the other pack of noodles to Peter. "/You/. One sentence between eating. Sentence, eat, sentence, eat." The bag is set on the passenger seat. "Now, explain how this happened." The emergency lights are turned off, and a dainty finger pushes the turn indicator left, clicking it into position. "Oh man Ivan those things are /huuuuuuuge/--" Peter begins, eyeballing the cockroaches with wide-eyed awe; but then Jennifer is explaining HOW IT IS and Peter is listening, wearing a frown. "Files? You keep /files/ on me? OhGod--" And then Peter is being handed noodles, and, well, orders. He looks at the noodles, then he looks at Jennifer, then he looks at the noodles, and... Thing is, Peter's speed extends to his ability to eat, too. "So uh we were out in the woods experimenting on some stuff, and..." CRONCHCRONCHCRONCH*gulp* "...Faelan showed up and talked and Ivan kinda scared him with one of his spiders..." CRONCHCRONCHCRONCH*gulp* "...and then he teleported Ivan and then I yelled at him a little," BLUSH, CRONCHCRONCHCRONCH*gulp* "...and he teleported away." Ivan looks /lost/ without his bag, and the noodles he is handed back don't make things much better. He doesn't look terribly hungry, and they sit in his lap. The question about the cockroaches may not have warranted an actual answer but Jennifer gets one ANYWAY. even if it is a tiny little headshake. The cockroaches flick their antennea and disappear down Ivan's neck again, into his coat. BZZ. Ivan's pocket makes a noise. He slips a hand into a phone and hurridly unlocks its screen, holding the device over the noodles. "/Lena/." He breathes, eyes widening. If there is anything he has to add to Peter's story, he seems too busy to be saying it. Instead, he is /texting/ while a teacher is trying to teach him things. Clumsily and rapidly, while mumbling, "Please please please please please." Judging by repeated finger movements, that is exactly what he is typing, as well. Just as Jennifer is about to drive off, just as the engine begins to purr, the turn indicator is shut off and the redhead turns to look at the back seats again. Looking at Peter incredulously, one brow cocked up and her full lips contorted into an S-shape. /Really/? Rather than addressing the story, she aims for something else. "I-- was /handed/ files of students I would teach. I guess I wouldn't really call them files", she elaborates with a bit of a drawl. Then the caretaker's attention shifts to Ivan again. Her eyes search for the vanished cockroaches. Her chin dips and her lips part, but words fail to arrive. With a bit of a grunt, she turns to face the road, flips the turn indicator back on and drives off, murmuring something about Xavier. Once back on the road, Ivan is given another question, and this time an answer is expected. "Who are you texting? That other boy? Is he still in the Bronx?" "No Lena is -- his spider -- did someone find Lena?" Peter asks Ivan, then he remembers: SENTENCE, THEN EAT. CRONCHCRONCHCRONCH*gulp*. "Is Lena okay, Ivan?" "Shelby." Is the only word Ivan mutters, his face growing ever paler. It serves an answer to both the teacher and his dorm buddy, because really-- spiders and Shelby? That should say /enough/ about whether Lena is okay at the moment. The noodles are IGNORED, in favour of more texting and intent staring. There is no more buzzing from his phone as he continues typing the same word over and over again, misspellings and all-- Shelby, it seems, is disinterested in negotiation. The Golf rides calmly down the districts of New York, in sharp contrast to one of its passenger's frantic interaction with a communication device. It is something that inevitably annoys Jennifer. Any other day, it wouldn't have annoyed her, but today has so far proven to be quite the homecoming present. "Look, Ivan, tell me who you're texting. Tell me what's wrong, so that we may fix it /together/. And trust me, if there's one thing that I will make damn sure to do is /fix/ things." Signs are ogled. She still remembers the way to the Bronx. After a particularly important turn is performed, Jennifer sneaks a peek at what's happening behind her by casting a cursory glance to the rear-view mirror. "Shelby is --" WIDE-EYED PETER. "...Shelby /hates/ spiders she's /terrified/ of spiders - oh man she's got Lena we have to /hurry/ before she /squishes/ Lena." Now, Peter is fishing out /his/ phone, too. And joining Ivan. In the apparent texting. TEXT TEXT TEXT TEXT. Maybe if they flood Shelby with enough texts, Lena will remain unsquished. (Peter ---> Shelby): shelbs do not squish lena she got teleported i couldnt find her It takes a few seconds, but Ivan does eventually look up from his phone. He sinks back further, looking to Peter. Yes, you TAKE OVER in Ivan's stead. The cockroach rescuer takes a deeep breath, before looking over to Jennifer and attempting in his best not-quiet voice, "I made Faelan teleport me by /accident/" He stresses this, though whose accident it was remains unsaid, "but my spider Lena was not there and now she is at the school with Shelby who does not like spiders and she is going to be /dead/." He doesn't sound it, but he looks like he's about to cry, phone still in one hand. Come on, buzz. "Oh, for f-- /God/!" Lena. Faelan. Shelby. Lena. Faelan. Shelby. Priorities, priorities. The car's soothing pace turns into a monstrous one within just a few seconds. "Wait, she's going to be /dead/? I-- /What/?" Lena, that is. Except Jennifer thinks Shelby is the one endangered. "Where in the school are they?!" Cars begin to sound their horns furiously as that little Volkswagen Golf races past them, curving lines on the road that should not be curved. That said, at least she doesn't enter the oncoming lane this time. It wouldn't take terribly long before they would arrive back at the school. Throughout the relatively short trip, Jennifer would be absolutely silent. But once they do arrive, the redhead clumsily and hastily unbuckles her seatbelt, opens the car door and zooms at an incredibly speed towards the school building. If she has a mutant power, she doesn't show it yet, but she sure runs fast. Peter puckers up as they drive, eyebrows furrowed. Go, go, go! It doesn't seem to occur to him that Jennifer might think /Shelby/ is endangered because they are all caught up in the whirlwind of SAVING THE SPIDER. Once the car is stopped, Peter has unbuckled himself in an instant - then, OUT THE DOOR. Right before shouting at Ivan: "Where was Shelby did she TELL you--" Off he goes, regardless of the answer, bouncing and jumping - sometimes almost 2 or so yards off the ground. Bounce, bounce, bounce. Ivan sits quietly the whole ride through, eyes on his phone. Answerless. Yes Lena is in danger and this is /very important/ and he is satisfied (if somewhat baffled) at the urgency that the news of her being in danger brings. Before Peter goes /bouncing/ off, he answers quickly, sadly, "The girl's bathrooms." He is already very much suspecting the worst, climbing out of the car with what is left of the big bag of food once more clutched in his arms before he, too, begins to make his way into the school again. At... really sort of a pathetic pace, but as quick as he can manage nonetheless!