ArchivedLogs:Nighttime Snacks

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Nighttime Snacks
Dramatis Personae

Ghost, Martin

2013-12-07


Ghost and Martin talk over snacks in the kitchen.

Location

<XS> Kitchen


The kitchen staff at Xavier's tends well to the needs of its residents. Always cognizant of its students and faculty's dietary needs alike, the menu has a wide variety of choices, and the longtime cook works wonders in the kitchen. The pantry, too, is kept well stocked for those who want to come prepare themselves their own snacks. The shelf, fridge, and freezer space is ample, though if anyone wants to keep their own food there, they'd better make sure it's labeled clearly, and even that is no guarantee it'll last.


It might be Saturday night, that designated night for outings for just about anybody, but some adults do need to be around the school grounds to make sure nothing goes completely awry. Having volunteered to hang around in case others wanted to make plans, Martin winds up in the kitchen for a nighttime snack of... well, he's figuring that part out, nose stuck in the fridge. Being indoors, he can get away with just jeans and a plaid shirt thrown over a henley. He also wears a pair of thin, black leather gloves, which probably help to fend off the chill while he paws his way through the options of fruits, sandwich meats, pudding cups, and other mostly nutritious eats... you'd think this place was a school or something.

As Ghost enters the kitchen, she shows signs of having been out for the night, before returning for curfew. Dressed in a large jacket, a pair of thick jeans, but surprisingly (or unsurprisingly, for those who know her), barefoot, she enters, pausing to think about what she wants, before noticing Martin. "Oh, hello, Mr. Morris! Lovely night, isn't it?". The purple skinned girl begins poking around the kitchen, looking for something to eat. "It's pretty freezing out there. Then again, New York in winter."

At the greeting, Martin straightens up to look over the door of the fridge at the speaker. "Oh, hey-" he starts to say, and then there is that obvious pause that happens when someone's brain tries to click through to the right name. To be fair, he's still trying to learn all the faces running around. "-Ms. Shafir. And yeah, that's New York for you. How are you doing?" Rather than keep the fridge door open and waste all of the electricity in the building, he settles on pulling out a fuji apple and polishes a spot on his chest before crunching a bite.

"Arizona wasn't as bad. Or it was worse, not sure sometimes.". After Martin leaves the fridge, Ghost begins to waste its electricity, opening it up to pick through it, but is relatively quick, pulling out some turkey meat and lettuce, and grabbing some bread from the cabinet. "I'm good! Went out tonight, took some pictures, planning on using them for an article, after I finish my huge massive supreme one.". She begins stacking her sandwich high, grabbing some peppers to put on it. "How about you, Mr. Morris? How are you doing?"

Martin takes a casual lean back against a counter, one foot hooked in front of the other, and takes another bite of his apple while he listens to the teen. "Oh? What's the article about?" Another bite is thwarted when he spies the little sticker that all apples are plagued with. Gloves make it difficult to scrape it off, so with a slight glare for the thing, he relents, sets the apple aside, and then works one off. "I'm doing all right. Things seem pretty quiet. Can't complain about that," he says. Once he has his glove off, he peels the sticker from the fuji. His hand, both knuckle-side-down and palm-side-up, is an absolute patchwork of scars, from small cuts, to mottled marks that look as if they could have been caused by burns, and just about everything in between that can fit on a man's hand.

Ghost at first looks like she doesn't want to tell, but relents. "Well, seeing as I already told the Newspaper since I needed to get permission for it, it's going to leak eventually, but..discrimination from the administration against physical mutants, basically. This better not leak.". She says this sternly, even though Martin is her elder, she seems to really care about this article. She notices his scars, but shrugs, not really caring. "Thank the zombies for that, they've really made everything quieter." She finishes stacking her sandwich, and takes a massive bite, making sure it doesn't drip. "Too peaceful, makes journalisting hard.".

He casts a quick, mildly admiring glance to her sandwich, before tossing the apple sticker into the trash before it can become a menace to somebody's shoe or the floor. After that, Martin pulls his glove back on before resuming his fuji crunching. His brows raise over this latest bite, and he gets out an "Oh?" about the administration around the chunk of apple before chewing in earnest, an interested look on his face.

"Yes, that is my story.". Ghost seems uncomfortable about talking about it further, especially in front of a staff member. "I have sources that claim non physical students are treated better, so, and got approval for once, surprisingly, so I'm going with it.". She bites into her sandwich again, hopefully to not have to talk anymore, but still talks, trying to change the subject somehow, choosing the worst possible way. "How did you get those scars?"

He sniffs and, with his free hand, rubs a gloved thumb over his nose. "Good story to break if it's the truth," he says, as if conceding to a point. He leaves it alone after that, picking up on her discomfort. As for him, though, if Martin experiences any of his own discomfort at such a question, he hides it behind another bite of the apple, which he crunches through before answering, rather matter-of-factly, "My mutation, mostly."

"Oh, uh, sorry.". Ghost looks embarrassed on asking, brushing her hair as she takes another bite. "But, yes, my story's factual. I think. Still have sources to talk to.". She also says this matter of factly, still eating. "I think I'll be taking your religion class soon? How does that type of class work, if you can clue me in?".

Martin tips his head to the side, corner of his mouth pulling, in a gesture that's meant to stand in for a shrug. "It's fine," he says. He is no stranger to the question. He's gotten it plenty. He works some more on his apple, working it down to the core. "Sources don't necessarily mean facts," he points out. "People are people." Wiping his chin with the back of his wrist no doubt for some escapee apple juice, he then pauses to think about that question. "Well. Figure we'll go over the basics, and look at how different groups can interpret different things, and what that means." A little fitting for the conversation, all things considered.

"Ooh, alright. I'm Jewish, so, I know virtually nothing about how Christianity works.". Ghost takes a bite out of her sandwich, listening. "I trust my source. I don't think he has the ability to lie. I think, he has the exact opposite ability or something.". Accidentally giving her source out as a he, she changes the subject back. "Christianity is similar to Judaism, yes?"

"Oh, you'll know some," he says, with a small and knowing smile. Martin pushes out of his lean to toss the apple core in the trash, which he picked down to practically just seeds and stem. Not wanting to pry, he skips over the mention of her source. It seems pretty important to the teen, after all. Some could argue that since he's staff, it would be his place to investigate, but he doesn't seem to think so. "Some things are very similar, yes. Some things not so much."

Ghost finishes her sandwich, before speaking again. "Well, seems interesting. Can't wait!". She smiles, continuing. "I look forward to being in your class, but, I need to get to my dorm. Curfew laws and all that. Don't rat me out, okay?". She smiles again, before heading for the door.

"Promise," Martin says about not ratting her out, smile this time more or less amused than anything else. "Have a good night, Ms. Shafir." And where she goes, he just might stick around to construct a sandwich of his own.