ArchivedLogs:Overlooked

Overlooked
Dramatis Personae Jack, Shane
In Absentia	2015-08-07 "I'm...kind of excited to see what'll happen too."
Location <XS> Roof
The view from up here is phenomenal, a panorama of the expansive Xavier's grounds, forest and lake and rocky cliffs alike. Even without the view outwards, the rooftop itself holds its own delights, in the form of the tiny jewel of a flower garden tucked away up here, tended by one of the school's teachers. From the edge of the roof, with a veeery careful jump, it looks like it just might be possible to reach the treehouse in the old oak tree. It's not as oppressively hot and humid this evening and even the threat of rain later in the evening hasn't chased people into the A/C. The activities down on the grounds are mostly winding down for the night. Jack's not down on the grounds though. No, the invisible teen has found himself a spot up on the roof of the school. Dressed in cargo shorts and a t-shirt with a wave pattern on it, the invisible teen is just sitting back and enjoying the night air. He's got a book with him but he hasn't opened it up yet. Shane is dressed fairly standard, for him -- pale linen trousers, neatly pressed; a lightweight seafoam-green button-down, a neatly tied bow tie. There's a folded leather vest draped over his arm, a motorcycle helmet tucked /under/ it. His shoes are quiet on the rooftop as he climbs out the window, makes his way out. There's the flick of a lighter, the hiss of flame, the soft crackle of a cigarette being lit. And eventually his voice, from behind Jack: "You're not thinking of joining the exodus, are you?" Jack jumps a bit, surprised by the sudden voice. He looks over his shoulder, t-shirt twisting as he moves. When he sees its Shane, the invisible teen lets out a breath. "No, I'm not going anywhere," he replies. "Not that I have anywhere else to go." Shane exhales sharply; the breath comes with a heavy stream of smoke. He moves over to drop down into a crouch nearby Jack, one arm draped across his knee. He sets the motorcycle helmet down beside him, resting the vest over it. "Hear people talk inside, you'd think they'd announced the end of the fucking world. Oh /no/. Now everyone will /know/. How could they /do/ this to us we'll never have normal lives. Heard the angry parent calls have already started flooding in." Jack snorts at that. "That's why I'm up here," he replies. "Got tired of hearing people going on about that. Oh no, they have to see what its like not to be able to hide," he sounds a little bitter. "Even after they finally noticed they were saying it right in front of me," he adds. "Fff." This is a quiet hiss. It would almost be a laugh if it didn't sound so disgusted. "You shoulda heard the bullshit on the teacher's list leading up to this, man." Shane's head shakes, slightly. He offers his pack of cigarettes out towards Jack. "I'm hoping it makes a change, though. Gonna be a whole fucking lot of kids out there desperate for a place to go, finally know there /is/ one." "How bad was it?" Jack asks. "Wait, that why you had the rum?" he takes a guess. "No thanks," he replies to the offered cigarettes. "There's definitely going to be a change. What it is though...gotta wait and see," he sighs. "I know how those kids feel. Feeling alone out there..." he trails off, trying to find a better word than the one that immediately comes to mind. Eventually he gives up. "Sucks." Shane tucks the pack of cigarettes back into a pocket. He leans back, resting his weight on his free hand, and takes another drag of his smoke, turning his head aside from Jack to exhale. "Kind of /chilly/ on the listserv and downright fucking hostile around the teacher's lounge. Not that I'm even a goddamn teacher -- and oh /boy/ did so many freaking people bring that up like I should be removed from the list." There's a small flutter of gills, and though his teeth bare in a small sharp smile there's not really a whole /lot/ of amusement to it. "How many teachers are jumping down my throat all the time, feels like I never even graduated. But yeah. S'why the rum. I just wanted to stand up for the kids that get overlooked all the damn time, you know?" There's another shake of his head, his inner eyelids shuttering. The clear membranes don't prevent him from flicking a sideways glance to Jack. "S'gotta be a shitty fucking place to be," he agrees in a lower voice. "But you got people now, yeah?" "If they have a problem, they can private message or something," Jack shakes his head. "Who knew teachers did ths same highschool crap as the students," he mutters. "Would argue graduating and running a damn business makes you as qualified to teach," he says. "Hey, I certainly appreciate you sticking up for us overlooked people," he offers. "Incredibly shitty," Jack agrees. "Yeah. Got friends and even a guy I'm gonna ask out again. Doing a lot better and I really can't thank you and your family enough for helping me get here." "Well, I mean, I /don't/ teach. But X-Men get added to the faculty email list by default. I guess we're like," Shane crooks a small grin, "security staff around here. I mean, nobody was complaining about Flicker being on the list and /he's/ not a teacher either, y'know?" Shrug. His arm stretches forward, thumb tapping at cigarette to flick ash from its end. "I'm glad." This is softer, again. "That it's better. I want it to /keep/ getting better, y'know? For you. For everyone who --" He trails off, eyes fixing out towards the darker distant gleam of the lake. There's a /very/ long pause this time before: "... my family's. Kinda got a /thing/. For helping." "Makes sense. Lot of overlap too," Jack remarks with a shrug. He's heard enough rumors. "I'm guessing that's because Flicker didn't point out how they've been screwing up," he says. He shrugs it off too. "I'm hoping it gets better for people too. That's...part of why I was out there trying so hard to find out about the whole caffeine thing. Wanted to make things better for people," he say quietly. "I noticed." Shane's gills are fluttering faster. Quick and rapid; it leaves his voice a little unsteady, words coming out with hitched-breathy flutters as well. "S'a lot of ways to make things better for people." He is ignoring his cigarette, now, the half-finished stick continuing to burn forgotten between his webbed fingers. His knees pull up to his chest, his free hand curling against his shins. "What do you want to do with yourself? I mean, like, after you get out of this place?" Jack gives a little hum of agreement. Shane's next question gets a little sigh from Jack and he leans back, hands braced on the roof behind him as he looks up. "I really have no idea, Shane," he replies, letting out a breath. "I mean...I was sort of thinking about trying to become like...a private detective," he admits sheepishly. "Or joining up with the X-men and seeing if I can do some good with the perma-ghost." "Or both." Shane is a little wry with this suggestion. "'Superhero', not exactly a /paying/ gig. Needs a day job." His fingers tighten against his shins, his teeth gritting together. "Being a private dick's probably. Way healthier. The superhero gig --" Again, that rapid flutter of gills. "... just fucks up your life, as far as I can see." Jack laughs a little. "I was thinking life might find a way to fuck itself up regardless of job choice," he remarks. "Either way, got another year till I have to worry about that," he says. "And Rasa keeps telling me to not worry about too soon." Shane exhales again, sharp, tipping his head down. "Ze's probably right. Ze's right a lot." His eyes close. Squeeze shut, very tightly. A moment later he hisses, shakes his hand hard -- the cigarette he's been holding has burned itself down to a stump, the cherry reaching his fingers where they pinch against it. "Fff." The spent end of the cigarette drops to the roof, dusts into a small pile of ash and ember before the small unused nub rolls off the roof. Shane's eyes focus on it as it rolls away. "I should --" He pushes himself abruptly to his feet. "Get back to the city, probably. You don't need a ride or anything, do you? I'm only a /little/ likely to send you crashing to your death. My bike's /almost/ not a deathtrap." Jack jumps slightly when Shane gets burnt, eyes following the little nub. He's just a little worried it might spark a fire. When it rolls off the roof, he lets out a breath and starts standing. "I wouldn't mind a ride actually...if you're going to the club," he says. There's an unseen smile at the mention of a deathtrap though. "I survived riding with Ion, I'm sure I'll be fine." This earns a small grin. "I'll try not to get us killed, then. Gotta admit. Kinda excited to see what happens when the news breaks. Wouldn't want to miss /that/ being dead." Shane scoops his vest and helmet back up, smile still lingering as he starts back inside. Jack laughs a bit, stretching as he begins to follow Shane. "I'm...kind of excited to see what'll happen too," he admits. "I trust you won't get us killed though," he says sincerely. "Not on the bike at any rate. Now," Shane adds just before he clambers back through the window, "/Fight/ club on the other hand -- no promises."