ArchivedLogs:Something Warm

Something Warm
Dramatis Personae Jack, Shane
In Absentia	2015-10-03 "Thankfully I have no murder-including plans."
Location <XS> Playground
Set on the still-expansive grounds around the side of the school, this area is to the outdoors rather what the rec room is to the indoors. There's a large basketball court out here; a fenced-off tennis court adjacent. Further distant there are setups for other sports -- a large track, a soccer field. Closer in to the school, though, in its own large enclosure adjacent to the basketball and tennis courts, is the playground, a huge expanse of equipment set up on alternating plots of slightly squishy flooring and mulch. Centrally there is a large sprinkler-fountain, not always /on/ but it can be turned on with a push of a button; spreading out around this is the actual playground equipment, sturdy and varied. A huge dome constructed in honeycombed interlocked poles and rope netting rises hiiiigh for climbing; a large swingset holds four pairs of swings. A large roundabout in bright colours stands in one corner near a long see-saw. The huge bridge-and-tunnel castle structure at one end has many routes of entry, from poles to climb up (or slide down) to a small climbing /wall/. Monkeybars. Four different slides of varying lengths and spiraling. For the adventurous, between things to climb on and jump between and bounce across it is probably possible to skirt one end of the playground and back without touching the ground, though it might take a particularly adept feat of balance and agility. Or possibly wings. Rain, cold, grayness...Fall is here in full force and it has chased some people inside to huddle around warm drinks and otherwise avoid the weather. But Jack is not among those that had gone in. He's been playing some football with some of the other students but since the game has broken up, he's made his way into the playground. Just black sweatpants, a bright red t-shirt, some bandages around his arm from the previous night, and mud from the game, he's hanging upsidedown from some monkeybars and doing a couple upsidedown crunches. Shane /has/ been inside. Not, from the look of him, doing any huddling, admittedly -- he's dressed for training in dark cargo pants, boots, his black leather X-Jacket zipped up against the cold. At the moment he's balancing out whatever training he has been or will be doing with some good healthy -- smoking, tucking a cigarette between his lips and dipping his head to light it. "Sup." His head jerks up in a nod to Jack as he ambles onto the playground. "Me," Jack chimes in reply, pausing mid-crunch. He finishes his set and then hangs there, an invisible grin offered Shane's way. Some of the mud floating where his face would be moves with the expression at least. "Hi, Shane," he greets, hanging there. "How's the day treating ya?" Shane's gills press down flat against his neck as he draws in a long pull from his cigarette. His other arm curls tightly across his chest, his eyes slowly drifting shut. "Less messily than you, looks like." The words come out in a stream of grey. "Decide it was nice weather for a mud bath?" Jack gives a little laugh. He grunts a bit as he pulls himself rightside up and then hops down off the bars. "Naw, I was playing some football with the others," he explains, rolling his shoulder. "Some muddy patches out there on the grounds," he adds, stretching. "You doing okay?" he asks after a few moments, watching Shane. A small shiver ripples through Shane's shoulders at this answer, his nose wrinkling up. He shifts back, leaning against the fence at the edge of the playground. The links rattle behind him as his weight settles. "Keeping busy." A very small twitch of smile pulls the corner of his mouth up. "Staying dry. For the moment. Who won?" Jack moves over to join Shane by the fence, humming a little. "Extra training?" he guesses due to the jacket. The invisible teen takes a moment to admire the look before shaking his head. "My team," he declares, puffing out his chest. "Last second touchdown." "Sweet. I guess congratulations are on order. How's the, like, /actual/ season going?" Shane flicks at his cigarette, head thunking back against the fence. A quicker grin curls across his face, sharp teeth briefly bared. "Shit, man, I don't know, /extra/ training. I'm feeling like it's just-barely-enough training, you know? How the fuck I'm supposed to keep up with the rest of the team I'm still trying to figure out how to put on the goddamn uniform." Jack is quiet a moment. "Well so far. I mean we're playing okay...just keep getting crap from two of the other guys on team," he shrugs one shoulder. "Is the uniform really that complicated?" Jack asks, half seriously. "It's always hard to keep up when you're starting out. Just gotta keep at it, I have a feeling you'll be making them work to keep up with you in no time." "Crap? About what? I have," Shane admits with only the slightest hint of apology, "no idea how good you are. Or aren't. I should probably -- make it out to a game, ever. You've gotta be better than the hockey team, though, man, I'm /pretty/ sure we've never won, like. A game there. Ever. Though I heard this season we've actually scored." He maaay be exaggerating. Maybe. But maybe not by much. He takes another drag of his cigarette, shaking his head with a snort. "Yeah. Soon enough. No doubt. Though half the time I swear I'm pretty sure my Pa hopes I'll just be failing in training /forever/." "Crap over being into guys, being perma-ghost..." Jack trails off, fence rattling slightly with the irritated tone in Jack's voice. It stops as he calms though. "I wouldn't say I'm NFL material just yet but I'd like to think I'm pretty good," Jack remarks. "Team's pretty good too. Our defense needs some more work though," he says, nodding. He winces a little, shirt moving with the motion, at the mention of the hockey team's losing streak though. "They're really that bad? Man..." he trails off. "Probably because he's worried you'll get hurt or something." Shane's head lifts off the fence when the links rattle, hand dropping to press fingertips lightly back against it as though this token gesture would calm the shiver of telekinesis. "Jesus Christ. They're seriously giving you shit over being /queer/ oh man talk about living down to the jock reputation." His head shakes in mild disgust. "... Don't suppose the NFL's all that much more gay friendly, though." /This/ comes with a faintly amused snort. "And I think it's kind of good, you know? Having a team that's just /hella/ fucking shitty like. Just in case anyone's under the misimpression that having a team of freaks gives us some kinda edge, just send them to a game to watch the slaughter." His gills flutter briefly at the last sentence. "He worries about a lot." "Yeah, I called 'em on that cliche but I don't think they understood the word," Jack smiles a little to himself, taking that little jab. "Yeah...they're pretty..unfriendly up there. Not that I think the Giants or Jets will ever be all that eager to have me on the roster," he laughs a little too. "Yeah...guess you're right about that. Let 'em see that being mutants doesn't make us automatic sports stars," he muses. "Mmm...cares about a lot if he's worrying about it." "Obviously what we need is our own league." Shane quirks a lopsided grin at Jack. "Though I dunno, the Giants have too many more seasons like last one, they might be happy to take anyone." He takes another long pull from his cigarette, hand dropping to his side to ash it. "Cares too damn much. Worries too damn much. Can't be healthy." "Oh that would be all kinds of awesome and insane," Jack laughs. "I mean I guess all kinds of powers going off...flying, TK, ice, be a heck of a fun game," he replies with a matching but invisible grin. He laughs though, offering a slightly muddy fist for a bump. "That's how I'll get on the team, promise to turn their losing streak into something respectable," he chuckles. "Yeah...what I heard when I got told I was worrying too much. Gotta cut down the stress levels...relax some and take some of the weight off the shoulders..." "I've definitely played pick-up games on the lawn out here that were -- pretty much just Calvinball in the end once you toss everyone's powers into the mix." Shane leans forward, tapping Jack's fist lightly with his own. His eyes slide back to closed as he leans back once more, settling against the fence again. "You worry any less, now?" "I've got to get in on more of those," Jack remarks. He leans back as well after the dap, letting out a breath. "Well...a little. I mean some of the stuff I was worrying about was just..." he gestures vaguely, sleeve and bandages moving as he does. "stuff like worrying I wouldn't fit in here or I'd fail miserably and end up expelled and back on the street. That kind of thing and I don't worry about it anymore so...I do worry a bit less." "Man I'm pretty sure you have to literally murder someone before they expel you from here, standards aren't all that high." Shane considers this after a moment with a small furrow of brow: "... and they'd probably still let you back after you got out of prison depending on /who/ you murdered." He tries to take another pull of his cigarette, frowns down at the mostly spent butt. Exhaling sharply, he crushes the ember against his opposite hand, grinding it down against his palm. "What kind of thing /do/ you worry about, now?" Jack laughs, head thumping lightly against the fence. "Thankfully I have no murder-including plans," he chuckles. He watches the cigarette get out out and then shrugs. "Classes, getting attacked if I go out into New York again, practice, making sure I'm gonna be in top shape to try to join the X-men, what I'm gonna do after graduating...that kinda thing." "What do you /want/ to do after graduating?" Shane's fingers curl closed around the butt end of his cigarette. He slips his hand into the pocket of his pants. "Cuz joining the X-Men, as life goals go that's for shit." "Still not sure," Jack replies as he exhales. "I'm sort of thinking I could go into the private detective business but..." he shrugs. "Figure I'll worry about actually finishing school first." Shane's brows hike up high at that. He straightens, rocking up for a moment briefly onto his toes then settling back into the mulch with a quiet crunch. "Gonna need a proper trenchcoat. And probably take up smoking. Work on getting your voice good and raspy -- or, I guess," he allows after a moment of consideration, "you could just /hire/ someone to follow you around narrating." Jack laughs and then does his best to make his voice sound raspy before he replies. "Naw, I can handle narration myself for awhile. Might have to go for the fake cigarettes if I can't escape the smoking though," he ends up coughing a little as he finishes and then laughs again. "How was that for the voice?" Shane grins, wide and bright. "A little more practice, I think you'll have it down. That's nine-tenths of the job already, right?" His shoulders roll in a slow lazy stretch. "Christ. How are you not going numb yet?" His webbed hand gestures towards -- well, the empty sleeves and hovering bandages where Jack's bare arms presumably are. "Let's go get some cocoa /I'm/ cold just looking at you." "That and I have to practice brooding in an office," Jack replies with a nod. When asked about the cold, Jack just laughs. "I'm used to it," Jack remarks with a casual shrug. "Cocoa sounds great though. Let's go get some. Maybe a snack too. Feeling a little hungry." "I can't imagine brooding in an office is /that/ different than brooding in a dorm. Less comfortable, maybe." Shrug. Shane bumps his shoulder lightly against Jack's arm, tucking his hands into his pockets as he starts back towards the mansion. "Sounds good to me. I'm /always/ hungry." "Oh, it's got some points you have to get right. Like staring out the window in just the right way or sleeping with your feet up on a desk and a hat over your face. It's all really technical," Jack jokes. He stretches as he walks alongside Shane. "Then let's get something warm."