ArchivedLogs:Uncharacteristic February

Uncharacteristic February
Types of Dogs, Types of Activists
Dramatis Personae Katheryn Pryde, K.C.	2017-02-26 '
Location <XS> Back Porch
The back patio is a restful place to sit and relax, in most weather. Ample seating comes in the form of umbrella'd deck chairs and a cushioned porch swing, and the neighboring gardens attract butterflies and hummingbirds to make the viewing pleasant. The hot tub is usually open for use, though in snowy weather the transition in and out is a shivery one! Though the day has been pleasant, it's getting slightly chilly come eveningtime. Still startlingly warm for /February/, admittedly, but -- but. Despite the clear liberal conspiracy that is global warming, as K.C. trots around the side of the school she's dressed lightly -- jeans, a red Kaepernick hoodie. A backpack is slung over one shoulder; at her side trots a stocky black-and-white pitbull, tongue lolling out of her mouth. There's a red bow tie attached to the dog's collar. The dog lopes over to the school's back door, pawing at it hopefully -- maybe it still smells like /dinner/ inside? -- though K.C. does not follow, dropping her backpack into the porch swing to root inside it. "It's really not that dangerous in Manhattan, mom, especially since I have permanent white-girl camouflage," says a teenager's through the door. There's a pause and some noncommittal sounds. "Unless I go walking through walls in view of the public, literally nobody will notice me. It's not like they have mutant-sniffing dogs." A woman's voice echoes through K.C.'s mind, "I know, pumpkin, we just worry about you and we want you to focus on your education. There are so many distractions out there." The teen grumbles, "I'm a city kid, mom. I'm used to the distractions. It's all the quiet I can't handle. Xavier's is practically a ghost town on weekends. It seems like everyone goes to visit family except me and my roomate. Look. I love you. I gotta get back to /my education./" The kitchen door opens to a crack revealing Kitty, an athletic teenage girl dressed in cargo pants and a black, long-sleeved t-shirt with the Mocking Jay logo on it. Despite her relaxed outfit, her face is pursed, and her thumb is pressed on the hang-up button so hard that it's gone totally white. K.C. has paused in rooting through her backpack -- instead, her fingers are twitching absently in the air beside it. Tap tap tap, eyes darting -- from her bag to the dog, who has perked up at someone walking out the door! yay! Food? PETTINGS? Suga Mama can live in hope, anyway, tail beating eagerly against the ground and head cocking So Expectantly to one side as she watches Kitty through the crack. K.C., meanwhile, goes back to looking down in front of her. "Mutant-sniffing robots," she says, her deep voice bland and kind of toneless. "Suga Mama sniffs everyone." Kitty carefully only opens the door wide enough for her to squeeze through, "Sorry, puppy. If someone wanted you in, you'd have been let in." She closes the door behind her, puts her phone away and asks, "Is it ok if I pet your dog? I don't want to bother her if she's working" "Okay, okay," K.C.'s head bobs for a moment, before settling on a more decisive nod. "Yeah, okay, she likes all the petting. Never enough petting. Not in all the world. Dangerous, though. Very dangerous. Very -- very -- very dangerous." Turning around, she flops down onto the swing beside her bag. "Bad word. Don't apologize." Her sneakered toes rock against the ground, propelling the swing lazily back and forth. "You could leave." "Thanks!" Kitty says, sitting cross-legged and petting dog. Between the two of them, they completely blocking the door. She continues to listen to K.C. speak, but when the other teen finishes Kitty's expression is only one of confusion, "Pardon? Leave here? Do you mean that as in 'go home' or 'take trips off campus.' Also, what word in particular was dangerous?" "Practically a ghost town on weekends," K.C. -- explains? "You could leave. Do something else. Pet more dogs." Suga Mama, at least, seems to be enjoying the pettings /she's/ getting, head rubbing up happily into them before she just flops down onto the ground to cast herself onto her back, exposing her belly in shameless demand for All The Rub. "Lo siento. Desole. Prosti. Maaf kara. Dui bu qi. Gomen nasai." Her fist circles against her heart. "I pet lots of dogs on the weekend." "Errr, oh, that," Kitty says. She chuckles at the dog while rubbing her belly, "you're shameless, aren't you dog-dog. Shameless dogs are the best dogs." Kitty looks back at K.C. after she's finished her ritual. "I do leave during the weekends, ride the train, sit in the market places, do homework at Evolve, go where there's hustle and bustle. My moms just worry about me going alone or without a consistent group or without adult supervision. I worry about that, too, I guess. It's weird being so far outside my mom's carefully groomed circle of friends. I'm being terribly rude, you're K.C. right? I'm Kitty. I don't think we've ever been formally introduced. Where do you go on weekends?" "Shameless," K.C. agrees, head bobbing again. "Best dog." She continiues to swing, slow and steady back and forth. Her hand taps jittery against her knee. "Dad's house. Sometimes. Sometimes dogs. Cats. Kitties. There's a rescue group. I volunteer." Her brows furrow. "Maybe that." Her lips purse; she rocks a few more times before continuing this line of thought. "Volunteer. Or job. Consistent group." A quick smile passes over her face. "Consistent group of puppies. /And/ people." Her voice drops lower, conspiratorial: "The puppies are better." "That could be a lot of fun," Kitty says, "especially if they're all as sweet as Suga Mama, here." Kitty grumbles, considers the relative stranger in the swing, and says, haltingly, "I'm also kinda looking for mutant and LGBTQ activist organizations, but I only want to do that via word of mouth. President jerkface's statement and the surveillance state statements make me leery of searching for that sort of thing online. That and I deleted my Facebook profile." Once more K.C.'s smile is quick. "No." FIRM. Decisive. "Suga Mama," she informs Kitty, "is /the/ sweetest." But a small concession: "Every other dog," she will allow, "is second-perfect." Suga Mama is wiggling closer to Kitty, meanwhile, not really getting up, just worrrrming along on her back so she can kind of -- half ooze up onto the girl's lap. Wiggle. Squirm. Her tongue has fallen out of the side of her mouth, happily lolling there. One paw stretches to press on Kitty's side. Pettin' her /back/. "Activist." K.C.'s fingers return to rapid fluttering, twitchy in front of her. "This school. Lots of activist. Quiet, loud. In-between." She lifts her brows curiously to Kitty. "Guess I'm going to have to go door-to-door," Kitty says and stands up, which gets sad look from Suga Mama. She sits down closer to K.C. (more importantly out of the door's way) and pats her lap for the dog to come join her. "I'm really used to riding on my mothers' coat tails. I guess I'm a little lost without people saying, 'Oh, aren't you that Pryde girl' or something like that. It was good for separating out the jerks, y'know? Have you been here since you were a freshman?" "Oh," K.C. says, earnestly wide-eyed if utterly flat in tone, "aren't you that Pryde girl." She stops swinging her seat, folding her legs up beneath herself. There's a briefly fond look on her face when Suga Mama ceases her very-brief sulking at her lack of pettings and re-settles down next to Kitty again. Whumph. "Halfway into a school year. Confusing. Less confusing now. Do you know Mr. Holland? Very loud. Very very loud. Many -- many activisms. Save some time. Only knock on one door." Though a frown soon follows: "Won't stop your moms worrying. Very very very loud." "Thanks for that," Kitty laughs. Smiling she says, "Sooo, which Mr. Holland? The recently freed one, or the mentor? I got assigned to Holland-the-younger as my adviser, but I've been a bit too sheepish to approach him and his family before Holland-the-father got out. Now it just seems weird to want to join the party now that the father is back." K.C. purses her lips. Considers this for a considerable length of time before deciding, with evident approval: "/Both/ loud."