Logs:Sneak Jet

Sneak Jet
Dramatis Personae Amo, Jax
In Absentia Ryan, Spencer, Avi	2024-08-20 "But don't let me hold you, we gonna see no end of each each other soon enough."
Location <XAV> Gardens - Xs Grounds
From indoor gardens to outdoor, though without the protective greenhouse glass the back gardens do not last all year round. Still, the gardens out here are well-tended and well-worth spending time in, as well. The paths wending through the beds of flowers and herbs and vegetables spread out through the school's back grounds, tended by students as a credit class. Benches offer seating and a small pond is home to koi and turtles, as well as a few frogs. At the far back edges of the garden, a droning buzzing marks a few stacked white boxes as beehives. It’s a cool breezy mid afternoon, but kept warm still by the cloudless sky. The gardens are quiet, only occasionally buzzing with students that pass by. Amo herself had been passing through, but her backpack is haphazardly abandoned on a nearby bench, where she crouches carefully next to a bush, her broad shoulders almost blocking the vibrant butterfly she’s attempting to verrry carefully take photos of without startling it. She wears black cargo pants held up with a belt, and a dark green tank top tucked into the waistband, and a pair of black sneakers with green accents. Her hair is tied up in a pony tail, and her socks, when visible, are inside out based on the thready logo. She leans forward more, a bit precariously, to avoid jostling the bush but gain a different angle of the butterfly. It was some small while ago that the the basketball court opened itself up, re-admitting the jet that lives beneath. After -- probably a giving-Scott-a-verbal-debrief amount of time, Jax is back upstairs and wandering out into the gardens. He is casually dressed -- a pair of corduroy bellbottom pants in gradient shades of blue stripes, a sunny yellow tee shirt reading "SOCIAL JUSTICE PSION" in large letters and underneath in cursive, 'changing the way you think', paired with platform combat boots (one black with ombre rainbow soles, one ombre rainbow with black soles). He has a large pair of mirrored sunglasses on, their round frames also an ombre rainbow. "Oh, hey, are --" he starts to say as he wanders nearer to Amo, but then hushes when he sees the butterfly, creeping quietly just a little bit closer and around to the side so he can peer at it around Amo's side. Amo doesn’t immediately acknowledge Jax, focused fully on the photo she’s about to take, but there’s a faint, brief rocky rippling across her skin on the side Jax goes on, as if signaling her subconscious awareness of his presence. She leans just a bit further, pauses to focus the shot, then very slowly draws back, careful not to touch the bush. They gain just another moment to admire the butterfly, before it seems done with its flower and is moving onto another bush further into the gardens. She’s already tilting her phone to show off the photo to Jax, “Got it,” she says, proudly, and then her eyes finally trace upwards to his face, and they widen briefly, “Oh- Hey.” She scans him, once, eyebrows ticking upwards, “Damn bro, you’re more colorful than the butterfly was, I should be taking photos of you.” She says, tone falling somewhere between impressed and admiring. “Cool shades. I’m Amo.” She sticks out a sideways fist for a fist bump. "Butterfly worked so much harder at it than me, though." There's a cheerful brightness to Jax's heavy Southern drawl. Where the butterfly had been there's another one now, looking almost identical to the first. Then another, bolder and brighter, and another whose wings don't look quite like any species of butterfly actually found in New York, fractal-paneled and looking somewhat like stained glass. Another whose wings ripple in a slow marbled swirl of trippy neon colors. Jax isn't actually paying these new butterflies any attention, though, leaning in to peer approvingly at Amo's photo. "Oh, that's a good one." He hesitates just a beat long enough to be noticeable before returning the fistbump -- his hand is intensely warm, certainly not enough to hurt but it is fierce and noticeable all the same. "Oh, hey, Ryan done told me he met you the other day. M'Jax. Welcome to Xavier's, you findin' your feet aright?" The spectral butterflies have caught Amo’s attention, and she’s watching them distractedly before Jax’s heated touch is bringing it back to him. There’s a delay, before her eyes light up in a recognition, “Aye! yeah yeah I met him, he was real nice. So you’re Spence’s Pa then? Was wondering when I’d run into you.” She’s pushing herself up, wiping her palms on her pants. “Sure am, lucky everyone’s so welcoming. Might not be so lucky though if I was standing on the basketball court a bit ago.” She raises her eyebrows and tilts her head slightly. Jax's brow furrows, head tilting in unconscious counterpoint to Amo's, a little perplexed. "Avi didn't ice the thing up again, did he? Think he's mostly gotten better 'bout doing that right where people are walking." Amo blinks, “Oh. Nah nah, was making a joke about the jet.” She says, jerking her thumb in the direction she saw the jet fly in from. “Saw it fly in not too long ago. Not exactly the quietest thing.” She’s sending the photo of the butterfly to someone in her contacts, and she’s quickly repocketing her phone. "Ohhh," Jax says in some understanding, though judging by his delayed and uncertain smile he still doesn't seem entirely to have gotten the joke. "Don't worry it won't actually open if people's standing on it, you'd'a been safe. Do get loud for sure, though, sorry 'bout your ears. If we was real sci-fi we'd'a learned to get us a stealth jet that's like, a sneak jet, but I'on think science is quite there yet." Now his smile is evening out a little: "... though you'd probably know better'n me, I ain't ever been the most sciencey type. You taking over some'a those, right?" “Aye that’s good to know, I can now shoot some hoops in peace knowing I won’t get dropped into a jet hangar.” Amo jokes again, despite her last failed attempt. She’s reaching for her backpack, which had been laying on its side on the bench, and props it back up. She unzips it to reorganize the contents that got jostled around, “Sure am, s’gonna be a blast I think.” She pauses, “‘Cause. Chemistry. It’s one of the classes I’m teaching.” She jerks her chin in Jax’s direction, and zips back up her backpack, “Sometimes you need more than science people though. Bet we could figure out a sneak jet if we put our minds to it.” She gestures between the two of them. Her eyes catch her watch mid-gesture and she brings it closer. She mutters a quick swear under her breath, “Damn. Lost track of time, sorry bro I gotta head out in a sec.” She slings her backpack onto her shoulder, and her face pinches slightly at Jax, “What did’you teach again? Don’t think Ryan mentioned that.” This one Jax does laugh at, bright and easy. Around them the various illusory butterflies are exploding, silent but bright in showers of fireworks-sparkle. "Oh, Spence is gonna like you. I do art and also the mandatory sex ed so you ever hear some parent screeching Dr. Grey's ear off 'bout groomers corrupting their kid, they probably big mad again I been explaining how condoms and consent work. -- Ryan said your art lovely, sure would like to see it some time." He tips his chin up to Amo cheerfully. "But don't let me hold you, we gonna see no end of each each other soon enough. Y'take care!" A broad straw farmer's hat appears on his head just long enough for him to tip it to Amo, and he's wandering deeper into the garden. Amo lets out a breath as the butterflies burst around them. “I probably should’ve guessed art.” She allows her hand to come up at the elbow to the illusory sparkles that shower down. Her eyes dart away briefly at the compliment, and she waves a hand, “Aw-That’s real sweet. Love to see some of yours too—well. More of it.” She gestures to the fading sparkles. “And if parents ever give you too much trouble, feel free to give me a shout. I’ll give you some backup.” She rehikes her backpack further onto her shoulder as he begins to depart, and the corner of her mouth tugs upward at the tip of the hat, “Yeah? I’m looking forward to it. And yeah- take care.” She echoes with a final wave as she departs.