2019-04-10 - Chains

Summary:

Marvel Girl, Cyclops, and Zatanna visit the Houdini Museum of New York and get really deep into the weeds.

Log Info:

Storyteller: None
Date: 2019-04-10
Location: Houdini Museum of New York, Midtown

Related Logs

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Theme Song

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jean-greyscott-summerszatanna-zatara

So Zatanna Zatara did her tour! Five shows! Five cities! Five days! It's a grueling thing because she has to actually do the travel for that kind of schedule the hard way. If she tried to get away with teleporting her merry way across this great nation, her insurance company would collectively explode.

Throughout the trip, Scott got texts. Good mornings, good nights, selfies from the makeup chair, assessments of how she thought she did. And now that Zee's back, she's ready to make plans. 'Wanna go 2 the Houdini museum?' A real place, really in New York! 'I bet u i can b a better tour guide than ne1 else there lol'

At the same time, Zee has been texting Jean Grey: 'Wanna go 2 the Houdini museum?' It's one thing to try and reach out to Scott's best friend and work towards having a good relationship. It's another thing to schedule that kind of trip with both of them and kinda maybe sorta forget to tell each of them that the other is also invited.

Jean likes Zee. She enjoys her company. Sure, it's a little bit awkward knowing that the person she's closest to and has her own romantic interests in also likes Zee and in a somewhat more intense way way than she does. But she's working on it. So a trip to the museum sounds like at least there should be interesting and distracting things to talk about other than Scott, right?

'Sure, I'm in!' Of course she texts in full sentences with punctuation. Nerd.

Scott, of course, reciprocated those texts while Zee was gone. His own good mornings and good nights. Selfies from treks through the woods behind the manor. Random talk about things that kids said or did in his trigonometry classes. Maybe a recorded video or two with some silly snapchat filter giving him stupid animal noses and ears. That old chestnut. It's clear that he had missed her while she was gone, and so when she sends the message that she's wanting to meet up at this museum, Scott responds with a series of emojis that clearly demonstrate his eagerness to go.

He doesn't know the first thing about Houdini, though. What a tour guide he'll be!

Regardless, when he shows up, it's on the back of his vintage Indian Chief motorcycle. He's surprisingly dressed up. A light steely grey suit of linen, since it's warming out. A light lavender colored shirt, with a platinum tie. Mirror polished black shoes. He may or may not be trying to not look like a slob when standing next to Zee in her idea of "casual wear". Stepping off of his bike, he pulls the helmet off, ensuring that his ruby-lensed shades are secured in place before he dares open his eyes. A few seconds are spent peering into the mirror on the handlebar so that he can vigorously brush his fingers through his thick, brown hair and get it looking oh-so-perfectly messy, and he shamelessly, without thinking that anyone might be watching, clearly gives himself a wink and fingergun, before straightening himself up.

The Houdini Museum isn't far off from Penn Station, right in the mid of Midtown. It's one of the many things in the busiest part of Manhattan that just isn't too obvious unless you're looking for it, especially when it's on the fourth floor of a building.

Zee is waiting in front of that building. She's dressed for that sixty-degrees-and-breezy April weather: a peacoat with faux-feathered trim, black jeans, a very fitted black t-shirt, black Doc Martens, little black purse… this is 'casual Zee.' However casual she chooses to be, she's still made up like she's about to jump onto a stage somewhere. She doesn't see Scott doing the wink or the fingergun. Or at least, she acts like she didn't see it.

Jean may never learn how to dress to fit in with Zee. That, or she's resisting doing it just out of stubbornness at this point. Jeans, tennis shoes, t-shirt, and an oversized jacket are right on point for a casual day at a museum, at least for her. She's not even wearing make up. Sooooo when she shows up headed from the opposite direction as Scott, it's very clear exactly what shade of red she turns.

Crap.

She can't control the blood to her face, but she can control her features. She summons up a broad smile, raising a hand to wave toward Zee as she gets closer. "Hey!" she calls, smile slipping crooked as she 'notices' Scott. "Welcome back from the tour!"

There's a certain swagger that Scott holds as he strides a full head and shoulders above most of the other people walking by. He's certainly feeling himself tonight, and his soft, full lips are pulled back into a bright, but closed lip grin that dimples in the "just past five o'clock shadow" level of beard he's grown out over the last week. Peering across the shuffling foot traffic, Zee is very, very easy for him to pick out. He might actually be able to stand next to her and not look like her garbage manservant for once! He reaches up his hand to wave, as his lips part to call out to greet the raven haired beauty.

And then he sees Jean.

Instantly, Scott simply freezes in place, the smile dying on his lips in synch with the last rays of light bleeding out of the periwinkle twilight. In its place is left an open mouthed look of confusion, brows knitted together over the bridge of his nose. What is going on here?

His hand drops, sliding, along with its counterpart, into the pockets of his crisp pressed slacks, sweeping aside the hem of his jacket in the process. More deliberately, and with far less swag about his person, Scott approaches the pair of women and tilts his head to one side. "Hey, Zee… Jean, funny running into you here. Small city, after all."

Jean gets a hug from Zee. It's a very cordial hug, but a hug! "Aw! Thank you! It was a lot of fun, but it's great to be home." Scott, meanwhile, gets a much bigger hug. "Hey, you!"

Zee picks up on the tension in the air maybe, like, what, six hours too late? "Oh! Jesus. I forgot to… I mean, I invited both of you, okay? Don't… It's not a trick or anything, I promise. I thought I told you both that I'd… well… you know, you're both HERE, and, okay, this is my screw-up. I'm sorry, I'll own it. But really, what I was thinking was… I mean, you two have been best friends since, what did you say it was, Scott, like… eight years, or something…? I mean, a WHILE, is the point. And I didn't want to… I didn't want to mess that up, you know?"

If Zee only knew!

"So I thought if we all hung out together, even just here and there, maybe it'd be… I don't know. Maybe it'd be good? If it's not good, you can both pick me up and throw me, or something." Zatanna has managed to wrong-foot herself on this one. Usually her charismatic patter is so much more assured. It sounds like she thinks she might have screwed up.

Jean returns Zee's hug warmly, smile still firmly in place. "No, no, it's fine," she assures the other woman with a brief glance toward Scott. It's hard to read, as quick as it is. "I'm just not used to seeing Scott all cleaned up. Must be your good influence on him. One of these days it might even start to rub off on me," she chuckles.

« It's cool, right Scott? » The thought comes across on the almost subconscious link that slips so easily into place. « I can make an excuse if you want. »

Scott doesn't look so much perturbed by this turn of events as much as he does simply confused. Even as Zee comes in with the hug, Scott wraps her up within his embrace, but peers over her shoulder at Jean with a quizzical look. When Zee starts to explain that she was responsible for this, and her reasonings for it, Scott's head practically rears back on his neck until his chin is almost completely flushed with his throat. Speechless, still. But finally, he just looks to the magician, and asks, "How would you mess anything up? Listen, you're good. You're great. You're… not responsible for ensuring that Jean and I hang out together or something."

Jean's own imploring is only reaffirmed by Scott with a nod of his head, and a gesture with one hand towards the redheaded siren, and he flashes a smile. It does look slightly affected, but it's warm nonetheless. "It's fine. It was just a surprise. That's all."

«It's fine.» Echoes Scott's mental voice within Jean's mind. «Don't make an excuse. That'll just make her feel worse. I… It's fine.»

Zatanna seems to regain her smoothness and seemingly effortless charm as soon as the two mutants forgive her for her trespass. Think of it like the X-Men's friend from space with the mohawk: as long as she wants to believe that everything is cool, then she can treat it like it's cool and maybe even MAKE it cool in doing so. Perhaps that is the true magic.

Zee has an expression like she's been chastised mildly but then skated without an actual punishment. It's a look of happiness mixed with a tiny bit of relief. "I promise I'll do better next time," she says. "Anyway, c'mon, you two! Let's go look at some hundred-year-old coffins!" She reaches to take both Scott AND Jean by their respective wrists, and pull them along towards the building, and… the exciting walk through the lobby to the elevator. It's not the most 'wow' beginning to a promised grand tour.

Then up to the fourth floor, into the premises of a magic store, and… the Houdini Museum! All one room of it. But Zatanna looks like she just pulled her friend and her boyfriend clear to the Magic Kingdom. "They changed the exhibits up! Oh, awesome!"

« I find your lack of faith in my excuse-making skills…disturbing. » Half the fun of being able to talk in someone's head is the dead-on James Earl Jones impressions you can do. Jean's smile quirks again, private, before she's being dragged away and into the elevator.

"Just to clarify," she says as Zee's excitement breaks out. "You can do literal magic, but you're this excited about a guy who-" And then she pauses, squinting a lowering her voice as she leans forward. "Was Houdini also literally magic?"

Or maybe the true magic is the friends we made along the way.

"You don't have to d—" Cut off, Scott goes with the flow, having his wrist taken up and pulled along towards the doors. Of course, as they near them, Scooter scoots ahead to reach out with his free hand to get the door to allow both of them to enter before him.

«Please don't ever speak with the mental voice of a very large African-American man again, no matter how regal and stately he might sound, kay?» Scott mentally retorts as they step inside the elevator, where he rolls out his shoulders and takes in a deep breath as the doors close.

The definition of eternity in the dictionary just might include "A situation where one is trapped in a small enclosed space with the two exact people who you are totally and helplessly infatuated with, unable to escape, and in such close proximity that their combined scents make one weak in the knees, while the dulcet tones of Bette Midler's "Wind Beneath My Wings" plays softly in ambience around oneself."

When the doors roll open, the silent and stoic Scott breathes out a quiet sigh and reaches out to place his hand on the door so that it won't close until the pair of women have exited before him. Immediately, Scott is off put by the sight in front of him. It looks a bit like some sort of antique junk shop. He'd half expect a Chinese curator who may offer them a small furry critter that they cannot get wet or feed after midnight. But Zee's excitement is palpable, and so Scott cannot resist the smile that whispers at the corners of his mouth. Placing his hand against her lower back, he leans in closer to ask quietly, "So what's different?"

Jean, though… She brings up a great question. One that hadn't even bothered to cross Slim's mind. Curious, he looks to the Mistress of Magic with an expectant and curious look. "C'mon. The guy only did escape artistry, right? And he died by a punch to the stomach. He couldn't be a real… wizard."

Is wizard the right term? Magician just sounds kind of quaint when talking about people who use actual reality warping forces of magic to affect change upon their causal reality.

The look of playful incredulity that Zatanna gives Scott is the same look someone would get for saying a thing like 'C'mon. Beyonce is only Kelly Rowland's co-worker.'

"ONLY escape artistry…?!" Zatanna says, keeping her look of faux-shock. The fact that she looks like she's about to laugh spoils any believability. "Scott, Scott, Scott, I have so much to teach you, my darling." She grins. "And they changed so much! It looks like they swapped out the Daily Mirror handcuff stunt memorabilia that used to be over here for 'The Grim Game' stuff, and more of the live burial stuff has been cycled in… and they brought back the things from his bit where he'd debunk spiritualists. I heard that during all the registration fracas it got mothballed for a bit out of some kind of 'sensitivity' thing, though I still don't really understand it…" Two things are clear: 1. Zatanna is like a kid in a candy store here, 2. Zatanna comes here fairly often. To this one single room packed with Houdini memorabilia.

"And, um… no, I mean, as far as anyone knows, he was just… human. I mean, 'just' human is underselling it, because he was friggin' /Houdini/," Zatanna says on the topic raised by Jean. "So, like… Jean, you can pick up all kinds of stuff just by flexing your occipital lobe, but aren't you impressed by people who've put in the work to be able to bench five hundred, or something?" Zatanna gestures at a straitjacket hung up on the wall, behind glass. "This is like a guy who could bench five hundred and also invented the very concept of picking stuff up as we know it."

Jean's smile flickers at Zee's example. "First of all, there's no 'just' about the brain part, for the record. Ask Scott sometime, he can tell you a lot of embarrassing stories about how that all started. And sometimes still happens without entirely meaning to." Her smile falters at that last part, though she quickly clears her throat.

"But yeah, it's pretty impressive anyhow. Anyone who can put in that much effort to something and devote their life to it, that's…big." She moves toward a display, reading over the placard in front of it. "Debunking spiritualists seems like a public service. Sort of. I mean, there's a fine line between pulling one over on people and giving them the peace they need, I guess."

Something about Zee declaring that she has so much to teach him makes Scott actually physically shudder. It's not an unpleasant thing. But he does reach up to slip a finger between his collar and his neck, giving a faint tug, stretching his neck in tandem. As Zee goes into full fangirl mode, he recomposes himself, letting his gaze wander along to the things she's mentioning. He can't help but give a faint disapproving look, nodding his head when she mentions the debunking thing. How many people did Houdini brand as fakes and phonies who were just mutants trying to find a way to use their powers to help themselves and possibly others? What would Houdini have made of someone like Jean in his day?

"Alright," Scott says, pushing the darker side of his thoughts down so as not to be the dark cloud hanging over Zee's excitement and enthusiasm. He lifts a hand, pointing to himself, and gives an almost challenging grin to Zee. "Do me now."

His grin fades, becoming dreadfully solemn. Uncomfortably, he shifts on his feet, and says, "I mean… the comparison thing. Jean, with her even lifting, bro. How would you compare him to me?"

"The guy didn't like frauds," Zatanna says to Jean with a grin. "Especially frauds trying to milk people out of their money by selling them lies." She shrugs, as if to say, 'what more is there to say?' There's really a lot more to say, but she's already done the shrug.

Scott is growing wise to Zatanna's tricks, because he very smartly clarifies what he meant before she has a chance to go in for what might as well be an uppercut of innuendo. "Compare you to Harry Houdini? Okay."

Zee taps her chin thoughtfully, and makes a show of looking Scott up and down. "Well, you're a lot taller, for one. And more handsome. I mean, I love Houdini but 'sexy' was not one of his powers. But, okay, I'll be serious now. You know, if you want a real comparison to Houdini, Scott… one thing he did was go around the country and visit, like, every magic club he could and try to get them to band together, if only so they could all make money and not get ripped off. He was a leader who looked out for people. So. That's your Houdini-ism."

Jean meanders a few steps away toward another display as Zee describes Scott, apparently absorbed in the new information. "I feel like the magician's union would not be a group of people you'd want to upset," she chuckles, smile wry. "The buried alive thing is a little much for me," she admits. "I'd have a hard time staying calm through that, even knowing I could get out of it if I needed to. Not enough…input." After all, Jean's problem is usually too much input.

"People like their lies, though," she muses. "It's not as though Houdini wasn't selling lies. Just…people knew they were lies and chose to be okay with that. Sort of. Like I said, it's a fine line."

Scott stands stock still as Zatanna compares him to Houdini. The initial compliments have him giving a smug little duck-lipped grin, nodding his head and shrugging his shoulder in silent agreement. But as she moves on into a more serious note, offering her insight, the cockiness sort of slips away and he just listens. She thinks that is what makes Scott like Houdini? Where could she even get that idea? Scott might try to be that. He might want to be that. But will he ever actually accomplish that?

Still. It's very flattering.

"Yeah… Uh… " He starts, lifting one finger to hold her off at that thought, as he contemplates his words. "I kind of meant like how you would compare my powers to Houdini like you did Jean's…. with the whole lifting thing. A guy can like… spend his entire life trying to stare at things really hard, but he's not going to be able to fire bolts of concussive force out of them, no matter how much he wishes he could."

Looking back up to Jean, even Scott has to give her a questioning look. "I don't know that we can really say he was selling lies. Like… if he did more of the traditional stage magic stuff, sure. But he didn't do illusions. He did the escape things. It's more of a stunt show than anything. It's pretty honest, really. Hey, don't try to lock me in things, I'll just get out. You'll see."

He looks to Zee for confirmation of his assessment.

"He didn't even use a coffin the first time," Zee asides to Jean regarding the 'buried alive' stuff. "Absolutely insane." The Mistress of Magic says it like it's a compliment.

Zee then gets her feedback from Scott, and she blinks. "O-Oh! Right. Well, in that case: you ever heard of 'staring a hole through someone'—?" She winks. "Well, by that metric, this guy invented eyes." Zee moves closer to Scott, to put her arms around one of his. She also opened her peacoat at some point during this, revealing the black v-neck t-shirt (which, as an unadorned black v-neck t-shirt, probably still cost something like a hundred and ten bucks) tucked into high-waisted black jeans.

"It's true," Zatanna adds to Scott's sum-up. "Even now, though, when you go see a magic show you can go see something like mine, which is more about… well, okay, some of it's real, shhh, do NOT tell the guild that, but it's about doing fantastical things that shouldn't be possible… but Houdini was like, doing things that were just… I don't know how to put it… beyond the norm? WAY beyond the norm. Buried alive without a coffin beyond the norm. And even what I do is kinda, like… I mean, I see it as kind of like, I guess people still watch pro wrestling, right? And it's fake. People know magic is a trick, even the wild stuff. They go in knowing there's a trick to it and they get entertained. But telling people you can summon their dead relatives and talk to them… it might help, maybe, sometimes, but there's something… I dunno. Cruel, about it?"

"Depends," Jean shrugs, still walking from exhibit to exhibit. "I mean, imagine someone close to you dies without you getting to say something you really wish you'd had the chance to say to them. If someone could convince you that your message was getting to them, wouldn't that bring you some peace? And wouldn't that be worth it? I mean, I'm not saying charge an arm and a leg for it," she adds, casting a quick glance over her shoulder. "That's definitely wrong. But giving people a chance to believe in something…" Shrugging again, she trails off.

"Everyone works hard for something. I read once that he used to invite people to punch him in the stomach, as a sort of trick," Jean muses. "He'd tense his abs and be fine. And if he'd had the chance to, he probably wouldn't have died. All that work, all that practice, and one moment of not being ready…"

Given the comparison, Scott considers it for a moment. And finally lifts a hand which he wobbles back and forth. "That was a bit weak. But to be fair, I figured it was impossible and was just trolling you so you get a pass."

As Zee's arm wraps around his, Scott leans gently against her side. It's not much, but it's just a bit of weight to feel closer. He remains silent as she exchanges thoughts with Jean, back and forth about the merits of mediums and their proposed services. On one hand, he does agree with Zee. There is something cruel about it, when you look at it in the light of a con artist. Jean's own viewpoint is much more optimistic in a way. Hopeful. Even if the spiritualist might be a scam, they bring comfort to the grieving. It's a romantic notion.

But still.

"Or maybe, just maybe, they were actually real and genuine. Maybe they were early mutants. Or maybe wizards, even, like you, Zee. If he was just a regular, amazingly well trained guy, he might not have known. Or maybe he did, because he was queued in pretty deep. What if he was just… ruining good peoples' lives."

A pause.

"It's like on those old late night shows. They'd invite these people who claimed to be able to bend spoons and perform other psychic feats, and their entire purpose was just to "debunk" them, and embarrass them. People were brought to ruin because of it. We know now that there are people with those exact abilities. It's just…"

He bites his tongue. Literally. Taking in a deep breath, Scott just tries to still himself.

Before Scott goes Fully 100% Scott Summers on the conversation, he might notice that while Jean is looking at the exhibits and talking about 'Imagine someone close to you dies without you getting to say something you really wish you'd had the chance to say to them,' Zee's grip is just a little bit tighter. Not cuddly-tighter, either. But to look at Zatanna's face, absolutely nothing seems off. (That's what we in the biz call 'misdirection,' perhaps!)

Then, as mentioned, the Lv100 Summers manifestation. Zatanna studies Scott's face for a moment thoughtfully. She's very clearly working over what he's said. "Well…" she says, and then it's sort of clear that she's not really sure where she's going with that 'Well.' She pauses for a moment, then has to laugh, but not really a 'ha ha' laugh. "I feel like I just got challenged to defend 'Song of the South,'" she says, her smile returning. "I'm not gonna roll that die."

"Solid call," Jean chimes in to Zee, casting another wry smile over her shoulder. "I get the feeling Houdini knew how to recognize the real thing when he saw it, Scott. Heck, maybe that's even how he got started. Something had to motivate him to get that good at escaping things, right?"

She settles her hands into her pockets, pausing at a display of handcuffs. "Like I said, there's skill in what we do, too." A pause, her smile deepening. "Game recognize game, yo."

It's hard to take anything seriously when Jean's going hood.

When Zee seems to be… actually thrown off, Scott suddenly feels very, very self conscious about himself and what he had just said. His rugged face instantly shifts in expression from indignant anger to one of self-directed horror and apologetic shock. He shakes his head and squeezes Zee's arm in against his side, bring his other hand across to rest his fingers atop hers. "I… no, that's not what… I don't think that you would, or that… I just think that it's something to consider that maybe he just didn't know about people with abilities, or maybe he did know and had some other reason to undermine them, and that reason doesn't even have to mean bigotry, and regardless of whether or not he did or didn't know, we have to consider that he likely debunked a number of people who really did have extra abilities and may not have ever know, and what the HELL did you just say, Jean?"

That last is punctuated with his hand leaving Zee's to point an accusing finger at the redhead. "Game. Recognize. Game."

"Yo?"

Que the long, silent stare.

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