Summary:Memorial Day BBQ At Xavier's. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongNone |
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Early in the evening, or perhaps late afternoon, either way - out by the pool, manfully manning the meat searing device (aka the grill) is a fairly buff specimen, albeit rather a hairy one, of the male type persuasion. Hank is tending steaks, brats, chicken breasts, corn on the cob and of course burgers and dogs, dawg. AND he's reading, specs he most certainly doesn't need perched on his nose whilst atop his head is perched white hat with a black band. He's wearing a gods awful hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts and a long apron proudly proclaiming 'Cooking is chemistry for hungry people!'.
And he'
s whistling..badly.
Cessily has heard there was going to be a celebration party. Not that she needs to eat, but, she's always up to being sociable with her family. And, Xavier's is certainly far more her family these last few years than her actual family has been.
She comes out wearing a brighly colored tank top, and a pair of comfortable shorts, complimented by flip-flops. The rest of her silvered skin is - well, reflecting the sunlight where it hits and augmenting it the way only sunlight can. It's an outfit she'd most likely never wear off the grounds and in public.
"Smells good, Dr. Mcoy," she calls to Hank, cheerfully, as she wanders over to him. And, asks the pertinent question of the day, "Has anyone ever caught you without a book in your hand? Ever?"
Of course, she's teasing, humored. But, it's kind of funny to her. She's never seen anyone reading, while doing a BBQ before. But if anyone would, it'd be Hank.
Rachel Summers smelled burning. Fire? No… Not quite either one. It led her to be confused, and curious, as she moves through the school till she finds herself stepping out back to investigate this unfamiliar situation. The redhead that looked perhaps too much like Jean tips her head thoughtfully at the sight of Hank at the grill. "What's the occasion?" She asks with a glance around toward others, such as Cessily who earns a grin. "I almost thought there was something on fire… but then it smelled good."
Jean graduated from ESU just a week ago, and has been in the process of moving her things away from college and back to Xavier's for most of that week. As usual, the move comes with almost as much figurative baggage as literal baggage, so a holiday and a BBQ is just what the doctor ordered. In a t-shirt and cut-off shorts, she makes her way over to the grill, leaning over to peer at the meat in process.
"Oh sure, I've seen it once or twice," she grins at Cessily, winking. "The real question is, did you run any experiments on the food this year? Because while I appreciated the flavor-injection experiment of 2012, the resulting fire damage was a little bit intense. Hey, Rachel," she greets, taking a step back from the grill. "Memorial Day. Holiday to commemmorate fallen soldiers."
Sam Guthrie just finished grabbing a shower after his afternoon run, coming down the stairs in shorts, a baggy sleeveless tank with the University of Kentucky printed on it, and a pair of flip-flops. His hair's damp still as he does what comes most naturally to him, which is head straight for the food, "Hey, y'all," he calls. "We got any actual barbecue this year, or we stickin' to the usual burgers an' weenies?"
"Hello Miss Kincaid, and please…tis a barbecue, call me Hank, mm?" Well aware that the mercurial lady in shorts and tank top has no need to eat, he doesn't offer her anything. "A book, in my hand? OH MY STARS AND GARTERS! What was I thinking?" He lets the book drop, a foot deftly catching it, closing it and tucking it away somewhere safe. That done, both sizable hands wiggle beclawed fingers. "There, a first for everything, mm?"
Just about to answer Rachel's question, he lets the other ginger answer, and nods confirmation. "Indeed it is, and here you go." He dishes Rachel up a brat to try, a lovely toasted bun, and of course mustard and onions fresh from the grill on it.
To Jean he replies. "No, no experimental foods today, in fact I was particularly careful when shopping to get the non-GMO only meats." So there! "Burger, or dog…?" He asks her with a toothy grin.
A frown to Sam. "Actually…no, I didn't actually do any barbecue, but there's likely sauce to be had…somewhere…"
"Hi, Sam!" Cessily waves to the young man, smiling brightly at him. She looks at Jean, "It's good to have you back home. I'm still trying to decide if I want to go to ESU, or not." For, perhaps, obviousr reasons. There's a difference between going shopping, or walking around with her Xavier family out there, going on missions vs. sitting in class as the 'silver girl'. Her expression twists, "We'll see. Was thinking maybe something in the social sciences. But I have a lot of time yet to figure it out. A few months, at least."
She looks at Hank, and grins at him. "Alright, Hank. I guess since I'm about to graduate, I can feel more comfortable calling you that," she agrees a little.
"What's everyone been up to? I've been busy helping Carin get settled in, and studying for finals. I'm sorry I haven't been around too much."
Rachel Summers glances over at Jean with a grin at the familiar face of her too-young mother as the explanation comes. "Fallen soldiers?" That thought brings a somber expression to her face along with a stoic nod. "That I understand. Are there any sort of traditions with this holiday, or…" Then Hank is handing her a brat loaded up. Instinctively she reaches out to accept it with both hands though it doesn't seem as if it would fall.
"Ah, thank you, Hank," she murmurs as she looks it over. A glance is shot toward the others as she hesitates, waiting to see how one eats this concoction… Before shrugging and taking a bite off the end. Surely that wouldn't be out of line. Right?
Betsy Braddock has finished her coffee, and after washing the glasses she and Remy used, has come outside to join in the bbq Sam had mentioned. Purple hair in perfect Princess Aurora curls over the lavender and yellow sundress, with darker shaded purple strappy, heeled sandals. She's unsure exactly what to do, how to help, if there's anything that needs to be brought out, so she will come to socialize, first.
Remy is here too.
He walks out of the kitchen doorway with a glass bowl of chocolate covered pretzels in his hand and he makes his way to where the food is seemingly being set out. He sets the bowl of sugary pretzels down. "I did not make these. I found them. They are delicioous." He announces, then turns and walks over to an empty chair that which he may seat himself and lounge within its embrace… another sip to the icy drink that he somehow got Betsy to make him is had then. And, the Cajun exhales, contentedly.
Sam Guthrie grins, wanderin' around a bit and answering Cessily's question, "Oh, I've been in the city a lot. Working on my SHiELD application. Helpin' Illyana with a little gardening project. Helping out around here now and then. I put some new shelves up in the library," he says, gesturing towards the house. "We got any beer?" he asks. Now that he's of age, he sees no reason to be shy about it.
Definitely right, the brat is meant to be consumed! "Most welcome, Rachel." The fuzzy blue guy says in his deep deep voice. "Sometimes there's fireworks, there was a ceremony where the President said a few words, and there was a ritual playing of Taps. I'll show you later, if you like, I recorded it."
A wink to Cessily as she accepts the informal naming convention!
Betsy's arrival doesn't go un-noticed, and Hank offers a fangy-grin to the purple haired lass.
"Allo, Remy…would you like something, or shall I keep tending?"
And I've been…here…pretty much as always since shortly after the Brand debacle." At the question about beer, Hank dips into a cooler near to hand (or maybe foot!) and tosses Sam cold one.
"Okay, you're the scientist, Hank. But it seems to me like everything's genetically modified food, because that's how we turned it from sad wild plants into actually edible stuff. So really, what's the big deal with the non-GMO? Burger, please," Jean tacks on to her academic question, raising a hand to wave as others start to trickle out into the yard. The power of cooking meat.
"SHIELD, Sam?" she asks, looking over with a small smile. "Doug get you an interview?"
"Gardening sounds fun," Cessily agrees to Sam, and then she's waving her shiney hand at Betsy, "Hiii," she calls enthusiastically, making her way over to Rachel. She tells the other girl, "Memorial Day is kind of a big deal, in a lot of places. For a lot of people. Though a lot of people shrug it off and use it to party, or take vacations, or trips. It's like Hank said. People remember soilders, other people, who lost lives in the war. The sacrifces that were made." A somber moment, but then, things on Memorial Day shouldn't be always all fun and hot dogs and hamburgers.
Then she tells Rachel, "We should totally hang out sometime. Soon. Maybe we can take Carin shopping. Have you met her yet?"
Another grin and another wave as Remy arrives, her shiney metal hand waving in the air enthusiastically at everyone's favorite cajun.
Betsy Braddock beams at Hank. Finally a face she knows fairly well. She will move to fetch a soda from the cooler, a bright smile for Cessily. "Hello." The accent makes it clear she is not an American, at least not by birth. She will lean to peer at the grill, seeing what's up for grabs.
"Well..true, Jeanie, lets just say I avoided anything too overt, mm?" Her burger is dished up with aplomb, and though she didn't ask for one, so is an ear of corn, still in the husk. Gotta have a side, after all! Rachel's expression is watched to judge how she liked the brat, as he keeps an eye out for anyone needing…well…anything, really.
"SHIELD…interesting choice, let me know if I can help with anything, Sam." Hank adds belatedly. He can't help but grin. "Shall I clean up your police records?" It is very plain he is joking, though Monsier LeBeau might want to consider taking him up on that offer!
Looking about, and surely there's some students present as well, he does the math. "We should try some volleyball, perhaps, once those of us who eat…" A nod towared Cessily. "..finish up?"
Sam Guthrie nods to Jean, "I always wanted to do a little law enforcement, maybe, as a career. And it's kinda senseless not to take an inside track when I can get it. I pretty much been told I'm in, I just need to do the actual application and such. I just know that once I commit, I'm really committed and I'm not entirely sure I'm ready for that yet. I like havin' free time. Money would be nice, though, especially since I could send some back home. With my brothers and sisters comin' college age, things are gettin' a little tight back in Paducah."
The grill sports burgers and brats and chicken, steaks as well as corn on the cob, dogs and burgers!
Did anyone mention burgers?
Rachel Summers makes a noise that's apparent approval of the dog she got. It garners a thumbs-up toward Hank, and she gulps it down. "Beer wouldn't be bad. I'll grab one of those, too." Her attention shifts to Cessilly at the explanation with a grin. "Carin? Yeah I'm the one that went to poke in her mind. She's doing better now. Got some memories, though they are traumatic. She's handling it well." A long sigh comes as she looks down to her own attire. "I could probably use something other than the basics for clothes," she murmers as she was still wearing her leather pants, and just a plain white tanktop otherwise. It was comfortable.
Belatedly, Jean turns back to Cessily, nodding at the mention of ESU. "I liked ESU. Good programs, quality resources. The school's fairly scientific and liberal, so I ran into less…awkwardness than I might have otherwise. But I also have an easier time fitting in." She's the first to admit it, at least with the younger students, even if it's sometimes a sore spot for her.
"If you want any help with the application or a tour or anything, I'd be happy to show you around campus. And the good places to eat in the city, too," she smiles crookedly.
There's a nod for Sam as well, smile warm. "Well, I'm proud of you, either way. And SHIELD would be lucky to have your talents, so they're fools if they don't take you." Then she's collecting her food from Hank, giving his arm a squeeze in thanks before she vacates her spot at the grill. "Betsy's the expert on the shopping front, Rachel," she grins, winking at her fellow telepath.
Remy has picked out a lounge chair for himself, the kind that you can… you know, lounge in, laying back and stuff. So he does just that, he lays back in the fresh air with an icy cold drink in his right hand and a small smile visible on his face. His free hand reaches up to rub at the stubble on his chin and the outside of his mouth and he shakes his head. "Cook it all up, Hanky Panky." He tells McCoy. "I'll let ya'll eat up and then just take pickens on whatevers left. Like a vulture, or some such." His drink is lifted and he sips from it again.
Cessily smacks her forehead, it's a completely different sound then flesh on flesh, a bit louder and more resonant. "Oh, jeeze. Yes, you did. That whole experience," as Rachel had brought her along for the 'ride' of Carin's memories, "Still has me going through a loop. You know what? We should totally make a date of it. You, me, Carin - and, if she wants — hey, Betsy!"
Cessily's call to the purple-haired telepath isn't too loud, but is loud enough to carry and be heard. "How about a shopping trip into the city?"
She keeps a loose ear on the conversation about Sam and something about SHIELD? That's kind of cool. And Jean gets a grin, a nod, and a promise of, "You got it. We can talk more about it later? I'd love your input. Honest." It's no secret Cessily looks up to most, if not all, the First Class.
"Betsy Braddock: Shopping Maven & X-pert." Hank agrees with Jean, the X being quite obvious he accentuates it so. Guess all those years of elocution lessons (he never took) really paid off! Big Blue tips his hat to Jean as well, acknowledging her thanks. His smile for Rachel is friendly. "Glad you like it, some prefer to add more condiments, I'm something of a purist being a Chicago boy, brats are either grilled or cooked in beer, and they get grilled onions and mustard, that's it." His tone is serious even if his eyes are bright with laughter. So many telepaths! For the moment the eye-gleam would tell the true tale of Hank's mood.
"Sam, seriously, they'd be fools not to take you on. Please do not hesitate to ask if there's anything at all I can do to help as well, all joking aside, I assure you the offer is genuine."
Remy's buzzard comment earns the lounging Cajun a bark of laughter. "Duly noted, mon ami."
Betsy Braddock will turn her gaze onto Jean. "A model does not make me a shopping maven. I just happen to have excellent taste and know what suits people for build and coloring." Her chin lifts, her accent very dry and ever so British. She almost, almost, looks offended.
"Hank, would you be a dear and get me some of that delicious chicken and corn from the grill you are manning?" The purple haired telepath smiles sweetly at him, grabbing for a paper plate. "And something for Mister LeBeau. I do believe he's hungry."
Rachel Summers grins over at Cessilly with a nod. "That happens sometimes with other memories. You kind of want to forget they're there… If you want I can erase them. I should have made sure everyone was on-board first, but it seemed the best way to assure I wasn't doing something weird in there. Like an overseer or something. But," she adds with a laugh, "Yes I need more modern clothes, please. Or outdated as the case may be for me. Either way."
Lifting a hand to wiggle her fingers in the direction of the cooler, a beer works free to float over to her hand even as it uncaps itself in the process. She could do multiple TK at once and for a drink she surely would. "Hey it tastes great to me. I just learned what real coffee is the other week though, so I may not be the most experienced one in the world for this." A grin is flashed back toward Hank… only for it to fade slightly. Her head tilts to the side, and she takes a half step closer to murmur quietly, "Everything all right?"
Even as she ass she takes a long sip of her beer letting her eyes skim around nodding to the others she'd either met breifly, or not at all yet.
The door of the lake house is pressed open and out strolls Daken. The young man is outfit in a pair of simple black denim jeans and a gray Motley Crue tank top, leaving the sprawl of tattoos along his one side free to be seen. Spying the mass of others present on the lawn, his dark features shift into an expression nearing surprise as his stride diverts from his initial path to head in their direction instead.
Remy raises his drink up for another sip as it has started to melt. He hears Betsy refer to him and the hunger he likely has inside and it just makes him grin and shake his head from side to side. "Only for your attention, Purple Rain." He tells her in response, his free hand going up to rest behind his head on the lounger he's rested upon.
"Hey, if I was in a strange place and needed fashion advice, Betsy, you're the first person I'd go to," Jean assures the other woman with a broad grin and a hand to her chest. Debatably, she already needs fashion advice, but that's a whole different can of worms.
Finding herself an unoccupied lawn chair, she settles in for her burger, humming appreciatively.
"No, but good taste and experience, do, dear lady." Hank answers Betsy's comment - even if it wasn't directed to him. Her chicken and corn is promptly deposited on her plate and a second one prepped for Remy, this one having steak and more corn, because…corn is good! There's something borderline alchemical about grilled corn in the husk. "But of course, Elizabeth."
To Rachel. "Not 'outdated', it is 'retro'." Hank opines, and that's all he has to say about that, well, for the moment. In some editions of the dictionary there's an image of Hank next to 'loquacious'. At the whispered question, he looks mildly quizzical, and then smiles. "No, Rachel, all is well." If there is something bugging him, the man keeps it pretty well locked down - sure, there's a lot of tepes in the area, but it is doubtful they'd probe past the surface without good reason!
Daken's arrival is not missed, the young man offered a welcoming beckon to join the party. Hey! The Institute is about inclusion, right? That's like the core tenet of the place!
Hank does take a moment to get himself something to drink, he goes for some lemonade himself.
"No, I'm glad you did," Cessily assures Rachel, taking her hand briefly and squeezing it warmly. Her metallic skin is cool. She releases it as quickly as she took it, "It helped me help her, I think. But, sounds like a plan. We'll figure out a date to do this, as soon as possible."
As Daken appears, she tilts her head at him, then tells Rachel, "Going to go meet him," and she's off, in all her silver-bodied glory to go meet the pretty tattooed boy. "Hey," she greets him. "I'm Cessily." She smiles at him, warmly, "Hank's cooking some good stuff if you want any, and all kind of stuff in the cooler. Glad to meet you."
Betsy Braddock is certainly not one to judge anyone, a big believer in personal style. She will wait to have her plates loaded up, a look over at Cessily and Rachel. "Ladies, if you are wanting to go shopping, and you want to someone to use their professional eye to help you pick that which is both the most recent fashions, and suits your comfort and coloring, I will be more than happy to go shopping with you."
She busses Hank's cheek with an almost kiss, before she goes to put a plate and appropriate plastic flatware and paper napkins in Remy's lap. "Eat up, Cajun."
She turns her head, waving to the tattooed man she has yet to meet, before she will seek out a seat herself to eat. "Grilled chicken that won't taste like water. I'm in heaven."
Rachel Summers gives Hank a sidelong look but at the assurance that he was all right she doesn't press further. Instead she offers a smile back… and is then distracted by Cessilly's hand squeeze as she turns back toward her friend. "Sure, no problem. Careful though. He might bite," she teases as the other girl runs off to greet Daken. She steps away from the grill to claim a seat for herself careful not to spill beer, or drop her plate with brat. It was good and she fully intended to finish it. "Thanks, Betsy. I'm not exactly up on the current times. Retro as it may be," she adds with a grin. She'll go with retro.
Remy sits up when Hank prepares and Betsy delivers him a whole meal. "My my my…" He says with a shake of his head. "Betsy Boo be makin' me drinks. Hank be makin' me food and it be gettin' delivered right t'my lap?" A big exhale is pulled in then. "Can't imagine why I decided t'stick around here a lot more goin' forward." He quips before he sets his drink aside on a table between his chair and the next. All smiles, the Cajun looks up to the both of them. "Hank, we need t'get ya one'a them aprons that says 'Kiss the Chef' across the chesty area. Just so's people know how the rules are around 'ere."
As Hank beckons toward him, Daken lifts a hand in return. It isn't so much a wave as a lazy sort of acknowledgement as he continues to head over. His eyes shift then to Cessily as she makes her way over, slowing his stride so that he doesn't walk past her. He returns her smile with a grin of his own before offering, "Good to meet you too, Cessily. My name's Daken." He looks past the woman to the group before shifting his gaze back to her and saying, "Looks like I almost missed all of the fun. Didn't know we were having a cook out today or I'd have gone on a beer run."
Jean snorts back a laugh at Remy's comment, her mouth full of burger. "We're on to your ploys, Remy," she calls over, mouth still half full. "Although I wouldn't say no if you wanted to cook one night. Not that bulk cafeteria food isn't fine and all, but when it was just a few of us, we used to eat, like…" A pause. "You know, real food."
Daken's mention of a beer run gets another cough of a laugh, wiping her mouth before she answers. "Don't let Scott hear you say that," she chuckles. "He starts thinking someone's supplying the students with beer and he's likely to tell them to get off his lawn." That last bit comes with a wink in Rachel's direction. Oh yeah. He's totally said it.
Cessily stage-whispers to Daken, "Scott is like, the Fun Police." Just in case he didn't know. She might have said more - but then she's snickering at Remy. She points him to Hank, "You first. Show us how it's done," she insists to Remy, and his 'rule' about Kissing the Chef. Around the chesty area.
"Remy LeBeau, you have got something there…'Cooking is chemistry for hungry people!' fits me, but 'Kiss the Chef!' would earn handsome dividends." A wink to the man. "Why didn't I think of that?" The tone is wry, but also surety that Big Blue is slightly serious - he never thinks of such things, genius that he is, his social skills when dealing with the fairer sex are more than a little lacking, in other words - he's a bit of a nerd!
Having slaked his thirt, Hank continues to tend to the mass quantities of searing flesh on the grill, expertly rotating cooked for uncooked in a well timed rotation. He even manages to partake of a couple brats, Chicago style of course, between serving and searing! Once Daken gets close enough, he'll be provided with some grilled chicken and all the trimming as well, unless he seems partial to, or asks for something else. Selection is not a problem!
A genunine smile as he sees Cessily scampering to make the newest arrival welcome, 'This is good, it is what this place is all about' he thinks firmly enough that the plehora of mindreaders might well pick up.
A napkin is tossed towards Jean as she snorts, you know, just in case. "Beer? What beer?" No, no beer here…as Hank pushes the beer coolers out of immediate line of sight…quite and thoroughly obviously.
"If Scott tries to stop me drinking, I'm going to give him a wedgie that might make my existence impossible," Rachel pipes up with a gesture of her beer in Jean's direction. "Besides I'm old enough." She sits on the edge of her lawn chair with her knees together to keep her plate balanced. Leaning overtop of it she takes another bite of the brat gulping it down quickly so she can go back for seconds at some point. A hand is raised to lift her drink in a salute of greeting at Daken as well. "Hey, I'm Rachel," she offers over.
Remy is about to sample his meal when he hears Jean and has to pause to look over at her, she gets a big sly grin. "Ya don't gotta wait for the apron t'show up, or for me to fire up a grill, Chere." He responds to the firey redhead. He then glances over his shoulder. "Lets just hope Rogue didn't hear me say that though." He says with one of those strained-voices one makes when looking as far behind themselves as they can. But Cess makes him look back, to her, then to Hank. "Hanky Panky?" He asks. "How about it? You wan' a big ol' thank you smooch from me?"
The Cajun doesn't wait for a response, he sets his full plate aside and starts to get up from his lounger, his hands go to either of his sides and he walks toward Hank. "Come'ere, big fella. Lets show these naysayers how its done. Dat grill'a yours has got nothin' on how hot its about t'get around 'ere!"
Rachel Summers chokes on her drink.
Betsy Braddock laughs at Remy. "I'm still just trying to charm you and keep you thinking I'm some sort of stellar catch, Remy. So if you meet some nice fellow, you can point him my way." She winks at him, before she's picking up her grilled corn.
She glances up at Rachel and Cessily, smiling brightly. "My services are at your disposal, ladies. Just make sure I know when and where with some notice, please? "
There's a glance aside at Remy, before she's looking over his shoulder, a brow quirking. Then she's glancing over to the Jean, then over to Hank. "I am clearly missing something."
Daken smirks toward Jean's comment, then offers a chuckle for Cessily's stage whisper. "Sounds like a real good guy to be absent then," he says with a grin to Cessily before he makes to move and retrieve a beer from the cooler he had seen Rachel liberate her own drink from earlier. He pops the tab with his index finger and then stalls as Remy begins to head on over to Hank. "Well, this party just got interesting," he comments.
Jean catches the napkin, grinning at Hank as he tries to hide the evidence. "Hey, I'm not Scott, I'm just the Scott Detector," she chuckles, leaning back in her chair and getting comfortable. "I'm Jean," she adds with a wave to Daken before Remy is turning on the charm.
"Now hold on a minute," she laughs. "Rogue'll be mad if I go around kissing you, but Hank is fair game?! I see how it is. Hank's irresistable charm makes him one of your freebies. I can't blame you. Just try not to get your heart broken," she shakes her head dramatically.
Cessily is giggling madly, now, as Remy is seeming playing it up. Who says you need a beer to have fun? Apparently you just need to encourage Remy.
She tells Daken, "Let me know if you need anything, okay? Our place is your place," before she's agreeing to Betsy, "We'll work out something fun. Promise. Girl's Day Out." Double thumbs-up to the fashionista supreme.
A glance back to Jean, and she says to the newest ESU college grad, "He does have irresitible charm, doesn't he?" About Hank. Because, in her mind, you'd be hard pressed to find someone nicer than him on campus.
"Irresistable Hank McCoy, the Bouncing Beast, that's me." Hank says with a grin to Daken. "Dished you up some chicken, but help yourself to whatever you like, there's plenty to choose from." And yes, Remy's teasing and that of the girls have certainly gotten Hank to blushing, it isn't obvious to the naked eye, but his scent…well…that's pretty clear to those with a nose for such things. Still, Hank is nothing if not game, he sets aside his tongs and doffs the apron, leaving him in his awful Hawaiian shirt and khaki's before suiting moniker to action and bounding over the grill land before Remy. "Oh Remykins, I thought you'd never ask!" He bat-bat-bats his eyes, hands clasped with fingers interlaced over his own shoulder. Ham it up much? Why yes! Yes indeedily he do!
Remy is closing in then as Hank plays along. "Rogue don't need t'know about this neither." He warns everyone who's observing. Then he approaches the one and only. "Mah Chef." He says to Hank, serious stare mode engaged. "Vous etes aussi floue et bleu que vous etes un cuisinier de qualite." He hams it up even more, saying those French words in as husky and male-endowed voice as he can muster!
Then he plants a bit kiss on Hank, should Hank allow of course! Its a good one too, the kinda kiss they'd put on a romance novel! If… you know, they wrote romance novels about Cajuns and large Blue Furry Men. When he pulls back, he'll make it a good loud noise of separation. Then he raises his right hand up and up goes a fountain of cards, all flying up into the air until there's only one left in his hand.
The rest rain down all around the patio, and he offers the last one to Hank. "Da King'a Hearts." Then Gambit looks to the rest around them. "And da king'a this here barbecue, amirite?" He asks as he tucks the last card into Hank's shirt.
Then Remy sighs and goes for the cooler to get another drink as he'd finished the one Betsy made for him.
Jean can't help it. As Remy makes good on his threat, she breaks into peals of laughter, throwing her head back and holding a hand to her chest. Any doubts she may have recently had about being back at school are certainly assauged by the warmth of their little gathering. It's good to remember why this is home.
"I really do love you guys," she grins once she has her laughter under control, shaking her head and wiping at tears with her napkin.
It isn't that Hank permits the big, sloppy sounding kiss so much as he's half paralyzed by the shock of it! After the moment, he can't help but laugh himself, to the point he sits down on a lawn chair not designed for over three hundred and fifty pounds of blue fuzz and promptly collapses under him. Mustering what little dignity he can between laughter and chagrin, he gets out. "Et vous, monsieur…%<234>tes un fou et le plus gentil." Yes, he's a little breathless as he says it, Remy -IS- a fantastic kisser after all, legs splayed on the ground, the wreckage of the chair about about, Hank just can't help but cover his eyes and laugh some more.
Betsy Braddock laughs, curling into her lawn chair. She does speak French, after all. She will sit quietly, hanging back and eating her food before it goes cold. She is content to just be on the edge of things, just yet.
Remy moves back to his lounger chair and with the bottle of water in hand he turns and flops again back within its embrace. His free hand goes up to pinch the neckline of his shirt and he waves it up and down a bit to let some air in. "Whew… I t'ink I'm gonna need a cold shower after all'a that." He announces before he looks over and sees his palte of food again which makes him perk up a little. "Oo! Hello you, I almost forgot about you." He talks to his food as he reaches over to gather up the plate and pull it back into his lap. "Well then, who's next?" He asks as he looks around from face to face. "I know this school… All ya'll be pairin' off an' kissin' where the shadows lie. Don't play games wit' me." He's a bit of a card, as one might guess.
Jean rolls her eyes good-naturedly at Remy's question, shaking her head. "It's what happens when you put a bunch of teenagers figuring out all sorts of things about their bodies in one building," she says ruefully. "It's pretty unavoidable." Looking over at Hank, she smiles ruefully, giving him a little TK nudge at his shoulder. "You need a hand up, Hank?" she teases. "I know that must have made your knees go all wobbly."
"Well, if it is in keeping with your display, then I imagine it would fall to Jean and Betsy to kiss next." Hank observes, even as Jean offers a TK assist to his feet, and yes, he is now visibly blushing, blue skin darkening quite a bit. "Ah, no, thank you, Jean - I believe I can manage, wobbly knees and all." Nimble as can be, shockingly so when you consider the man's sheer size, Hank kips to his feet in a motion that even water might envy for fluidity. He bows, overly long arms extended in proper gymnast form, and then straightens. A grin to Remy. "I confess, sir…you impressed me, I've never been kissed by another man before…" A wry shrug. "…lets just say, Rogue is a lucky girl, and leave it there." A moment to fan himself with his other hand jauntily on hip, and then Hank laughs as he makes sure nothing catches on fire at the grill, offloading whatever needs to be, and setting it out on plates piled high for folks.
Betsy Braddock sits there, finishing her food. She's amused, but she won't make a show of it. She doesn't want to embarrass anyone. "Hank, your chicken is the best chicken I've had in ages."
She will lift an eyebrow at Hank implying she and Jean should kiss. "While Jean is wildly attractive, Mister McCoy, I am not of the kissing type for voyuers."
After eating some of the grub, Remy takes a swig from the bottle of water and then recaps it. He looks to Jean and just grins at her. "I am somewhere in my twenties, I believe, and I am still tryin' t'figure out things about my body too, Cheri." He responds to the redhead. "So I not sure how long that excuse is valid, or when it expires precisely."
He glances down at his lap and the plate upon it, which gets a nod of his head. "Your chicken is da best chicken around, Hankerton." And then Remy is looking over to Betsy to just grin upon her. "Gettin' two beautiful women t'kiss is no small feat, no? It is like… findin' a long lost oil paintin' thought to be desecrated and destroyed in a fruitless war. Only to be reminded of its true breathtakin' beauty, once your eyes fall across its intricate brush strokes again, or for the first time." He raises a bit of food up but speaks again before popping it into his mouth. "Dependin' on how many times ya see women kiss each other in person, a'course."
Whatever that implies!
"What Betsy said," Jean chuckles. "Besides, neither of us cooked anything," she adds, winking. As Remy waxes poetic, she quirks a brow in his direction, looking amused. "You know, I can read minds and I'm still not sure I understand what it is about two women kissing that gets men so riled up. Granted, I also haven't gone digging for that, because I know better than to look into that light, but I'm just saying."
Having secured the grill from impending disaster, Hank takes out a trash bag and starts gathering up the detritus left in the wake - empty bottles, used plates and napkins and the like. A gallant tip of the hat that somehow stayed on through all that, the hat rolled end over end down his arm to the hand at the end before it is placed on his head once more. "Why thank you, Miss Braddock, the secret is in the marinade and the soaked hickory chips in with the charcoal." His lips curve to smile, a single canine visible over one lip as he nods to Betsy's quirked browed look. "Oh, of course. I concur on all points, but such action, unlikely though it might be, WOULD be in keeping with Monsieur LeBeau's, would it not?"
Remy's expounding on the beauty of lovely ladies kissing is actually, much to Hank's surprise, quite eloquent. Clearly there's depths to the man despite his 'still learning' comment prior, ah…there it is, the qualifier quashes the eloquence quite nicely! And, thinks Hank, possibly quite on purpose. After all, if he plays the cad people will surely underestimate him, and that's something a clever lad like Remy (who's older than Hank!) would surely use.
"Honestly, I've no idea either." Hank says to Jean. "It is something that studies are conflicted on, though same sex experimentation is very common in college aged people."
Remy has to dab at his mouth with a napkin and shake his head to the others words. "I got lotsa explanations as to why it is a coveted and cherished thing." He replies to both Hank and Jean. "But I ain't about t'share them here. This is a family friendly enviroment that we are cultivatin' on this 'ere patio on this 'ere summer evenin'. We don't need t'talk about this right this very moment, right this very hour. We should save it." He glances around the area, taking in a visual roster of everyone who is still around and who's outside in generaly in the lovely and peaceful property of the Xavier family heritage. "Save it for a night when there is alcohol abundance, and much more laughter and play. Ya know, when its just the adults and no kids, with their weird body problems lurkin' in and around."
Another swig of water is had then and the Cajun clears his throat. "That bein' said. I do not want to live in a world where Alex Trebek is not da host'a Jeopardy, no?" Epic subject change, Gambit!
"Men are misguided, Jean. It's part of their copulatory imperative, you see, that biological urge to spread their seed. But what biology doesn't remind them of, is that if two women are kissing, they have far less of a chance to spread said seed." She sips at her soda. "In other words, men are dumb."
"Huh. I was leaning toward men are absurdly hopeful," Jean smirks, standing up to find that hidden cooler and take a bottle out for herself. "That seeing it gives them this unfounded hope that if two women are sufficiently cool with each other, then of course they both want him."
Yeah, there's totally no baggage there right now. Betsy can no doubt pick up the seething thoughts under the surface of that one. There's plenty of frustration.
She chuckles at Remy's dodge though, looking around with a shake of her head. "Trust me, Remy. They've all got internet access. But fair enough." Taking a sip, she looks back to Hank. "Thanks for manning the grill, Hank. It's always nice to get people out and enjoying themselves."
"We can be dumb, yes. Especially about our emotions, or honestly — our pride. I think perhaps that people as a whole are too focused on what others think, instead of on what's important to them under all that dross and dreck." Hank is entirely serious here, he knows from experience just how cruel society can be, that lesson only being the more forcefully illustrated when he mutated into his present furred form. And then Remy deflects the conversation onto another path, and he smiles appreciation of the (bulldozer like) display of (something almost approaching) tact! Hank truly wishes he could be as free spirited as Remy, he's sure the two telepaths have a vastly different contextual problem - they can see too much, and the very powers that let them fight evil make it far too easy to see the truth that courtesy and white lies often mask, sometimes with the best of intentions. He can't help but snicker at Jean's comment about hope, before he smiles to her. "Oh, no worries, Jeanie. I like to cook…it really is just planning, prep and chemistry." Sapphire eyes are warm as he then adds deadpan. "No, Jeopardy without Trebek…unacceptable!"
Remy stands up from the lounger with his mostly empty plate and to spare Hank the need to clean up his leftovers he starts to move toward the kitchen. "No no no. Betsy Boo had it aaall right." He says. "Men are dumb!"
The Cajun holds his water bottle up as he starts to walk. "How does this work again?" He says with a smirk, raising it toward his lips… he pauses. "No no. Oh yes! I remembah!" The bottle is raised up above his head and he pours all 75 of its contents down over his head as he walks, shedding water as it rolls down his body, soaking his black v-neck tshirts, his brown jeans and everything underneath!
"Burrrr! That really hits the spot deep in my tummies!" The Cajun states while dropping his plate into the trash and then reaching inside the kitchen for his leather trench. "Okay, now I'm headed back t'town, forgot some stuff. You guys stay classy here, no kissin' without me."
He puts his trench on over his wet clothes, his hair matted down to his face and his skin glistening wet. He waves, and starts to walk off around the school, following a pathway and whistling a tune…
Shedding more water as he goes.