Summary:Hank and Rogue pick up one very tired Brit at the LaGuardia and bring him to the Institute. The laconic is EPIC Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Six months ago - a letter was sent to one Jonothon Evan Starsmore. The letter was from 'The Xavier Institute' in, of all places, Westchester New York, in the US. This came after a preliminary email led to a long phone conversation - with his mom. It took some time to arrange all the paperwork, update his passport and tidy up all the various and sundry loose ends that a life entails, especially a -Starsmore- life.
Cut to the present - Hank and Rogue are presently waiting at LaGuardia arrivals, waiting for their overseas guest, Hank is leaned against a pillar, massive legs crossed and is holding up a sign 'J. Starsmore Party'. With him as the billboard - yeah, should be PRETTY easy for the young man to spot him.
"The Professor didn't say much about Mister Starsmore, only that he's powerful, and has some unique disadvantages."
Rogue is average looking, compared to the big guy she's hanging out with. Green eyes will give him a sidelong look, amusement in full effect. "Ya don't say. A powerful mutant with a disadvantage. Won't that just be a /novelty/." There's teasing sarcasm heavily ladled through those drawling words. Then she'll giggle, ending in a snort. "Imagine that." Powerful mutant with a disadvantage? Join the party.
"So he's what, British or somethin'?" She's along for the ride, she looks a lot less intimidating than Hank, after all. She's looking over the crowd of incoming arrivals.
If anyone here looks intimidating, it's not Jonothon. He's skinny enough that he looks like a light breeze might scoop and waft him off into the distance. Which brings the weary looking teen in black trudging out into the open area. His hair is a fright, his clothing all black excepting for the logo of the band tshirt he's wearing, and he's a back pack slung from one shoulder.
Kind of presenting himself to you, as in walking up and stopping there, Jono looks you both over. The wrap on his lower face can't hide the cracks covering his cheeks nearly to his eyes. « Hey. » Now, if you have shields up you might not hear him at all.. So he also points at the sign and then to himself.
"I took the liberty of researching his public profile and such, he doesn't have much of a web presence, but his family is wealthy and influential, and yes…quite British. Jonothon himself seems to be somewhat reclusive." Hank laughs at the wry teasing from his dear friend, and nods. "Touche, Rogue." Eyes of blue are bright with laughter, his grin absolutely boyish, and really, he's /twenty-four/, not like he's a dour old man.
The slender apparition that approaches is noted, and then when about three meters away there's a chime from Hank's watch, and the hulking man pushes off the pillar - don't worry, he doesn't do a Samson on it! In fact Hank /does/ have the ability to shield, but he's not doing so just at the moment, so the mind-voice will be heard just fine. A bright smile, the man is clearly very used to telepathic communication. «Welcome!». "Mister Starsmore, I'm Hank McCoy and this is Rogue, welcome to New York." A hand likely able to palm a basketball like it was a baseball is offered.
With Rogue, it's interesting - some psychics find her mind hell and hard to deal with, others find it as easy as most non-psychics - your mileage may vary sort of thing. But there's barely a blink at the mental greeting, a quick, bright smile that lights up the belle's face. "Hey, Starsmore. We're the welcome wagon. Do you have any more luggage?" She asks, offering her hand after Hank does. Rogue looks pretty normal - leather jacket open over an olive green v-neck tshirt, some broken in jeans, and boots that have been beaten to hell and back. Dark hair is loose in waves over her shoulders, and other than some tinted lip balm, she doesn't seem to be wearing any sort of makeup. She does, however, currently have little silver hoops and sparkling studs laddering up the outer curve of her ears, and the tiny spark of a stud on the left side of her nose.
Jonothon looks at that hand, gets a mental reply, and rocks back on his heels some. Well now. Not sure what to make of that. Still, he grips the hamhock of a thing, and then nods to Rogue before shaking her hand too. « …Thanks. » for the welcome. His mental voice is a British accent too. When asked of luggage he shakes his head to show no. He doesn't have any luggage. The last nine or ten hours, counting airport nonsense, has left him wrung out on several levels.
The grip of that 'hamhock of a thing' is surprisingly easy, with that much muscle McCoy /has/ to be VERY strong, but his touch is quite deft. "Well then, we've a car outside, the ride to the Institute will be around ninety minutes and we'll get you settled in, in short order. Do you need to use the WC or want to grab anything to eat or drink before we depart?" Hey, not like Hank knows that Jono's a psionic revenant, more or less! Medical exam is sure to be super interesting.
The sign is folded, then folded again, then folded a few more times before it *blips* out, never having been actually there. Once he has the lad's answer, he will motion towards the exit. "Short walk to the car, we're in parking lot A. If you want to doze on the drive that's fine too." He looks sideways to the young Brit. "You're safe here, safe with us." He assures, and such is his belief that it /rings/ true.
Rogue will nod after she shakes his hand, green eyes studying the younger man's gaze. "Yeah, I travel light too. Let's get you outta here, away from all these people." Is that for his benefit, or the belle's own? Who knows. "We'll set you up with a spot at the mansion, so you can sack out for a while, if you want. Travelling can be exhausting as hell. Then we can get set on getting you what you need, and all that."
There's a brief, internal debate by Jonothon, his eyes flickering between you two, and then he again shakes his head to show no. No, he doesn't need either bathroom, nor food. « ..Thanks. » Given simply. He's such a chatterbox, isn't he?
A little unsettled by Hank's assurances, he tilts his head at Rogue as she speaks. There's a slow nod. Yes, sacking out is what he dreams of right now, but there's still a long drive ahead of them before he can manage that. But before he follows, he hesitates. Then decides he really shouldn't ask if you are safe with him, and goes with. As you all walk, he takes a phone out of a pocket and starts texting on it. You know, teens these days. He really doesn't do this long, for he's informing his mother he's safely landed, etc. The phone is tucked away again before you reach the exit.
"Rogue is the queen of speed packing. Of course, that's partially because of her penchant for having a go-bag ready just in case." Oh, he knows about that? Rogue might be a bit surprised, then again, it IS Hank — so maybe not so much. Hands clasped in the small of his back, Hank leads the way to his beloved 'Bessy'. She's a deep blue 1979 Ford Grenada, silver trim, white wall tires. It is very clear someone, probably Hank, lavishes a lot of love on the car.
He gets inside and the car doesn't budge at his nearly 29 stone of mass, so the observant will probably guess the suspension has been amped a bit.
Once everyone is situated, and belted in Hank will signal, then get them underway in jig time. Eyes of blue are warm. "What sort of music would you like, Jono?" The sound system? Yeah, really obnoxious.
The belle will slant a look at Hank, before she shrugs. "So would you, if you'd ever been on the run a long time, Hankster. It's just a comforting thing, for me. Everyone has their quirks." She doesn't seem bothered that Hank knows about her go-bag. Of course, she's been checking it and refreshing things in it less and less as time goes on.
Rogue will smile at Jono. "We can leave the music off, if you want to catch some sleep. If you can sleep in a car." With strangers.
Well, it's the whole sleep issue, but Jonothon just never explains. Sleep is elusive at best. It has stopped being his friend. The jerk. Now, the teen does like the car, and looks it over. It's only once he's in the back that he actually replies, « It's okay. Whatever you want. » Look, it's more than one word. Rejoice! You two are being super nice! He simply has no energy, doesn't know you, and is thus keeping his thoughts to himself. Jono buckles himself in, bag next to him and that's that.
Considering the belle, Hank queues up some Dixieland, but he keeps the volume down so it isn't too intrusive. "Fair enough." He smiles to Rogue then. "I have two myself, granted, one is a medical kit." Hank offers. "One never knows when they might need to be deployed for a mission, better to be ready." A nod. "And you're safe too, you know, dear lady."
Hank's pretty sure his friend is aware, still, can't hurt to reinforce that feeling.
The drive is actually not so bad, the time of day results in lighter traffic, the low forties temperature a bit brisk, but far from actually cold - well, at least to Hank, he's from Chicago land after - he has a slightly different standard than most. The drive takes just over an hour and a quarter, instead of the projected hour and a half. The conversation is generally genial, and the silences are actually fairly comfortable. Hank IS something of a chatterbox, however, though he keeps it light and friendly.
Finally, they pull up to the gated entrance to the Institute. "I'll need to take some biometric readings before I can fully add you to the Security, Jonothon. That said, welcome to Xavier's." In they go and up the long drive to the garage, where Hank parks Bessy. Inside are a couple of motocycles, a cargo van, two passenger vans and a few other vehicles.
Rogue just slowly arches an eyebrow to its full extent at Hank when he's insisting on her safety. "Hank, it ain't my safety anyone has to worry 'bout, now is it?" She's the one that could be…dangerous. But she's in control! For now, at least.
She isn't hugely chatty, she'll let Hank carry any conversation to be sure, occasionally humming along with the stereo. She will roll her eyes for Jono's benefit at the mention of taking biometrics. "This is where you can generally find me, if I'm around." She will gesture towards the big shiny tool box covered with sassy and snarky stickers.
The chatter kind of washes off Jonothon. Especially since in the backseat he can't hear it all. Sorry, Hank. Most of the trip he's noodling around on his phone, or staring out the window. One of those not all there he's so tired things. But then he does pick up on biometrics. « What's that? » For all it sounds more like wot's that.
The garage draws his interest far more than anything else has. As he leaves the car, he steps over to look at the bikes. Politely doesn't touch, but it's the first thing he's shown a clear interest in since you met him. But when spoken to he looks over and nods, « Thanks, gel. » For being so nice.
"Biometrics, for the security system." Hank replies. "This is a secure facility, Jonothon. A haven for mutants, we need to be prepared for everyone's protection. So…" A nod. "…biometrics." Fortunately the system is pretty robust, even Jono's non-physiology will have markers the system can find, maybe not the same as for others, but sufficient unto the day.
Hank smiles at the obvious interest in the young man. "I noodle about in here a bit myself, when not in my lab." He taps the roof of Bessy by way of explanation, and no, he didn't seem to take any offense at Jono's mostly noodling on the phone. There's a LOT of laconic in the Institute, Hank don't pay it no nevermind.
"Come on, we'll get you settled in your room, we can do the rest after you've had some time to relax and recover from the trip, we can get your readings in the morning."
Rogue will watch Jono looking over the bikes. She does like the idea of another gearhead around. "If you like working with engines and things, we can work something out. My one cardinal rule no one is allowed to break is if you borrow my tools, you return them. I don't like hunting them down. No one likes me hunting them down." There's another bright smile, making Rogue look relatively harmless.
Jonothon gives Hank quite the dubious look for the non reply, « But what is biometrics? I got the security part, mate. » He's feeling a little insulted with that, but decides not to take issue about it. Not at this stage anyway. Of course he has no idea what biometrics means for Hank's poor security system. That'll be interesting for sure.
Rogue is given a more earnest look for that. « I do. ..Thanks. » He so totally will be working something out if he can. That's something he enjoys. But today is not the day. He'll glance to the bikes again and take himself out of the garage, looking around the grounds.
"Apologies, I didn't mean to assume, Jonothon." Hank's contrition is genuine. "Biometrics is a means of using certain biological markers, usually such things as a fingerprint, voiceprint or retinal pattern, more advanced systems will read things like your DNA, this system is beyond even that since many of the students have very exotic physiologies. Regardless, the reading I take will enable the system to passively recognize you when entering or leaving the grounds, and while /on/ the grounds. The benefit being access control, for your protection and ours, as well as identification of you to the defensive systems as a friendly."
Jehosophat, is this a school or a military installation from the twenty-fourth and a half century?
Hank grins at Rogue's hunting commentary. "I don't think anyone forgets being hunted down, it happens on average zero to one times." Hank laughs softly, his voice deep bass and amused. "Come on, we'll head upstairs and I'll give a brief tour unless you want to hold off until tomorrow or later?"
Rogue flashes a smile that is wicked and edged. "Well, once someone knows me a little better and how possessive I am about my tools.. they'll hear the story of the one time I had to go after my tools." There's mischief in her eyes for sure.
She'll glance at Jono, then back at Hank. "I can let you fellas go do that. I should probably check on some things back at the lakehouse. Got things in the slow cooker."
Jonothon nods to Hank, frowning a little. He knew what bio and metrics were, and now he knows what biometrics are. Interesting. The technology level here must be high indeed. He'll still be surprised when he finds out just how good it is. « Think we could do tomorrow? » Asked of Hank about the tour. Jono also looks to Rogue, « Thanks, Rogue. » For everything. Hank will be followed into the house if that's where the big man goes.
Hank doesn't hesitate at all, when Rogue says she has to go, he once again emphatically displays his trust in her by hugging the girl. "Save some for me." He says with a grin, because — yeah — SERIOUS need for fuel to keep his bulk going. The man eats A LOT. Granted, Jono wouldn't know what trust was just shown but perhaps he might suspect it a bit since Rogue herself commented on others being safe from HER.
He turns then, and leads Jono off to the second floor to get him settled into a room. It isn't fancy, but it is furnished in a bare bones fashion which will allow for him to customize it. "Rest well, Mister Starsmore, I'll see you in the morning and we'll get your scans and tour taken care of…"
A private room is awesome, and he doesn't stress it not being grand. Right now, alone and in the dark is what Jonothon is really needing. « Thanks, mate. I'll be here. » He will quietly close the door, toss his backpack to the bed, and go to look out the window. It's going to be a long night, but at least here he can relax.