Summary:Scott and Jean plan an investigatory trip Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Scott sits in the library, a copy of The Art of War bookmarked in front of him. He has his ruby quartz glasses in place as he seems to be lost in thought, tapping his fingers along the surface of the table.
He glances up at Jean's arrival, giving her a tight smile, "I'm not sure how I feel about how quiet things have been since I got back," he says. "It makes me think there's another shoe waiting to drop. Or maybe I'm just not good at being idle." he says.
"Please tellme there's something interesting going on. Something to fight, something to investigate…"
It was odd, or it felt odd. It's been a while since someone could tell when she enters the room, and it was not like she was hiding. She was generally a cloaked person, keeping everything tight and intact, so that her mental will not burden someone elses mental. But.. in regards to Scott, it quite possibly no longer worked on him.
"I could.." She says quietly, thinking.
"Admittedly, I have been monitoring things all across the globe. News articles, searching for connections, etc. No needle in haystacks, nothing fishy. Most of their own communities are handling things their own way without need of interference. Few small uprisings for mutants, LGBTQ involved persons, racial tensions.." She could keep going, but he got the jist.
She settles down in front of him, pulling out the extra chair to kick her feet upon. "I do have thoughts.. but.. I'm not too sure on everything just yet."
Scott Summers gestures for Jean to sit down across from him, "Your thoughts are better than most people's certainties, Jean. I'm happy to be a sounding board if you like. I'm good at finding connections."
Scott and Jean had that strange chemistry. It wasn't entirely clear what it was, but they instinctively fit together, worked well together. Maybe because they were among the first.
"If you've noticed a loose string somewhere in that quilt, let's tug on it and see where it leads."
"I did notice something. Out in Ireland." She states, hesitant.
"Ireland is heavily populated of course, small towns here and there, usual dust-ups.." She opens up her mind, pressing lightly the information she's found in one part of the country. Crime is down, the numbers are practically non-existant. Which that in itself are extremely troubling.
"It's got me curious. Not because of the number of crimes being committed, which are none reported. But the manner of deaths." Again, the numbers are pushed out.. tons of accidental deaths, some ruled suicides, some not. It was in fact, strange.
"I'm tempted to go investigate, but there really isn't a reason to. I know if I talk to the Professor he would probably let me to sate my curiosities, but beyond that…"
Scott Summers nods, "If there's nothing to it, then there's no harm in poking around. And if there is something to it, you might've found something that would've gone undetected otherwise. One of the benefits of having our slate relatively clean is that we can take chances and do things like that without compromising our core capabilities," he says.
"It wouldn't be that hard for us to take a flight over and see what there is to see. I'm sure the Professor could manage without us for a few days."
He cocks his head, "What, you didn't think I was going to let you go alone, did you?" he teases.
Jean scoffs loudly, her head shaking, hand even smacking the table. "You -really- don't have to come along Scott." She insists. "You've just gotten back and you're already thinking about leaving?" She shakes her head again. "No way no how. And if this is as minor as I think it is, I -should- be fine." She doesn't stand to show her frustration, but.. in a way it felt like she was being babied.
Or handled, depending on the term.
"Besides, I'm pretty sure I can kick your ass in a fight. And you still have my bike to work on, which I'm going to pay you for. So you're considered busy." She grins, figuring she won that argument off the top.
Scott Summers smiles, "I can't do anything on your bike until I get the parts I've ordered shipped in," he says. "And I'm more than muscle, Jean. I can investigate just as well as you - and you need someone to bounce ideas off of, unless you were planning on teaming up with the local constabulary," he says.
"And I would say it depends on the fight, by the way. But I'm not coming along to be your babysitter - I want to come along as your partner. Yeah, I just got back, but I'm itching to get back in the saddle and, right now, it seems like the local stable is just a petting zoo."
"Welll.. maybe you should wait here for them to come." She was teasing obviously. She really knew why he wanted to come along, but keeping him in the same place was next to impossible. In fact, he could probably tell that she was uncomfortable. Throughout the years she became a loner, hardened because of whatever. But she still retained her gentle nature, hesitant, but it was there.
"Alright." She says quietly, finally relenting. "It would be nice to have someone familiar to talk to, face to face and not over the phone."
Scott Summers nods, "Good. I'm terrible on the telephone. My awkward silences work so much better in person," he says with a smile.
He gets out his phone, "Okay, let me book us a flight, then. Want to spring for first class? I heard they serve cheesecake bites," he says, flicking through the travel app. "We really should get our own jet, though. A fast one that I can fly. Mainstream airline pilots fly like cowards, it's frustrating."
Jean laughs now, settling in. It was.. well, the idea itself was slightly getting a bit warmer to her, and she really hasn't seen him nor spent time with her friend in a very long while. As he pulls out his phone, she does as well, pulling up her own apps to check her bank accounts and how much money she could use personally to foot the bill for the trip.
"Uh…" She idly says, picking here and there.
"I'd say we can take the Blackbird, if you're so intent on flying. Though, since you're the prodigal child and favorite of the Professor, he can rent you one." She pauses. "Or I can fly us there. Piggy back style. May take a few days though."
Scott Summers grins, "You say things like that and it tempts me. Always wanted to get behind the stick on one of those. I've done a few military jets, through pilot buddies and the like sneaking me on base," he says. "Wouldn't be hard, I've read all the specs online. It's amazing the stuff that gets passed around."
"If I can fly us there, all the better. I'm not going to ride you piggy back, though. No offense to you, I just feel like that's probably not the apex of comfort."
"For me or for you, Scott?" Jean teases.
"Alright, so this is what I'll do. I'll ask the Professor, he probably has a contact with a jet or something that we can borrow. I'm sure he can make up a reason for us to actually have it. If not?" She shrugs her shoulders. "You have my credit card information, book the flights, first class. May as well fly in comfort, since we'll be on our booties for twelve plus hours." She grins, then frowns. "I.. probably should make arrangements before I leave, at least let my.. person know where I'm going."
Scott Summers nods, 'You haven't felt discomfort until you've had my bony knees in your back," he says, flicking through the app. At the last he raises an eyebrow but keeps his face neutral, focused on his phone. "Your person, eh? I wasn't aware you had one of those. I was afraid you might have sworn yourself to the nunnery."
"Pish. Your knees are hardly bony."
His question prompts a little bit of a smile, she's always wanted to speak about it, but never really had anyone trustworthy to do that with. "Yeah. And who in the heck says nunnery now a days?" She questions, but settles in.
"It came about totally by accident." She offers up, without prompting. "He's human. But extraordinary."
Scott Summers sets aside his phone, "It's not my fault that I'm acquainted with the works of Shakespeare," he says wryly. "I always felt a certain amount of kinship with Hamlet, outside of the whole murder spree bit," he says.
"I imagine he would have to be, in order to keep up with you. Keeping him on the downlow, are you?"
"Does it make you feel more adult?" She teases. "My person.. sometimes I feel a little Juliet'ish. Hopeless, lovelorn.. hurt.." She puffs her lips, then shakes her head. "I'm not keeping him on the downlow. More or less, him keeping me? It feels. He's Oliver Queen. The billionaire playboy or.. whatever they decide to call him in the news." She waves her hand.
"I really don't think we need the publicity because of my personal life. Granted, not out in the open about being a mutant buut…"
Scott Summers nods, "Probably isn't wise to be, even now. Still, I can only hide so much. My glasses don't pass muster for normal for long. Most people just think I'm a very aware blind person," he says.
"Billionaire playboy. Speaking of antiquated terms. So long as he meets your, I'm sure, very high standards, I suppose he's fine. If he has all that money lying around, maybe -he- can buy us a plane."
Okay, so having Scott around really does make a difference. Where she wanted to keep Oliver out or mutant business.. this is where could at least be helpful. "Actually.." She mutters quietly. "You're actually right. He -could- buy us one. I suppose, it just depends on what.."
Scott Summers smiles, "Well, that's always good to hear. Having someone ith the ability to buy a jet out of the petty cash is always the kind of friend worth having," he says. "I hope you're not keeping your mutant status a secret from him. That would be rather awkward," he says.
"I've been in a bit of a…dry spell myself," he coughs, "Let me know if he knows any hot lady billionaires."
"I'm not. There's a matter or level of comfort there that.. I really didn't expect. It was almost like talking to you.. or being with you rather.." She shrugs her shoulders, then rises to give a stretch. She does give a note about the dry spell, his last words making her laugh. "I know for a fact he does. Listen, you just gotta put yourself out there. Get your mack on or whatever these kids are calling it these days. Or.. go clubbing and find a one night stand and give it to her good." She shrugs. "Pretty sure if I were single I'd knock that dry spell right out."
Scott Summers laughs, "I and clubbing are probably not a good fit. Have you seen me dance? I believe that's why the term 'spastic' was invented," he sighs. "And if you were single, Jean, I would definitely try to take you up on that, believe me. I know I missed out by not locking that down a long time ago. Shows that even I make mistakes," he shrugs.
"Have you not watched TV?" Jean stands from her chair, then twirls around, not moving like a snake, but like an old person with a bad hip. "Spastic is the In. It's like the new black of dancing.." She stops, not taken aback by his words, but feeling a little pang of regret.
"We both do.. and are at fault but.." She drops her arms to her side now, placing them on her hips. "We're a bit older now, a shit ton bolder. I don't think we are the same kids that we were before." She settles back into her chair, then nods slightly. "Us.. being as we are right now? Best friends? I wouldn't trade it for the world."
Scott Summers smiles, "Of course. Best friends,' he says. He can't entirely hide the pang of yearning there - he's good at hiding his thoughts, not that good. But he's made his peace with it. He missed his window and that's all there is to it. Maybe he'll get another shot. Maybe he won't. He wouldn't blame Oliver for his mistake, at any rate.
"Maybe I'll get on that thing the kids are doing today. The Tik Tok. Try out my moves."
Jean raises her brow, sure.. Scott was good at hiding, so she doesn't mention it even though she could feel it. "TikTok? Okay.." She pulls up her chair more, sitting up as if she were the authority on the subject, giving Scott a good sizing up.
"You know, the majority is going to want to see you with your shirt off, oiled up, some tattoos or whatever. You got straight teeth which is a plus, but you might have to Jon Benet it and rub some vaseline on your teeth to make it shine."
Was she being serious? Yup!
"Find a good song, don't say anything, just flex your muscles to the music." She curls her fingers and gives it an italian kiss! MUAH! "You'll have a cult following in NO time. Trust me."
Scott Summers crosses his arms over his chest, 'I have no intention of putting Vaseline on my teeth," he says. "I'll just have to live with the curse of having non-shiny teeth. So much for my pageant career," he says. He goes a little ruddy at the mention of the oil and muscles, 'I don't have any tattoos. I'm not against them, but I'm not sure what I'd want to have permanently marked on me. I do like the idea of a cult following, though."
Jean glances around a little, as if she were about to tell some secret. "I.. do plan on getting a tattoo while we're in Ireland. There's a world reknown gentleman there.. I think it's time for me." She grins, then wiggles in her seat. "I don't.. think a cult is a good word for it. Let's just use fan base. Cult and Cyke? Those two words do not sit well with me when they're together…
Scott Summers tries to pretned he isn't enticed at all by that wiggle. Largely unsuccessfully. But, then, the ruby glasses do hide a world. "I don't know about fan base. I've never been the most popular of us here, mostly because kids don't tend to like people who tell them what to do. And I've never minded being unpopular. But it's not as much fun if you don't at least have a partner."
"You want me to be your TikTok partner?" She already has ideas now, then grins. "Well, you really can't say no now. I got you covered." She stands, then grins. "So when I get back from my little outing, we're going to take a trip. In fact, you're going to pick me up, I shouldn't be too long. Then we're going to go shopping. And you can't say no. If we're going to Ireland we can't look like a bunch of dimwits. Deal?"
Scott Summers laughs, "I'll trust you, then. I don't know anything about shopping. You can dress me as you like. Within reason," he says, "If I end up looking like an idiot, I take no responsibility," he says.
Jean shakes her head. "Never. Never will you ever look like an idiot." She smacks the table, then gives a nod. "Alright, I'll call you soon, may as well start packing, it's a sure thing."