LOG: Manuel and Marius, False advertising

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Manuel eventually comes out of his room, at which point he is ambushed by the new kid. Inevitably, the conversation degenerates into rating the female members of the school.




Manuel didn't really want to come out of his room, but he was starving, so a quick duck in for a food run couldn't go -that- amiss. He was avoiding most everybody as much as he could of late - he just didn't feel like explaining himself, of feeling the gnawing hole inside him grow. But the gnawing feeling now was hunger, not heartbreak, and he was in luck. "Leftovers." he breathed with a slow smile.

"You eat leftovers?" came an amused voice from the doorway of the kitchen. "I was lead to belied you'd settle for nothin' less'n an infant fresh from the nursery."

"We appear to be fresh out of infants, unless you count Billy or Rachel." he said, taking his head out of the fridge. Now _this_ was interesting. He could see the kid in front of him, hear his words, but he couldn't _feel_ him. Most interesting indeed. "But we do have leftover spaghetti, which with a little bit of grated infant over it is really quite tolerable. Wait, I know you. You're the kid I sat next to on the plane in Seattle. The one I told to fuck off and die."

"Did you? I don't even notice anymore." Marius grinned and waved a hand distractedly. "So many people, such a brief attention-span. You know how it is." Inwardly, he was feeling pleased. He hadn't precisely been waiting for Manuel, per se, but once he'd noticed the man had left his room Marius hadn't been able to resist. He'd heard a lot about Manuel. The fact that most of it was less than complimentary didn't much matter to him.

"Well, I should by all rights flay the flesh from your bones for failing to have either fucked off or died." he said with a slight smile. "Luckily for you it's dinnertime, and I can't be arsed to follow-through."

Marius wandered over to the table, turned a chair around, and slung a leg across the seat. "No worries, Catseye handles the flesh-flaying perfectly well. " He cocked his head, studying the other man. "So, what exactly is your power? I'm hoping Forge was being colorful when he said it was to pull absolute shit out of thin air, but in this place I'm not taking anything for granted." The sense he got from Manuel was vaguely familiar; something like what he got from Jean or Nathan, but not quite. Less . . . physical.

Manuel's slight smile died right then and there. "I'm an empath." he said. "I control emotions." And then he couldn't help but laugh at his own statement until tears rolled down his eyes. "Sorry, private joke." he said once he got himself under control. "Long story."

If it was a joke, it wasn't one Marius was getting . . . but then, that was hardly an uncommon feeling. Choosing to ignore his surprise at the unexpected response, Marius just shook his head. "Seems this place is nothing but long stories. Most normal person I've met so far has been the girl with FBI intervention somewhere in the background. Though that may've explained the incredible alcohol tolerance." He gave a lopsided shrug. "Seems like the mutant bit predisposes a body to complication."

"You have _no idea_." he said drily. "So what can I do for you, Marius?" he asked, fishing the boy's name out of his memory. "I don't usually do requests."

"Me? I want for nothing." Then Marius smirked. "Except entertainment. That I'm constantly starved for."

"Shall I do a little dance for you, then? Sing you a pretty song?" Snorting with amusement, he moved back to the leftovers, doling himself out a sizeable portion of food before putting the rest back in the fridge. Once the bowl of pasta was ready, he stuck it in the microwave and pressed a few buttons to make the food reheat itself.

Marius tsked. "You're quite a disappointment, you know. I was told you were in the running for biggest prick in the northern hemisphere, but so far you haven't even made my top ten. I call that false advertising."

"You were misled. I save it up for special occasions. You know, like the child-killer coming back to hugs and puppies, or having my soul ripped out by my now extremely former girlfriend." Manuel explained while he waited for his food to heat up fully. "People don't like being reminded of some things."

Marius frowned. "I'll assume the hugs and puppies would be the row about Lorna that Forge was railin' about the other day, but I hadn't heard about the soul rip . . . " he paused, then snapped his fingers. "Oh, wait. That was the bit that brought on Marko's 'stop ruining my carpets' rant, wasn't it? That sucks, mate."

Manuel nodded. "Sucks doesn't begin to cover it." he said, feeling the pain of it all over again in his head. "I really don't want to talk about it. Shouldn't you be putting the move on the werewolfette?" he asked with as much wit as he could muster with his soul screaming at him.

Marius grinned at that. "Move? On Rahne? Not that I don't appreciate a pretty redhead as much as the next, but I've got my rules. And anyway, you lot have filthy minds. There some law that says a bloke can't give a girl steak and roses without an ulterior motive?"

Manuel nodded. "Yeah, there is. Didn't you realize it?" he said with a slight smile despite the pounding in his head. Despite the pounding in his head, now he _was_ getting a read from Marius. Most odd, but he really wasn't in the mood for following up on it. The microwave saved him with a ding, and he rescued his bowl from the device with only a little skin sacrificed to the Burn Gods.

"What can I say, I don't read the memos." From the chair, Marius' grin turned wolfish. "Though after that bit with the redhead last week I'm guessin' you do. Theresa, right? Nice one."

Manuel looked innocent. "I did not have sex with that woman." he said piously, and then winked at Marius.

"Then that's officially the longest platonic conversation-in-a-hotel-room I've ever seen, since I noticed her on her way over Tuesday night an' leavin' the next mornin' in the same clothing," Marius said, amused but playing the game. "But then, I spent a good chunk of Wednesday killin' a minibar with Jennie and neither of us removed so much as a sock. Who am I to impunge your honour?"

"Your loss. Jennie's a fine-lookin' girl. Not my fault you just don't have the mojo." he said with a laugh. "And I said I didn't have sex with her. That doesn't rule out much of anything _else_ that may or may not have gone on." he said with a laugh. "Good things come to those who wait."

Marius snorted in amusement. "Ah, sexual technicalities. Terrible thing, livin' in the 'States. Just followin' national example an' that. Good on you for restrainin' yourself, though -- nothin' says temptation like red hair and freckles." He grinned, rolling his shoulders lazily. "As to Jennie, even settin' aside the fact that Forge on a fatalistic tear makes for the world's best prophylactic, nah. Same rule applies as for Rahne. 'Sides," he raised his gloved hands, palms-out, "the two extra sets'a teeth make foreplay with other mutants a bit awkward. I enjoy bitin' and suckin' as much as the next bloke, but it gets a bit too creepy when it's comin' from the palms of my hands."

Manuel shrugged. "That's the problem with Americans. No sense of adventure." he laughed. "And believe me, it was through no doing of mine that that fine little redhead remained unspoiled. Jamieson's does _bad_ things to me, man. Bad things. Man, some days it is just _fantastic_ to be me!" But that thought led him smack-dab to the hole in his heart and in his mind, and his good mood crashed.

"Australian, thank you," Marius corrected. "Our pubs have better beer and our sports less padding. And after extensive research with both, I've learned a valuable lesson: pretty girls are much harder to come by than another drink." But even as he said this he was becoming aware of some kind of . . . shift. From Manuel. Marius would have been the first to admit he wasn't stellar at reading people, and by all accounts the other boy's demeanor seemed the same, but he suddenly found himself sure something about his mood had changed. And not for the better.

"Yes, but the girl was an American." he pointed out. "Right now, the only thing worse than an unimaginative prudish American girl is a British girl." he said, and actually managed to keep _most_ of the venom out of his voice. Mostly. "But, you see, the problem with you Aussies is your unnatural fetish for sheep." he said with a shudder. "And a lack of decent wines."

Marius wrinkled his nose. "Oi, New Zealand's the place with all the sheep. I conceed the point on wine, but that's what international trade is for, if that's your taste. Me, I'll settle for beer. No complaint with a good red now an' then, but I've never heard of anyone bein' able to fit the nutritional value of a loaf'a bread into a bottle of glorified grapejuice." He thought back to less tense moments in Seattle, and smiled. "An' if it's Jennie we're talkin' about, then my definition of 'unimaginative' and 'prudish' is clearly out of date. Great girl." He shook his head ruefully. "Damn rules."

"Rules, my dear boy, are for lesser men." he said with a grin. "Me, I prefer to live my life, not circumscribe it unnecessarily."

"Except for the one that says you can't be friendly with a girl without an ulterior motive, apparently," Marius pointed out. "See, my rules are about preventing circumscription. If there's one thing I've learned from club and sport, it's never get involved with people you'll be workin' with. Ever tried to play a match when one'a your midfielders isn't speakin' with a forward because he caught him with the keeper the night before? Gettin' laid isn't worth that drama, even if the girl's as good-looking as the ones around here." Marius flashed a smile. "And since I find myself in a place where the girls can twist off your head or teleport you to the moon if they're so inclined, it's a rule I can't say I mind."

Manuel just sighed at that little recitation. "You have absolutely no sense of adventure. That's sad." he said with a sigh. But hey, he had this bowl full of pasta that his stomach told him that he should probably eat. So he took a seat at the dining room table and got out silverware for himself. "But you did get one thing right. There are some _fine_ lookin' women around here. Not a few pretty boys, too." he said with a grin. "You like 'em slender, there's Jennifer or Katherine. On the curvier end of the spectrum you've got Teresa or Danielle. And if you go for Amazons and are up-to-date on your rabies shots, there's Sharon." he said with great amusement. "Six feet of pure feline adventure." he purred, imagining that for a second.

Marius' brain, which had been holding up what he remembered of Dani sleeping on the couch for his consideration, was caught unawares and spent one stunned moment reconfirming that last suggestion. Marius blinked, then burst into slightly hysterical laughter. "Cats?" he sputtered, fighting for breath. "I can see why you'd say that, but . . . Cats?" There was much to be said for the nearly gymnastic-level of muscle and the violet eyes, and his brain probably wouldn't be hurting so much if not for the various maulings, but any possible fantasies had been rather complicated by actually speaking with her.

Manuel laughed along. "Come on, what's wrong with exotic? And where _else_ will you _ever_ find a woman like that? And don't say Rahne, she doesn't have a sexual feeling in her head that I've ever seen. If she does have them, she keeps them _well_ out-of-sight." Petite redhaired bitches really didn't do much for him, he decided. "OK, so she's a complete flake who thinks she's a cat. Still be a great climb up the ol' scratching-post, I think. Assuming you survived the experience intact."

Marius felt an eye begin to twitch. "After the bit with Forge," he said carefully, "I feel confident in my decision to never let her anywhere near my scratching-post." He shuddered and shoved the last of the mental images from his mind. "Besides, there's plenty of exotic here that doesn't sharpen their claws on my calf. I saw a purple girl before I was even allowed to leave Medlab."

Manuel laughed again at that. "Ah, the Pixie. She's nailing Shiro, so be careful. He's touchy that way, and she's in the running for Top Mansion Flake Who Isn't Sharon." he said. "Still - nice enough tits. Not spectacular, but nice." he admitted. "Very emo, though."

"She handled herself well in the airport, though," Marius remembered. "Like to think I'm not a violent person, but if some twat kept pointin' at me during his sermon of fire an' brimstone I doubt my first reaction would've been to blow a kiss." And he found he did admire that. As Forge had pointed out, all Marius had to do to pass was slip on a pair of gloves. Seattle had been his first real exposure to anti-mutant sentiment, and he wasn't sure how well he'd have coped if his mutation had been extreme enough to attract attention.

Manuel shrugged. "I am what I am. If I don't want to put up with that shit, I don't." he said simply. "It's how I did as well as I did back in Spain." he added. "We all deal in our own way. We hide, cover up, go underground, or we fight back with blown kisses and purple skin. I don't know how much you listen to rumor, but there's still better than even odds I'm going to rule the world before I turn 50." he said with a smile. "Universal love for all, save a few incorrigible malcontents."

"The world?" Marius grinned. "You're welcome to it, mate. From where I stand, world domination's like a serious relationship: more trouble than it's worth. Of course, I don't even like takin' responsibility for a houseplant, let alone a planet . . . but if that's your thing, you're welcome to it. At least no one can accuse you of bein' an underachiever." He rose from the chair and stretched his arms over his head. Whatever disturbance he'd felt -- or thought he felt -- from Manuel seemed to have subsided, and no discernable attrocity had been committed . . . or at least none greater than forcing Marius to imagine the probable result of a fling with Catseye. He felt his work here was done.

"Suppose I'll leave you to your disappointingly infant-free leftovers now," Marius said, lowering his arms. "Be sure to call me if that world-conquering bit works out. Wouldn't mind reaping the benefits of universal love, at least not if the deal includes universal health care."

Manuel smiled thinly at that. "Ask Marie-Ange how it turned out for you. She could probably tell you, in between cursing my name to the ninth generation." he said. "And you know, this pasta still needs grated infant to make it really zing." he said. "And you're right about one thing. Serious relationships? That shit's for the birds, mate."

Marius spread his arms with a smile. "I just figure I've got enough goin' on without worryin' about what's goin' on in someone else's head all the time. Nothing wrong with takin' care of yourself, right?"

Manuel smiled thinly at that. "Of course not. You're mindblind." he said, then took his sadly grated infant-free pasta and quit the Kitchen entirely.