Logs: Toronto Road Trip

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Backdated: Garrison takes Amara, Angel, Crystal and Marie-Ange up to Toronto for the weekend. Many off camera things happen, which are very funny and you'll have to close your eyes to imagine.



Garrison climbed into the car after throwing the last bit of luggage into the trunk. He'd vetoed more than a backpack from anyone, since he needed the trunk space to carry his own things back. While his car wasn't the nicest looking one, it was big and roomy inside, keeping Crystal, Angel and Amara from having to squeeze in. Marie-Ange had been fiddling with a map, as if Garrison didn't know the way back (or would actually listen to directions)

"Alright, ladies. Basic rules. I stop for food, fuel and if you've got reasonable washroom break requests. Anyone needing to stop every twelve miles to pee gets to finish the trip lashed to the roof. Second, I control the cd player. You may make faces at my musical choices, but any gagging noises earns another point of volume, eh."

Marie-Ange was wondering just why she'd volunteered for this when Garrison got into the car. "So, our visit to Canada is courtesy the Totalitarian Dictatorship of the Beaten up Crown Victoria?" she asked, folding the map back up. "Does the UN know about this?"

"Nope. I am a nation of one. They won't bug me until I start enriching plutonium or bombing France."

"...would they really mind all that much if you bombed France?" Angel spoke up, getting settled behind the driver's seat. She was totally, completely excited about the trip, having never been out of the country before. There had been all of a minute between getting in the car and the shoes coming off. "And thanks so much for letting me come along."

Crystal sat in the car, listening to the banter of the others. She had been intrigued by the idea of actually driving to another country; of taking a long road trip rather than boarding a private jet and arriving at the destination in a relatively short amount of time. She wasn't worried about Garrison's threat to lash them to the roof; she wouldn't need to stop every 12 miles, and even if she did, or for some reason Garrison decided to kick her out of the car, she was capable of traveling by air on her own.

"Marie-Ange might mind if I bombed France. And Quebec, but you know, who cares what Quebec thinks." He pulled on his seat belt, with one last look over his shoulder at the people in his car. "Everyone is comfy? Good."

He put on his sunglasses and reached out to tap 'play' on the CD deck. "It's time to hit the highway, ladies."

Everyone paused at the sudden and loud appearance of 'King of Spain'. Garrison sighed. "Wrong CD. That would have been so much cooler otherwise."

He said as he swapped discs.

Marie-Ange raised an eyebrow, looking at the CD Garrison had just taken out of the player. "Moxy Fruvious?" She hadn't expected that at all. "What had you intended to play?" She only hoped it wasn't "Kick in the Ass". It had taken the better part of a day to get the song out of her head the last time she'd heard it.

Giggling madly to herself, Angel snuggled down into the seat. With her all new, all shiny internal thermator going, she was pleased to note that no matter the temperature of the car, she'd be comfortable. "I've never heard them," she said. "Though, that's not unusual since I own nearly no music."

Garrison rummaged for a bit and finally slipped in a disc. "A great road trips start with Tom Cochran. That's lesson number one." He said, putting the car into drive.



Garrison finally pulled off the highway, diving into the lights of the city. To their right, Lake Ontario was nothing more than a dark slash against the horizon, only the odd lancing of lights on a
cresting swell to define it as seperate from the sky. He made the first left, and then a right, passing to the side of a large pond and wooded park. The students had been in various levels of doze, and the last hour or so had gone quietly.

"You awake, Marie-Ange?" He said, making a turn at the lights and driving up a tree lined street. "Because we're here."

"Hrm?" Marie-Ange shook herself more awake, and shifted in her seat. She'd been half-asleep since right before the border, only waking up long enough to sleepily tell Garrison that her
passport was in her coat pocket if he needed it. "Here? Are we in Toronto already?"

She fought a yawn and looked out the window. "I think I am disappointed. Everything I was told implied that it was all frozen arctic wastes and herds of attack moose." She joked.

Angel blinked and uncurled herself from where she'd snuggled up against the car door, various odds and ends popping here and there. "Wow," she said quietly, pressing her nose against the window,
"it didn't feel like that long of a trip at all." She caught her laptop before it could tip over,
greatful she'd saved her programs before falling asleep.

"That's because I'm a cop, and thus can ignore speed limits with impunity." Kane joked, finally pulling into a small driveway. "And the plural of moose is meese. Herds of meese."

The house wasn't large, especially in comparison to the suburban lots built up in Salem Center. It was not disimilar to the ones on either side, obviously all put up at the same time. Across the street was a short stone fence, and past that a mix of leafless and conifer trees, all picked out
in bare sketches by the streetlights. Kane popped his seatbelt and opened the door. "Vikks had better be awake. She's got my keys."

For Crystal, it had been a long trip. By plane, such a trip would have only been two hours. Crystal got out of the car and resisted the urge to launch herself into the sky. Instead, the
girl settled on lifting herself only one inch above the ground. "There is no such word as 'meese'," Crystal said, stretching.

"There should be. English is a nonsense language without any consistancy. The plural of goose is geese, it would have been so much easier if the plural of moose was meese." Marie-Ange said,
stretching a bit to take some of the stiffness out of her legs and back. "Whoever decided that house and mouse should have different plurals should also be made to answer for it. Who makes
these rules? They make no sense."

"I love meeses to pieces," Angel murmured under her breath, getting out of the car so Amara could follow her out. "I've heard that English is one of the hardest languages to learn, is that true?
Languages and I so do not mesh."

"Look, as the only native English speaking person here," Angel gave him a look and he waved her away. "You're from the West Coast. All I'm saying. In any case, I'm pointing out that you've been fooled about the meeses. They are meese."

"Yeah, rhymes slightly with jackass, which you are." The fairly dry voice said from the direction of the door. A fairly tall girl, with long curly brown hair and sharp features similar to
Garrison's walked down the stoop and looked at the group on the driveway around the
car. "Hi, I'm Victoria Kane. Garrison told me all about you... when he hit Buffalo. Look,
things are a little cramped, but we've got room as long as you don't mind sharing beds with each other, and my brother sleeps on the couch. Which he will. The uncomfortable one."

"It's not that uncomfortable."

"I had Danny Crouder over last night."

Garrison winced. "Bitch." He muttered as he went to open the trunk.

"What was that? You volunteer to carry everyone's bags in?" Victoria waved everyone else towards the door. "Isn't that nice of him? Come on in, ladies."

"He's been very charming for the whole trip." Marie-Ange offered brightly. "Of course, one of my co-workers uses that term in regards to charms that turn people into frogs, so I could easily be
confused." She was smiling as she said it, and not unkindly. Garrison -had- been entertaining.

"You think dorkboy is charming? Live with him for a little while. Trust me, it wears off." Victoria was eyeing Crystal when she was speaking, a puzzled speculative look. "You seem very familiar, you know."

"My bag is heavier than it appears to be," Crystal warned Garrison, thinking of all of the air-free bags of clothes inside the one bag she was allowed to bring. Crystal looked at Victoria, sighing inwardly. She had done her best to avoid being in the spotlight, but of course it had been impossible to stay entirely out of view. Whether or not that was what Garrison's sister meant, she wasn't quite sure, but either way... "I am Crystal Amaquelin of the royal family of Attilan," she said with a curtsy. Might as well do the introduction with the proper detail.

"Yeah, I saw you in MacLeans. Hanging around with my brother is coming down in the world in a very significant way." Victoria waved them in as Garrison worked on the bags. "Don't mind the mess. I'm getting some repairs done before we put it out on the market. First time in Toronto?"

Crystal had no intention of "hanging around" with Garrison; she had simply welcomed the opportunity to leave campus for a weekend trip she had known Medusa would not want to join. Crystal enjoyed spending time with Medusa, but the sisters' versions of how to spend the weekend trips Crystal was so fond of did not always mesh.

Crystal nodded to Victoria. "Yes, it is my first time in Toronto. I am looking forward to my visit here."

After getting her laptop and other things situation, Angel popped up behind Crystal and offered Victoria a hand and an introduction. "Thanks for the crash space," she said, and then paused. "Though if it was sudden, I guess it's thanks for, you know, not making us sleep in the yard."

"I'd only make Garrison do that. Come on in, ladies. Get settled. It's late and after a nine hour car trip, I'm guessing that you could use some rest." Victoria closed the door just as Garrison came staggering up with the bags. They could hear some muted cursing behind the closed door. "I'll show you where you're sleeping."



Most of the kids had either gone to bed or were watching a movie with Victoria. It was late on Saturday, and their walking tour had mostly worn them out. Garrison, on the other hand, always had lots of energy and he had just tugged on a leather jacket over his sweatshirt. Marie-ange looked up from the book she'd picked up on Yonge St.

"Kids are squared away. You fancy a drink, Marie-Ange? I know a couple of places."

Marie-Ange set the book down just a little faster then she'd intended. "Please?" She said. She liked all three of them, but nine hours in a small place with three young teenage girls was trying even at the best of times. "They make me feel much older than I actually am, all three of them."

"I understand." Garrison stood with his hands in his pockets as she found her coat and scarf. "They're pretty good kids, although obviously different. Angel is a Fizz-Whiz away from being classified as a pyrotechnic, Amara's got the wacko dirty hippie upbring and Crystal, well, obvious was born with the whole silver tea service in her mouth."

Garrison walked out the door, feet crunching over the frosted leaves lying on the steps. His mother's home was across the street from a large park, and it was covered in thin shoals of yellow, red and orange leaves.

"Amara was rescued from a cult in South America. I am not sure her upbringing was so much hippies as that her family had very little to work with." Marie-Ange explained, following Garrison. "I think half the students at the school were rescued out of one awful situation or another." She sped up a little to catch up with him, and couldn't help but smile. "Have they told you about the demons yet?"

"They did. If one of my former co-workers hadn't been a shaman with a magic bag, I might have not believed them." Garrison grinned, walking up the sidewalk towards the pub. "And what about you, eh? I've seen your student file, and then bang, working with Pete. That's a strange jump for someone without a background in highly secret and illegal ass kicking."

"I see the future.." Marie-Ange admitted casually. "Sometimes it comes to pass, sometimes it does not, but it has been accurate enough that it is something to be listened to." She couldn't help but like Garrison, even if she still was not sure he was to be trusted. "Which I am sure was in that file you read..." She added. "Working for Pete was more likely to allow me to do the things I needed to than anything else. I think. It is a gamble, but not very much of one."

"Well, you can trust Wisdom. Been a friend of the family for a long time, and that's one of the few things that I know about him." Garrison paused at the door. "Actually, that's all I know about him. Damn secret agents."

He yanked open the glass door and held it for her as they both went inside. The place was a typical pub; dark wood, crimson upolstery, and a long bar with a range of taps along it. Garrison took a seat at one of the back tables, waving that the bartender as he sat down.

Marie-Ange laughed, relaxing a little. "Both of my 'bosses' were agents of some kind." She said, leaving out Remy entirely. If Garrison mentioned it, then it might be something to worry about. "And yet, I do not own a trenchcoat or a wide brimmed hat. Or skulk around in dark alleys." Much.

"I'm sure it will happen eventually." Garrison grinned. "So, you see the future? I think I do too. It's hazy," He shooked his hands in front of him. "but it's slowly coming into focus... yes, I predict a pitcher of Moosehead."

Behind Marie-Ange, a blonde waitress leaned over and set the jug and the glasses on the table.

Marie-Ange just simply covered her eyes with one hand and laughed. "I look terrible in trenchcoats, they are entirely unflattering to my figure. And you are -terrible- to make fun of my power. It is a serious weighty thing." Except that there was no way she could say that with a straight face, -and- he'd read her file, which meant he knew better.

"Very weighty thing. Unlike your figure." Garrison retorted, pouring both pint glasses full. He took a long pull from his and sighed. "Ah, beautiful. Beer tastes good too."

It wasn't Marie-Ange's usual choice in drinks, but it wasn't a bad beer, she decided. "So you never told anyone what your power was, on the journals..." She said, entirely avoiding Garrison's compliment for the moment. "Unless it is alcohol related?" She watched him, and his glass emptying. "Let me guess. You have energy powers that you fuel with beer?"

"God, I wish. I could then expense this to the force or the school." Garrison took another sip. "I'm afraid I'm kind of boring. Enhanced strength, speed, stamina, limited healing factor... it's nice and versitile, but has the negative effect of making me just another target if Magneto drops by for tea."

The briefest flicker of a idea of what someone with enhanced stamina could do outside of combat - and inside a bedroom- passed by Marie-Ange's thoughts, and she took a long drink to cover the momentary lack of composure. She was supposed to be finding out about Garrison and if he had any plans to put any of her coworkers in jail, not finding out if he was single. "I would hope that if Magneto stopped in for tea and terrorism, that someone other then you would be trying to stop him first. Nathan. Or perhaps Cain..."

"Especially Cain. I saw the school's guidelines for what to do in case of a disaster. Under the nuclear attack situation, the response is to hide behind him." He grinned, very white and straight teeth. Kane had good reason to, he considered. Unless he was wrong (and about women he often was), the young french woman was giving him what was known to science as 'the vibe'. "Seriously. That man is so big, one time I saw a couple of students orbiting him."

"Was it Angelica? Because that does not count. She is going to bounce herself right into plantary orbit someday, and that would have just been practice." Marie-Ange said. "And neither does Nathan's daughter." She made a small face as she mentioned the toddler, and took another drink. "I think the last time, the school had any kind of incident was just after Cain had his accident. That was the cyborgs. They've had ninjas and robots, I am expecting the monkeys or pirates any day now. "

"Yeah, see, it's the stories that make me look forward to joining the faculty most, you know." Garrison noted wryly. "Besides, I'm pretty sure I can take on a couple of pirates. Scurvy makes them weak and easily suspectable to boot fu."

"You are lucky. When I was a student there, we used to regularly bet on the new staff, and what they would end up teaching." Marie-Ange said, paused to take another long drink, and then added. "Or if they would find themselves dating someone. But our bookie is at university in California now, and I do not think any of the new students has taken up her role."

"Yeah, that's a little creepy. Teenagers betting on my sex life." Garrison refilled the glasses, setting the empty pitcher on the table. "So, who am I supposed to start dating then? You taken a look at the crop; got some suggestions?"

Well. She'd lobbed him a perfectly good chance, and he wasn't taking it. "I suppose it depends." Marie-Ange said, giving Garrison a direct look. "I think that Sam is single. And from what I hear, he tends to lean in both directions.."

"I think I was looking for something a little less... cocky." He grinned. The flat direct look; there it was. "Maybe outside of the school then. Hmm... let me think." Kane took a sip of beer, eyes on the ceiling as he jokingly considered.

Not sure if he was avoiding the direct answer to the question that was sitting right in front of him, or somehow trying to entice her to ask, Marie-Ange did the only safe thing. Dodged and redirected. "Well, Sarah has... some kind of relationship with Angelo... " She said, not quite looking at him. "Maybe you like a girl in Doc Martins? Amanda -is- single..."

"That's possible, even if I haven't met her." Garrison grinned over his pint glass. "I think it would be easier to go for the ones close by. You know... cherche la femme."

"You speak French? Oh, of course you would. Canada. The second language..." Marie-Ange said, taking care to not stammer. She was more composed then this. -Emma Frost- had taught her how to maintain composure against the worst of Manuel's snide sexist comments. She was not going to get nervous and stammer like a blushing virgin.

"Bilingual. Comes in handy sometimes." Garrison leaned back in the seat, an arm trailing around the back of the booth. "So, I see this working two ways. We act coy and dance around the fact that we think each other is smoking hot, adding weeks or months of angst until we finally fall into each other's arms, or you let me take you out for dinner next week."

There were a dozen different things she could say, and none of them seemed to be coming out, except a single "... okay." Marie-Ange felt just a little silly, and more nervous then she could really justify. But at least she was fairly sure he wasn't going to arrest anyone.

"Excellent. I'll come into the city and meet you. You'll have to choose the restaraunt because my favourite date place is a nine hour drive from your front door, eh?" Garrison grinned easily and drained the rest of his beer. "Another pitcher then?"

All of her favorite date places were right out, because the odds of Doug being at one were impossibly high. Which meant she was going to just pick a restaurant that they did -not- have carry-out menus for. "Yes, please." She said, with some relief in her voice.