xp_logs | Log: Clarice & Garrison

Set last week before Clarice finished her classes. While working on her Arabic portfolio, she formally meets the newest resident of the ~~nuthouse~~ school. They discuss cofee and glitter pens.

Being unable to find a reasonable place to work on campus, Clarice had headed to Xavier's to work on her portfolio project for Arabic class. She had spread her things out across the room, it looked like a hurricane had hit. She was doing a catalogue of Arabic clothing for men and women, including making a couple

of show pieces. So far, the catalogue was going well and she had the patterns she needed from making things for Sooraya. It was just damned time consuming having to write everything by hand in Arabic. Her handwriting was not the best.

Garrison paused at the edge of the library. Fortunately, Xian wasn't there to give him the 'how dare you be so male in here' glare. The route to the flyers platform was just past, where he prefered to sit outside on. He wasn't a smoker, and he liked to be able to look over the trees while he relaxed. Plus, even the flyers didn't seem to use it all that often, giving him a chance to practice with his guitar and relax.

Purple girl. This one he'd seen in the briefings. Claire something-or-other, one of the teleporters. Garrison still wasn't into the regular training yet, being run through the more mundane paces by both Summers and Munroe until they had a sense of his abilities. He didn't mind. JTF2 training was a lot more intensive, and as intimidating as Munroe could be, she had nothing on Sgt-Major Hotchkiss.

Looking up from her papers, Clarice could not find her green glitter pen, "What the fuck?" she muttered, searching under her books before ducking under the table. Looking around, she saw a guy....crap, she couldn't remember his name, standing near the doorway. "Hey, have you seen my glitter pen?" she called, wondering if it had maybe rolled.

"Can't imagine a time when I'd ever say yes to that." Garrison took a quick look around the area which she had populated like a tribe of fashionable squatters. "Nope. I think it's a write off, eh? Another pen take from us too soon, struck down and lost in the prime of ink."

"Bugger," she muttered, still looking for the pen, "Now it's going to look weird, half in green and half in....I guess blue. You think my teacher will take points off?"

"If they are already willing to accept it in glitter pen, I can't imagine them having issues with the colour of it." Garrison pointed out. Yup, she was definitely an art student. "Question. Do you have any posters of art pieces in your room?"

"Posters of art pieces? Sure," she replied, thinking for a minute. Johnny Depp counted as an art piece, right? Glad for the distraction, she recapped her pens and glue so they wouldn't dry out, "Why?"

"Theory of mine, that all female arts students will have at least one of the following in their room; the kiss by Klimdt, either the Ophelia or the Lady of Shallot by Woodhouse, a Dali, and a Monet, likely with a lot of purple in it." Garrison shrugged. "I've always assumed you got it with your acceptance letter and it became mandatory."

Art student? Huh? "Dude, I'm premed," Clarrce replied, confused, trying to board his train of thought and barely managing, "And my art is Johnny Depp. 'Cause have you seen him? H.O.T. HOT! Also, I don't do purple. For obvious reasons."

"You're premed? And you're doing an assignment in glitter pen?" The look on his face was a cross between puzzled and horrified. "Um, well, they really do things differently down here, I guess." Garrison's sister had just finished pre-med and started med school, and the only think she'd every use a glitter pen for was to poke out the eye of some guy who went too far hitting on her.

Of course she was doing her project with glitter pen, sharpies were boring! And she was about style! Plus, it was Arabic class, where these things were appreciated. It wasn't like she was doing her algebra homework in it "It's my Arabic portfolio," she explained, pointing at the foreign script. "Not math."

"Hey, to each their own. I firmly relied on my laptop and Tim Horton's in nearly lethal dosages for my classes." He said, holding up his hands, well, his hand and his guitar, in a concillatory gesture.

"Tim Hortons? What's that?" probably alcohol, she figured, but she wasn't sure. It wasn't something she was familiar with anyways, "You play guitar? Cool."

"What? Oh, yeah. I don't really think Sam Roberts has anything to fear from me for a while, but I'm decent enough for a campfire, I guess. My way of destressing." He set the instrument back down. "And Tim Horton's is Canada's official religion."

"Oh-kay," Clarice nodded slowly. What happened to the theory that Canada was just the US but more north?" Humor the crazy man, obviously, "Of course. Religion. I thought Canada's religion was hockey?"

"Don't be silly. Hockey is just a game. A magnificant, life-affirming genius one with mightly thewed men who skate like gods amidst mortals, but still just a game." Kane was building up, the energy in his tone and gestures more animated. "No, I'm talking about coffee and donuts."

"You lost me a few turns back," Clarice finally admitted. The geography girl was lost. Fortunantly, it was not in a specific place and only in the conversation. It still irked her though, she did not get lost!

"Well, it serves you right, not learning about the country that's right next door to you." Garrison said sadly, shaking his head. "Tim Horton's is a coffee shop."

Coffee was much more mundane and altogether somewhat boring. "I like Starbucks?" she ventured, "Overpriced and trying to take over the world, but that's what I like. I can get one anywhere. They have them in Oman and Cyprus and Peru!" Leave it to the long-range teleporter to be able to list the various countries that Starbucks had infested.

"Starbucks doesn't even sell coffee. All they have are venti triple mocha frappaspressocinos or something. I'm sorry, but if it had whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles, caramel swirl and cinnamin on top, it's a sundae, not coffee." Garrison pointed out. "An exra large double-double, for a dollar and forty-four cents. That's a coffee."

"I don't drink much coffee," Clarice said, although she didn't mind a mint frappachino now and then, "I like their mint hot chocolate and their caramel apple cider. Now THOSE are goodness. Even with the whipped cream. I'm sure you drink your coffee black too, so you'll have lots of chest hair to keep you warm in the frozen tundra?"

"Double-double by choice. Only way to drink good Tim Horton's." Garrison said, ignoring the idea of caramel apple cider. Americans. "And speaking of the frozen tundra, I'm off to the flyers platform to relax and see if I can't figure out the damn chord changes on 'Ocean Pearl'."

"Okay,see ya!" Clarice shifted in her seat as he headed out and found her damn glitter pen. "Nerg!"