Possession Night, part zero

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Lorna and Jean get silly. (Out of order because the time zones make me slow.



"Really, though, John brings the drama all on his own. I don't think Pietro managed to piss off as many people as John did in his first post. Boy looks for trouble cause it's the only way he knows how to react." Jean sighed. "Not that I really expected much else." They were almost to Harry's and Jean could see somebody had decided to drive (and, presumably, hand over the keys to Harry the second they walked in the door), so they weren't the first ones to get here.

Lorna tripped and nearly lost a shoe in the process, "Swear to God, I don't know why I bought these. They're cute as hell but they won't stay on my feet." Pausing, she oriented the strap and then quickly caught up to Jean, "I think that people felt freer to go after John is what I'm saying. Sure there are those who don't like Pietro--and really you can't blame them, but even more people know and love to needle John." Music blared as they opened the door to the bar. Lorna headed unerringly to where Harry stood, looking like he was reconsidering the wisdom of allowing this. "Superman, Harry. Two. Anyway, mostly I'm just glad that Bobby and John are going to be on opposite sides of the ocean. I like them both too much to want to see how they'd ruin each other."

"Yeeeeah," Jean said, leaning against the bar and flashing what was meant to be a reassuring smile at Harry as he returned with their drinks. "Someday somebody's going to have to explain what the hell happened there. I mean, from Terry's not-so-subtle needling I'd say John's well hidden crush came out of hiding, but I never pegged Bobby for the sort to have a problem with that."

Lorna shrugged, "I don't know Terry terribly well so I don't have any idea what that nonsense was about." She flashed Harry a smile as he set up the shots she'd requested. Lifting the blue and purple drink to Jean with an ironic quirk to her smile, she gave a little half-shrug. "But I know that Bobby and John were...even more complicated than before when he got back from Magneto's tender care. I don't think that John was alone in that whole attraction game."

Jean tilted her drink towards Lorna in response, but didn't drink for a second. "Oh. Huh. That... that would make sense, yes. God. Teenagers. We should just lock them all up in their rooms until they're safely past puberty and can think without breaking themselves and others. Given how Terry gets when she's being protective and territorial... Ugh." And, of course, given how Jean knew what Terry was like when she was being protective and territorial... She killed the drink in her hand in one slug. "I'm going to need much more liquor."

Lorna nodded emphatically and looked over at Harry, "Please tell me that you have sangria. I need something worth drinking all night." At his nod, she mouthed her thanks and let Jean order, taking the opportunity to scope out the bar and see who was already in residence. "We should talk about something else. This is Possession Night. Lots of other horribly uncomfortable topics are open to us."

"I need vodka, Harry. Screwdriver?" He'd been caught up in another order, but he waved in Jean's direction to let her know he was on it so she turned back to Lorna. "Well, this is you and me, so I can think of one obvious not-quite-parallel with Jim's fun an exciting adventures in crazy. My understanding is he talked Jemail into not dying, yes?"

"By giving up half his identity, yeah. I didn't even know that was an option. Oh, alcohol, thank God," Lorna lifted the glass of sangria that Harry had deposited as he hurried by to mix another drink. She drank deeply then sighed, "Just think, we could have saved ourselves all that arguing over who should die."

The look Jean gave Harry as he moved away was equal parts desperation and betrayal, until she realized the drink he was mixing was hers. "Don't think it was for you," she said, not looking back. "There wasn't... Malice wasn't a whole person anymore. Too much of her was missing from the program. Plus, she'd never have gone for it."

"He needs to just give me the whole pitcher. And yeah, I know. I can't help thinking though...she died and they wouldn't let that be the end. They put her through another hell and then I killed her." Lorna rolled her eyes, "I mean, what sort of special purgatory is thinking you're me for three months? Harry, pitcher?" she begged as he dropped off Jean's drink.

"If you are a kind man," Jean said to his retreating back, "you will not give me a vodka bottle of my own. No matter how I ask." Turning back to Lorna she added, "Share the guilt, please. We killed her together." Raising the suspiciously large screwdriver glass she toasted the mirror behind the bar.

"Right, right. We. I'm sort of trying to see if I can manage to still be drunk for my flight tomorrow. It's a goal. Let's grab a table. I want to change the music. Not a big country fan."

"It's a good goal." Jean turned away from the bar and followed Lorna towards one of the tables by the wall. "An admirable goal, even, given the outrageous prices they charge for drinks on airplanes. Except ours, of course. We supply amphetamines, even, free of charge."

Lorna deposited her glass and pitcher on the table then curved around to the jukebox to peruse her song choices. "Police, Etheridge...hell no, not REM...Garbage. Oooooh, Green Day! H57." She punched in the numbers and tripped back to her chair. "I like our plane. She's fast and quiet and you never get stuck next to a screaming baby."

"I like our plane, too. Very handy. Very speedy. Although I could wish that my husband spent less time with her and more with me, but if I have to have a rival for his affections, I can deal with it being the plane. And the bike. And the car."

"He does have sort of a disturbing speed addiction. Maybe you should watch him and Pietro closely. You never know, you might have competition." Lorna managed to keep a straight face, letting nothing but genuine concern show in her expression.

Jean had been about to take a drink, and was very grateful that she just missed spitting her drink all over the table. Not that Lorna wouldn't have deserved it. Setting the glass back on the table she arched an eyebrow at the younger woman. "Watch it, chickie. I know where you sleep."

"I'm not worried. I have a fierce attack puppy. She'll eat your shoes." Lorna sipped her wine and affected a nonchalant air. "Truth hurts, Jean. But it's better to face it."

"I'll wear ones Des has already gotten to. Although you may be on to something. Alas. Alas and woe."

"Yes. Face it. You're going to lose your man to a speedier source. Summers are fickle like that with boys." Okay, so there was a tiny edge of bitterness in there.

Jean raised an eyebrow at Lorna, then reached over and poured more sangria into her glass. "You need more liquor." Setting the pitcher down she pulled her blackberry out of her purse and flipped it open, quickly typing something out. "Not that asking Scott will do much good if, as you say, he is so fickle. But at least it'll keep him from sulking about not having been evil enough to join us."

"You asked him?" Lorna shrieked even as she picked up her glass. "Oh Jean. I love you best. I always have."

Jean grinned, toasting Lorna with what was left in her glass. "Course I asked him. What's the fun in getting drunk if I can't torment my beloved from a distance?" The blackberry beeped and she pulled it out, flipping it open. "Huh. He claims he's not fond of blonds." Killing the drink she contemplated fighting to get Harry's attention long enough to get a drink, then noticed he'd called his waitress in and flagged her down.

"He's just saying that to throw you off." Lorna warned then brighten, "Jim's here! I'll be back!" She flung herself out of the chair without a backward glance.

"Later. I need more vodka."