Possession Night, part one point five

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Jean goes out to hide her emo-mupetry and Betsy catches her.



Betsy walked off toward the back and exited through the side door. The cool breeze that went past as she walked outside help alleviate the slight panic she felt encroaching her from all sides. He was fine. They were fine. Thankfully, everyone survived. She lit the cigarette she held in her hand and took a few calming breaths. "It's all in your head, luv. It's always in your head."

Betsy had to be fairly wrapped up not to have noticed her - not that Jean was standing directly in front of the door, challenging everyone who came out, but it wasn't that dark out and they were both telepaths. But she clearly hadn't noticed the redhead leaning against the wall down from the door, watching the stars. She contemplated leaving it alone, letting Betsy smoke and go inside and not mentioning it but... well... it was Possession Night at Harry's. It clearly wasn't a night to be letting things lie. Looking away from Betsy and back up at the sky she quietly said, "Ninety percent of the time I'd have to agree with you on that one."

It took every inch of her being not to come back with a quip but in the end, Betsy bit on her fingers. The cigarette hanging precariously off her fingertips. "And the other ten percent?"

Jean raised an eyebrow, but since she didn't actually look over at Betsy, the effect was lost. "This is Possession Night at Harry's. The other ten percent is in somebody else's mind."

"Figured as much," she said between softly. Regarding Jean for the first time, Betsy snorted. "Rough night?"

Jean took a deep breath, let it out, then looked over at Betsy. "Shockingly not, actually. Weird night, but... the dealable sort of weird. You?"

Betsy raised her eyebrow increduously at Jean, looking at the motley crew inside, and then briefly fixating on Haller before taking a very long drag of her cigarette. "Absolutely peachy."

"Uh-huh," Jean said slowly. "Sorry, Bets, but I'm not drunk enough to buy that, and I don't feel like playing the 'tactfully not saying anything' game. Feel free to tell me to shove it, though. Not that you usually need permission."

"Yes, your powers of observation are absolutely frightening." Betsy supplied stubbornly. "Fine, then. I'm not feeling quite as socialable as I'd like to be. But I'm not ruining the festivities by being out here. So please don't tell them." The Brit studied the group and smiled forlornly. Surprisingly blocking herself from the group as a whole seemed to work and no one was the wiser. "Satisfied?"

Jean nodded, looking back up at the sky. "Well, I'm hardly one to talk about not being sociable. Not like you're the only one hiding out here at the moment." She shrugged. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Thank you," Betsy said around a puff of smoke. She regarded Jean for a moment and smiled to herself. "Since you know my secret, what's yours? Why are you hiding out here then?"

"Oh, you know, being maudlin, what else? Figured I should get some fresh air before I angsted all over the party. I mean, if Nate can keep his woe confined to the bar, I figure mine goes outside." The only thing missing was the lake view. Not that she needed that.

"So, why are you feeling especially glum?" Betsy asked curiously.

Jean tried really, really hard to come up with a compelling reason not to tell the other woman. There ought to be one, she thought, after all they'd been through. But, oddly, possibly because of all they'd been through, she had nothing. Which meant she might as well say. "Strange as it sounds, I feel like I shouldn't be here. And, ok, you'd think not fitting in at Possession Night would be a thing to celebrate but... I wasn't possessed, Betsy. Which, don't get me wrong, is not what I'm being maudlin about. I've come to terms that I did what I did to myself with very little outside help. But tonight... well, it's about coping, isn't it? As a group. Sort of. But I just don't match."

"Well, this is a first," Betsy said with a sideways glance. "I think I'm feeling something...." Her fingers fluttered over her heart. "Christ, it's sympathy." Part of her appeared shocked at the realization and shuddered. "You have a point and isn't that's actually quite more disturbing than watching Haller break into pieces."

The theatrics won half a smile out of Jean. "You know, I think that may actually be one of the signs of the apocalypse, you having any sort of positive emotion towards me at all. Hell, us having a civil conversation may be as well. That's it, we're all doomed."

"It's the little things that count, dear." Betsy said with a bright smile. "So, how would you like to spend your last hours then?"

"Well, this is a bar." She made a grandiose gesture towards Harry's. "We who are about to die, get plastered."

"Harry's mentioned this drink that is sure to stop all internal organ function," the Brit said with enthusiasm, as she stomped out her cigarette and opened the door. "Besides, I've never been fond of my liver anyway."

"Come, come," Jean said, pushing away from the wall. "Let's do away with our livers, and our sobriety. I imagine we can scar everyone in there by getting drunk together.

"Something memorable to say the least," Betsy said as she held the door open for the redhead. "Remind me to at least get a fifth of Gin in before I come visit, yea? Who knows, we might want to make this a habit."