[Jennie and Jono] - Wednesday Afternoon
Jul. 18th, 2007 01:39 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsJono starts trying to prepare for his music classes, and runs into Jennie, who is trying to find a way to prepare for her dance classes. She manages to accidentally insult him, but then smooths things over by hitting on him. If Paige finds out, she is so dead.
It was a good thing that no one who occupied any of the rooms close to the music library was psionically-sensitive, because Jono's attempt at whistling would likely have driven them mad. Lacking mouth, lungs, or a tongue with which to make sound, whenever Jono would try and whistle it usually came out as a discordant screech across the astral plane.
With another month or so until he'd actually be required to teach students the basics of music, Jono figured that he ought to acquaint himself with what the school actually had on file with regards to sheet music with samples.
What he didn't expect was for the music room to already be occupied when he got there.
There was the usual in there. Chopin, Beethoven, Mozart, Wagner. But there was also more experimental stuff like Philip Glass, and a hefty collection of show tunes. Jennie wondered if Rogers and Hammerstein's greatest hits were there because of a certain blue-furred Nobel laureate currently in Scotland. The days of summer were slowly becoming tedious in-between training, DR and more training, so she figured she'd kill two birds with one stone and choreograph a piece. That way, she'd get something fun along with some more "training."
Jennie noticed someone watching her from the corner of her eye. She looked up to see a semi-familiar figure with bandages around his face. "Hello?"
"Hello," Jono replied psionically. The girl looked like one of the older students - he was sure he recognized her from the journals, but wasn't completely certain. Either way, he'd given up on trying to remember who was and wasn't comfortable with his psionic speech, especially since he lacked any other means of communication. "Browsing the classics, then?"
Jennie barely repressed the shudder that came with any sort of psychic contact. It was something she'd just have to get used to, apparently the team was real big on using psis as communicators. She gave the other boy a smile. "Not so much classics as just something with a beat that I can dance to," she shrugged and then narrowed her eyes, trying to place his name. "Ah! You would be Paige's squeeze, wouldn't you? Begins with a J?"
"Jono. Jono Starsmore," he replied, walking across the room to the shelves. "Of all the ways I get talked about - 'bloke without a face', 'glowy blue ball of light', 'you little bastard'... actually, that one's just Marko - I think this is the first time 'Paige's squeeze' makes the list. No complaints here, mind you. So, a beat you can dance to?" He flipped through some of the music, frowning at the overabundance of CDs and the distinct lack of real music on real vinyl. "Are we talking about the likes of Musetta's Waltz or something a little more modern and upbeat from the feathered-hair and leather-pants era?"
"See, that's the conundrum," Jennie said, nodding to Jono. "Do I want Classical? Because Classical usually means some form of ballet and I don't want to fuck up my toes doing en pointe all afternoon. Do I want something experimental from the 60's so I can be all Andy Warhol and the Factory-ish? Or do I just wanna do something to cheesy pop?" She sighed and put her hands on her hips. "Sometimes, there are just too many options." Blue eyes flicked up to meet the boy's. "I'm Jennie, by the way."
"Charmed," Jono said faintly in response as he flipped through the CDs faster and faster. "I don't know much about dance, mind you. Benefit of playing the guitar is that no one expects you to dance, just move your hips right and that's all you need." He paused, a quick break in his mental communication sounding almost like a sudden intake of breath, and he blinked at the title of one piece. "Oh, no. Nothing from the eighties," he said after a brief moment. "Reminds me too much of my ex. Great dancer, horrible taste in music, though. Aside from me, that is."
"But the eighties are fun to torture people with," Jennie said with a mock-pout. "Thought I have to agree a lot of it was crap." She pulled a CD down and inspected the track listing. "You said you play guitar?" she said. "What kind? 6 string? 12?"
"Either. Both." Jono bent down to peruse some of the more modern music. "Parents wanted me to go to a conservatory, I just wanted to play with my mates. But Mum being Mum, she made me learn proper music before I bought my first guitar, and so now I get to pass along the good times. Used to have a bit of a band here, mostly just a random thing. Before your time, I suppose." He perked up a little. "Oi, that means less work un-training all Blaire's influence. Cheers for me."
Jennie laughed, pulling down a handful of CD's so she could see them better. "See, I only know six-string. I'm self- taught, which is a euphemism for 'badly,'" She made a face. "So, is it weird still being here? Even after being all graduated and everything? I was supposed to get an apartment in the city this summer but ...things changed."
Jono shrugged. "Where else am I gonna be? It's here or Muir, and forget what you see in Mel Gibson movies, Scotland's bloody boring." He scratched absently at the bandages covering his face, lost in thought for a moment. "An' as for weird, sunshine, you're talking to the bloke with a burning furnace for a chest. The day something comes around weirder than me, I'll pack it in."
"Weird's totally subjective," Jennie agreed, totally unfazed by Jono's appearance. "I have a best friend who used to have to eat people to survive, so," she frowned momentarily at a track on one of the cd's. Mentally she kicked herself. The guy had part of his face missing, so it would be much harder to live in the "outside" world. "But I don't think there's any such thing as normal. Normal is what deeply insecure people pretend to be and then try to force it on the rest of us."
Jono refrained from his instinctive reply of scathing sarcasm. For years now people had been telling him that there was no such thing as normal, or that it wasn't something worth wanting to be, when in fact 'normal' was the only thing he'd wanted ever since the day his mutation had ripped his chest open. "Suppose not," he said curtly, pulling a CD from the rack. "There you go. The Velvet Underground. You put a dance routine together to this, and you're bound to have people talking."
"You know, you'd think I'd be more sensitive," Jennie said, accepting the CD, completely not missing his tone. "I don't know quite what it's like, to lose 'normal.' Normal for me was my drunk-ass mother and my crappy life. But I've seen it happen to someone I care about. Losing normal." She flipped the cd over, looking through the track listings, her expression was unreadable for a moment before she looked back up at Jono. It was just over a year ago, wasn't it? A lifetime ago.
"And he did eventually get it back. Normal. Or what passes for his normal anyway," Jennie added dryly.
"And I'm sure it's a lovely story," Jono replied flatly as he picked out a few sample sheets of music - start the kids off with some Stravinsky, then Miles Davis, then the Undertones. Teenage kicks through the night - and organized them in a folder before turning back towards the door. "Best of luck with your dancing, Jennie."
"Yeah, brimming with hugs and puppies," Jennie muttered, unconsciously rubbing her neck and the small upraised scar. "Thanks. I'll see if I can't work something out to this. You'll be the first to see it, if I do. Call it a return favor for the show I got a couple years ago," she said wickedly.
Who? When? Oh god, the medlab after Forge and Paige's little experiment...
If Jono still had been able, he'd have blushed solid crimson, but as it was, he just felt a sharp flare in his gut. "Well then, ah, I'll take you up on that. Be seeing you around then." Impulsively, Jono gave Jennie a wink. "Sooner rather than later, maybe."
"Count on it," Jennie said, with a mischievous smile. She gave him a little wave as he left before inspecting the CD he gave her. "Velvet Underground, eh?"
It was a good thing that no one who occupied any of the rooms close to the music library was psionically-sensitive, because Jono's attempt at whistling would likely have driven them mad. Lacking mouth, lungs, or a tongue with which to make sound, whenever Jono would try and whistle it usually came out as a discordant screech across the astral plane.
With another month or so until he'd actually be required to teach students the basics of music, Jono figured that he ought to acquaint himself with what the school actually had on file with regards to sheet music with samples.
What he didn't expect was for the music room to already be occupied when he got there.
There was the usual in there. Chopin, Beethoven, Mozart, Wagner. But there was also more experimental stuff like Philip Glass, and a hefty collection of show tunes. Jennie wondered if Rogers and Hammerstein's greatest hits were there because of a certain blue-furred Nobel laureate currently in Scotland. The days of summer were slowly becoming tedious in-between training, DR and more training, so she figured she'd kill two birds with one stone and choreograph a piece. That way, she'd get something fun along with some more "training."
Jennie noticed someone watching her from the corner of her eye. She looked up to see a semi-familiar figure with bandages around his face. "Hello?"
"Hello," Jono replied psionically. The girl looked like one of the older students - he was sure he recognized her from the journals, but wasn't completely certain. Either way, he'd given up on trying to remember who was and wasn't comfortable with his psionic speech, especially since he lacked any other means of communication. "Browsing the classics, then?"
Jennie barely repressed the shudder that came with any sort of psychic contact. It was something she'd just have to get used to, apparently the team was real big on using psis as communicators. She gave the other boy a smile. "Not so much classics as just something with a beat that I can dance to," she shrugged and then narrowed her eyes, trying to place his name. "Ah! You would be Paige's squeeze, wouldn't you? Begins with a J?"
"Jono. Jono Starsmore," he replied, walking across the room to the shelves. "Of all the ways I get talked about - 'bloke without a face', 'glowy blue ball of light', 'you little bastard'... actually, that one's just Marko - I think this is the first time 'Paige's squeeze' makes the list. No complaints here, mind you. So, a beat you can dance to?" He flipped through some of the music, frowning at the overabundance of CDs and the distinct lack of real music on real vinyl. "Are we talking about the likes of Musetta's Waltz or something a little more modern and upbeat from the feathered-hair and leather-pants era?"
"See, that's the conundrum," Jennie said, nodding to Jono. "Do I want Classical? Because Classical usually means some form of ballet and I don't want to fuck up my toes doing en pointe all afternoon. Do I want something experimental from the 60's so I can be all Andy Warhol and the Factory-ish? Or do I just wanna do something to cheesy pop?" She sighed and put her hands on her hips. "Sometimes, there are just too many options." Blue eyes flicked up to meet the boy's. "I'm Jennie, by the way."
"Charmed," Jono said faintly in response as he flipped through the CDs faster and faster. "I don't know much about dance, mind you. Benefit of playing the guitar is that no one expects you to dance, just move your hips right and that's all you need." He paused, a quick break in his mental communication sounding almost like a sudden intake of breath, and he blinked at the title of one piece. "Oh, no. Nothing from the eighties," he said after a brief moment. "Reminds me too much of my ex. Great dancer, horrible taste in music, though. Aside from me, that is."
"But the eighties are fun to torture people with," Jennie said with a mock-pout. "Thought I have to agree a lot of it was crap." She pulled a CD down and inspected the track listing. "You said you play guitar?" she said. "What kind? 6 string? 12?"
"Either. Both." Jono bent down to peruse some of the more modern music. "Parents wanted me to go to a conservatory, I just wanted to play with my mates. But Mum being Mum, she made me learn proper music before I bought my first guitar, and so now I get to pass along the good times. Used to have a bit of a band here, mostly just a random thing. Before your time, I suppose." He perked up a little. "Oi, that means less work un-training all Blaire's influence. Cheers for me."
Jennie laughed, pulling down a handful of CD's so she could see them better. "See, I only know six-string. I'm self- taught, which is a euphemism for 'badly,'" She made a face. "So, is it weird still being here? Even after being all graduated and everything? I was supposed to get an apartment in the city this summer but ...things changed."
Jono shrugged. "Where else am I gonna be? It's here or Muir, and forget what you see in Mel Gibson movies, Scotland's bloody boring." He scratched absently at the bandages covering his face, lost in thought for a moment. "An' as for weird, sunshine, you're talking to the bloke with a burning furnace for a chest. The day something comes around weirder than me, I'll pack it in."
"Weird's totally subjective," Jennie agreed, totally unfazed by Jono's appearance. "I have a best friend who used to have to eat people to survive, so," she frowned momentarily at a track on one of the cd's. Mentally she kicked herself. The guy had part of his face missing, so it would be much harder to live in the "outside" world. "But I don't think there's any such thing as normal. Normal is what deeply insecure people pretend to be and then try to force it on the rest of us."
Jono refrained from his instinctive reply of scathing sarcasm. For years now people had been telling him that there was no such thing as normal, or that it wasn't something worth wanting to be, when in fact 'normal' was the only thing he'd wanted ever since the day his mutation had ripped his chest open. "Suppose not," he said curtly, pulling a CD from the rack. "There you go. The Velvet Underground. You put a dance routine together to this, and you're bound to have people talking."
"You know, you'd think I'd be more sensitive," Jennie said, accepting the CD, completely not missing his tone. "I don't know quite what it's like, to lose 'normal.' Normal for me was my drunk-ass mother and my crappy life. But I've seen it happen to someone I care about. Losing normal." She flipped the cd over, looking through the track listings, her expression was unreadable for a moment before she looked back up at Jono. It was just over a year ago, wasn't it? A lifetime ago.
"And he did eventually get it back. Normal. Or what passes for his normal anyway," Jennie added dryly.
"And I'm sure it's a lovely story," Jono replied flatly as he picked out a few sample sheets of music - start the kids off with some Stravinsky, then Miles Davis, then the Undertones. Teenage kicks through the night - and organized them in a folder before turning back towards the door. "Best of luck with your dancing, Jennie."
"Yeah, brimming with hugs and puppies," Jennie muttered, unconsciously rubbing her neck and the small upraised scar. "Thanks. I'll see if I can't work something out to this. You'll be the first to see it, if I do. Call it a return favor for the show I got a couple years ago," she said wickedly.
Who? When? Oh god, the medlab after Forge and Paige's little experiment...
If Jono still had been able, he'd have blushed solid crimson, but as it was, he just felt a sharp flare in his gut. "Well then, ah, I'll take you up on that. Be seeing you around then." Impulsively, Jono gave Jennie a wink. "Sooner rather than later, maybe."
"Count on it," Jennie said, with a mischievous smile. She gave him a little wave as he left before inspecting the CD he gave her. "Velvet Underground, eh?"
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no subject
Date: 2007-07-18 11:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-19 01:16 am (UTC)If that's the case, Sarah volunteers to help.
no subject
Date: 2007-07-19 01:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-19 12:46 pm (UTC)Don't worry. What she doesn't know won't hurt me. ;)