Cindi & John | Tuesday Evening

[x-pyromania.livejournal.com]

'A lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is still putting on its shoes.' -Mark Twain-

The lake was, for the most part, quiet. And dark, but for the one patch of exception. There was nothing exceptional about halogen lamp sitting in the middle of the ground a few feet away from the young man's crossed legs. The fire that was igniting the bugs attracted by the light, however, was a little different.

"Burn, baby, burn," Cyndi muttered, face briefly underlit in gold as a flaming moth spiraled to twitching oblivion amongst the light carpet of blackened insects. The alter smiled and focused on the next hapless intruder. So much better than a bugzapper.

John strode out of the boathouse, having just completed another round of work for the day. He slipped his research papers into a clear folder and tucked it under his arm before he lighted himself a cigarette. His brow furrowed slightly into a frown as he caught sight of an indistinct figure sitting by the lake, silhouetted by the glow of a bright orange light; sporadic -- brief. Huh. Curiosity got the better of him and he decided to make a little detour instead of heading straight back to the mansion.

It was easy enough to recognize who it was once he got a little closer. David Haller. School counselor. X-Man. John glanced at his watch and arched an eyebrow in question. It was a quarter past nine. Just what the hell was he doing?

It was the glow of the cigarette butt that caught her eye before the movement. Cyndi paused, peering against the glow of the halogen as she tried to distinguish the newcomer's identity. Somebody only vaguely familiar -- the new guy, fire-kid. The instinctive reaction was to switch, but he wasn't a student. Haller had interacted with John as he usually did around unfamiliar peers, which was to restrict conversation to 'hello' both for lack of smalltalk and because the fewer words that were spoken the less the chance he could put his foot in his mouth. Cyndi was curious. Uncurling from the carpet of insect holocaust, she waved.

"Hey, uh, John," she called, stumbling slightly over the name. Then, because Cyndi understood something about the minds of pyros, she held out her palm and ignited a bloom of fire several inches above it. "Just practicing."

John's features remained stoic for the most part but the tone of his voice belied his surprise. "You can--" --create-- "--control fire?" He knew Haller was a telepath. He had no idea he was a pyrokinetic. And well, the ability to generate fire was something he was sorely lacking. He flicked his gaze to the flame, manipulating it into the shape of a wingless dragon before extracting it into the palm of his own hand. John let out a bit of a smug grin as he returned his gaze to Haller.

It never failed. Unless there was a powers-induced trauma somewhere back there, the surest way into a pyro's heart was to wave Burning in front of them. Cyndi knew this from personal experience.

"Nah, I can only start it," Cyndi replied, regarding the fire dancing on the young man's hand with approval and slight envy. "It's like telekinesis with a magnifying glass. I shake up the molecules and let physics do the rest. Kinda hit or miss, and sometimes shit just melts instead, but that's the game. Or mine, at least." She tilted her head, and a column of ring of flame traced between them, holding its shape only briefly along the initial path of combusion. Because Cyndi had had enough talks about property damage in her life she even made an effort to keep it several feet above the grass.

"Hm. Guess we can't have it all," John said, extinguishing the fiery creation. "I'm John. Officially." He extended his hand out for a shake. They'd never been formally introduced before.

"I'm David, theoretically," Cyndi replied, accepting his hand. Even close up it was a little too dark to see whether John also had scars from past trial and error, though she guessed the fact the younger man smelled vaguely of smoke probably wasn't just from his habit. "Sorry for the lack of earlier intro. You know how it is. People to see, brains to repair . . . the usual shit."

Whatever scars visible on John's body weren't burn marks but were typical injuries he'd suffered from say, falling off a bike at the age of nine, getting into gang fights back in high school... Lame, really.

"Yeah well, no worries, man," he said. "I'm not usually this polite. It's just that you're a teacher... school counselor here--" He wasn't too sure. "Figured you deserve a bit of respect." He shrugged. He had no idea what David meant by "theoretically" though. One thing for sure, John didn't think he'd be so... blase.

"Respect's cool, but not mandatory." Cyndi had already moved on to dusting her hands off on her jeans before noticing the restrained curiosity she'd long become adept at spotting. Time for the cover story.

"Starting on the burning loosens me up pretty good," she explained, scratching the back of her neck casually. "Since nobody really wants to see the school counselor 'loose' it doesn't make for a big spectator sport. Don't usually get a chance to play for a crowd." Not one lie, and yet so little truth. The alter was proud. She cocked her finger like a gun, and three feet behind John's shoulder a hapless moth ignited and went down like a flaming divebomber.

"Now that's pretty fucking cool," John said with raised eyebrows before he returned his gaze to the man in front of him. "I guess that takes a certain kind of finesse." Something else he was sorely lacking as Forge had more than once pointed out. "I haven't bothered to work on my powers lately. It's not like I'm planning on joining the X-Men so I figure, why the fuck give a shit, right?" It was a downright lie. He worked on his skills every night before bedtime. Only he did in the privacy of his own room, which explained why Cain had to redo the flooring a few months ago.

"Oh yeah, like training's totally for the benefit of the X-Men." Cyndi blew on her fingertip like the barrel of a gun. "I only really get sent in for telepathy, so this's just for my own amusement. And, like, not setting myself on fire anymore, but that's more of a perk." Cyndi grinned evilly and lowered her finger at John's head. "'Course, since it's just ourselves here, you might as well show me what you got. Catch."

Right in front of John's face, close enough to singe eyebrows, a patch of air boiled into flame.

The tiny flame turned into a large fireball and immediately John sent it forward. He'd decreased its heat completely so when it passed through David, it felt like almost nothing. His own version of a snowball fight during winter, only without the slushy impact.

"So what else do you do for fun?" John shaped the fireball into something that looked like David, complete with five fingers on each hand, hair on its head and shoes on its feet and made that throw fireballs at him.

Cyndi smirked as the next wash of dilluted warmth hit her, perfectly willing to pretend she hadn't flinched at the first fireball. "What, around here? Not much. Gotta set an example and all. But sometimes I hit that club-place Silver. I know a guy who works there. Oh, and apparently I'm trying school again this spring." She scrutinized the flame construct and tested her hair with the palm of her hand. "Reminds me, I gotta get a haircut. What about you? Besides Elpis and ruining furniture, I mean."

"Ruining furniture?" He manipulated the flame into a zombie-like creature, it's mouth opening wide in a silent scream. "I go to Harry's from time to time," he said. "I haven't been to Silver's in a while but I know that guy, Mark?" John sat on the ground and took another cigarette out of the almost empty pack. So much for trying to quit smoking. "By school you mean like what, postgrad?"

"Mark, yeah. And ahaha, yeah, right. I keep having to drop school for 'health reasons.I had a wacky childhood, so it made me a little . . ." She swirled one long finger next to her ear for the universal sign for 'nutjob,' then pulled back and rolled her eyes. "Of course, around here it doesn't matter because everybody else is equally screwed up. Actually as damage goes I'm pretty tame, never even being brainwashed and all."

That had John staring open-mouthed at Haller. "Wait a fuckin' minute. Who made you school counselor then?"

Nepotism! was the obvious answer, but that wasn't fair to the professor. Cyndi shrugged. "That old saying that doctors specialize in their areas of interest is there for a reason. You got messed up kids, you want somebody who can relate." She cocked her head at John and linked her thumbs around the pockets of her jeans. "I don't exactly advertise. To the kids, I mean. Rule's pretty simple. I can't keep my issues to myself, I leave. Long as I don't screw up I'm good." Her head tilted more, green eyes fixed on John. "Problem with that?"

"Nope. No problem at all." He shook his head. "It's just... you're not at all what I thought you'd be."

Cyndi grinned, relaxing a little. "Yeah, well. I got settings. I'm not like this on the job. And hey, you're not what I woulda thought ex-Brotherhood would be, either, so we can call it even."

John snorted. "Yeah. Rumors of me being a bad ass or a plain idiot has been greatly exaggerated." He was a bad ass. He just wasn't a complete idiot. "Care for a smoke?"

"Thanks, I'm good." And not the smoker. Nonetheless, Cyndi raised her fingers in a snap to show willing. "Here, have a light. I'll let you take it. I've gotten complaints about my aim." Fire burned just above her fingertips. "Too bad you're not into the X-Man stuff. I wouldn't mind training with somebody who can appreciate pyrotechnics. These people are way too paranoid. Even the invulnerable ones."

John extracted the flame and used it to light his cigarette. "Thanks," he said. "Well, I could train with you out here if you want. I've been helping Angel out with her powers training."

"Wouldn't say no. Social life's not exactly bustling. Plus, less chance of forest fires." Cyndi eyed the younger man as he took a drag, eyes inexorably drawn to the glowing end. "Don't got much to offer for a trade, but let me know if you think of anything. 'Sides the pleasure of my company. That's gratis."

"Right. And like I'm about to believe that your social life's not exactly bustling," John said. "I know you're dating Elisabeth Braddock."

Cyndi coughed. "Uh, yeah. Though do me a favor and don't ask me how, 'cause I still can't figure out how that one happened." Thanks for dating that ex-model superspy, Jim, that doesn't make things awkward on the rest of us at all. "Hey, I know. Let's go celebrate our unholy alliance at Harry's with alcohol, and lots of drinking it."

"I'd be up for that. It's New Year's after all. Fuck knows what I was doing in the office all afternoon." John took one last drag of his cigarette before he threw it away. "And hey, since I don't have a car, you can drive us."

"Ahaha, no. Trust me, we wanna walk."