Monet, Amanda - last Tuesday

[xp_daytripper]

Back before various kerfuffles, Amanda and Monet meet for lunch and gifts of duty-free alcohol.



Monet knocked on the cubicle wall, posed artistically against the light. "Yo."

Amanda looked up from her computer screen, blinking, before registering her visitor. "Monet, hey." She grinned a little and moved the mouse to set off the screensaver. "I figured if I waved booze at you, you'd appear. Good birthday?"

"Not bad, really. My credit card cried the next day but such is life, since it was a hundred dollar a head restaurant and all the rest. Anything interesting been going on around here?"

Amanda shrugged. "Not so much since the psis went boom - I've got a metric arseload of work to catch up on, but that's what happens when you run away for a week." She glanced at her watch. "Tho' I still get time off to eat - you want to grab something quick?" Truth be told, she was curious about how the other girl was handling things after their last meeting.

Monet shuddered briefly. "You got the psis going boom, too?" Brightening quickly, she nodded. "Lunch sounds good. The little cafe on the corner looked... acceptable."

"Well, Betsy, yeah, but she was over your way. We were more... consulting on things." Amanda grinned as she rose to grab her jacket. "And don't knock my favourite lunch place. They do a very good sandwich there."

"Honestly, Amanda. Sandwiches are for plebs." Monet followed her out. "I won't ask about the consulting, then. None of my business, really."

"Last I looked, I was a pleb," came the cheerful response. "And no, it's not. Besides, I'd have to kill you if I told you." Jabbing at the elevator button, Amanda rummaged in her bag for a bottle in an airport duty-free plastic carrybag and held it out to Monet. "Happy birthday. Don't drink it all at once."

Monet wriggled the bag open to reveal a nice big bottle of Pimms. "Niiiice. You're a legend, Amanda." She spent a moment wondering what, exactly Amanda and co had been doing before putting it out of her mind. She'd never know.

"Only in my own lifetime."

The trip to the cafe was a short one, filled with small talk. Taking a seat and beckoning at the waitress, Monet took a seat. "I'll have a latte and a cheese sandwich?"

The waitress nodded and looked at Amanda. "Tuna salad and a Coke." As the waitress left, Amanda leaned back in her seat, giving Monet a considering look. "So, how's things? How's the therapy going?

Monet grimaced. "Slowly. I've got most of it back but it's going to be ... six months? Or the end of the year, even, before I get to the point where I'm not clumsy with things and to get the weird-looking part of my gait sorted out. I've been drilling with Cain, but, and we've got almost all my 'little problems' with superstrength under wraps again." She sighed quietly, frustration showing in her voice. "They've said it's going like they expected but if that's this slow..."

"Rushing it won't help tho'," Amanda pointed out. "I can't imagine what it's like for you, but when my back got sliced up again, I know it drove me balmy, waiting for it to heal. But pushing only made it worse, and set me back. Still, you're getting there, right? Having the powers back under control's a good thing." Amanda grinned. "And easier on the cutlery."

Monet shrugged. Like Amanda's back was in any way the same kind of situation. Forcing a smile onto her face, she said, "You're assuming I never squished knives when I was well. Because there was this one time, when Lorna sprung me trying to smooth one of her good ones back into shape..."

Amanda repressed an eyeroll. Monet and Jubilee, both running for Miss Self-Absorbed 2008. "You incurred the wrath of the green-haired bitch?" she said, raising her eyebrows. "And lived to tell the tale?"

"Lorna made me take cooking classes. I pointed out that that was what a personal chef is paid to do, not a St. Croix but she didn't believe me. I swear, she made them worse as revenge. All 'don't chop salad on that until you've washed the raw meat off it' and 'Oh, look, you burnt the steak'."

"A fate worse than death, then. Just as well you don't go for facial piercings - you might have gotten a lot worse than cooking lessons." Amanda wrinkled her nose in memory. Their food and drinks arrived, and she took a bite of her sandwich before going on. "I see Lorna's still a complete nutter. I don't miss that part of living in the madhouse, that's for sure."

Monet shrugged. "Aside from that powers fight she had with Shiro in the halls that day, she's mostly insane in ways that don't have the slightest impact on me, so I really don't care. Even that wasn't my problem. Although, dammit! If I join the leather brigade, I'm going to have to give a crap, when she's insane, aren't I?"

Amanda had been sipping her drink, and narrowly averted spitting the mouthful on the table. As it was, there was some coughing and spluttering as Coke went up her nose. Reaching for a napkin and wiping her face, she managed to croak: "You're wanting to join the team?" Oh, Summers would have a stroke. One of those funny ones.

"I don't know. I'm thinking about it. It looks like it could be fun. Or at least, that fight with Nathan was, until I thought I was deadski, and so were the dinosaurs and Afghanistan... Murderworld, not so much." Monet grinned. "Also, that reaction is alone is worth it."

...It could be fun. Yep, definitely a stroke. Maybe an aneurysm. "Oh, to be a fly on the wall when you have that conversation."

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[x-m.livejournal.com]

Oh, fuckity! I'm sorry, I remembered late last night that I'd completely forgotten to post this, so I was planning on doing it once I'd finished lodging all these BAS statements and things. Sorry!