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xp_logsTwo former roommates drink wine and gossip. It's just like old times.
Winter had meant the brownstone rooftop had seen less traffic, but with the melting of the snow and the gradual increase in temperature signs of life were returning - an increase in the number of cigarette butts, the return of the battered armchairs and tonight, the creaking open of the door as Amanda pushed it open, gesturing for Marie-Ange to go ahead of her while she held the door.
"Not a bad night," she remarked, looking up at the sky. "'S not pissing down with rain at least."
"And not freezing or slushy or in any other way making me think my toes might freeze off." It was finally warming up, and she'd left behind the hat and scarf and heavy winter coat that she'd worn almost the entire winter. "I like my toes, they give me a place to put funny nail polish colors. And fill up my shoes." She'd already had a drink or two at Finnagan's and was a little giggly - not anywhere even close to drunk, just obviously relaxed and in a good mood.
"Can't go wrong with toes, no," Amanda chuckled, holding up a bottle in a brown paper bag. "We did remember glasses this time, yeah? 'Cause I have to admit, drinking wine out of the bottle does it no bloody favours at all."
Marie-Ange pulled a pair of wine glasses from her shoulder bag and waggled them at Amanda. "And plastic this time, so that if we drop them off the roof onto loud people, it will not shatter into a million pieces." She patted her bag, and then set it down on the cheap folding table someone had dragged up to the roof. It was a new - and welcome addition to the battered arm chairs. "And I have two extra, just in case." Which might encourage the dropping, but loud people deserved to be smited.
"See, this is why I like you. You have the best ideas." Amanda chose a battered chair and flopped into it. A corkscrew was produced from her jacket pocket and she set the bottle between her knees to work on the cork. "No dropping anything on Jubes if she's out there, tho', no matter how tempted you are." This last was punctuated with a small grunt as she yanked out the cork.
"You are so mean to me." Marie-Ange said, pouting as she sat down in another of the chairs, stretching her legs out in front of her. "No one lets me torment Jubilee anymore. I do not even let me torment her that much!" She held out the glasses once Amanda had gotten the cork out and was ready to pour. "I am not sure she has learned anything about keeping her mouth shut in the time she was gone. And everyone keeps telling me I am not to tape her mouth shut. How is that fair?" The grousing was more good-natured then anything.
There was a pleasant glugging sound as Amanda filled the glasses. "You're so hard done by. Besides, you tape Jubes' mouth, you'll wind up having to listen to her tapping out messages in Morse code with pencil or something." She set the bottle down beside her chair. "Like old times, isn't it? Drinking wine, bitching about Jubilee..." She grinned at her former roomie.
Marie-Ange was quiet behind the rim of her glass, more intent on getting some of what was a decent red wine inside her, instead of wasting away in the glass. But once she had a few swallows, she nodded. "But." She started. "Without the lurking uptight classmates who think that drinking will lead to drug use and underage sex and..." She held up a finger. "... well, perhaps they are right, but I do not consider this a bad thing."
"Doesn't lead to it, just makes it more fun," was Amanda's shameless reply, accompanied by a suggestively raised eyebrow. "Tho' it looks like the new generation're finding their own things to be prats about. Please tell me we weren't that self-righteous and all."
"I think we were. I know I was." Marie-Ange said, taking another drink with a sigh. "Listen to me, not even that far out of my teens and talking about how pretentious I was as a teenager." She laughed wryly. "Plus ca change, then I was talking about how horrible the adults were, so I suppose it is just the same. And complaining about my cousin, even then. Only now there is no ocean between us."
"One of these days you're gunna have to explain why you hate him so much. I mean, yeah, he's a pretentious git, but I've seen you deal with plenty of those without even ruffling your 'do. Jean-Phillipe? Really gets your knickers in a twist," Amanda observed.
Marie-Ange shrugged non-commitally. "Exposure to him from an early age? Like being exposed to radiation, only in his case it was bad music and worse clothes and I could not -get away-." Not to mention how much he'd hounded her about her mutation and powers. "He is harder to ignore, I suppose. But if I keep talking about him, I will only get more annoyed with him being right here."
"Sort of a 'familiarity breeds contempt' deal?" Amanda tilted her head back, looking up at the sky, city lights reflecting from the cloud cover. The energy of New York buzzed through her system, a low-level charge she really only noticed now when she was focussing on it. "Change of topic, then..." She sipped at her wine as she thought. "So, how do you think Jubilee is settling in?"
"Well, I have not thrown her off the roof." Marie-Ange said, with a smile. "Not yet at least. Nor, more importantly, has Remy." She took a moment to drink from her glass and then continued, somewhat thoughtfully. "I think she was not quite expecting us to be as ruthless as we can be sometimes. I killed one of the Warwolves in front of her, and she lost quite a lot of that bravado she has put up." It would've been harder - much harder - to talk about had Mark not survived.
"Well, I think if Remy has thrown her off the roof, it's been for training." Amanda's expression grew pensive. "But she's getting the idea we aren't the same people she used to know back before she left. Some things haven't changed, tho' - she hasn't said a word to me about the tunnels. Makes me wonder if she's worked out what I did down there."
"I am not sure. She was quite vocal at me, but that may have been the surprise. I nearly decapitated it right in front of her." Marie-Ange was not entirely comfortable talking about it, and took a long drink from her glass to compensate. "At least she was not around for the bees. Or the Russian tentacle robot. Or the worms...." Another drink, and then a shake of the head and wry smile. "I wonder if we can still justify expensing our dry cleaning. So many nearly ruined clothes."
"I think if Her Majesty makes a point of coming out with us, we should - that diamond form of hers goes through a lot of clothes." Amanda gave Marie-Ange a grateful look for the diversion. "Still, she's handy, her and that Bishop both."
"Yes, but she is rich and we? Are not." Marie-Ange pointed out. "So she can afford to replace her clothes if Death Worms eat them." She went to take another drink, realized the glass was emptier then she'd expected and bent to refill it, gesturing with the bottle at Amanda when she was done. "Even if all of the teenage girls at the school think Bishop is the next best thing to a box of chocolates. I do not remember being that boy crazy at that age."
"With all the receipt-chasing she's been doing, maybe she's not as rich as we think?" Amanda suggested, tipping the last mouthful of wine into her mouth and holding out the glass for a refill. When she'd swallowed, she went on. "Well, you have to admit, the man's pretty easy on the eyes. And thorough - he quizzed me on the whole spell I was going to use for the 'Wolves before we went in, just so he could help out if needed. I like that in someone who's going to be watching my back when I'm concentrating."
Marie-Ange talked as she refilled Amanda's glass, and then as she set the bottle down. "Oh, I do not deny that he is quite nice to look at. I think he makes Doug a little nervous. The guns - he is still a little jumpy around them - but I think Bishop is fitting in well, and... Doug is long overdue for dealing with his gun phobia. So if this means he will go talk to Sofia about it, I am not going to complain."
"He still hasn't gone?" Amanda rolled her eyes a little. "We don't exactly have the luxury of phobias, not with what we do. We could tag-team, but I don't think that'd work - he needs to make the decision on his own, yeah?"
"I think we've really pushed him as much as he can be pushed. You are right - he has to decide on his own." Not that she liked admitting it. "He is at least, able to function with them around, so I suppose that is enough for now. Perhaps Sofia is just wanting for him to say something. It would not surprise me, she did something similar to me about socilization." Marie-Ange shook her head, a wry smile on her lips.
"She's sneaky like that," Amanda agreed, swallowing another mouthful of wine. "All about the whole 'being your own therapist' sometimes, which is probably why there hasn't been a total revolt from us yet. Well, that and she's stuck by us in some pretty tight spots."
Marie-Ange nodded in agreement. "I would say the same about Illyana too. And Jubilee - she could have just as easily not helped us in Madripoor. It was not as if we were not -very- clear that it was dangerous." She contemplated her drink for a moment, obviously thinking. "For a lot of, what does Doug call it, wayward youths and ex-criminals, we certainly have managed to not need to beat each other up for theraputic values yet." She smirked, shaking her head. "Questions of legality or not, I think I much prefer team bonding over a beer then a sparring mat."
"Same here, since most of you can hand my arse to me in two minutes flat," Amanda observed wryly. She tipped her head back, looking up at the sky. "I think maybe it's 'cause we can separate it," she said after a minute. "There's the job, and then there's us, and we don't tend to mix the two up much. I know 'Yana's got some chip on her shoulder about me, but that doesn't stop the two of us working together to pull the info Wanda needs, you aren't 100 per cent happy about Jubilee coming back with us, but you don't let that get in the way, Remy and Sof want to rip each other's eyeballs out at any given time, but he still trusted her to get 'Ro through that hurricane..." Amanda dropped her head back down so she could have more wine. "Makes things less complicated, at least."
"Certainly. And hangovers hurt less then black eyes and broken ribs."At that, Marie-Ange raised her glass in a brief almost-toast. "They stand out less too. No one looks twice if you get on the subway looking like you need an aspirin and two coffees. Or a coffee and two aspirins. But if you get on with a broken nose or black eyes, everyone remembers you."
Amanda barked out a laugh. "Which we really don't want with what we do," she responded, still chuckling. "Oh, I like that." She raised her glass in return to Marie-Ange. "To being clever and not being remembered."
Winter had meant the brownstone rooftop had seen less traffic, but with the melting of the snow and the gradual increase in temperature signs of life were returning - an increase in the number of cigarette butts, the return of the battered armchairs and tonight, the creaking open of the door as Amanda pushed it open, gesturing for Marie-Ange to go ahead of her while she held the door.
"Not a bad night," she remarked, looking up at the sky. "'S not pissing down with rain at least."
"And not freezing or slushy or in any other way making me think my toes might freeze off." It was finally warming up, and she'd left behind the hat and scarf and heavy winter coat that she'd worn almost the entire winter. "I like my toes, they give me a place to put funny nail polish colors. And fill up my shoes." She'd already had a drink or two at Finnagan's and was a little giggly - not anywhere even close to drunk, just obviously relaxed and in a good mood.
"Can't go wrong with toes, no," Amanda chuckled, holding up a bottle in a brown paper bag. "We did remember glasses this time, yeah? 'Cause I have to admit, drinking wine out of the bottle does it no bloody favours at all."
Marie-Ange pulled a pair of wine glasses from her shoulder bag and waggled them at Amanda. "And plastic this time, so that if we drop them off the roof onto loud people, it will not shatter into a million pieces." She patted her bag, and then set it down on the cheap folding table someone had dragged up to the roof. It was a new - and welcome addition to the battered arm chairs. "And I have two extra, just in case." Which might encourage the dropping, but loud people deserved to be smited.
"See, this is why I like you. You have the best ideas." Amanda chose a battered chair and flopped into it. A corkscrew was produced from her jacket pocket and she set the bottle between her knees to work on the cork. "No dropping anything on Jubes if she's out there, tho', no matter how tempted you are." This last was punctuated with a small grunt as she yanked out the cork.
"You are so mean to me." Marie-Ange said, pouting as she sat down in another of the chairs, stretching her legs out in front of her. "No one lets me torment Jubilee anymore. I do not even let me torment her that much!" She held out the glasses once Amanda had gotten the cork out and was ready to pour. "I am not sure she has learned anything about keeping her mouth shut in the time she was gone. And everyone keeps telling me I am not to tape her mouth shut. How is that fair?" The grousing was more good-natured then anything.
There was a pleasant glugging sound as Amanda filled the glasses. "You're so hard done by. Besides, you tape Jubes' mouth, you'll wind up having to listen to her tapping out messages in Morse code with pencil or something." She set the bottle down beside her chair. "Like old times, isn't it? Drinking wine, bitching about Jubilee..." She grinned at her former roomie.
Marie-Ange was quiet behind the rim of her glass, more intent on getting some of what was a decent red wine inside her, instead of wasting away in the glass. But once she had a few swallows, she nodded. "But." She started. "Without the lurking uptight classmates who think that drinking will lead to drug use and underage sex and..." She held up a finger. "... well, perhaps they are right, but I do not consider this a bad thing."
"Doesn't lead to it, just makes it more fun," was Amanda's shameless reply, accompanied by a suggestively raised eyebrow. "Tho' it looks like the new generation're finding their own things to be prats about. Please tell me we weren't that self-righteous and all."
"I think we were. I know I was." Marie-Ange said, taking another drink with a sigh. "Listen to me, not even that far out of my teens and talking about how pretentious I was as a teenager." She laughed wryly. "Plus ca change, then I was talking about how horrible the adults were, so I suppose it is just the same. And complaining about my cousin, even then. Only now there is no ocean between us."
"One of these days you're gunna have to explain why you hate him so much. I mean, yeah, he's a pretentious git, but I've seen you deal with plenty of those without even ruffling your 'do. Jean-Phillipe? Really gets your knickers in a twist," Amanda observed.
Marie-Ange shrugged non-commitally. "Exposure to him from an early age? Like being exposed to radiation, only in his case it was bad music and worse clothes and I could not -get away-." Not to mention how much he'd hounded her about her mutation and powers. "He is harder to ignore, I suppose. But if I keep talking about him, I will only get more annoyed with him being right here."
"Sort of a 'familiarity breeds contempt' deal?" Amanda tilted her head back, looking up at the sky, city lights reflecting from the cloud cover. The energy of New York buzzed through her system, a low-level charge she really only noticed now when she was focussing on it. "Change of topic, then..." She sipped at her wine as she thought. "So, how do you think Jubilee is settling in?"
"Well, I have not thrown her off the roof." Marie-Ange said, with a smile. "Not yet at least. Nor, more importantly, has Remy." She took a moment to drink from her glass and then continued, somewhat thoughtfully. "I think she was not quite expecting us to be as ruthless as we can be sometimes. I killed one of the Warwolves in front of her, and she lost quite a lot of that bravado she has put up." It would've been harder - much harder - to talk about had Mark not survived.
"Well, I think if Remy has thrown her off the roof, it's been for training." Amanda's expression grew pensive. "But she's getting the idea we aren't the same people she used to know back before she left. Some things haven't changed, tho' - she hasn't said a word to me about the tunnels. Makes me wonder if she's worked out what I did down there."
"I am not sure. She was quite vocal at me, but that may have been the surprise. I nearly decapitated it right in front of her." Marie-Ange was not entirely comfortable talking about it, and took a long drink from her glass to compensate. "At least she was not around for the bees. Or the Russian tentacle robot. Or the worms...." Another drink, and then a shake of the head and wry smile. "I wonder if we can still justify expensing our dry cleaning. So many nearly ruined clothes."
"I think if Her Majesty makes a point of coming out with us, we should - that diamond form of hers goes through a lot of clothes." Amanda gave Marie-Ange a grateful look for the diversion. "Still, she's handy, her and that Bishop both."
"Yes, but she is rich and we? Are not." Marie-Ange pointed out. "So she can afford to replace her clothes if Death Worms eat them." She went to take another drink, realized the glass was emptier then she'd expected and bent to refill it, gesturing with the bottle at Amanda when she was done. "Even if all of the teenage girls at the school think Bishop is the next best thing to a box of chocolates. I do not remember being that boy crazy at that age."
"With all the receipt-chasing she's been doing, maybe she's not as rich as we think?" Amanda suggested, tipping the last mouthful of wine into her mouth and holding out the glass for a refill. When she'd swallowed, she went on. "Well, you have to admit, the man's pretty easy on the eyes. And thorough - he quizzed me on the whole spell I was going to use for the 'Wolves before we went in, just so he could help out if needed. I like that in someone who's going to be watching my back when I'm concentrating."
Marie-Ange talked as she refilled Amanda's glass, and then as she set the bottle down. "Oh, I do not deny that he is quite nice to look at. I think he makes Doug a little nervous. The guns - he is still a little jumpy around them - but I think Bishop is fitting in well, and... Doug is long overdue for dealing with his gun phobia. So if this means he will go talk to Sofia about it, I am not going to complain."
"He still hasn't gone?" Amanda rolled her eyes a little. "We don't exactly have the luxury of phobias, not with what we do. We could tag-team, but I don't think that'd work - he needs to make the decision on his own, yeah?"
"I think we've really pushed him as much as he can be pushed. You are right - he has to decide on his own." Not that she liked admitting it. "He is at least, able to function with them around, so I suppose that is enough for now. Perhaps Sofia is just wanting for him to say something. It would not surprise me, she did something similar to me about socilization." Marie-Ange shook her head, a wry smile on her lips.
"She's sneaky like that," Amanda agreed, swallowing another mouthful of wine. "All about the whole 'being your own therapist' sometimes, which is probably why there hasn't been a total revolt from us yet. Well, that and she's stuck by us in some pretty tight spots."
Marie-Ange nodded in agreement. "I would say the same about Illyana too. And Jubilee - she could have just as easily not helped us in Madripoor. It was not as if we were not -very- clear that it was dangerous." She contemplated her drink for a moment, obviously thinking. "For a lot of, what does Doug call it, wayward youths and ex-criminals, we certainly have managed to not need to beat each other up for theraputic values yet." She smirked, shaking her head. "Questions of legality or not, I think I much prefer team bonding over a beer then a sparring mat."
"Same here, since most of you can hand my arse to me in two minutes flat," Amanda observed wryly. She tipped her head back, looking up at the sky. "I think maybe it's 'cause we can separate it," she said after a minute. "There's the job, and then there's us, and we don't tend to mix the two up much. I know 'Yana's got some chip on her shoulder about me, but that doesn't stop the two of us working together to pull the info Wanda needs, you aren't 100 per cent happy about Jubilee coming back with us, but you don't let that get in the way, Remy and Sof want to rip each other's eyeballs out at any given time, but he still trusted her to get 'Ro through that hurricane..." Amanda dropped her head back down so she could have more wine. "Makes things less complicated, at least."
"Certainly. And hangovers hurt less then black eyes and broken ribs."At that, Marie-Ange raised her glass in a brief almost-toast. "They stand out less too. No one looks twice if you get on the subway looking like you need an aspirin and two coffees. Or a coffee and two aspirins. But if you get on with a broken nose or black eyes, everyone remembers you."
Amanda barked out a laugh. "Which we really don't want with what we do," she responded, still chuckling. "Oh, I like that." She raised her glass in return to Marie-Ange. "To being clever and not being remembered."
