xp_logs | Log: Jake, M and really really red nail polish

Jake whistled as he walked down the hallway. Paying off Tabitha to stay out of her room was maybe a little underhand and sleazy, but, hey, old habits die hard and all that. Besides, it was M. Who'd ignored his incredibly polite notes to come see him for weeks now. Couldn't have that, oh no.

He entered the room without bothering to knock. No point in giving her a warning, after all.

M had been sitting on her bed, dressed in an enormous robe and carefully painting her toenails in a frighteningly red shade. However, someone walking into her room without knocking brought her head up.

"Do you," she demanded "have some debilitating illness that stops you from being able to knock?" She bowed over her feet again. "Go away, I'm busy."

"That's the most god awful shade of red I have seen in my life," Jake said, slightly awed. He shook his head. "I mean, hell no. You and me, M, are going to have a good, long, productive, counseling session. Now."

M looked up at him, tilting her head in consideration. "Why? And don't you need, like, pieces of papers and charts and maybe computer or something?" she asked. "I mean, why are we doing this here?"

"Because I don't think anyone will find me here," Jake said, smirking. "And, also, you don't check your mail a lot, do you?" He leaned against the wall, watching her, amused.

"Just because I don't take sixteen thousand courses and practice beating people up at intervals does not mean that I have time to check my mail every two seconds," M said. She frowned in concentration and finished her last nail. "Okay, I guess you're going to be pissy if I don't." She held the brush in the air in front of her face in a silencing gesture before Jake could say anything. "Conditions, because you cornered me. Firstly, I want to have a beer while we do this, Granddad bought be a six-pack of Crownies yesterday. Second, I get to paint your toenails."

Jake arched his eyebrows at her. "My toenails? You realise that if I wanted them in that colour, they'd already be, right?" He paused. "But, seeing as I doubt you're gonna go tell the entire school after wards...Sure, I'm good with the beers."

M smiled brightly. "I probably won't tell anyone." She leaned over to what Jake had assumed was a bedside table, but turned out to be a fridge and pulled out two beers, which she opened delicately with her pinky. "Okay, kick off those shoes, sit on the bed, and tell me about my bright future in the fabulous career of your choice."

He did as ordered, deciding to shift away the colour if it should turn out too horrible, but otherwise more keen on the beer. M had always been strange like that. "Well, my choice? For you?"

"Why not? Isn't that what you're here for?" M said, inspecting his feet. "Hey, you really need a pedicure badly. But really, what are you supposed to talk to me about?" She took a long drink. "Unless it's my 'difficulty with authority figures' or 'problems concentrating on classes' or something."

"You're talking to a shapeshifter, darling," Jake said, holding a hand out for his beer. “And the lot of it, I think. Where d'you wanna start? And I got a note thing from your dad..." he squinted, trying to remember the wording.

M watched in fascination as Jake gave himself a pedicure. "I'm sure Daddy had a lot to say. He generally does."

"Ha, yes." He nodded as he remembered, giving M an equally fascinated look. "Really? With the weedwacker and his best gin?"

"Only the once!" she hurried to assure him. "And I'm sure that the view is even better now. Probably."

"Uh-huh. He said something like that, yes." Jake snickered. He tilted his head, drinking, while watching M wield her nail-polish brush expertly. "How's about a career as a stylist?" he said randomly.

"Oh, not a chance. Stylists have to toady." M inspected her work. "And I really don't toady well." She looked at him. "You have nice feet for a fake girl. Also, I don't really want to work at all anyway."

"I kind of figured," Jake grinned at her. "And thanks. All my own work, too." He changed the topic, moving on his mental list of guidance counseling. "So how're you settling in? Haven't heard you've broken or blown up anything yet..."

M shrugged. "I only ever blow things up on purpose, and I'm surprised Daddy didn't put that in the letter, he was pretty clear to me that blowing things up would mean disowning and stuff. And mostly I don't break things any more. Sometimes I forget to pay attention, but this place is pretty sturdy."

"It is, yeah. Guess it has to be with the Russian and freakishly strong girl -- not you. Marie. Miss D'Ancato, whatever."

M laughed cheerfully. "The wanker who sometimes calls herself Rogue? Heh. Actually, I have her for a class. Yeah, there's a few very strong of us. Mr Marko too."

Jake rolled his eyes. "He keeps calling me Miss. I think he thinks it's funny."

"Mr Marko seems to be under the impression he's a funny funny guy," M said. "While the rest of us are under the impression he's a head case. Sounds like a compromise to me."

Jake snickered. Then he wriggled his toes, giving her a strange look. Was she feeling him... No... Surely not. "Er. So, how about friends, M? You have fans yet?"

The laughter was so loud it was almost startling. "Friends, not so much. Fans, I haven't noticed. There aren't a huge number of interesting people here. If they're not incredibly boring kids, they're try-hards. And hero-types, I've never been that into."

"There are others..." Jake said, distracted. He was looking at his empty beer bottle. Hm. He put the beer bottle down beside the bed and held out his hand again.

M completely failed to hide her smug look as she got another beer out of the fridge. "You couldn't prove it by what I've seen." She looked at the hand holding the nail-polish brush and opened the beer with her lips. After spitting out the cap, she grinned cheerily. "Definite benefit to invulnerability. Although Daddy calls it unlady-like."

"Well, your daddy is old fashioned," Jake said, amused. He grabbed the beer and leaned back. "Anyway... You've met Remy, have you?"

"Uh," M thought. "He's one of the guys with a bad case of heroin-chic, yeah? The one that actually speaks English, or fakes it well?"

"That's the one, yeah." Jake poked her with a carefully painted red toe. "Stay away from him, y'hear?"

"Why, is he really an addict?" M looked suddenly horrified. "No, wait! Does he have lice?"

"Would that make you stay away from him? Then, yes, yes, he does. We picked him up from the gutters." Jake nodded. "Terrible sight. Walking trash pile, I kid you not."

M shuddered. "I bet he smelt awful." She leaned over and blew gently on Jake's feet. "I think that's done. Have we finished all the exciting stuff you have to talk about? 'Cause we could just finish the beer, if you'd like."

"Eh, can't remember the rest. Probably wasn't important." He pointed his beer bottle at her. "Drink. Can't be all corrupting influence if you don't go along."

M dropped her empty bottle beside the bed. "I'll have you know that since it's my beer," she said reaching for another, "I am the corrupting influence."

"I'm older," Jake said firmly. "Ergo I am the corrupter."

M smiled. "Fine. Hand over your fingernails." She pulled out a different bottle of nail polish. This one was purple.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

xp_daytripper

*snorts* Again with the cute. These two are just perfect together. And I think there's going to be a mention of Jake's painted nails when he finally tracks Amanda down... ;)

From:

x-m.livejournal.com

I'm not entirely sure that Jake and M get along so well because a) they come from the same sort of background, b) Sass and I get along well *grins* or c) M has a crush on Jake and is being politer....

Probably not the last, she's not politer to anyone, ever.

From:

xp_daytripper

I'll pick a) and add a d) - they are actually similar people, with the lack of empathy and all. M goes for disdain, Jake goes for confusion, but deep down they both don't really get other people...