Kane and Younger Frost - Harry's log

[x-adrienne.livejournal.com]

Garrison and Adrienne have a chat at Harry's. Adrienne learns that Kane actually does read her journal even if he doesn't ever reply to her baitings.


"You might want to slow down." Garrison said, plunking his own pint down beside Adrienne's and sliding in next to her. "If you drink too much, you'll end up getting really drunk, remember you're a Frost, and end up dancing topless out on the floor. Which I know Johnny, most of the male patrons, and even Harry would love, but then you have to explain it in the morning."

The psychometrist raised an eyebrow. "Frosts don't dance topless in public- much too crass," she informed him. At least, she was pretty sure they didn't. "Unless it's a matter of family honour." She set her wine glass aside, however. "Did you hear I defused a bomb?" she asked proudly.

"I did. I even heard you deserved a medal for it." Kane reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package, which he opened and slid over to her. It was a silver saints medal, the kind of thing that was easily obtained in most accessory shops. "It's of St. Barbara, the patron saint of gunners, miners, and anyone who works with explosives."

Completely taken aback, Adrienne could only stare at the little silver medal for what she realized finally was an uncomfortable amount of time. "I... I didn't really mean... I...I was only joking..." Blushing, and furious at herself for knowing that she was blushing, she picked up her wineglass with an unsteady hand and drained it. "You're a funny guy, Kane," she said when she'd swallowed, not wanting to seem ungrateful, but hoping he wouldn't notice that she wasn't picking the medal up. "Patron saint of explosives... that's funny."

"I like to think so. I know you're not Catholic, but even the non-Catholic firemen had St. Florian's medals in their jackets. Seemed appropriate, and it's cheaper than finding a replica Medal of Honor or whatever." Kane said affibly, leaning on his forearms on the table. "You doing all right after the whole weekend of madness?"


Adrienne continued to stare at the medal, unable to articulate what it meant to her that Garrison had given it to her, even if it was a joke. "Well, the Frosts are old Boston stock, so I'm sure there was Catholicism back in the line somewhere," she murmured. "I'll have to read the family heirlooms one day and find out." Not that she was ever meaning to lay eyes on anything from that era of her life again. She signalled Brier for another wine and gladly took up Garrison's new topic. "I am doing alright, actually. Like I said yesterday, I'm even beginning to worry that I'm becoming desensitized to the kind of shit that happens around mansion inhabitants. How was your weekend?"


"Something like a war. Still, makes you stop and think. All sorts of heroes during this thing." Kane sighed and took another sip. "In the end, he turned out to be just another criminal to put away. Like looking through a distorted lens."


With a shiver, Adrienne sipped at a new wine glass, narrowing her eyes at the cop. "That was not just another criminal. There's a difference between a criminal and a crazy fucking psychopath who thinks he's a god and wants to exterminate humans."

"No, there really isn't. That's the point. At the end of the day, he's just a whackjob with too much natural power." Kane shook his head. "Take away his mutant powers, and he's the same as some cult leader or abusive nut, who manipulates people into thinking he's more important, more significant, means more than he really does. Now he's going to stare at bare walls until he dies."


The brunette crossed her arms over her chest. "I confessed to a crime not too long ago," she said in clipped, quiet tones. "Does that mean there's no difference between him and I, then?"

"There's stages of criminal, Adrienne. Terrorists want to be considered somehow different from the guy who kills three people robbing a bank. They need to feel like there's some kind of higher purpose that makes them somehow better than people who are motivated by greed or rage. They're not." Kane explained.


Satisfied, she nodded and uncrossed her arms, reaching for her wine with one hand and taking the box with the medal in the other. "Alright then. As long as we're clear that I'm not like him. I intend to dominate the world through fashion and fashion accessories. So that inventor-slash-security guy at the school mentioned to me that you had a skin-coating substance that was colourless and itch-free," she segued amiably.