Log: Cammie & Clarice, backdated to 1/21 early morning

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One more late night drink run introduces Cammie to Clarice, the two discuss drinks and the magical powers of brownie summoning. Backdated to the 21st in the wee hours of the morning.

Cammie still hadn't broken herself completely of her nocturnal habits. It was what happened, she supposed, when you slept days so you could be up all night it made it hard to reverse the schedule back to what people considered normal.

All in all, she didn't consider it an overly bad thing. It was easier to explore this place when it wasn't crawling with people, for one. And if everyone was sleeping she didn't have to worry about making someone sick. And her wound was healing up well enough where it wouldn't be an issue for much longer anyway. At least by her blood.

Her arm.. well, she'd see how that went. But right now, she was wandering back towards the kitchen, under the sink. Now was time for a little experimental chemistry by way of making herself a drink. Comet and floor cleaner, anyone?

Normally, Clarice worked on her projects either on the floor of her room or she had a work table where her sewing machines sat. However, those took up space and were heavy to move if she wanted to work at a table. And Monet was sleeping so Clarice had hauled her muslin and patterns down to the kitchen to work there on the table. It was a nice big table down there and it was unlikely that she would bother anyone. She was quite happily working when a noise made her turn, giant shears in hand.

"Um...hi," Cammie said, hands in the air, one of the hands holding the powdered bleach, "Let me guess, I startled you?" she said, eying the shears.

"What? Oh, no. Well, sorta. I was about to cut my pattern," she indicated the muslin. It wasn't like she had grabbed the scissors because the other girl had come in the room. "So I was already holding the scissors. It's not like I was thinking about stabbing you," she reassured her, putting the scissors down. "What's up with the bleach? Spill your science experiment?" Clarice didn't recognize the girl, but people came and went often around here, it wasn't entirely surprising. And there was always something strange going on.

"What this?" she set the bleach down, "No. No science experiments. Would you believe I'm mixing a drink?" Cammie returned. "Hey, where are the cups in this place?"

"Top left cabinet by the sink," Clasrice replied without really questioning it, "A mixed drink huh? Might want to make sure you have a glass one and not plastic in case it melts or something. Oh. And I should warn you - beach kills and I'm an EMT. So y'know, don't make me go have to pump someones stomach. Or yours," it was said mildly, but she was serious. Making a home volcano or vinegar and baking soda bomb was one thing, actually poisoning someone, bad. "And if you do poison someone, I'll beat you senseless. That's uncool."

"Sweet," Cammie said, and fetched a glass glass, "Oh, don't worry. The only people that have ever gotten sick when I've done this are those who can't stand to watch," she said simply. Pouring floor cleaner in a cup and adding in a very healthy amount of the powdered bleach and stirred it by twirling the cup, not bothering with a spoon. "Blame the fact that I have yet to ask for things I can actually taste but... this always freaks people out so it's only fun to do sometimes."

Clarice shrugged, watching, but not grossed out, "It takes more than that to get me. I've worked in the medlab here. And been nuked. Really, once you're nuked and have puked your guts out and had sores and shit and lose your hair and 40lbs....yeah, someone else drinking bleach isn't so bad," she wandered closer and grabbed a soda from the fridge, popping it open, "I'm Clarice."

"Yeah, I could see how that would put things in perspective," Cammie said and then drank, the bleach doing it's part to take care of the horrible aftertaste that pine-sol always left behind on anything. If Clarice had been expecting Cammie to fall over dead or anything dramatic like that she would be disappointed, the only thing that happened was she took another swig of it. "You look pretty healthy now though," she pointed out. And purple, but hey. Purple was a good color. At least she wasn't puce.

Clarice had sort of being hoping for some reaction. The lack thereof was both reassuring and disappointing, but it meant she didn't need to call the medlab or anything. "Well, it's been almost a year. My hair's growing back and everything," she had a weave now of black hair mixed with purple. It wasn't quite her natural colour, but it would do. "And I've almost gained all the weight back. Yay muscle."

Now there was a bit of a reaction, but only in the form of a quiet belch, the type that came from drinking too fast. And a bit of a frown, there was the aftertaste. Damn pine-sol. Cheap ass floor cleaner. "Yeah, I mean, looking at you I couldn't tell someone had tried to nuke you like a hotdog."

"Oh, my hair is mostly fake," she bend down slightly to show where the weave was worked in. It was a nice weave as these things went, but still very fake, "And it's not black. Apparently purple is not really a natural colour for most people, but I take what I get. How can you drink that? I mean...what's your mutation?"

"Ah," Cammie said. "What, how can I drink this?" she held up the mostly empty glass, "I can barely drink this, pine-sol is cheap and disgusting and whoever does your shopping needs to be shot," she quipped to the first part and shrugged to the second, "I really have no idea what I do. Other than make people horrifically sick. A side effect of this is I no longer sympathy puke."

Which was about the best she could explain it without starting out with something like, Hi, I call myself Cammie and I kill people. Kill them hard.

"That's a good thing," puking, even in sympathy, was gross. "Well, the docs here will figure it out. Or Forge. Or Paige. Or someone who is most likely not me. I'm not really all that techie-science minded. I mean, I am, but not like them. Or well, I want to be a doctor, but not a researcher? If that makes sense," as usual, Clarice's mouth was getting ahead of her brain.

"Maybe you should see about getting non-pine sol crap then? Talk to Scott. Mr. Summers," normally they would tell Dani to order it, but Dani wasn't doing that stuff anymore so Clarice wasn't sure who was now.

"Nah, beggars can't be choosers," Cammie said to the last. "And sure, I get it. Want to be a doctor, but not one that does research."

"Right," Oh good, whoever this girl was, she spoke Clarice. "I don't think you said who you were?"

"I haven't," Cammie said, "I generally suck at intros, or try to be witty somehow, but call me Cammie."

"'My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father prepare to die,'" Clarice quote back, "Usually works pretty well, if your name is Inigo. Or if you can do the accent really well. Or Hispanic. Intro's are usually lame, but they're sort of necessary if you don't want to be called 'hey you' forever."

"Well, 'Hey You' is generally better than, 'Stop her, she's getting away!' or 'Ohmigod, what are you doing?!'" Cammie pointed out.

"Oh, I've had both of those," Clarice wandered back towards the table and began cutting out her muslin. They could just chat while she worked, "Along with a whole bunch of ruder ones. Then again, I've mostly deserved all of them too. Well, maybe not all."

Cammie took the two seconds to clean her cup. You didn't want anyone else getting a taste of bleach or pine-sol after all, "My personal favorite has always been 'holy shit, what ARE you.'"

Clarice turned at that comment, "Yeah, I've had that too. Probably where I got my smart ass attitude from. 'Uranus' is always a good answer. Or 'I'm a Pixie. Didn't you study mythology?' Or something else sarcastic. Being purple is FUN!"

"Ah, sarcasm, the cause of - and solution to - all life's problems. Or is that beer? I can never remember," Cammie said. Mostly because beer didn't do a damn thing to her.

"Who needs mutant powers when you have beer and sarcasm?" she responded, brandishing her scissors, "They both work pretty well for me. How old are you? 'Cause underage drinking is bad!" yup, corrupting of minors was bad. After all, Clarice had been a model teenager. Or something like that.

"Not twenty-one, but I don't think that matters when beer doesn't do anything to me. I mean damn woman, you just saw me drink floor cleaner and you're asking if I'm old enough to drink?" Cammie had to laugh at that.

Shrugging, Clarice didn't look at all perturbed, "We're not supposed to promote underage drinking," nevermind that she did it herself, though not nearly to the extent she had at one point, "But I wasn't really asking to find out if you could drink alcohol or not so much as general curiosity. I mean, yeah. As you said, drain cleaner. Whatever floats your boat though."

"Well, if you're curious, I'm a year short of twenty," she said simply. "And hey, don't knock it till you tried it. Except, don't. Because it could kill you."

"Oooh," Clarice nodded knowingly, "You're OLD," nevermind again that Clarice was 20 and quickly approaching 21. Now there would be a blowout party. Oh yes. 21 was going to ROCK.

"Don't worry. I prefer brownies. Oooh, mudslide! Yes, now I want a mudslide," she crossed her arms and looked at Cammie, annoyed, "I blame you. Where can I get a mudslide this late at night?!"

"Don't look at me, I just came down here to get a drink," Cammie said, "Somehow, I think magically summoning things made out of brownies isn't up my alley."

"Damn. That'd be a useful power. I mean, being able to summon brownies from thin air? So awesome," not very practical though. Somehow, Clarice doubted that would ever be someones ability, even if it would be cool. "Well, I think I'm about done here," she'd managed to get everything cut out despite their chit chat. She began folding everything and making it so it could be carried easier.

"It's only be useful if you could also magically spike them with something," Cammie returned. "At least, that's the way I see it. They're pretty tasteless otherwise. And yeah, hope whatever you're working on turns out okay."

"Oh!" that's right, Cammie wasn't used to her machinations with clothes yet. "Normally I just alter clothes I buy and stuff for a more custom look, but I found this amazing pattern for this dress I want to try. So if you want clothes fixed or changed or whatever, come see me. My prices are very reasonable. I also do instant taxi services sometimes. Anywhere you want," Clarice grinned and deposited everything into a large bag.

"If me or my three shirts ever need to have some patch work then I'll let you know," Cammie said. She had had about seven shirts... but most had died either from having blood on them or being used for make shift bandages. She would have to get new clothes and was left wondering how to manage that on sixty bucks unless she felt like plying a five finger coupon on anything around here. "So, say I wanted to go to New Zeland, you could do that?"

"Sure," Clarice shrugged, "Where specifically? I mean, I'd sort of hate to drop you in the middle of nowhere there since you're kinda cool. I only do that to people I don't like," or who try to kill her. Then again, she didn't like it when people tried to kill her so it seemed reasonable.

"Nah, don't worry 'bout it. I just asked to see if you were serious, I suppose," Cammie returned. "Though if I ever do need a vacation for cheap I'll let you know."

'I'm a long range teleporter. I can go from here to there," she pointed to the other side of the kitchen, "as easily as I can go from here to China. There are a few teleporters about, you'll prolly see Kurt here. He's blue, has a tail. Can't miss him. I'd say teleporting makes you turn into a rainbow coloured skittle, but Illyana is also a 'porter and she looks like Satan's cheerleader, all peachy cream, blonde haired and Russian. You probably won't see her much around here," then again, maybe she would. Illyana was random like that.

"I've met Kurt. He was with the group that pulled me out of Houston," Cammie said. Teleportation, that had to be pretty damn cool. Better than making people sick, anyway.

"Oh, cool. I'm behind on reading the reports. Again. I should keep up, but well," she shrugged. "It's late and I need my beauty sleep. Toodles!" Clarice headed out of the kitchen with her stuff on two feet as opposed to showing off an teleporting. Sure, she could teleport directly to her room, but that was sort of lame.