Airport negiotations - Kyle and Doug
Jun. 27th, 2009 12:00 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsDoug uses only slightly sneaky tactics to land him and Kyle first-class seat upgrades. Because who wants to spend 20+ hours on a plane stuck in coach when you can talk someone into upgrading you?
It wasn't that Kyle was really into packing light, it was that he didn't feel like dealing with checking luggage, losing checked luggage, or digging his suitcase out from under the giant pile of crap that was in his closet. And having a single duffel bag, and his bookbag full of snacks and laptop meant that he could use his duffel as a pillow while waiting for the plane. He stretched his legs out, still barefoot from going through security, and dropped this month's issue of TapOut magazine over his face. "Wake me up when they call sardine class, huh?" There was no way he was going to sleep on the plane, not with being cramped in a tin can with 200-odd other people, all of whom smelled like Travel.
Countless hours packed into coach did not sound like fun to Doug either, for the same powers-related reasons, even though his and Kyle's powers were nothing alike. And Forge had first class seats, the wanker. He hadn't precisely gloated, but the ticket stubs did stick up noticeably from his jacket pocket. Doug looked at the crowd, then Kyle, then Forge, his brain assessing. "Do you have a button-down shirt in your bag?" he asked Kyle abruptly. "Better yet, a sport coat."
If there ever was an expression that read as "WTF, dude?", it was the one on Kyle's face. once he pulled the magazine away. "Wait, like both?" He sat up, entirely confused, and nudged the bag with his elbow. "Yeah, Forge made me pack 'em. Said if I made him look like a chump he'd feed me to the Dubianese Hypersharks." He'd checked wikipedia. There was no such animal. But that was only after he'd packed the shirt and jacket.
Doug nodded. Excellent. "Okay. I want you to go put them on, and then come back here and sit facing away from the ticket counter. And do your best to look like a bored executive, which means don't lounge over three chairs with a magazine over your face." He gave the instructions brusquely, almost distractedly, while he ran a calculating gaze over the slightly harried-looking ladies at the counter.
Kyle just stared at Doug. "Dude, what are you on? I am not getting changed just to travel. Eff that, it's not the 1950's or whenever people wore suits to fly. I don't care how like, Oh-Emm-Gee I'm a yuppie spy you are, dude. No." He pointed to his t-shirt and khakis. "This is comfy, and I'm not dressing up just so someone maybe doesn't think I'm a college kid."
"Christ." Doug ran a hand over his face, staring up at the ceiling and counting to ten in a mixture of languages under his breath. As his hand fell down over his chin, it elongated his grimace before snapping back as his hand fell to his lap. "Do you want to sit here and argue or do you want to get first class upgrades?" he murmured just loud enough for the feral to hear.
"I do what now?" Kyle blinked a few times at Doug, and then stood, picking up his duffel as he did. The speed in which he walked to the men's room was only slightly shy of urgent.
He returned several minutes later, not just wearing the button-down shirt and sport coat, but with his hair brushed. He'd obviously done his best to hide the points of his ears.. "Dude, not much I can do for these." He said, poking one clawed toe out from under the hem of the khakis. "I'll drop the duffel on 'em, but ..."
"That's fine. They shouldn't be able to see your feet from the desk," Doug replied, checking the sight lines. "Just turn away and look bored." He handed Kyle a copy of a newspaper he'd picked up on the way in out of habit. "Here. Read the sports page." He combed back his hair and fished out the pair of bookish glasses he'd worn to his Hellfire Club investiture. He smoothed his chinos and made sure his shirt was buttoned to just below the top. Then his body language shifted almost visibly as he stood, and he was no longer Doug Ramsey, Xavier's alumnus on vacation. Now he was Doug Ramsey, young professional and occasional assistant to Ms. Emma Frost. He strode purposefully towards the counter, making a beeline for the youngest of the three women there, and stood patiently until she looked up at him.
---
When he sauntered back to the seats, he had a pair of folios in his hand. He gave one to Kyle and smirked ever so slightly. "Told you," he said.
Kyle's eyebrows shot up, and he took the new boarding pass that had his name on it, looking at it in disbelief. "Dude, how did you do that? I mean, I can't -ever- get these, even when they're sympathetic to my total coach class is miserable for me speech." He put the boarding pass back in the folio, and closed it, and then almost immediately opened it right back up again to double-check that it was real. "Dude, who did you bribe?"
Doug settled his glasses down on his face and wiped the smirk off while he cleared his throat. "I did not bribe anyone," he said with a slightly stuffy snooty tone to his voice. "I merely pointed out to the very nice woman that there must have been some mistake, that the Tesla Club was supposed to provide first class tickets for myself and my personal assistant on our trip to Dubai with Mr. Forge. And while I understand that these things happen, Ms. Frost has always taught me how to smooth over these little misunderstandings."
"Okay, so you lied. I mean, that's totally better than bribing." Not that Kyle was going to complain much, or give the boarding pass back. That would be stupid. He just felt like Ramsey needed to be taken down half a notch. "With your 'I'm a nerd but I'm a rich nerd." glasses and all that. At least you didn't pop your collar. Then I'd have to deny I ever knew you."
"I didn't so much lie as trade heavily on a few important names and let her assumptions do the rest," Doug corrected. "And why would I pop my collar? I was going for vaguely snooty young professional, not dumb frat boy."
"Okay, so you sorta lied. Same thing. It's all cool though." Kyle handed the newspaper over to Doug, folded out to the sports page. He'd obviously done as asked and read it. "Your Rockies are actually not sucking this season. What's up with that?"
It wasn't that Kyle was really into packing light, it was that he didn't feel like dealing with checking luggage, losing checked luggage, or digging his suitcase out from under the giant pile of crap that was in his closet. And having a single duffel bag, and his bookbag full of snacks and laptop meant that he could use his duffel as a pillow while waiting for the plane. He stretched his legs out, still barefoot from going through security, and dropped this month's issue of TapOut magazine over his face. "Wake me up when they call sardine class, huh?" There was no way he was going to sleep on the plane, not with being cramped in a tin can with 200-odd other people, all of whom smelled like Travel.
Countless hours packed into coach did not sound like fun to Doug either, for the same powers-related reasons, even though his and Kyle's powers were nothing alike. And Forge had first class seats, the wanker. He hadn't precisely gloated, but the ticket stubs did stick up noticeably from his jacket pocket. Doug looked at the crowd, then Kyle, then Forge, his brain assessing. "Do you have a button-down shirt in your bag?" he asked Kyle abruptly. "Better yet, a sport coat."
If there ever was an expression that read as "WTF, dude?", it was the one on Kyle's face. once he pulled the magazine away. "Wait, like both?" He sat up, entirely confused, and nudged the bag with his elbow. "Yeah, Forge made me pack 'em. Said if I made him look like a chump he'd feed me to the Dubianese Hypersharks." He'd checked wikipedia. There was no such animal. But that was only after he'd packed the shirt and jacket.
Doug nodded. Excellent. "Okay. I want you to go put them on, and then come back here and sit facing away from the ticket counter. And do your best to look like a bored executive, which means don't lounge over three chairs with a magazine over your face." He gave the instructions brusquely, almost distractedly, while he ran a calculating gaze over the slightly harried-looking ladies at the counter.
Kyle just stared at Doug. "Dude, what are you on? I am not getting changed just to travel. Eff that, it's not the 1950's or whenever people wore suits to fly. I don't care how like, Oh-Emm-Gee I'm a yuppie spy you are, dude. No." He pointed to his t-shirt and khakis. "This is comfy, and I'm not dressing up just so someone maybe doesn't think I'm a college kid."
"Christ." Doug ran a hand over his face, staring up at the ceiling and counting to ten in a mixture of languages under his breath. As his hand fell down over his chin, it elongated his grimace before snapping back as his hand fell to his lap. "Do you want to sit here and argue or do you want to get first class upgrades?" he murmured just loud enough for the feral to hear.
"I do what now?" Kyle blinked a few times at Doug, and then stood, picking up his duffel as he did. The speed in which he walked to the men's room was only slightly shy of urgent.
He returned several minutes later, not just wearing the button-down shirt and sport coat, but with his hair brushed. He'd obviously done his best to hide the points of his ears.. "Dude, not much I can do for these." He said, poking one clawed toe out from under the hem of the khakis. "I'll drop the duffel on 'em, but ..."
"That's fine. They shouldn't be able to see your feet from the desk," Doug replied, checking the sight lines. "Just turn away and look bored." He handed Kyle a copy of a newspaper he'd picked up on the way in out of habit. "Here. Read the sports page." He combed back his hair and fished out the pair of bookish glasses he'd worn to his Hellfire Club investiture. He smoothed his chinos and made sure his shirt was buttoned to just below the top. Then his body language shifted almost visibly as he stood, and he was no longer Doug Ramsey, Xavier's alumnus on vacation. Now he was Doug Ramsey, young professional and occasional assistant to Ms. Emma Frost. He strode purposefully towards the counter, making a beeline for the youngest of the three women there, and stood patiently until she looked up at him.
---
When he sauntered back to the seats, he had a pair of folios in his hand. He gave one to Kyle and smirked ever so slightly. "Told you," he said.
Kyle's eyebrows shot up, and he took the new boarding pass that had his name on it, looking at it in disbelief. "Dude, how did you do that? I mean, I can't -ever- get these, even when they're sympathetic to my total coach class is miserable for me speech." He put the boarding pass back in the folio, and closed it, and then almost immediately opened it right back up again to double-check that it was real. "Dude, who did you bribe?"
Doug settled his glasses down on his face and wiped the smirk off while he cleared his throat. "I did not bribe anyone," he said with a slightly stuffy snooty tone to his voice. "I merely pointed out to the very nice woman that there must have been some mistake, that the Tesla Club was supposed to provide first class tickets for myself and my personal assistant on our trip to Dubai with Mr. Forge. And while I understand that these things happen, Ms. Frost has always taught me how to smooth over these little misunderstandings."
"Okay, so you lied. I mean, that's totally better than bribing." Not that Kyle was going to complain much, or give the boarding pass back. That would be stupid. He just felt like Ramsey needed to be taken down half a notch. "With your 'I'm a nerd but I'm a rich nerd." glasses and all that. At least you didn't pop your collar. Then I'd have to deny I ever knew you."
"I didn't so much lie as trade heavily on a few important names and let her assumptions do the rest," Doug corrected. "And why would I pop my collar? I was going for vaguely snooty young professional, not dumb frat boy."
"Okay, so you sorta lied. Same thing. It's all cool though." Kyle handed the newspaper over to Doug, folded out to the sports page. He'd obviously done as asked and read it. "Your Rockies are actually not sucking this season. What's up with that?"
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