xp_logs | Oh, the angest. Someone, please, hit my boy.

x-pyromaniac.livejournal.com posting in

There's a little secluded park on just off the main square of New Haven, aways from the courthouse and other public buildings. John has memories of coming to the city many years ago, when the family would pile into their battered campervan once a year and make the road trip from Chicago to visit his mother's many sisters who seemed to conglomerate around New England like a horde of insects. On their last visit here, when John was eleven, his Aunt Catherine was ill, and the adults of the family gathered around to pray for her. John was sent out of the house, and then as now he found his way to this quiet little park. He sits there now, on a bench, hunched over, and feeds the gathered birds and ducks with some crusts of bread he bought from a nearby bakers.

Emma comes wandering along the path dressed in white jeans with white riding boots, a white waistcoat top over a cotton shirt, and sunglasses. She's carrying a grubby blue hold-all by tentative fingers, like it might carry a bomb.

John tears the last crust to pieces and leans back in the park bench, fingers idly playing against the wood. "Hey, Miss Frost. White seems to be the all purpose fashion statement for you, don't it?"

Emma drops the bag at John's feet with a slight crunch. She brushes the bench down slightly, then sits. "Good for christenings and funerals, John. What else is there?"

John eagerly leans down, aipping open the bag with abandon and delves through the assorted contents. "Cool! My jacket!" He takes out the battered thing and puts it on, stretching slightly. "Missed this." He picks the bag up and settles in on his knees. "Missed all this stuff. I mean, if I wanted to, we could have bought it all new again, but there didn't seem to be that much point." The cockiness of his expression fades slightly. "Uh. What's it like back at the X-mansion?" He almost said home.

Emma laughs lightly. "Busy, John. Full of children running around making nuisances of themselves. Full of noise, full of life. Still missing a certain spark, though." She turns and looks at him for the first time, her smile discreet.

"Of course!" John tells her, nodding, and there's a certain gleam in his eyes. "Don't know what you're going to do for entertainment without me. How is, uh, everyone?" Of course, when he says everyone what he really wants to say is Bobby.

"Everyone is fine, John." She'd know what he meant even without the telepathy. "Some people are better than others. Bobby's been very quiet since you left. I think you hurt him quite a bit."

"Yeah, well, he hurt me, I hurt him, it's this whole great cycle of pain. Very Dante." He starts fidgeting, looking down at the bag and shifting it slightly before he looks up again, but he stares across at the park and doesn't look at her. "Was I that freaking obvious, Miss Frost? Be honest."

Unusually, Emma's tone is gentle. "Honestly? I don't think so, but I'm not the best person to judge. I think I knew before you did, dear. What does it matter now, anyway? I couldn't load him up into that bag for you, John, and I wouldn't have tried."

"No, it's just...." John's lost for words, and that's probably the best indicator of his mood. He slides a lighter out of his pocket, and starts flipping open, and shut. Fwish Clink. Fwish Clink. "I miss him. And everyone else. Well. Not so much Warren." He grins at that, and snaps the lighter shut. "I mean, the m&m's don't treat me bad or anything, it's just...way different."

"Not that different, dear. There's still plenty of inappropriate glances, I'm sure."

"Ewwww." John looks somewhat disgusted. "That's just, like festy, Miss Frost. Ewww." He pauses. "Although Mystique and Magneto do share a bedroom. No. Bad mental image. Bad."

"Magneto shares a bedroom with someone, dear. It's not necessarily always Mystique." Emma takes off her sunglasses and glances around. "So this place is /what/, to you, exactly?"

"Oh, the park?" He shrugs. "We had family who lived here. One of many aunts. My Aunt Catherine used to get really sick, so I always got sent here for the day while the adults prayed for her salvation and clasped their rosaries." There's another pause. "When I was eleven, my older brother came to fetch me and told me she'd died."

She reaches out and takes John's hand, gently. "Is that the most cheerful memory you could come up with, John?"

John snorts. He doesn't untangle his hand, but doesn't deepen the touch. "Said older brother then proceeded to beat me up. That's a happy memory. This was just my place to get away."

Emma shakes her head. "Darling. How long must you keep up this angry young man facade? You know there's more to you than that."

John does shrug her off and gets up off the bench, turning. He flicks his lighter open, and flicks it shut. "I don't want there to be! It's fucking easier like this, okay?"

Emma snorts. It's an unpretty noise, and she resents having been forced to make it. "Easy isn't better, John."

"It's better for me, okay? I don't fit in there. I never did. I don't exactly fit in with Magneto, but at least he doesn't treat me like a kid." He sighs, the anger fading and looks at her.

"Oh, God! Look at me, John. Do you think I fit in with those fucking boy scouts? Those holier-than-thou, self-righteous little idiots? I'm there because it's the best option, John. It doesn't fit like a glove, but it's the only damn game in town."

"You think it's the only damn game?" John near laughs in her face, and picks up the bag, slinging it from his shoulder. "Hey, you might get a wakeup call when Magneto and the posse waltz in and start picking up those mutants who aren't with the touchy-feely."

Emma is icy. "Magneto might get a cold hard shock of his own, dear heart."

"I don't play to lose, Miss Frost, you know that." He takes a few steps back, and spreads his arms. "But y'know, thanks for your support. And getting me some stuff. It was very nice of you, very nice." He wrinkles his nose slightly, and grins at her, tucking the lighter back in his pocket. "You should probably get back to Westchester. I'm sure those holier-than-thou, self-righteous little idiots have some kind of self-actualisation bullshit thing going on, and maybe they're too busy reading Dr. Phil's latest book." He turns and takes another few steps down the path, before turning to give her a salute with his thumb and forefinger extended. "Be seeing you."

Emma gestures airily, and stops John in his tracks. "I thought you knew me better than that, John. I forget how little you know." She releases him. "Call me any time, dear. It's always a pleasure to see you."

John merely seethes, before turning and running away without another word.