Logs: Billy/Clint/Matt, Billy/Lorna, Potatopocalypse (Backdated)

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Logs: Billy/Clint/Matt, Billy/Lorna, Potatopocalypse (Backdated)

Sunday, January 20th: The boys try to think of a non-egg-based breakfast


With Billy and Clint wanting to hang out and Matt recognizing that as much as he wanted to be alone, that was a bad idea after everything that happened, he was grateful to hang with them. Going to the fridge, Matt rummaged around with his hands, trying to figure out what was in there for breakfast. "You guys hungry?" he asked. "I'm kinda thinking french toast."

Billy contemplated a moment. "Depends," he finally answered. "Do we have any more of the frozen ones? Cuz I'm sure not cracking eggs to make it from scratch."

"We have eggs and bread and I can make it," Matt assured him. "I can't find any cinnamon though. Do you know if we have any?" Or they could run down to the kitchen and get some there.

"Eugh, eggs. No," Clint said, mind rebelling at the mere thought of them even if they didn't look anything like Slenderman goo. "Why don't we just make regular toast or something?"

Sometimes, it was good being blind. Slenderman goo wasn't something that Matt really had anything to compare to visually speaking. "I guess," Matt replied, getting the OJ out and pouring himself a glass, "I kinda wanna cook something though. I mean, more than just toast." He needed to keep himself busy, especially his hands.

Billy began mentally running through breakfast foods, which contained a surprising number of eggs. "How are you with home fries?" he finally offered.

"Potatoes are always good," Clint offered, glancing at Matt as he rummaged around in the kitchenette. Reaching for a small bouncy ball, he balanced it in his palm for a moment before tossing it at the coffee table in the center of the room. It hit the corner, bounced up and hit the wall, ricocheted off the arm of the couch, and landed right back in Clint's hand. "Bacon's good, too." He repeated the toss, mind only half paying attention to what he was doing. He couldn't actually see the kitchen since he'd sprawled on the couch, but he could hear Matt doing stuff. "I really like bacon," he said, catching the ball a third time and throwing it again.

"Um...." Matt had to think. He could probably make those, "Do we have potatoes?" he finally asked. "I can chop them up and fry them with bacon, sure." The ball flying around was distracting since he could 'see' it with his powers no matter which way his body was turned. "Bacon. Got it."

"Potatoes," Billy repeated. There was always a sack in the pantry. He'd tripped over it often enough to know. But the kitchen just seemed so far away. It would be so easy to just...and he could picture the sack...and...practice was always good was the winning "argument" in the brief internal debate. "I want potatoes, I want potatoes, I want potatoes," he quickly began chanting without any announcement. The recitation repeated, falling into rhythm with the bouncing of Clint's ball, then with a Pop, pop, pop, three potatoes appeared in his lap as the ball bounced off each surface. "Cool! Yup, we've got potatoes!" he announced, scooping them up and taking them over to Matt.

Just after Billy stood up, Clint tossed the ball again. It'd bounced twice when a fourth, fifth, and sixth potato landed on Clint's stomach and he let out a vaguely pained oof. He missed catching the ball, which hit his forehead as he shifted to try and pick up the potatoes that'd rolled off him, and he laid back in defeat. "For the love of - William Kaplan, I curse you. A plague upon your house. Or whatever. Come get these other potatoes. Ow."

Billy glanced around, scowling at the new potatoes. He dumped the ones in hand on the counter and went to retrieve the others. "Y'know," he said, kneeling down and trying to reach one that had rolled under a chair. "You shouldn't joke about stuff like that. Curses are real. We could end up with a...potato plague or something. It's your house too."

"And I'm Irish. No potato plagues or famines or whatever, thanks," Matt agreed, taking two potatoes and getting to work washing and chopping them, leaving the skins on. "Haven't you had enough with demons and curses and all that though?" He was good. No more.

Pushing himself up, Clint looked around for his bouncy ball and then rolled off the couch and stretched to grab it from where it'd landed on the floor under the coffee table. "Alright, Debbie Downers. I take it back. I wish nothing but butterflies and rainbows on both you and all your non-plague potatoes." Clint snorted softly, then walked over to prop himself against the kitchen counter as he tried to decide where to throw the ball next. "Anyway, we got any bacon to go with the potatoes? Or cheese or something?"

"Butterflies and rainbows," Billy rolled his eyes, as he continued to fish underneath the chair. "I think I prefer the plague of potatoes. And if we don't have bacon or cheese, I can always make some," he added hopefully, before calling out an "Aha! Gotcha," as he pulled the potato out.

"No," Clint said immediately. "I don't think asking for more stuff is a good idea, especially because - " He broke off as he looked at the potatoes on the counter. Matt was chopping two up and Billy had one. So there should've been three. "Why are there seven potatoes on the counter?"

"Because that's a better place than the shower," Matt replied automatically, "And we have cheese. American, I think. I know I got some though," he thought that magically appearing potatoes were pretty freaky actually, but he tried not to let it bother him. He turned to the fridge to get out the butter, salt and cheese so he could cook the potatoes.

"Billy," Clint called, ignoring Matt's quip for the moment. "How many times did you say you wanted potatoes?"

"Make that ten," Billy corrected, holding up the one in his hand and reaching for another two on the couch where Clint had just vacated. "You missed a couple. And I dunno...a few times?"

Clint felt like Billy'd asked for potatoes more than a few times. He sat down at the table and put his forehead on it. "Well, either way. That's more than the three of us can eat. We should take some down to the kitchen."

"Wait," Matt paused his cooking. "These didn't come from downstairs? Billy! You thief!"

"They're from the kitchen!" Billy insisted. At least he thought they were. After all, the pantry was what he was thinking of, and it wasn't unreasonable to think Lorna had ten---or eleven potatoes, he corrected as spied another next the couch leg. He bent down to pick it up, setting this trio on the table. "There's a sack in the pantry. So I got a few more than I'd planned. I'll take them back down after we eat."

"One major breakfast food item has been ruined for me, Billy. You are no allowed to ruin potatoes. That'd be like... like... killing Christmas." Clint pointed at his roommate without lifting his face from the tabletop. "You don't want to kill Christmas, do you?"

"There's always Hanukkah," Billy shrugged, "Although stockings were kind of fun. Don't tell my parents." He settled into the chair, looking over the potatoes. "It's not a big deal. Snow in mansion. That was a big deal. This is just...small potatoes." He leaned back in the chair, grinning, obviously pleased with the pun.

Groaning in response, Matt shook his head and dropped the potatoes in the pan to cook, "Can it, small fry," he replied. After all, one good pun deserved another and anyways, Billy was several inches shorter than he was too. "No messing with Christmas though. I'm with Clint on that one," he changed sides fluidly.

"Wic-tory ist mine," Clint declared, raising one hand into the air despite keeping his face on the table. "But hey, no more puns. I revoke both your pun-using privileges."

"Awww," Matt groaned, "That's no pun!"


And shortly after, Lorna catches Billy trying to sneak food back INTO the pantry...


Thus far, Billy had made his third trip to the kitchen with armfuls of potatoes, unobserved. Wherever these things were coming from, it was definitely not from the Xavier's pantry like he'd intended. The sack had been half-empty at first, so he'd started with filling it, but that space had finally run out. At the moment, he knelt on the floor, the current batch scattered around him, as he tried to stack them in some orderly fashion around the overflowing bag.

"I was wondering where these potatoes were coming from." Lorna said, leaning against her pantry door with a clip board with the inventory. She smiled and walked over and picked up two from floor, "Where have these been coming from?"

Billy looked up, startled, with the look of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar...or a potato sack, as it were. One of the potatoes slipped, sending the stack tumbling around him. "Uh...upstairs?" he offered. "I'm not sure where before that. And, uh, there...may be more."

"Upstairs? I kind of want to ask how, but knowing this place...I think I can guess." Setting down the clipboard and picked up a couple of more. "More? How much more?"

"Maybe...two more trips? Three?" Billy suggested cautiously. "Well, when I left, at least."

Lorna rubbed the back of her neck slightly as she was thinking of the potatoes, "Well lets go get them. We can put them in trash bags for right now. Do you know when it will stop raining potatoes? Or does it just come and go? "

"I'm not really sure. Probably soon," Billy answered, with an added "I hope" under his breath. He stood up, rolling the loose potatoes to the side of the pantry, out of the way for the moment. "Well, the help would be nice, sure. I'll owe you one."

"No problem. It is all part of living in the Madhouse." Lorna grabbed the trash bags on the bottom shelf of the pantry and walked back out to the kitchen. "We never properly met before have we?"

"Oh, I guess not," Billy said, "Though I kinda feel like I know you since I've eaten so much of your stuff. Which is always great, by the way. I'm Billy."

"Lorna. Or Ms. Dane if we really want to get formal. But I am happy with Lorna. Come lets go and get your potatoes. Liking the school so far?"

"Well, something exciting's always happening," was Billy's evaluation, as he headed toward the hallway. After a weekend of alternate realities, creepy stalkers, and spontaneously sprouting vegetables, "like" might be a bit strong. "And everyone's pretty great. Even when stuff like..." he trailed off, glancing back toward the pantry.

Lorna looked back at the pantry as well and smirked, "Don't worry about that Billy. Raining potatoes is a walk in the park, besides no one expects students to completely know what they are doing. Everyone has trouble controlling their powers, even me." She looked back over at Billy, "And the best part about being here...you don't have to do it alone."

"Really?" Billy asked, looking sideways at her. Sure, there were stories the students passed around about past hi-jinx and mishaps. Most were hard to know if they were true or not. For the most part, though, the adults--even the fun ones--seemed to have things pretty well under control.

"Couple years ago I was turned into a guy for a week. I think it was a week, anyways I wasn't the only one in that little ordeal. Now that was a little strange on my part. All I can say...I now know what it is like to be a guy. And two years ago I had some trouble with my powers, they were suffering pretty bad. I can't do stuff that I used to do." Lorna looked over at him and smiled a bit, "But as long as you continue asking for potatoes and not dinosaurs running around you'll be fine."

"Must. Not. ThinkOfDinosaurs," Billy stated emphatically, trying to latch onto another idea. "You? A boy? No, must not turn students into boys. Potato, Potato, Potato!" he said, picturing the vegetable in his mind to try to chase away the other ideas. Finally, he looked back at her. "You're dangerous."

Lorna blinked at Billy and started to laugh, "Please not another repeat. Think of...candy. Candy always works right?" The green haired woman smirked, "Well I am not exactly dangerous but I do have my ways. Now if you can get the guys in the mansion to dress in dresses, I would say my life goal is complete and you my new best friend."

"Piece of candy, piece of candy, piece of candy," Billy grinned. "Yes, candy makes everything better. Though it doesn't really work like that. I need to be chanting. Well, usually. So don't be trying to trick me into putting Kyle in a dress or anything."

Lorna looked down as she laughed at the thought, "If it happens, I can seriously die a happy woman. But if the students get gender swapped...we never had this conversation." Lorna stopped when the reached the student's floor and saw potatoes in the hall. "I have a feeling we are close."

"Oh no" Billy said, eyes widening. "Amanda's going to KILL me. Well, if Clint doesn't kill me first."

"No one is going to kill anyone. We'll clean up the potatoes and if they continue then we might have to seek assistance from the magical kind." She handed him a trash bag as she started to open her own. "I can make a Tartiflette for days."

"Well, everyone loves French Fries?" Billy suggested, kneeling down and beginning to toss the potatoes into the bag.

"I'll put it on the meal plan for tonight." Lorna started to work along side him to clean up the mess before more appeared.