xp_logs | Kyle and Fred - conversators about moon eyes and beer

Kyle and Fred conversate (Fred's own word for it!) about many a subject, including powers, beer and girls, and the fact that never ever in the history of ever did Yvette or Fred make 'moon eyes' at each other.

Even with all the winter keeping the greener part of his duties at bay, there was still enough groundskeeping work for Fred to justify an extra set of hands, even if it mainly was for the conversation. And Kyle Gibney was the best conversator that Fred knew.

"So...yah nose." Fred set down the next lawnmower blade in the assembly, to guzzle down the entirety of a Red Bull, "Ah mean...yah smell most everything, yeah?"

"You mean like, how Red Bull smells like gas, cherry and fake sugar?" Kyle asked, wiping grease off his hands with a rag. "Seriously man, how can you drink that stuff?" He was a bottle-of-water or bottle-of-beer kind of guy, depending on if he was teaching or not teaching, partially because carbonated drinks smelled wrong. "And yeah pretty much. Why?"

Fred threw the empty can at Kyle in mock anger, and shrugged at his question, "Ah was just thinkin...Ah mean ain't it awkward? Wouldn't yah just smell bathrooms and sex all the time...?" The question was earnest, but it didn't stop Fred from grinning like a dumbass.

"Yeah, and I know when half the women in the mansion are on the rag too." Kyle said, with a shrug. "Why, you wanna know if someone's getting some, or just because you're like, wow, I never thought of that?"

Fred held up his hand and shook his head, trying to will away the discussion of menstruation or sexual inquisition against the other mansion dwellers, "huh? Nah, Kyle. Ah was tryin tah commiserate with yah on what Ah can imagine is ah pretty sucky 'power'..."

Fred took a second to light a cigarette, "...an yeah, it only just occurred to me that your nose would do that."

"Dude, you asked." Kyle said, with a nose wrinkle that might've looked more appropriate on one of the girls. "It can suck, yeah, but I mean, in the like, big picture, it came with a free like, ten inches worth of being tall, probably a hundred pounds of muscle and hey, being shot doesn't kill me, so I'm not gonna bitch much." He considered this, and then pointed a clawed finger at Fred's cigarette. "Unless bitching will make you cut that out, because dude. Ew."

Fred looked at the cigarette, then at Kyle, sighing as he crushed it out in a nearby ashtray, "You're worse than Dr. Jean sometimes, you know that, right?" Fred handed Kyle one of the hoses out from under the front of the lawnmower, while he looked around for a roll of duct tape. It couldn't have gone far..."Nah, Ah just...got tah thinking couple days ago, bout how a lot of us kinda have crappy side effects of bein the next stage of people evolution, or whatever..."

"Eh, whatevs on the like, cancer stick thing, I'm just saying, those smell, and unlike Logan, I can tell you that." Kyle's grin was wide as he pointed at Fred. "Eh, yeah, I mean, on one hand, it sucks to know what everyone's up to, but you get good with the bad. I got electrocuted. I mean, like, in the literal definition and shit, my heart stopped and I stopped breathing and I was up and bitching the next day." He scratched behind one ear, and pulled a face at realizing he'd gotten grease in his hair. "You're like a gazillion feet tall and wear a size fifty shoe, but dude, you don't have to shit. If I didn't have to shit I'd be doing fucking cartwheels."

Fred looked sideways at Kyle, chuckling at his hair realization as he threw a few pieces of bubblegum into his mouth, "Ah'm only, like, seven an some change tall, Gibney, an Mah shoes are, like, twenty fours, Ah think...?" Fred coughed a little, obviously a little flustered that he was just proving Kyle's point, partially, "Ah mean, shit, yah make me sound like Gamera or somethin..." Fred laughed a bit, stifling it with the back of his hand, "An what the hell is it with you am tha shittin' thing? It don't make me Mutant Jesus...!!"

Kyle shook his head. "Dude, it's shit. It stinks. If I didn't have to do it, I'd be happy. Happier if no one ever did, because dude, I've been in sewers. Have you ever been in a sewer? Try it with my nose. Also you're totally Fredzilla. It should be your codename, and we should feed you some of Doug's hot sauce so you breathe fire."

Fred shrugged and shook his head a little as he bundled together a group of hoses and began taping them into a grouping, "Ah can't say Ah have ever been in ah sewer. Seems like somethin Ah would remember." Fred blew a bubble with the wad of gum in his mouth, shaking his head again, "Hot sauce wouldn't do it, man. Nothing much tastes much hotter tah me than Tabasco. Ate a whole jabanero once an it jus... Sorta felt warm, yah know? Nuthin tah right home about..."

"Definitely gotta get you some of the stuff Doug eats. Jolokia ghost peppers, man. I cannot even be in the room with them without my eyes watering. Like fifteen thousand times hotter than a jalapeno." Kyle said. "Yeah, so, back to the nose thing. I'm pretty zen about it. I gotta be, you know? I mean, I can't turn it off, so what am I gonna do? Live in a clean room for the rest of my life? Hell no."

Fred chuckled, "Ah'll eat pretty much anythin, at least once." He released the catch holding the blade assembly in place and gave it a cursory spin, before frowning and reaching for the WD-40, "Ah just got tah thinkin...when normal folk think of mutants, they think ah Laserbeam eyes or batwings or somethin, yah know? They don't thinka smellin everythin, or body parts growin at inappropriate times, or sneezin till your covered in spikes or nothin..."

"People think of what they see on TV, yo. Hey, you're not gonna chug the WD-40, are you?" Kyle asked carefully. "Cause if you are, I'm gonna back away slowly -and- try to hook you up with Cammie." He watched the blades spin a few times, frowned and poked at it with a claw. "They shouldn't be catching, you sure we don't need to smooth 'em out?"

Fred balked a little at Kyle, "Ah'm..." He grinned, "...good right now, on set-ups Ah mean. Plus, Cammie scares me, man." Fred pulled one of the blades back out before lubing the driver, "This one looks fine. Will you pull the others out tah check?"

"Good like, I gots me a hookup, or good like, Gibney I'm not telling you and if you ask again Ima throw you into Delaware." Kyle said, before starting to work on the drivers. "Cause if it's the first one, I'm gonna demand the gossip, and if it's the second one, I'm gonna point out that I can run -way- faster than you."

"It ain't a hook-up." Fred said, a little more curtly than he probably meant. His next response was much more pleasant, almost goofy, "Ah, uh, went out with Vette, an it, uh, seemed to go pretty well..."

"What like a ~date~, like you and Yvette went out and had an actual no shit date?" Kyle stared at Fred, half-open mouthed for a second and then got up and did what could only be described as a victory dance, complete with spiking an imaginary football.

Even if Fred Dukes could stop laughing at Kyle's display, he probably wouldn't have, "Gibney, what the shit are you doin right now? Is this dancing? Cause it looks like flailing. Is this something you got from Molly and that Little Pony Show...?"

"Yo, my girlfriend watches that show." Kyle said, still sort of capering a bit. "This is my victory dance, and I and my victory dance are going to go get a beer, and if you know what's good for you, you'll come have a beer with me."

Fred arched an eyebrow, getting up from the gutted lawnmower and point at a mini fridge near a small TV/VCR on one of the workbenches, "There's Bkue Ribbon in the box, dude. Why're we beerin' up...?"

"No." Kyle said, firmly, making a gesture at the minifridge. "PBR is canoe sex, I have good stuff in my fridge, and we are going to have it, because you and Yvette finally decided to stop dancing around each other like you were fuck I was just about to make some kind of reference to literature I spend way too much time teaching teenagers about William fucking Shakespeare."

Fred sniffed at the disrespect paid to his drink of choice, but looked a little more embarrased at Kyle's attempted simile, "Yvette an Ah don't 'dance' around one another an...wait," The large, slow wheels in Fred's head started turning, "Is this, like, sumthin other people thought about...?"

"Well, you're not like the subject of gossip in the Blackbird, but dude, it hasn't gone entirely like, unnoticed that you guys were hella awkward around each other." Kyle said. "So you have a decent beer with me. You. Me. Beer, and I won't comment on how you two made moon eyes at each other."

Fred looked embarrased, coming the closest he was able to blushing, as he followed Kyle to what was apparently acceptable beer, "We don't make moon eyes at each other." He said gruffly, as if Kyle has just accused him of some humiliating crime.

"Right dude, that's what I'm saying, I'm not gonna comment on it."