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xp_logsMiles apologizes to Clint for his insensitive journal comments and they bond over the best TV show ever.
The gym was a great place for Miles to start practicing a few facets of his mutation. The exterior wall of the mansion was another. He'd never had free rein really focus on that; he'd been relegated to his bedroom or short stints on rowhouses and brownstones in Brooklyn as he made his way to and from crime scenes. The mansion was huge, though, and gave him the chance to see how quickly he could move and how long he could stay up. So far, he'd managed a few laps around the mansion in half an hour without tiring.
As he was getting ready to start another, he caught the familiar logo of Dog Cops on the TV in the rec room. Someone else was watching his favorite show! Practice could wait. He made his way over to the window - which was thankfully unlocked - opened it, and swung inside.
"Hey, Dog Cops! I love . . ." Miles froze in place when he finally caught sight of the other occupant, who was sitting at one of the tables, buried in a small pile of textbooks. "Clint. Hi."
Clint had glanced over when he caught movement outside the window about a half hour ago, but nobody was falling or yelling for help, so he'd gone back to his Mechanical Engineering reading and assignment. When the window slid open from the outside, though, he took more time looking and raised his brows as Miles half-crawled into the room. "Well," Clint said, suppressing his amusement. "We haven't known one another very long," he managed to deadpan, "so I think it's a little early to be throwing the 'L' word around, man."
"What can I say? Sometimes you just know," Miles bantered back, although the humorous tone belied just how nervous he felt. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I just saw the show on and thought, you know, I'd come see who's watching. 'Cuz it's great."
"Yeah, it is," Clint said, nodding. PD poked his head around the side of the couch, sniffing loudly at the newcomer. "That's Pizza Dog - PD for short." Reaching over, he hit 'pause' on the TiVo remote before continuing, "You're welcome to join us, if you want. I'm studying and doing homework. PD's just chillin'."
Miles's first response to the sudden appearance of a dog was pretty much the same as any other human being's: "Puppy!" He cautiously approached the dog and held out a hand for it to sniff. "He's so cute. How old is he?"
"Probably about two or three. He saved me from getting mugged in the city - looked half starved, so I gave him some pizza. It's like his favorite thing - which is why it's his name," Clint said. "You ever have a dog?"
Miles shook his head and scratched PD under his ears. "Nah. Same typical excuse. Parents think that it's too expensive and it's too much responsibility." As if they knew the other, bigger responsibilities that Miles had taken on. "I guess it's okay 'cuz I ended up going to like a boarding school for high school so I wouldn't've been able to take care of him, anyway. I didn't know they let people have pets here."
"Sure, pets are allowed," Clint said, raising his eyebrows. "KGibz has a cat he calls Shamu. Molly's got a moose - I'm not even joking. This crazy dude brought it back from Canada for her. Laurie's got a pig. There's horses, other dogs, other cats. PD's pretty low key. Doc Reyes - Cecilia, she takes him for runs when I can't. If you've got the time for one and you can handle making sure they're fed and watered and house trained..." He shrugged. "It's all good."
One surprise after another at this place. At least this was a good one. "So, hey," Miles began after another moment spent petting PD. "About the stuff I said on the blog the other day . . . I just wanted to say sorry that I upset you."
Clint shrugged. "It happens. Just don't... I don't know, don't talk about things like this is all some great adventure full of mystery and intrigue and exciting encounters. Sure, there's some of that, but all the encounters wind up being potentially fatal and that... isn't really fun at all. I've been reading back through the X-Men's reports. There is some crazy stuff in there. They've gone up against some seriously evil people."
"Trust me, I know." For a moment, Miles was on his knees up against a wall, and Radian loomed over him, drawing in and shaping the power to blow off Miles's head. Only Kyle and Laurie's timely intervention saved his life. Without them, he'd be just another dead black kid in New York. "I didn't mean to make it seem like I didn't care. I really do."
Clint nodded. "That's good." He tapped his pencil against the cover of his textbook for a moment, then said, "Just think about things before you say them, dude."
"Yeah. So, uh, you're training to be an X-Man, too, right? How's that going?"
"It's good - mostly it's a lot of getting my ass handed to me in the Danger Room and reading through old mission reports. Balancing that with classes and the other stuff I do - archery and training with Logan... it can get kind of tight sometimes. But I like it - it's challenging." Clint didn't mention that it also gave him new insight into things like friends and classmates being kidnapped or how totally frustrating and infuriating it was to realize that, despite everyone's best efforts, they still couldn't find them.
"You do archery? Do you, like, make energy arrows that you can shoot?" That would be a pretty sweet mutation, Miles thought. And it would look badass, too, which of course was important if you were going to be a superhero. "I've heard about the Danger Room. I can't wait to try it out."
"I suggest taking some Tylenol and Advil and maybe even some Aleve before going in. That cocktail usually keeps me from feeling most of the pain until the next morning," Clint said. "And yeah, archery. No, I don't do energy projection or anything. I just never miss."
"So your power is super-aim?" Miles asked. Not disparagingly or with any scorn, just curiously. He'd never heard of powers like that before. "Do you use guns, too, or are you all Batman about those?"
"Something like that, I guess," Clint nodded. "I've shot a gun - Mister Summers had me shooting at clay pigeons over the summer. It's something to do with spatial awareness in addition to the sight thing." He picked up his pencil, considered it for a moment, then tossed it at the wall across from it. It hit eraser-first and at an angle that propelled it upward. There, it hit the ceiling and came shooting back down toward Clint, who caught the sharpened end between pinched fingers. "Stuff like that."
"Word?" was about all Miles could say to that display. "So you could beat all those crooked carnies at Coney Island with the ring toss and milk bottle games? Must impress the ladies."
"Yeah, pretty much," Clint said, laughing a little. "Or, like, traveling circuses or whatever. I'll admit, I've never used it to try to impress girls - before I came here, it wasn't really something I was supposed to talk about too much and once I got here... well. It's not all that impressive compared to what some of the girls can do, y'know?"
"Yeah, I guess not. Sad trombone. Maybe I still have a shot. How many guys here can climb walls with just their bare hands? And how many girls find that something attractive in a man?" These were the important questions.
"I dunno, dude," Clint said, considering that. "I think you're probably the only one with the climbing thing, yeah, but like. Molly could just punch whatever wall you're climbing and boom - it's crumbling and you're hitting the ground. Topaz could just curse you." He smiled a little. "Seems like maybe leaning on how awesome your powers are might not be the best route to go."
"Probably not. I'll have to rely on rock-hard abs, a dazzling smile, and a winning personality instead. Assuming they go for all of that. I could still be way off. But you like all that, right?" Miles asked PD as he turned his attention back to the resting dog.
"I dunno, PD seems to like his running partners pretty and athletic and like... with lady parts. You might be outta luck there, too, dude," Clint said, laughing a little.
"This just isn't my week."
The gym was a great place for Miles to start practicing a few facets of his mutation. The exterior wall of the mansion was another. He'd never had free rein really focus on that; he'd been relegated to his bedroom or short stints on rowhouses and brownstones in Brooklyn as he made his way to and from crime scenes. The mansion was huge, though, and gave him the chance to see how quickly he could move and how long he could stay up. So far, he'd managed a few laps around the mansion in half an hour without tiring.
As he was getting ready to start another, he caught the familiar logo of Dog Cops on the TV in the rec room. Someone else was watching his favorite show! Practice could wait. He made his way over to the window - which was thankfully unlocked - opened it, and swung inside.
"Hey, Dog Cops! I love . . ." Miles froze in place when he finally caught sight of the other occupant, who was sitting at one of the tables, buried in a small pile of textbooks. "Clint. Hi."
Clint had glanced over when he caught movement outside the window about a half hour ago, but nobody was falling or yelling for help, so he'd gone back to his Mechanical Engineering reading and assignment. When the window slid open from the outside, though, he took more time looking and raised his brows as Miles half-crawled into the room. "Well," Clint said, suppressing his amusement. "We haven't known one another very long," he managed to deadpan, "so I think it's a little early to be throwing the 'L' word around, man."
"What can I say? Sometimes you just know," Miles bantered back, although the humorous tone belied just how nervous he felt. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I just saw the show on and thought, you know, I'd come see who's watching. 'Cuz it's great."
"Yeah, it is," Clint said, nodding. PD poked his head around the side of the couch, sniffing loudly at the newcomer. "That's Pizza Dog - PD for short." Reaching over, he hit 'pause' on the TiVo remote before continuing, "You're welcome to join us, if you want. I'm studying and doing homework. PD's just chillin'."
Miles's first response to the sudden appearance of a dog was pretty much the same as any other human being's: "Puppy!" He cautiously approached the dog and held out a hand for it to sniff. "He's so cute. How old is he?"
"Probably about two or three. He saved me from getting mugged in the city - looked half starved, so I gave him some pizza. It's like his favorite thing - which is why it's his name," Clint said. "You ever have a dog?"
Miles shook his head and scratched PD under his ears. "Nah. Same typical excuse. Parents think that it's too expensive and it's too much responsibility." As if they knew the other, bigger responsibilities that Miles had taken on. "I guess it's okay 'cuz I ended up going to like a boarding school for high school so I wouldn't've been able to take care of him, anyway. I didn't know they let people have pets here."
"Sure, pets are allowed," Clint said, raising his eyebrows. "KGibz has a cat he calls Shamu. Molly's got a moose - I'm not even joking. This crazy dude brought it back from Canada for her. Laurie's got a pig. There's horses, other dogs, other cats. PD's pretty low key. Doc Reyes - Cecilia, she takes him for runs when I can't. If you've got the time for one and you can handle making sure they're fed and watered and house trained..." He shrugged. "It's all good."
One surprise after another at this place. At least this was a good one. "So, hey," Miles began after another moment spent petting PD. "About the stuff I said on the blog the other day . . . I just wanted to say sorry that I upset you."
Clint shrugged. "It happens. Just don't... I don't know, don't talk about things like this is all some great adventure full of mystery and intrigue and exciting encounters. Sure, there's some of that, but all the encounters wind up being potentially fatal and that... isn't really fun at all. I've been reading back through the X-Men's reports. There is some crazy stuff in there. They've gone up against some seriously evil people."
"Trust me, I know." For a moment, Miles was on his knees up against a wall, and Radian loomed over him, drawing in and shaping the power to blow off Miles's head. Only Kyle and Laurie's timely intervention saved his life. Without them, he'd be just another dead black kid in New York. "I didn't mean to make it seem like I didn't care. I really do."
Clint nodded. "That's good." He tapped his pencil against the cover of his textbook for a moment, then said, "Just think about things before you say them, dude."
"Yeah. So, uh, you're training to be an X-Man, too, right? How's that going?"
"It's good - mostly it's a lot of getting my ass handed to me in the Danger Room and reading through old mission reports. Balancing that with classes and the other stuff I do - archery and training with Logan... it can get kind of tight sometimes. But I like it - it's challenging." Clint didn't mention that it also gave him new insight into things like friends and classmates being kidnapped or how totally frustrating and infuriating it was to realize that, despite everyone's best efforts, they still couldn't find them.
"You do archery? Do you, like, make energy arrows that you can shoot?" That would be a pretty sweet mutation, Miles thought. And it would look badass, too, which of course was important if you were going to be a superhero. "I've heard about the Danger Room. I can't wait to try it out."
"I suggest taking some Tylenol and Advil and maybe even some Aleve before going in. That cocktail usually keeps me from feeling most of the pain until the next morning," Clint said. "And yeah, archery. No, I don't do energy projection or anything. I just never miss."
"So your power is super-aim?" Miles asked. Not disparagingly or with any scorn, just curiously. He'd never heard of powers like that before. "Do you use guns, too, or are you all Batman about those?"
"Something like that, I guess," Clint nodded. "I've shot a gun - Mister Summers had me shooting at clay pigeons over the summer. It's something to do with spatial awareness in addition to the sight thing." He picked up his pencil, considered it for a moment, then tossed it at the wall across from it. It hit eraser-first and at an angle that propelled it upward. There, it hit the ceiling and came shooting back down toward Clint, who caught the sharpened end between pinched fingers. "Stuff like that."
"Word?" was about all Miles could say to that display. "So you could beat all those crooked carnies at Coney Island with the ring toss and milk bottle games? Must impress the ladies."
"Yeah, pretty much," Clint said, laughing a little. "Or, like, traveling circuses or whatever. I'll admit, I've never used it to try to impress girls - before I came here, it wasn't really something I was supposed to talk about too much and once I got here... well. It's not all that impressive compared to what some of the girls can do, y'know?"
"Yeah, I guess not. Sad trombone. Maybe I still have a shot. How many guys here can climb walls with just their bare hands? And how many girls find that something attractive in a man?" These were the important questions.
"I dunno, dude," Clint said, considering that. "I think you're probably the only one with the climbing thing, yeah, but like. Molly could just punch whatever wall you're climbing and boom - it's crumbling and you're hitting the ground. Topaz could just curse you." He smiled a little. "Seems like maybe leaning on how awesome your powers are might not be the best route to go."
"Probably not. I'll have to rely on rock-hard abs, a dazzling smile, and a winning personality instead. Assuming they go for all of that. I could still be way off. But you like all that, right?" Miles asked PD as he turned his attention back to the resting dog.
"I dunno, PD seems to like his running partners pretty and athletic and like... with lady parts. You might be outta luck there, too, dude," Clint said, laughing a little.
"This just isn't my week."
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