Jean and Gabriel: History Repeating
Feb. 18th, 2015 07:11 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logs Jean meets Gabriel after a man (not him) tries to steal from her at a bar (proving the universe likes repeating itself). She does something stupid. Gabriel helpfully points that out, much to Jean's chagrin.
It had been a stupid ploy, and he knew it. But Gabriel convinced himself it'd be a good idea to come here, to a weird bar/club hybrid with a moderately sized dance floor and a reputation for exceptional drunken behavior.
It wasn't that he wanted to dance, or be tequila-shot-and-mistake drunk. But spending so much time in lousy dives (or, worse, pseudo-dives) had started to make him feel like a sad old man. At least here, he'd be around some life, even if he was observing it while languishing in melancholy from a distance like Hemingway or something.
Still, bad idea. Buzzed though he was, he was hardly drunk enough for this. So he elbowed past two excited blond women in sequin tops and made his way to the bar.
Jean was in the mood to unwind and she didn't know how many of the people at the mansion would be keen in coming with her. So she flew solo for this evening. She wasn't dressed up to pick up anybody or anything. It was a sudden decision, really. She had been about to grab a cab back to the mansion after visiting her sister and her husband again when she'd spotted the bar. A room full of faces no one knew, with alcohol, verses an entire mansion of people with no alcohol.
The bar won.
Not that she had much to complain about, but the bar was how she used to spend time with friends in med school and X-Corps. Angelo had a lot on his mind. He seemed a bit distant toward her. And Warren was...Warren.
So she sat at the bar, stirring a drink. It had enough kick to it to get her buzzed and enough sweet in it so that she could enjoy it.
A man sat beside her at the bar. He looked about her age, and was trying way too hard to look cool. He seemed to shop exclusively at Hollister, and chewed a piece of gum aggressively as he asked for a beer. She waited for him to say something, but he kept silent, an eye on the football game that played on the TV.
Having finally made his way through the crowd, Gabriel leaned against the bar. He scanned the joint, his frown deepening to see so many try-hards surrounding him. It was a thirsty crowd in more ways than one, and he figured that'd make it easier for him to fly under the radar. Not that would matter if he couldn't get a drink. He stood on his tiptoes and leaned further over the bar, trying to catch the bartender's attention at the end of it.
And that's when he spotted her. Jean Grey, out in the wild.
He sank back down to flat feet, then closed his eyes to see if she'd disappear.
Desire, but not the lusty kind, wafted off the man next to Jean. Desire and callousness. Out of the corner of her eye she could spot the man going for her purse. The man's boldness didn't settle well with her and she waited for him to do it, but as he did, the loops of his shoelaces untied and then both sides of his shoes tied together. Just when he was about to get up to leave she spoke.
"You should probably give that back," she said calmly, taking a sip of her drink before glancing over to him. The break in the silence startled the man and as he moved to back up his feet got tangled up as thoroughly as his shoelaces, sending him falling out of his bar stool with a loud crash.
The noise caused Gabriel's eyes to to flip back open. His head turned to follow the sound of Jean's voice and the subsequent crash. Not only was this Jean very, very real, but her tone was also very, very familiar. He craned his neck to catch sight of their altercation.
Jean took another drink before climbing out of her chair to grab her purse.
"It doesn't go with your outfit."
For a moment or two, the man looked mortified, until he peered down at his shoelaces, blinking with a dawning realization.
"How did--?" He hadn't seen anyone else around.
Unable to deal with the absurdity of it all, Gabriel started laughing. And not just a chuckle, but a loud, riotous, almost hysterical laugh. The woman to his right eyed him curiously, then stepped away.
The laughing drew both Jean and the man's attention, and the man grew self-conscious.
"You did that, didn't you?" he said, pointing at his shoelaces.
Jean tilted her head. She had known it was a bad move before but she was hoping he wouldn't have put two and two together. He hadn't even looked like he could put 1 and 1 together. Unfortunately she had let her emotions get to her.
"I tied your shoelaces together, from my barstool? Right. Said the drunk guy who tried to steal my purse. See this?" she said, holding up her phone.
"I had already dialed up the NYPD before you took a nosedive. Let's see how fast they can get here."
The guy shook his head, climbing to his feet, trying to regain that confidence back. "You can't prove nothin..."
"Oh come on," Gabriel chimed in as the laughter subsided. He stepped away from his spot at the bar, moving toward their altercation. "That's your play?" He raised an eyebrow at the attempted thief, who he actually thought he might recognize but couldn't place. "Really?" He stepped in between them.
The guy stared down Gabriel. "Nobody asked you," he said, puffing out his chest in a show of pure testosterone as he attempted to crowd his space.
"Beat it, pretty boy."
Jean tried very hard not to roll her eyes. She failed. "I get it, you're a strong male who likes to steal purses and prove he's top of the heap or whatever...How about you leave before my mace finger gets twitchy?" she said, her attention flickering down to the can in her hand.
The guy, still looking at Gabriel like they were in some sort of staring contest, grunted, put on his hood, and slipped into the crowd.
Sitting back down at her barstool, Jean returned to her drink.
"Thanks, by the way. For the attempt to diffuse the situation," she said to Gabriel.
"Yeah, well." Gabriel shrugged. "I was trying to save the guy, not you. A person doesn't just decide one day they'll start stealing for a living." He managed to suppress a smirk, which was tough given that he'd been on the other side of this argument last time. The drunk bravado wasn't helping. "Guess I helped you too, though. Buy me a drink?" Given that some of version of the woman next to him had completely destroyed his world in ways that he was still recovering from, he figured it was the least this Jean could do.
"The guy wore Hugo Boss, $300 shoes, and a gucci shirt. This wasn't for a living. It was for a thrill," Jean said, holding her hand up to get the bartender's attention.
"I owe this man a drink. What'll it be?" she said, turning to Gabriel.
"Negroni, up," he ordered. "Green Hat if you've got it, otherwise Tanqueray." The bartender nodded and went to work, and Gabriel turned to take stock of new Jean. She was younger, that was for sure, and far less patient, which he decided he'd liked. His eyes flicked down to her hand. Single. Interesting. "Bro or not," he said somewhat dismissively, channeling an inner Namor that surprised him, "you should be more careful."
Jean's attention flickered upward. She wondered if he meant what she thought he meant. And she had a feeling was right.
"I'm beginning to realize that," Jean said, rising from her stool. Taking one last sip of the Blood and Sand, she slipped $25 across the bar to pay bartender for Gabriel's drink.
"Which means I should probably be going. Enjoy your drink. And the next one, on me."
He seemed to be sizing her up for some reason. And even if she got the sense he was being helpful, she already felt self conscious about it. She didn't need to hear it in stereo.
"Oh," Gabriel grinned, now quite pleased with himself (which was maybe really nasty, but who had time to think about that?). "Thanks." He watched her rise and tried to keep from reaching into her purse and grabbing her phone to prove a point. "I think I like you."
Desire. Desire and callousness. Jean paused and turned, cocking her head to the side with a 'try it and you will regret it' look. "Glad I could make your day," she said. Grabbing her coat from the back of the chair, she slipped it on and headed for the door.
"See ya," he said rather amiably, ignoring the mental daggers he imagined she was shooting. He watched her go, a smirk on his face. Because whether he stood at the edge of a breakdown or not, some version of Jean Grey was alive, and he felt pretty damn good to have gotten the best of her.
It had been a stupid ploy, and he knew it. But Gabriel convinced himself it'd be a good idea to come here, to a weird bar/club hybrid with a moderately sized dance floor and a reputation for exceptional drunken behavior.
It wasn't that he wanted to dance, or be tequila-shot-and-mistake drunk. But spending so much time in lousy dives (or, worse, pseudo-dives) had started to make him feel like a sad old man. At least here, he'd be around some life, even if he was observing it while languishing in melancholy from a distance like Hemingway or something.
Still, bad idea. Buzzed though he was, he was hardly drunk enough for this. So he elbowed past two excited blond women in sequin tops and made his way to the bar.
Jean was in the mood to unwind and she didn't know how many of the people at the mansion would be keen in coming with her. So she flew solo for this evening. She wasn't dressed up to pick up anybody or anything. It was a sudden decision, really. She had been about to grab a cab back to the mansion after visiting her sister and her husband again when she'd spotted the bar. A room full of faces no one knew, with alcohol, verses an entire mansion of people with no alcohol.
The bar won.
Not that she had much to complain about, but the bar was how she used to spend time with friends in med school and X-Corps. Angelo had a lot on his mind. He seemed a bit distant toward her. And Warren was...Warren.
So she sat at the bar, stirring a drink. It had enough kick to it to get her buzzed and enough sweet in it so that she could enjoy it.
A man sat beside her at the bar. He looked about her age, and was trying way too hard to look cool. He seemed to shop exclusively at Hollister, and chewed a piece of gum aggressively as he asked for a beer. She waited for him to say something, but he kept silent, an eye on the football game that played on the TV.
Having finally made his way through the crowd, Gabriel leaned against the bar. He scanned the joint, his frown deepening to see so many try-hards surrounding him. It was a thirsty crowd in more ways than one, and he figured that'd make it easier for him to fly under the radar. Not that would matter if he couldn't get a drink. He stood on his tiptoes and leaned further over the bar, trying to catch the bartender's attention at the end of it.
And that's when he spotted her. Jean Grey, out in the wild.
He sank back down to flat feet, then closed his eyes to see if she'd disappear.
Desire, but not the lusty kind, wafted off the man next to Jean. Desire and callousness. Out of the corner of her eye she could spot the man going for her purse. The man's boldness didn't settle well with her and she waited for him to do it, but as he did, the loops of his shoelaces untied and then both sides of his shoes tied together. Just when he was about to get up to leave she spoke.
"You should probably give that back," she said calmly, taking a sip of her drink before glancing over to him. The break in the silence startled the man and as he moved to back up his feet got tangled up as thoroughly as his shoelaces, sending him falling out of his bar stool with a loud crash.
The noise caused Gabriel's eyes to to flip back open. His head turned to follow the sound of Jean's voice and the subsequent crash. Not only was this Jean very, very real, but her tone was also very, very familiar. He craned his neck to catch sight of their altercation.
Jean took another drink before climbing out of her chair to grab her purse.
"It doesn't go with your outfit."
For a moment or two, the man looked mortified, until he peered down at his shoelaces, blinking with a dawning realization.
"How did--?" He hadn't seen anyone else around.
Unable to deal with the absurdity of it all, Gabriel started laughing. And not just a chuckle, but a loud, riotous, almost hysterical laugh. The woman to his right eyed him curiously, then stepped away.
The laughing drew both Jean and the man's attention, and the man grew self-conscious.
"You did that, didn't you?" he said, pointing at his shoelaces.
Jean tilted her head. She had known it was a bad move before but she was hoping he wouldn't have put two and two together. He hadn't even looked like he could put 1 and 1 together. Unfortunately she had let her emotions get to her.
"I tied your shoelaces together, from my barstool? Right. Said the drunk guy who tried to steal my purse. See this?" she said, holding up her phone.
"I had already dialed up the NYPD before you took a nosedive. Let's see how fast they can get here."
The guy shook his head, climbing to his feet, trying to regain that confidence back. "You can't prove nothin..."
"Oh come on," Gabriel chimed in as the laughter subsided. He stepped away from his spot at the bar, moving toward their altercation. "That's your play?" He raised an eyebrow at the attempted thief, who he actually thought he might recognize but couldn't place. "Really?" He stepped in between them.
The guy stared down Gabriel. "Nobody asked you," he said, puffing out his chest in a show of pure testosterone as he attempted to crowd his space.
"Beat it, pretty boy."
Jean tried very hard not to roll her eyes. She failed. "I get it, you're a strong male who likes to steal purses and prove he's top of the heap or whatever...How about you leave before my mace finger gets twitchy?" she said, her attention flickering down to the can in her hand.
The guy, still looking at Gabriel like they were in some sort of staring contest, grunted, put on his hood, and slipped into the crowd.
Sitting back down at her barstool, Jean returned to her drink.
"Thanks, by the way. For the attempt to diffuse the situation," she said to Gabriel.
"Yeah, well." Gabriel shrugged. "I was trying to save the guy, not you. A person doesn't just decide one day they'll start stealing for a living." He managed to suppress a smirk, which was tough given that he'd been on the other side of this argument last time. The drunk bravado wasn't helping. "Guess I helped you too, though. Buy me a drink?" Given that some of version of the woman next to him had completely destroyed his world in ways that he was still recovering from, he figured it was the least this Jean could do.
"The guy wore Hugo Boss, $300 shoes, and a gucci shirt. This wasn't for a living. It was for a thrill," Jean said, holding her hand up to get the bartender's attention.
"I owe this man a drink. What'll it be?" she said, turning to Gabriel.
"Negroni, up," he ordered. "Green Hat if you've got it, otherwise Tanqueray." The bartender nodded and went to work, and Gabriel turned to take stock of new Jean. She was younger, that was for sure, and far less patient, which he decided he'd liked. His eyes flicked down to her hand. Single. Interesting. "Bro or not," he said somewhat dismissively, channeling an inner Namor that surprised him, "you should be more careful."
Jean's attention flickered upward. She wondered if he meant what she thought he meant. And she had a feeling was right.
"I'm beginning to realize that," Jean said, rising from her stool. Taking one last sip of the Blood and Sand, she slipped $25 across the bar to pay bartender for Gabriel's drink.
"Which means I should probably be going. Enjoy your drink. And the next one, on me."
He seemed to be sizing her up for some reason. And even if she got the sense he was being helpful, she already felt self conscious about it. She didn't need to hear it in stereo.
"Oh," Gabriel grinned, now quite pleased with himself (which was maybe really nasty, but who had time to think about that?). "Thanks." He watched her rise and tried to keep from reaching into her purse and grabbing her phone to prove a point. "I think I like you."
Desire. Desire and callousness. Jean paused and turned, cocking her head to the side with a 'try it and you will regret it' look. "Glad I could make your day," she said. Grabbing her coat from the back of the chair, she slipped it on and headed for the door.
"See ya," he said rather amiably, ignoring the mental daggers he imagined she was shooting. He watched her go, a smirk on his face. Because whether he stood at the edge of a breakdown or not, some version of Jean Grey was alive, and he felt pretty damn good to have gotten the best of her.
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