Log: Kevin and Jubilee
Jul. 29th, 2017 08:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsJubilee and Kevin talk about burn out, and their varying solutions to such.
Jubilee sat, a bottle of German beer dangling loosely from her fingers, as she watched an approaching Kevin. She hummed to herself as he meandered down the path toward the mansion front porch. It was a hot night, the only relief the almost imperceptible breeze coming from the east and blowing her sweat soaked hair against her neck.
“Out late” she noted, something to say, rather than because she felt he needed to be informed of the time. “What would your mother say?”
"No idea. She died long before I started to drink." Kevin said blandly. "Although, in my experience, mothers usually tell me 'oh god', 'more more' and in one interesting night, 'my sister first'."
“You do that a lot, ya know,” Jubilee said, wrinkling her nose slightly after taking a drink of her beer. Not her normal drink, but she hadn’t wanted to go out and Kurt kept a supply in the suite fridge. “That whole bringing everything back to sex. Always wondered if that was just like, a tick of yours, or something operational?”
"You're a spy. You should know better. The simplest answer is that I like sex a lot and I'm too old to care what people think. Small talk, my dear, is for the young and optimistic. Cynical perversity is for the jaded, world weary alcoholic."
“Sit down and keep me company then, old man.” Jubilee said with a laugh, pushing herself over to give him space. “Sometimes I like not being a spy when I’m here. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to always think that way, even when you’re home.”
"This..." Kevin indicated around them. "Isn't home. You think you have the luxury of being about to not be a spy. I know better."
Jubilee took another drink and cracked her neck before her mouth twisted in what could only be described as the difference between a real smile, and what wanted to be a frown.
“It wasn’t like this before, you know.”
"What, the mansion or the job?"
“Both,” Jubilee said, her tone almost a snap from her certainty. “That fucking event. It wasn’t just that nobody can go a foot now without someone falling over themselves to condemn mutants. It’s that we had more people, more time to think through everything. Maybe it was just that our bosses were workaholics who tended to deal with all the really difficult shit themselves. I’d whine more but it’s not like he didn’t give me the whole ‘this is your life now, be certain’ speech before I even started.”
"Ah, the mysterious former heads of Snow Valley." Kevin shook his head. "M-Day changed the circumstances. In 1945, we dropped two bombs that changed the global socio-political landscape and redefined how nation states operated for the next half century. That was the deaths of a quarter of a million people. Almost ten million died as a result of M-Day, and they still don't have the slightest clue why it happened and whether or not it could happen again. You're going to be an old lady before you see that change. So that, Jubilation Lee, is why I drink constantly and talk about fucking a lot. Because I've become an old man living through this once, and staring at doing it again, sex and booze are far more attractive focuses."
Jubilee shook her head, taking another swig of her beer. There wasn't much of a response she could say to that beyond 'I hear what you're saying, this is a fucking shit show' and that would just be talking to talk.
“So, what was it like when you were my age? Did you always want to do this work, or did someone drag you in?”
"I was recruited out of the Army. That's how it worked back then. The CIA was only a couple of years old, so they used OSS methods from the war. Get operators, grifters, snipers, scouts... back them up with analysts out of Foggy Bottom and the War department." He shook his head. "That world and this one weren't recognizable as such yet. It took a decade for both sides of the Cold War to professionalize things properly, mostly by learning from a hundred years of European examples."
“You and Logan, dude. Like, I used to think thirty was ancient but you two, you’re like actually older than dirt,” Jubilee replied, saluting him with her bottle. “What was that like? Being an agent during the cold war?”
"Pretty similar to what it is like being a mutant agent in this environment; paranoid, stressful and with high rates of mortality, kid. You used to be able to smoke in your office and were expected to drink at lunch. So, in some ways, a little better."
“Yeah, but people also thought women were destroying the fabric of society for wearing pants,” Jubilee pointed out with a grin and another drink.
Somewhere in the mansion, someone had started playing music and it filtered through the open front door and out into the night air beyond. She couldn’t quite place the song, but the tone almost matched her mood perfectly.
“Half the time, I’m scared I’ll come back to this place and it’ll be a crater in the ground.”
"So walk away." Sydney said. "You've served your tour and more, Lee. This isn't, and shouldn't be, a vocation for life. Every good operative I worked with figured out how to put the job down and leave. The ones who couldn't... they were the damaged ones."
“Who would do the job, if not me?” Jubilee replied with a sigh. “I mean, really? Who would take over if I just, decided to ride off into the sunset and, I don’t know, go be a bum in California and surf all day.”
"There's always someone else, Lee. This isn't a cult or a warrior convent. Hell, better you leave than think you can't. It would help the mindset." Kevin said. "Look, you want to know the kind of person that martyrs themselves to this kind of job? Extremists. If you want to stay, that's one thing, but if you think you have to stay... that's the first fucking sign to get the hell out."
“I’m honestly not sure anymore,” Jubilee admitted with another sigh, hand going to the back of her neck as she tried to rub the tension out. “Maybe I just need a holiday, ya know? Haven’t had one in…well, since I got back from the last one, I guess.”
"And you wonder why I spend my off days with booze and escourts?" He shook his head. "The people who treat this as a calling always fall apart. There's just too much. It's a job, It's important but it can't be everything, Because it gives nothing back. So have a couple more drinks. Go fuck your fiancee. Take the morning off and remind yourself what you're fighting for. If you can't remember that, there's nothing worth coming back for."
“You’re good,” Jubilee replied with a smile, pulling another of Kurt’s beers out of the bucket of ice she’d put beside her. Not as much as she might have once drunk, but enough for a buzz. “I think I’m gonna take your advice, maybe even take a whole day or two off and go up the coast. I’m pretty sure I can convince Kurt to come with, haven’t seen the sea around here in ages.”
"Just tell him you'll let the tide come in." Kevin tossed off the end of his flask. "And now I have a somewhat expensive escourt waiting for me at Harry's, no doubt detesting the atmosphere, which is exactly how I like to kept them; uncomfortable. Night Lee."
Jubilee sat, a bottle of German beer dangling loosely from her fingers, as she watched an approaching Kevin. She hummed to herself as he meandered down the path toward the mansion front porch. It was a hot night, the only relief the almost imperceptible breeze coming from the east and blowing her sweat soaked hair against her neck.
“Out late” she noted, something to say, rather than because she felt he needed to be informed of the time. “What would your mother say?”
"No idea. She died long before I started to drink." Kevin said blandly. "Although, in my experience, mothers usually tell me 'oh god', 'more more' and in one interesting night, 'my sister first'."
“You do that a lot, ya know,” Jubilee said, wrinkling her nose slightly after taking a drink of her beer. Not her normal drink, but she hadn’t wanted to go out and Kurt kept a supply in the suite fridge. “That whole bringing everything back to sex. Always wondered if that was just like, a tick of yours, or something operational?”
"You're a spy. You should know better. The simplest answer is that I like sex a lot and I'm too old to care what people think. Small talk, my dear, is for the young and optimistic. Cynical perversity is for the jaded, world weary alcoholic."
“Sit down and keep me company then, old man.” Jubilee said with a laugh, pushing herself over to give him space. “Sometimes I like not being a spy when I’m here. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to always think that way, even when you’re home.”
"This..." Kevin indicated around them. "Isn't home. You think you have the luxury of being about to not be a spy. I know better."
Jubilee took another drink and cracked her neck before her mouth twisted in what could only be described as the difference between a real smile, and what wanted to be a frown.
“It wasn’t like this before, you know.”
"What, the mansion or the job?"
“Both,” Jubilee said, her tone almost a snap from her certainty. “That fucking event. It wasn’t just that nobody can go a foot now without someone falling over themselves to condemn mutants. It’s that we had more people, more time to think through everything. Maybe it was just that our bosses were workaholics who tended to deal with all the really difficult shit themselves. I’d whine more but it’s not like he didn’t give me the whole ‘this is your life now, be certain’ speech before I even started.”
"Ah, the mysterious former heads of Snow Valley." Kevin shook his head. "M-Day changed the circumstances. In 1945, we dropped two bombs that changed the global socio-political landscape and redefined how nation states operated for the next half century. That was the deaths of a quarter of a million people. Almost ten million died as a result of M-Day, and they still don't have the slightest clue why it happened and whether or not it could happen again. You're going to be an old lady before you see that change. So that, Jubilation Lee, is why I drink constantly and talk about fucking a lot. Because I've become an old man living through this once, and staring at doing it again, sex and booze are far more attractive focuses."
Jubilee shook her head, taking another swig of her beer. There wasn't much of a response she could say to that beyond 'I hear what you're saying, this is a fucking shit show' and that would just be talking to talk.
“So, what was it like when you were my age? Did you always want to do this work, or did someone drag you in?”
"I was recruited out of the Army. That's how it worked back then. The CIA was only a couple of years old, so they used OSS methods from the war. Get operators, grifters, snipers, scouts... back them up with analysts out of Foggy Bottom and the War department." He shook his head. "That world and this one weren't recognizable as such yet. It took a decade for both sides of the Cold War to professionalize things properly, mostly by learning from a hundred years of European examples."
“You and Logan, dude. Like, I used to think thirty was ancient but you two, you’re like actually older than dirt,” Jubilee replied, saluting him with her bottle. “What was that like? Being an agent during the cold war?”
"Pretty similar to what it is like being a mutant agent in this environment; paranoid, stressful and with high rates of mortality, kid. You used to be able to smoke in your office and were expected to drink at lunch. So, in some ways, a little better."
“Yeah, but people also thought women were destroying the fabric of society for wearing pants,” Jubilee pointed out with a grin and another drink.
Somewhere in the mansion, someone had started playing music and it filtered through the open front door and out into the night air beyond. She couldn’t quite place the song, but the tone almost matched her mood perfectly.
“Half the time, I’m scared I’ll come back to this place and it’ll be a crater in the ground.”
"So walk away." Sydney said. "You've served your tour and more, Lee. This isn't, and shouldn't be, a vocation for life. Every good operative I worked with figured out how to put the job down and leave. The ones who couldn't... they were the damaged ones."
“Who would do the job, if not me?” Jubilee replied with a sigh. “I mean, really? Who would take over if I just, decided to ride off into the sunset and, I don’t know, go be a bum in California and surf all day.”
"There's always someone else, Lee. This isn't a cult or a warrior convent. Hell, better you leave than think you can't. It would help the mindset." Kevin said. "Look, you want to know the kind of person that martyrs themselves to this kind of job? Extremists. If you want to stay, that's one thing, but if you think you have to stay... that's the first fucking sign to get the hell out."
“I’m honestly not sure anymore,” Jubilee admitted with another sigh, hand going to the back of her neck as she tried to rub the tension out. “Maybe I just need a holiday, ya know? Haven’t had one in…well, since I got back from the last one, I guess.”
"And you wonder why I spend my off days with booze and escourts?" He shook his head. "The people who treat this as a calling always fall apart. There's just too much. It's a job, It's important but it can't be everything, Because it gives nothing back. So have a couple more drinks. Go fuck your fiancee. Take the morning off and remind yourself what you're fighting for. If you can't remember that, there's nothing worth coming back for."
“You’re good,” Jubilee replied with a smile, pulling another of Kurt’s beers out of the bucket of ice she’d put beside her. Not as much as she might have once drunk, but enough for a buzz. “I think I’m gonna take your advice, maybe even take a whole day or two off and go up the coast. I’m pretty sure I can convince Kurt to come with, haven’t seen the sea around here in ages.”
"Just tell him you'll let the tide come in." Kevin tossed off the end of his flask. "And now I have a somewhat expensive escourt waiting for me at Harry's, no doubt detesting the atmosphere, which is exactly how I like to kept them; uncomfortable. Night Lee."
