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xp_logs2022-11-20 02:33 pm
xp_phoenix) wrote in xp_logs2022-11-20 02:33 pm
Entry tags:
Jean & Garrison: Holiday Prep (Backdated)
Garrison and Jean head to a grocery store to get some holiday shopping done for their respective family.
The mansion buzzed with intermittent bursts of lively conversation down one hallway, the roar of the television from the rec room playing a Godzilla movie, the smell of fresh baked bread from the kitchen. Everywhere there was life.
Jean made her way down the main stairs wearing a black turtleneck, forest green peacoat, and dark blue jeans with a rich green and gold scarf tied around her neck. She paused, pulling out a tiny notepad from her purse as she took a seat on one of the many chairs that dotted the front parlor, scribbling something down.
Kane wandered past, in his usual work suit, tapping into his phone.
"Hey doc. Doing a last minute to-do list before heading out?"
"Already made the list," Jean said as she wrote. "But I forgot a few things until just now."
She glanced up thoughtfully. "Is one turkey enough to feed 7 people?" She squinted.
"Will there even be turkeys at the store? I would prefer not to fight a little old lady for a turkey...But I will."
"Oh right, American Thanksgiving. Better known as 'Civil War Recreations At The Mall' Day." Kane grinned. "You in charge of the food this year?"
Jean nodded thoughtfully. "It rotates every year, and my time's come due," she mumbled in annoyance, then, after a moment, quirked an eyebrow.
"Civil War Recreations at the Mall Day?"
"Yeah, it's... what do you call it? Black Friday, where regular suburban folks try and trample their neighbours to death for a cheap iPad?"
"Oh, right," Jean said, making a face. "I guess I blocked that out of my memory. It was a pretty popular day in the ER."
She let out a breath, closing the notepad. "So many broken fingers. But I'm hoping to get in and get out with food, not merch."
"You need a lift? I'm just heading out myself. Need to start X-Mas shopping." Kane paused and raised his eyebrows at her.
"Santa Kane has a nice ring to it," Jean said with a grin. "Sure, why not? If you're okay with like seven bags of groceries in your car."
"If you feel like sitting on my knee and telling me just how good you are, I wouldn't say no." He quipped. "But it's a Crown Vic. I can fit a half dozen Thanksgiving dinners in my car."
"You'd think if the government were trying to be inconspicuous they'd stop using those, but I suppose there's some benefit to showmanship," Jean said, tucking her notepad into her purse.
"And space. Lead the way."
"Oh, they went to the Impala years ago. I just choose not to change." They fell into step into the garage and towards Kane's off-white car that was often mistaken as the beater car, especially compared to the range of high end and sports cars in the space. But, as the Mountie liked to point out, his car was capable of matching speed with all the cars in the mansion.
"Why's that?" Jean said. "Fan of the classics?" She herself couldn't say much as she had the Firebird she had had restored. While she wasn't a mechanic she enjoyed the look of the car, with a few fancy additions.
"Still has the armor. Engine can match and beat anything other than a rally car and I can toss it into a deadman's turn at over a hundred miles an hour." Kane paused in order to unlock the doors. "It's a cop car. Fundamentally. This is the kind of car I trained on. The Impala feels like I'm taking the kids to soccer or something." He opened the door for her.
"Thanks," Jean said with a smile, hopping in. "Yeah, the new Impalas do feel a little generic." She glanced around.
"So does she have a name?"
"I've never gotten the whole thing about naming your cars or computers or whatever. I mean, big trucks I get. Boats I get. Maybe if you were driving a cab ten hours a day, I could see it. But no, I don't anthropomorphize my car." He said as he slid in. "Maybe it was those combat driving courses where you learn to tear the car up to hell to execute certain moves that makes it seem like a bad idea to get overly fond of it."
Jean shrugged. "The same reason why people got upset over the Mars lander losing power. Humans are blessed and cursed with an overabundance of empathy. And sometimes it spills out into things that aren't even alive."
She opened up a compact mirror. "I call my car Charlie, by the way."
"Would you feel bad if you had to put Charlie into a power slide that tore out their suspension and reduced the bottom of the frame to twisted metal wreckage?"
"Of course. I've had that car for years. If it's damaged because I was forced to do it, I'll be sad but cars can also be repaired. And if it can't repair it, I'll move on and appreciate the time I was able to use it," Jean said, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear before closing the compact.
"People, stuff...everything is fleeting, and enduring. I try to cherish what I have."
"I guess that makes me Scrooge, Doc. To me, it's just a car." He shrugged, pulling into traffic. "Just a tool."
Jean shook her head. "Nah, it's okay. I get it. I can see how attachments can be dangerous in your line of work," she said, glancing him over before turning to watch the cars pass by.
"They train us on that in medical school too. Don't get too attached. Don't make promises you can't keep. Even if you try, not everyone can go home to their family at the end of the day. They're people, not objects but...same sentiment." She sometimes sucked at that part, though.
"So we should probably divide and conquer. Where were you planning on going shopping?"
"I'm mostly browsing right now, so where ever you need your groceries works as a start for me." Kane said, merging with the holiday congestion.
"Not sure if you'll find a great selection of holiday gifts at the Sack and Pack, unless you were planning on getting someone Cheezits and Coca Cola," Jean said.
"My Father and my Step-mother don't exchange gifts. And with my sister, the last thing she sent me was very tasteful almost nudes with her current girlfriend. So, to be honest, I sent her Kraft Dinner last year."
Jean paused. "Your sister, Victoria, sent you...very tasteful almost nudes...with her girlfriend," she repeated, then tilted her head, making a face. "....Why?"
"Because she's horrible and loves to make me uncomfortable." Kane shrugged. "She's also emerging as one of the top neurosurgeons in the world so... yeah. I love her to death despite the fact she's awful baggage who loves tormenting me. To be fair, our stepmother is a year older than her."
"And she's your...younger sister so that'd make your stepmother younger than you?" Jean said, trying to follow sympathetically but also cringing internally and externally on his behalf.
"Yup. I thought you might have met my dad but... yeah."
"Not that I know of, but he sounds charming," Jean said, slipping on her sunglasses. "And it makes more sense why your sister is the way she is. Mine likes to bother me in her own special way. But I just blame it on her inheriting even more high-strung tendencies than I did from my father."
"Actually, my father is extremely charming. That was the problem." Kane shook his head, smiling. "I didn't understand it before, but as much as they loved each other, what she needed and what he needed were two very different things. It took time, but we all eventually worked it out. This is just her own weird way of messing with her big brother."
"Do you four ever celebrate Thanksgiving together? Canadian or otherwise," Jean said.
"Regularly over the last 15 years. I mean-" Kane said, pausing. "Adrienne was a big part and she and my sister were close. That's part of why I got the gifts she did, because she was getting egged on."
Kane shrugged. Jean was from a wealthy puritan family. He could feel her judgement. "Normally it's on my dad's boat in the South Seas. So not a lot of turkey. We're a broken family but we eventually figured things out."
"Hey if it works, it works," Jean said with an honest smile. She noticed the way his hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter with the pause, the uncomfortable way he shifted in his seat, like he was saying something wrong.
"I spent more than a few holidays with Moira at Muir after...you know. My family wasn't sure how to be around me. It took us a while to get back to a Hallmark Christmas."
"Families are a problem at times. Especially if you're a mutant." Kane said. "So you doing the traditional Grey family Christmas this year?"
"Depends on if nothing's gone to hell in between now and then," Jean said with a shrug. "Hoping for the best. How about you?"
"Likely going down to see Dad, Vikks has something in Germany so I'll likely take a few days on the boat, Christmas dinner in Brisbane."
"Sounds nice and sunshiney," Jean mused. "Paul sometimes has to work over the holidays so if he does we might spend it in the city to be there for him. Otherwise we'll head to mom and dad's."
"Been there. Remember that." Kane joked, being a guest of the Greys the year before. "Yeah, with, well... everything with Adrienne... a few days on a boat sounds like a good idea."
Jean glanced away, then nodded a little. "Yeah, I can imagine. Do they know?" she said.
"To an extent. But, with my dad, likely more than I think he does."
"I'm sure. What else will he do all day but keep track of his kids?" Jean said with a wry smile. "I've run out of excuses for the times I've come to family dinner beaten up. They still don't know the ins and outs but they know something's up."
"You know, your dad asked me if the ER in District X was that randomly violent. I wasn't sure what he meant before now."
"Well, New York is a dangerous city," Jean said casually. "Especially around mutants."
"Or you showing up regularly fucked up bothers him a little." Kane arched an eyebrow at her.
"I was kidding," Jean said, meeting his look with her own narrowed eyes. "Of course I know it bothers him. Mom too. Which is better? Them knowing how many times I nearly die in a year, or thinking I live a relatively normal life? I tell them I work occasionally for Doctors without Borders. That's enough for them to know. Dad already hates Charles. He tolerates him now, but them finding out would just...not go well."
"Maybe. But do you think it spares them keeping the X-Men secret? No judgement, but at some point, you're either cutting them off or lying about being hurt and how. Which is more sustainable?"
"It's not their secret to keep. Plausible deniability," Jean said, folding her arms. "If we get outed somehow, they aren't accessories to anything. You know Paul's a cop. You know the position that puts him in. He could lose his job. And Sara...she's already uncomfortable enough about mutants. She...." She let out a breath, biting her lip.
"It's not a perfect solution, but I don't know what is."
"I doubt there is one. I mean, I'm lucky in a sense. My dad used to fight Nazi super-villains with bags stuck on their heads, so my time in the X-Men is positively dull compared to his stories." Kane said. "Hell of a thing to balance."
Jean rubbed the back of her neck. "I guess it's complicated no matter how you're raised," she said, shaking her head. "But they're my normal. They're...when I go there it's like I'm just a regular person, far away from...demons and monsters and supervillains. It's nice."
"That I don't have. But maybe not normal is the new normal." Kane said, finally pulling off in order to hit the strip mall.
"You're always welcome to come back," Jean said with a shrug and a smile. "Dad said he wants a rematch. What were you guys playing again?"
"Cribbage. I got lucky when he pulled the five when I had two fives, a six and a four. And had a run of face cards in the crib. He was all kinds of angry and mentioned he owned sharp objects multiple times." Kane grinned at the memory.
"They're antique knives, so he must have been serious if was going to risk getting blood on them," Jean said with a laugh. "Dad is a sore loser, which is why we never play him."
She glanced around at the parking lot. "Yikes, this looks rather popular."
"I can likely shoulder block our way to a turkey if you need it."
Jean flashed him a broad grin. "Tempting. Let's keep it in our back pocket, just in case. Little old ladies can be vicious," she said. Pausing a moment, her head quickly turned.
"Wait, parking spot!" she said, stabbing the air toward an opening a couple of cars over.
"Hang on to something." Kane said, and kicked the car into a swerving slide, lining up with the spot at the end and snuggling in like it was a warm bed. "Nicely spotted."
"Nice hustle," Jean said, raising up her hand for a high five.
"Teamwork, baby."
"Two years of combat driving pay off at a holiday mall." He joked, slapping her hand.
"Of course," Jean said, staring down at the crowd of people mulling about. "It's a jungle out there."
Turning back to him, her face was serious. "Are you ready to battle the worst dregs of humanity, Mr. Kane?"
"Doc Grey, I am an officer of the law and an X-Man. I am willing to run away from this in a hot second if it's an option. But since it isn't, let's do this."
Unbuckling, Jean climbed out of the car, her grocery list clenched tightly in one hand. She gave him a salute with the other hand. "Right. Remember, the frail little old lady thing is a gimmick. They are not afraid to kneecap you if you're between them and the last can of cranberry sauce. We just have to be strategic about this."
"I'll run backoff. I have ideas." Kane joked, setting himself up.
"Please don't tell me one of those ideas is kneecapping them first," Jean said with a smirk as they made their way toward the grocery store entrance.
The sound of a bell ringing echoed as a Salvation Army Santa (mostly just a guy with a red jacket and Santa hat) asked people for donations before they went inside.
"Nah. I have a taser for this sort of situation." The guy at the Old Sal's kettle gave Kane a hopeful look and got a firm shake of the head as they went inside. "My sister is currently dating a woman. I'll give my Christmas donations to another charity."
Jean smiled at the man. "Happy Holidays," she said, then ducked inside.
The store was one of the larger super saver types, complete with a full selection of fruits and vegetables, a butcher, seafood department, and bakery in addition to the main aisles of the store. Because it was so big, however, that meant it was crowded. People waited in line with their selections as a variety of bored and harried cashiers helped them out.
Jean's attention briefly turned to the attached coffee kiosk/shop that was trying to be a Starbucks, squinting slightly.
"Do we want to be caffeinated while fighting off the entire neighborhood, or is that a bad idea?"
"Up to you. I could murder a coffee right now."
Jean immediately nodded. "Don't have to twist my arm," she said, strolling over to join the coffee line.
"Now are you the straight black coffee type or do you prefer your brew with a little pizzazz?"
"Pretty much black. It's a cop thing. The coffee in the office is generally pretty bad, but you need it for long nights. So it basically destroys your ability to remember good coffee." Kane said, falling into line with her. "What about you? Are you a sundae in a cup kind of girl or something more basic?"
"Depends on the situation," Jean said, scanning the menu. "If I'm desperate, I'll take it simple...but I need a little bit of cream and sugar at least. Too bitter. Otherwise, give me the candy store." She grinned in amusement.
"The coffee at the hospital was bad too so I wound up pitching in to buy a good coffee maker and a few bags. There's a reason the nurses all liked me."
"I've never been big on sweet coffee. But I do love proper hot chocolate. I mean, not good hot chocolate, but the ones you got from those hot beverage vending machines at the hockey rink. Proper hot chocolate."
Jean laughed. "So...the kind that's never cleaned and has the powder and sludge in there from 1992?" she said.
"The chicken soup made entirely from dried bouillon? To die for."
"My God you have an iron stomach. Also, remind me to check your sodium levels during your next physical," she said with a smirk.
"You should try my mom's chicken soup. It's not hockey rink worthy but it's pretty good."
"See, you obviously never did 6am hockey practice. Otherwise, you'd know all this." He grinned.
"Can't say that I have," Jean said with a laugh. "Was that a requirement or did you do it because you wanted to?"
"Loved hockey. And baseball. And football, rugby and lacrosse. Until my powers manifested, I was in a sport every morning and afternoon."
"Why don't you do it here? I'm sure the others might be interested in putting a couple of teams together," Jean said.
"I do the annual softball game, but I need specialized equipment to neutralize my powers. After all, not a lot of goalies can handle a 300mph slapshot." He joked. "You're up for your order."
Jean grinned. "I'm sure the science crew could figure it out," she said with a wink, then turned around. "Peppermint Mocha and a snowman sugar cookie please."
"Black double espresso." Kane said behind her. They waited at the edge of the counter for their order, taken as a couple, especially after Garrison paid for it.
Jean leaned against the wall. "Thanks," she said appreciatively. "You're welcome to try some of my peppermint mocha if you want."
"I'm good. Don't really like mint much. I like a candy cane once a year. Maybe a mint chip cone." He said.
"Well, then maybe I'll buy you a hockey rink hot chocolate some time," Jean mused with a grin, then pulled out her shopping list while they waited.
"I am in charge of the turkey, but everyone else is bringing a dish so at least it won't be the entire day cooking."
"How big a bird do you need?"
Jean paused, blinking. "I probably should have Googled that..." she said, pulling out her phone. "There'll be at least 7. I don't think it's the entire Grey brood, thank god. My aunts and uncles usually spend Thanksgiving on their own."
"Seven and possibly plus? 17-18lbs. That way you've got enough for leftovers." Kane said. "My grandmother had a system, which I entirely wrecked when my mutation emerged and forced her to add ten pounds of turkey just for me."
"Huh," Jean said, putting her phone away as quickly as she pulled it out with a laugh. "Guess that made for some interesting holidays."
"Nah, just meant I tended to eat faster than everyone to fit in my seconds, thirds, fourth and fifths." Kane grinned. "Alright, point me at what you need."
Jean laughed. "I can just picture teenage Garrison piling on plate after plate of turkey," she mused, then nodded toward the barista station.
"I think we should probably wait for our---"
"KANE. Black Double Espresso for KANE," the barista announced.
"Ah, fuel." He collected his cup with a smile and pivoted back towards the store. "So, once more into the breach, dear friends?"
The mansion buzzed with intermittent bursts of lively conversation down one hallway, the roar of the television from the rec room playing a Godzilla movie, the smell of fresh baked bread from the kitchen. Everywhere there was life.
Jean made her way down the main stairs wearing a black turtleneck, forest green peacoat, and dark blue jeans with a rich green and gold scarf tied around her neck. She paused, pulling out a tiny notepad from her purse as she took a seat on one of the many chairs that dotted the front parlor, scribbling something down.
Kane wandered past, in his usual work suit, tapping into his phone.
"Hey doc. Doing a last minute to-do list before heading out?"
"Already made the list," Jean said as she wrote. "But I forgot a few things until just now."
She glanced up thoughtfully. "Is one turkey enough to feed 7 people?" She squinted.
"Will there even be turkeys at the store? I would prefer not to fight a little old lady for a turkey...But I will."
"Oh right, American Thanksgiving. Better known as 'Civil War Recreations At The Mall' Day." Kane grinned. "You in charge of the food this year?"
Jean nodded thoughtfully. "It rotates every year, and my time's come due," she mumbled in annoyance, then, after a moment, quirked an eyebrow.
"Civil War Recreations at the Mall Day?"
"Yeah, it's... what do you call it? Black Friday, where regular suburban folks try and trample their neighbours to death for a cheap iPad?"
"Oh, right," Jean said, making a face. "I guess I blocked that out of my memory. It was a pretty popular day in the ER."
She let out a breath, closing the notepad. "So many broken fingers. But I'm hoping to get in and get out with food, not merch."
"You need a lift? I'm just heading out myself. Need to start X-Mas shopping." Kane paused and raised his eyebrows at her.
"Santa Kane has a nice ring to it," Jean said with a grin. "Sure, why not? If you're okay with like seven bags of groceries in your car."
"If you feel like sitting on my knee and telling me just how good you are, I wouldn't say no." He quipped. "But it's a Crown Vic. I can fit a half dozen Thanksgiving dinners in my car."
"You'd think if the government were trying to be inconspicuous they'd stop using those, but I suppose there's some benefit to showmanship," Jean said, tucking her notepad into her purse.
"And space. Lead the way."
"Oh, they went to the Impala years ago. I just choose not to change." They fell into step into the garage and towards Kane's off-white car that was often mistaken as the beater car, especially compared to the range of high end and sports cars in the space. But, as the Mountie liked to point out, his car was capable of matching speed with all the cars in the mansion.
"Why's that?" Jean said. "Fan of the classics?" She herself couldn't say much as she had the Firebird she had had restored. While she wasn't a mechanic she enjoyed the look of the car, with a few fancy additions.
"Still has the armor. Engine can match and beat anything other than a rally car and I can toss it into a deadman's turn at over a hundred miles an hour." Kane paused in order to unlock the doors. "It's a cop car. Fundamentally. This is the kind of car I trained on. The Impala feels like I'm taking the kids to soccer or something." He opened the door for her.
"Thanks," Jean said with a smile, hopping in. "Yeah, the new Impalas do feel a little generic." She glanced around.
"So does she have a name?"
"I've never gotten the whole thing about naming your cars or computers or whatever. I mean, big trucks I get. Boats I get. Maybe if you were driving a cab ten hours a day, I could see it. But no, I don't anthropomorphize my car." He said as he slid in. "Maybe it was those combat driving courses where you learn to tear the car up to hell to execute certain moves that makes it seem like a bad idea to get overly fond of it."
Jean shrugged. "The same reason why people got upset over the Mars lander losing power. Humans are blessed and cursed with an overabundance of empathy. And sometimes it spills out into things that aren't even alive."
She opened up a compact mirror. "I call my car Charlie, by the way."
"Would you feel bad if you had to put Charlie into a power slide that tore out their suspension and reduced the bottom of the frame to twisted metal wreckage?"
"Of course. I've had that car for years. If it's damaged because I was forced to do it, I'll be sad but cars can also be repaired. And if it can't repair it, I'll move on and appreciate the time I was able to use it," Jean said, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear before closing the compact.
"People, stuff...everything is fleeting, and enduring. I try to cherish what I have."
"I guess that makes me Scrooge, Doc. To me, it's just a car." He shrugged, pulling into traffic. "Just a tool."
Jean shook her head. "Nah, it's okay. I get it. I can see how attachments can be dangerous in your line of work," she said, glancing him over before turning to watch the cars pass by.
"They train us on that in medical school too. Don't get too attached. Don't make promises you can't keep. Even if you try, not everyone can go home to their family at the end of the day. They're people, not objects but...same sentiment." She sometimes sucked at that part, though.
"So we should probably divide and conquer. Where were you planning on going shopping?"
"I'm mostly browsing right now, so where ever you need your groceries works as a start for me." Kane said, merging with the holiday congestion.
"Not sure if you'll find a great selection of holiday gifts at the Sack and Pack, unless you were planning on getting someone Cheezits and Coca Cola," Jean said.
"My Father and my Step-mother don't exchange gifts. And with my sister, the last thing she sent me was very tasteful almost nudes with her current girlfriend. So, to be honest, I sent her Kraft Dinner last year."
Jean paused. "Your sister, Victoria, sent you...very tasteful almost nudes...with her girlfriend," she repeated, then tilted her head, making a face. "....Why?"
"Because she's horrible and loves to make me uncomfortable." Kane shrugged. "She's also emerging as one of the top neurosurgeons in the world so... yeah. I love her to death despite the fact she's awful baggage who loves tormenting me. To be fair, our stepmother is a year older than her."
"And she's your...younger sister so that'd make your stepmother younger than you?" Jean said, trying to follow sympathetically but also cringing internally and externally on his behalf.
"Yup. I thought you might have met my dad but... yeah."
"Not that I know of, but he sounds charming," Jean said, slipping on her sunglasses. "And it makes more sense why your sister is the way she is. Mine likes to bother me in her own special way. But I just blame it on her inheriting even more high-strung tendencies than I did from my father."
"Actually, my father is extremely charming. That was the problem." Kane shook his head, smiling. "I didn't understand it before, but as much as they loved each other, what she needed and what he needed were two very different things. It took time, but we all eventually worked it out. This is just her own weird way of messing with her big brother."
"Do you four ever celebrate Thanksgiving together? Canadian or otherwise," Jean said.
"Regularly over the last 15 years. I mean-" Kane said, pausing. "Adrienne was a big part and she and my sister were close. That's part of why I got the gifts she did, because she was getting egged on."
Kane shrugged. Jean was from a wealthy puritan family. He could feel her judgement. "Normally it's on my dad's boat in the South Seas. So not a lot of turkey. We're a broken family but we eventually figured things out."
"Hey if it works, it works," Jean said with an honest smile. She noticed the way his hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter with the pause, the uncomfortable way he shifted in his seat, like he was saying something wrong.
"I spent more than a few holidays with Moira at Muir after...you know. My family wasn't sure how to be around me. It took us a while to get back to a Hallmark Christmas."
"Families are a problem at times. Especially if you're a mutant." Kane said. "So you doing the traditional Grey family Christmas this year?"
"Depends on if nothing's gone to hell in between now and then," Jean said with a shrug. "Hoping for the best. How about you?"
"Likely going down to see Dad, Vikks has something in Germany so I'll likely take a few days on the boat, Christmas dinner in Brisbane."
"Sounds nice and sunshiney," Jean mused. "Paul sometimes has to work over the holidays so if he does we might spend it in the city to be there for him. Otherwise we'll head to mom and dad's."
"Been there. Remember that." Kane joked, being a guest of the Greys the year before. "Yeah, with, well... everything with Adrienne... a few days on a boat sounds like a good idea."
Jean glanced away, then nodded a little. "Yeah, I can imagine. Do they know?" she said.
"To an extent. But, with my dad, likely more than I think he does."
"I'm sure. What else will he do all day but keep track of his kids?" Jean said with a wry smile. "I've run out of excuses for the times I've come to family dinner beaten up. They still don't know the ins and outs but they know something's up."
"You know, your dad asked me if the ER in District X was that randomly violent. I wasn't sure what he meant before now."
"Well, New York is a dangerous city," Jean said casually. "Especially around mutants."
"Or you showing up regularly fucked up bothers him a little." Kane arched an eyebrow at her.
"I was kidding," Jean said, meeting his look with her own narrowed eyes. "Of course I know it bothers him. Mom too. Which is better? Them knowing how many times I nearly die in a year, or thinking I live a relatively normal life? I tell them I work occasionally for Doctors without Borders. That's enough for them to know. Dad already hates Charles. He tolerates him now, but them finding out would just...not go well."
"Maybe. But do you think it spares them keeping the X-Men secret? No judgement, but at some point, you're either cutting them off or lying about being hurt and how. Which is more sustainable?"
"It's not their secret to keep. Plausible deniability," Jean said, folding her arms. "If we get outed somehow, they aren't accessories to anything. You know Paul's a cop. You know the position that puts him in. He could lose his job. And Sara...she's already uncomfortable enough about mutants. She...." She let out a breath, biting her lip.
"It's not a perfect solution, but I don't know what is."
"I doubt there is one. I mean, I'm lucky in a sense. My dad used to fight Nazi super-villains with bags stuck on their heads, so my time in the X-Men is positively dull compared to his stories." Kane said. "Hell of a thing to balance."
Jean rubbed the back of her neck. "I guess it's complicated no matter how you're raised," she said, shaking her head. "But they're my normal. They're...when I go there it's like I'm just a regular person, far away from...demons and monsters and supervillains. It's nice."
"That I don't have. But maybe not normal is the new normal." Kane said, finally pulling off in order to hit the strip mall.
"You're always welcome to come back," Jean said with a shrug and a smile. "Dad said he wants a rematch. What were you guys playing again?"
"Cribbage. I got lucky when he pulled the five when I had two fives, a six and a four. And had a run of face cards in the crib. He was all kinds of angry and mentioned he owned sharp objects multiple times." Kane grinned at the memory.
"They're antique knives, so he must have been serious if was going to risk getting blood on them," Jean said with a laugh. "Dad is a sore loser, which is why we never play him."
She glanced around at the parking lot. "Yikes, this looks rather popular."
"I can likely shoulder block our way to a turkey if you need it."
Jean flashed him a broad grin. "Tempting. Let's keep it in our back pocket, just in case. Little old ladies can be vicious," she said. Pausing a moment, her head quickly turned.
"Wait, parking spot!" she said, stabbing the air toward an opening a couple of cars over.
"Hang on to something." Kane said, and kicked the car into a swerving slide, lining up with the spot at the end and snuggling in like it was a warm bed. "Nicely spotted."
"Nice hustle," Jean said, raising up her hand for a high five.
"Teamwork, baby."
"Two years of combat driving pay off at a holiday mall." He joked, slapping her hand.
"Of course," Jean said, staring down at the crowd of people mulling about. "It's a jungle out there."
Turning back to him, her face was serious. "Are you ready to battle the worst dregs of humanity, Mr. Kane?"
"Doc Grey, I am an officer of the law and an X-Man. I am willing to run away from this in a hot second if it's an option. But since it isn't, let's do this."
Unbuckling, Jean climbed out of the car, her grocery list clenched tightly in one hand. She gave him a salute with the other hand. "Right. Remember, the frail little old lady thing is a gimmick. They are not afraid to kneecap you if you're between them and the last can of cranberry sauce. We just have to be strategic about this."
"I'll run backoff. I have ideas." Kane joked, setting himself up.
"Please don't tell me one of those ideas is kneecapping them first," Jean said with a smirk as they made their way toward the grocery store entrance.
The sound of a bell ringing echoed as a Salvation Army Santa (mostly just a guy with a red jacket and Santa hat) asked people for donations before they went inside.
"Nah. I have a taser for this sort of situation." The guy at the Old Sal's kettle gave Kane a hopeful look and got a firm shake of the head as they went inside. "My sister is currently dating a woman. I'll give my Christmas donations to another charity."
Jean smiled at the man. "Happy Holidays," she said, then ducked inside.
The store was one of the larger super saver types, complete with a full selection of fruits and vegetables, a butcher, seafood department, and bakery in addition to the main aisles of the store. Because it was so big, however, that meant it was crowded. People waited in line with their selections as a variety of bored and harried cashiers helped them out.
Jean's attention briefly turned to the attached coffee kiosk/shop that was trying to be a Starbucks, squinting slightly.
"Do we want to be caffeinated while fighting off the entire neighborhood, or is that a bad idea?"
"Up to you. I could murder a coffee right now."
Jean immediately nodded. "Don't have to twist my arm," she said, strolling over to join the coffee line.
"Now are you the straight black coffee type or do you prefer your brew with a little pizzazz?"
"Pretty much black. It's a cop thing. The coffee in the office is generally pretty bad, but you need it for long nights. So it basically destroys your ability to remember good coffee." Kane said, falling into line with her. "What about you? Are you a sundae in a cup kind of girl or something more basic?"
"Depends on the situation," Jean said, scanning the menu. "If I'm desperate, I'll take it simple...but I need a little bit of cream and sugar at least. Too bitter. Otherwise, give me the candy store." She grinned in amusement.
"The coffee at the hospital was bad too so I wound up pitching in to buy a good coffee maker and a few bags. There's a reason the nurses all liked me."
"I've never been big on sweet coffee. But I do love proper hot chocolate. I mean, not good hot chocolate, but the ones you got from those hot beverage vending machines at the hockey rink. Proper hot chocolate."
Jean laughed. "So...the kind that's never cleaned and has the powder and sludge in there from 1992?" she said.
"The chicken soup made entirely from dried bouillon? To die for."
"My God you have an iron stomach. Also, remind me to check your sodium levels during your next physical," she said with a smirk.
"You should try my mom's chicken soup. It's not hockey rink worthy but it's pretty good."
"See, you obviously never did 6am hockey practice. Otherwise, you'd know all this." He grinned.
"Can't say that I have," Jean said with a laugh. "Was that a requirement or did you do it because you wanted to?"
"Loved hockey. And baseball. And football, rugby and lacrosse. Until my powers manifested, I was in a sport every morning and afternoon."
"Why don't you do it here? I'm sure the others might be interested in putting a couple of teams together," Jean said.
"I do the annual softball game, but I need specialized equipment to neutralize my powers. After all, not a lot of goalies can handle a 300mph slapshot." He joked. "You're up for your order."
Jean grinned. "I'm sure the science crew could figure it out," she said with a wink, then turned around. "Peppermint Mocha and a snowman sugar cookie please."
"Black double espresso." Kane said behind her. They waited at the edge of the counter for their order, taken as a couple, especially after Garrison paid for it.
Jean leaned against the wall. "Thanks," she said appreciatively. "You're welcome to try some of my peppermint mocha if you want."
"I'm good. Don't really like mint much. I like a candy cane once a year. Maybe a mint chip cone." He said.
"Well, then maybe I'll buy you a hockey rink hot chocolate some time," Jean mused with a grin, then pulled out her shopping list while they waited.
"I am in charge of the turkey, but everyone else is bringing a dish so at least it won't be the entire day cooking."
"How big a bird do you need?"
Jean paused, blinking. "I probably should have Googled that..." she said, pulling out her phone. "There'll be at least 7. I don't think it's the entire Grey brood, thank god. My aunts and uncles usually spend Thanksgiving on their own."
"Seven and possibly plus? 17-18lbs. That way you've got enough for leftovers." Kane said. "My grandmother had a system, which I entirely wrecked when my mutation emerged and forced her to add ten pounds of turkey just for me."
"Huh," Jean said, putting her phone away as quickly as she pulled it out with a laugh. "Guess that made for some interesting holidays."
"Nah, just meant I tended to eat faster than everyone to fit in my seconds, thirds, fourth and fifths." Kane grinned. "Alright, point me at what you need."
Jean laughed. "I can just picture teenage Garrison piling on plate after plate of turkey," she mused, then nodded toward the barista station.
"I think we should probably wait for our---"
"KANE. Black Double Espresso for KANE," the barista announced.
"Ah, fuel." He collected his cup with a smile and pivoted back towards the store. "So, once more into the breach, dear friends?"