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xp_logsJono makes the move from Birmingham to Westchester, he's not exactly thrilled at the idea.
Jono's friends meant well. He knew that. He also knew that for the last year he'd been a free-loading drain on their bank accounts and happiness. It didn't make the news any better. He thumped the back of his head against the brick building behind him, once again wishing that he could sigh, it would feel cathartic. If he could talk he'd be mocking their words 'hey mate, we love you, but - listen Jono, we think it's time you move on with your own kind-'
The worst part was that they weren't wrong. It was the reason he'd accepted the offer from the Xavier Institute in the first place and the reason he was sitting on the sidewalk with his bags and guitar packed, waiting on his "escort." Because he can't be trusted on public transportation or god forbid a plane. He patted his pocket, shoulders slumping with relief when he confirmed that he did have his notebook and pen with him. He really hoped they didn't send anyone too chipper to come get him.
Teleporting herself and Amanda to the address she was given in Birmingham, it didn't take more than a moment to find the newest resident at Xavier's. At least she assumed it was the guy in black with all the bags. "Hey! Jon-o, right? Or is it Jo-no? I'm Clarice, this is Amanda," she indicated the blonde with her.
Having someone else do the teleporting was odd, but Amanda had decided her popping out of the road or a wall or something would potentially freak out their newbie more than just a regular pinkish-purple portal. So she'd hitched a ride with Clarice and gave Jono a wave as she was introduced. "Hey," she said. "I hope we didn't keep you waiting long."
Jono held up one finger, silently asking for pause before pulling out his notepad and pen. He flipped to a blank page and wrote as neatly as he could 'John-oh,' holding it up for the women to see. He hesitated for a moment before pulling the notebook back towards himself and writing, 'No longer able to speak.' He skipped a line. 'Not too long of a wait.' He held out the notepad to the women. Yeah, he hated this- he'd need to find a better way to communicate.
"Cool," Clarice turned to Amanda, "We should get him hooked up with Artie for communication options," she turned back to him to continue, "He can't speak either. There's options. Anyways, what do you want me to grab?"
Jono gestured towards the duffel bag next to him and shouldered his book bag and his guitar case. He used to have more stuff but he’s fairly certain that Gayle threw it all away. He couldn’t blame her, he wanted to throw himself out. Though he supposed, that’s basically what he was doing now, wasn’t it?
Amanda was watching Jono with a keen eye. One part was previous experience with another version of Jono, the other was sympathy with his whole extremely shitty situation. "I figure it seems like a pretty shite situation right now," she said to him, stressing her South London accent. "But things do get better. If you forgive me for sounding like a slogan for some self-help bollocks."
Jono fought the urge to roll his eyes. It wasn’t Amanda’s fault that they’d sent her out to be a life raft for the Titanic. Rather than readjusting his things to write a message, Jono tapped his guitar case against his leg with an audible thump and rolled his other hand forward. He hoped that his message of ‘well? Are we going or what?” was understood far more politely than he wanted to say it.
Clarice also remembered another Jono, one she'd counted a friend. It was... getting easier, in a way, all these years later, running into people she used to know in a different life. "Yeah, yeah we are," she shouldered his duffel, "And we can get you more stuff, too. Rainbow scarves or whatever," she grinned, opening a new portal, this one big enough for all three to walk in directly to his new room.
Jono pulled a face at the mention of something so bright as a rainbow scarf, shaking his head slightly in her direction. Nevertheless he follows the women through the portal. He looked around the room and took a deep audible breath through his nose. Well, this was it- his official goodbye to jolly old England, and with his guitar in hand like he'd always dreamed. But the rest of it? The rest of it still felt like a walking nightmare.
Jono's friends meant well. He knew that. He also knew that for the last year he'd been a free-loading drain on their bank accounts and happiness. It didn't make the news any better. He thumped the back of his head against the brick building behind him, once again wishing that he could sigh, it would feel cathartic. If he could talk he'd be mocking their words 'hey mate, we love you, but - listen Jono, we think it's time you move on with your own kind-'
The worst part was that they weren't wrong. It was the reason he'd accepted the offer from the Xavier Institute in the first place and the reason he was sitting on the sidewalk with his bags and guitar packed, waiting on his "escort." Because he can't be trusted on public transportation or god forbid a plane. He patted his pocket, shoulders slumping with relief when he confirmed that he did have his notebook and pen with him. He really hoped they didn't send anyone too chipper to come get him.
Teleporting herself and Amanda to the address she was given in Birmingham, it didn't take more than a moment to find the newest resident at Xavier's. At least she assumed it was the guy in black with all the bags. "Hey! Jon-o, right? Or is it Jo-no? I'm Clarice, this is Amanda," she indicated the blonde with her.
Having someone else do the teleporting was odd, but Amanda had decided her popping out of the road or a wall or something would potentially freak out their newbie more than just a regular pinkish-purple portal. So she'd hitched a ride with Clarice and gave Jono a wave as she was introduced. "Hey," she said. "I hope we didn't keep you waiting long."
Jono held up one finger, silently asking for pause before pulling out his notepad and pen. He flipped to a blank page and wrote as neatly as he could 'John-oh,' holding it up for the women to see. He hesitated for a moment before pulling the notebook back towards himself and writing, 'No longer able to speak.' He skipped a line. 'Not too long of a wait.' He held out the notepad to the women. Yeah, he hated this- he'd need to find a better way to communicate.
"Cool," Clarice turned to Amanda, "We should get him hooked up with Artie for communication options," she turned back to him to continue, "He can't speak either. There's options. Anyways, what do you want me to grab?"
Jono gestured towards the duffel bag next to him and shouldered his book bag and his guitar case. He used to have more stuff but he’s fairly certain that Gayle threw it all away. He couldn’t blame her, he wanted to throw himself out. Though he supposed, that’s basically what he was doing now, wasn’t it?
Amanda was watching Jono with a keen eye. One part was previous experience with another version of Jono, the other was sympathy with his whole extremely shitty situation. "I figure it seems like a pretty shite situation right now," she said to him, stressing her South London accent. "But things do get better. If you forgive me for sounding like a slogan for some self-help bollocks."
Jono fought the urge to roll his eyes. It wasn’t Amanda’s fault that they’d sent her out to be a life raft for the Titanic. Rather than readjusting his things to write a message, Jono tapped his guitar case against his leg with an audible thump and rolled his other hand forward. He hoped that his message of ‘well? Are we going or what?” was understood far more politely than he wanted to say it.
Clarice also remembered another Jono, one she'd counted a friend. It was... getting easier, in a way, all these years later, running into people she used to know in a different life. "Yeah, yeah we are," she shouldered his duffel, "And we can get you more stuff, too. Rainbow scarves or whatever," she grinned, opening a new portal, this one big enough for all three to walk in directly to his new room.
Jono pulled a face at the mention of something so bright as a rainbow scarf, shaking his head slightly in her direction. Nevertheless he follows the women through the portal. He looked around the room and took a deep audible breath through his nose. Well, this was it- his official goodbye to jolly old England, and with his guitar in hand like he'd always dreamed. But the rest of it? The rest of it still felt like a walking nightmare.
