xp_logs | Scott, Haller, Arthur, and Warren: A Night Out

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After Kitty's departure, Haller and Arthur take Scott out for a night on the town when Warren appears to liven up the proceedings. Surely this will only end well.

As a place to help a friend over the dissolution of a long-term relationship went, Kirby's wasn't the worst. It fit the criteria of bar, and it was definitely in the city. Jim had never actually tried to cheer up a friend in the aftermath of a breakup, but context clues from pop culture indicated these two factors were traditional.

It wasn't the kind of bar that was likely to result in a rebound-facilitating one night stand, but this was Scott Summers they were talking about. Jim had a hard time fitting that scenario into his personal reality.

"When's the last time you were actually out, anyway?" the telepath asked Scott as their drinks arrived.

"If you mean when was the last time I left the mansion, I had to go do the grocery run yesterday," There was a small smile that hovered around the edges of Scott's lips for a moment before he glanced down at the drink clasped between his hands, "Otherwise...it's been a while. I...don't get out that much anymore. Though, I might ask you the same question, when exactly was the last time you were out for fun yourself Mr Haller?"

Jim grimaced as he raised his glass. "Hey, I'm trying to do a nice thing. Why would you put me on the spot like that?"

"Oh! I know this one," said a cheerful voice with enough sunshine to cut right through the sardonic mood. For every strategic guess at proper protocol Jim had managed to employ in 'Mission: Cheerful Distraction,' he did have a practiced professional to offload any needed extroversion and mood boosting onto. Arthur was already all smiles as he appeared with a plate of tater tots. "We went mini golfing for Warren's birthday. Don't fear — we played properly. There was plenty of watery beer and cheating." He settled the finger food on their table. "But I get it," and his tone tipped toward sympathy, "it can be just so reinvigorating to find new hobbies after a relationship wraps that it's hard to choose how to rebrand yourself. So many options."

There was something about the pure energy that Arthur seemed to exude that was so different from the two men already seated at the table. Left to their own devices Scott and Haller would more than likely have sat with their drinks, just talking till they had to leave, til the night was through. Not Arthur though, he seemed to bring a spotlight into the shadowed corner Scott would normally have sat at. "Cheating at minigolf? How could you break that sacred code of the windmill and clownface. The shame. I don't know if I was planning to start anything new like that, I'm a little set in my ways, old dog, new tricks."

Arthur grabbed his heart theatrically. "You're saying there's some sort of gentleman's agreement and honorability in minigolf? Scott Summers, the windmill and clownface laugh at rules. Silly games demand silly rules. That's the joy in it." He sat, smug in his own correctness, and had to address the second point as he snacked on a tot. "Plus, I've never met a dog that wouldn't learn something new for the right treat."

Jim leaned over to Scott. "He'd know," he said in a stage-whisper. "The kids taught his dog how to use a sword."

"See?" Arthur's response was enthusiastic. "Felix is an old man and has always been more of a lover than a fighter. There's hope for us all."

The telepath's nod was grave. "You can do it, Scott. You can be more exciting than a dog."

The older man raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair as he placed his beer gently on the table and reached for one of the tater tots. "So, what you're telling me is that you taught a dog how to sword fight and it's running around the mansion right now...where we have plenty of weapons around for him to use. Who needs enemies when we get in trouble all by ourselves...and just so you know, I could take him in a sword fight."

The look that crossed Arthur's face was every part 'really though?' as it was clear that he was mentally plotting out the choreography of such a fight. "First of all," he held up a single finger, "it was a joint production between Shatterstar and Hope. Credit where credit is due." Another finger was raised. "Scott Summers, please save us from the terror of Swordsman Felix the Mad. You're our only hope."

Jim snorted. "At least do a Princess Leia impression when you say that. Anyway, our only hope is-"

"Warren Worthington the III at your service. " Warren whipped off his sunglasses and looked critically at the table in front of him. Having been in the general vicinity when Arthur was making these plans, Warren naturally assumed his invitation world be forthcoming. After all, how could one completely obliterate painful memories without a night full of debauchery?

But then no one invited him to go and that wouldn't do either. Thinking of where the most boring trio ever would go (Warren strongly believed Scott's monotonous nature was contagious), he went to Kirby's and thank goodness he had.

"This table doesn't have enough hookers and blow for what we need to do. Scott, I hear you're nursing heart break. That sucks. I have uppers for that. "

Warren's unerring ability to spontaneously manifest directly behind Jim struck again. The telepath almost choked on a tot.

"Warren?" Jim gasped after managing to clear his airway. He added, even more shocked, "You know about places in this tax bracket?"

It definitely was a gross move of place. Warren had already told himself he'd throw out these shoes afterwards but he wouldn't let anyone else know that.

"I'm an excellent detective. I can sniff out desperation like nobody's business. So Scott," Warren pointed at a group of women, "that blonde there? Easiest one in the group. The one in the jean jacket looks sweet but those buttons... well buddy, if she hits you with her jacket... Mini skirt could go either way."

Warren seemed to have an uncanny ability to just appear whenever mansionites gathered to drink. It was like he had Kurt's powers of teleportation, one minute clear and the next the man appeared as if from out of thin air. The X-Man reached over to pluck a paper napkin from the container, passing it to Haller as his eyes flicked to the bar before back to Warren before he nodded at a free seat in their booth. "The voice of experience talking huh? If it's all the same, I'd rather avoid grievous bodily injuries when it comes to bars, unless it's for something a little more enjoyable than someone doing their best matador impression."

Arthur moved over to make room for Warren, idly tracing circles on the glass of his own drink. "A bar fight would be a twist in our plans, but I'd wager the mood here is definitely more Cheers than Road House or Cocktail. But," he winked, "if that's what the man of the hour wants." The joke was underscored as he cracked his knuckles with only a shot's worth of drama.

Jim gave Scott a dubious look. The idea of the older man engaging in an unprovoked brawl seemed just as likely as the prospect of him taking Warren up on his offer of wingman'ing -- which was to say, nil.

Then again, what did Jim know? He wasn't fun. Thank god.

"Well, it's your call," he said aloud. "Warren does have the money to afford bail . . ."

"If he's got the money for bail, then he's got the money for something a little more fun than picking up strange women at the bar who might just be a shapeshifter in disguise. Don't ask, it's happened to the mansion more than a few times." A hand reached out for the beer as Scott lifted it to his lips, chugging what was left of his drink. "We could retire to somewhere a little more...in line with the mood."

"I don't know what the mood is though," Warren replied exasperatedly. "That's what I'm trying to gather. Is it hookers? Drugs? Alcohol? Or do you want to feel like a king for an evening? Fuck, if all you want is 1000 different pizzas, we could make that happen too. I just need limits, we all know this. You can't give me carte blanche."

Jim stared at him, then looked around for discreet recording devices. "Sorry, did you just ask for limits? Did Hope finally get that ankle-monitor on you?"

Warren looked offended. "It's called reading the room. We all know that I'm much cooler than any of you. If you had it your way, we'd be in bed by 9 pm."

The next offense to Warren's dignity was being physically poked as opposed to just verbally. "Real enough," Arthur added with a doubtful expression. He leaned toward his friend, still incredulous. "That narrows down things a little, but . . . pod-Warren? Alien shapeshifter? War, blink twice if you're mind-controlled and can't say anything. And also," he would have lowered his sunglasses if he was wearing a pair, "I beg your pardon? We're all very cool. Just in different markets and for different demographics."

Without even blinking, Warren pulled out his pot vape and inhaled deeply, his eyes narrowing a bit. "I can't help it if you guys are the care bears when I'm not around." He exhaled and offered it to the group. "But fine. I don't care about any of your feelings. Haller, you need to learn that running shoes do NOT go with every outfit. Arthur, when's the last time you puked from a night out? And yes, before you say anything -- that's lucky. Free stomach pump. And Scott ... do you know any other position than missionary? You seem like the kind of guy who fucks with his eyes closed, laser eyes not even taken into consideration."

The X-Man tilted his head to the side for a moment before he raised a finger, "Running shoes do go with just about any outfit, how many times have you seen some tech whizkid in a blazer and running shoes? Besides, wouldn't you rather be comfortable than those stiff leather shoes? And I'm not sure that a free stomach pump is a good thing in anyone...most people's minds. It's not exactly like a trip to the spa." Scott smiled, tilted his glass in Warren's direction, "My history has...some effect but in the end, are you saying people shouldn't do what they like?"

"I guess," Jim interjected, trying to communicate to Warren without telepathy that he could have gone the rest of his life without speculating on Scott's preferred sexual positions, "we could just see where the night takes us. Play it by ear. People do that, right?"

Arthur placed a hand over his heart. "People just don't just do that – they thrive. They live." His attention settled on Scott, and his smile grew mischievous. "David's spot on, though. We're meant to live. Never or now. Go where the night takes us." He tapped his fingers on his phone as the cogs behind his eyes began to spin. "Warren's also right, though. We need a vibe. A direction." That attention focused like a laser on the man of the hour. "So, what'll it be?"

Scott placed his mug down, reaching for his coat as he glanced at the door. "Well, it's a big city out there, why don't we see what we can find?"