xp_logs | Made You Feel Second Best

TW: Grooming, mentioned homophobia

Arthur takes a look at Joelle's things to try to get a sense of the missing Guthrie.

It was early yet, but Sam was glad to see his coworkers awake. He was working on breakfast for everyone, making sure that none of Quentin’s food touched a lick of bacon grease. “Arthur?” He asked, tentatively. “D’ya think you could take a look at Elle’s things? See if you can’t pick somethin’ up?”

The blond in question was seated nearby as he could without being in the way. Arthur had been up quite early, and the smile on his face spoke to the chronic condition of being a morning person while his open, billowy linen shirt and yoga pants were a bit Bohemian for the setting.

Still, he sat patiently. Self-described as being 'great at washing dishes, bad at food,' Arthur instead practiced a coin trick for an unseen audience. He lifted his hand, letting a coin palm into his open palm only to hop back up and dance between gloved fingers.

"What I love most about the psychometry," was delivered in a tone full of sunshine, "is that you can't really guess what you might find." Arthur's eyes, however, were far more serious across what little privacy they had in a small, full house. "Of course, I'm happy to do what I can," was matched with a pointed look just for Sam that asked 'are you sure?', and his "anything to help" held a special emphasis on 'anything.'

“Anythin’s worth it if it helps find her and figure out what’s goin’ on with her.” Sam said, flipping hash browns anxiously, they took up most of the stovetop griddle. And he’d still have to make a second batch. There were too many people in this house.

Arthur shrugged, back to being sun bright. "Then let's see what I can get." If there was a little bit of doubt in his tone, it was something he'd choose to share later. The man looked around with sudden, overt suspicion and spoke in a more directed voice to anyone listening in the walls. "Sam's real busy, though, and I could always use an assistant."

Mel, who had totally not been eavesdropping, took this as her cue to appear. “I can show ya ‘round our- er her an’ Lizzie’s room if ya want.” She shot a commiserating smile Sam’s way when she saw his mountain of hash browns.

"You should probably make sure Lizzie's alright with someone looking around their things," Jay said, even though he knew Lizzie was a sensible girl who wouldn't object. But privacy was a rare thing in this house and there might be something she might wanna put away first. "I can gather up what of her's she's left downstairs."

The blond man held up the coin before making it disappear in a flourish. Task accomplished, he wiped off imaginary dust from his hands. "Mel and Jay," he stated with a grin toward the still cooking Sam, "Perfect. Let's be psychic detectives."

The corner of her mouth quirked up at the trick. Mel wasn’t quite over being starstruck by Arthur, but she was getting there. “What kinda things are we lookin’ for fer this? What tends to give ya the best sense of things?”

"You see, it's all about vibes," Arthur intoned with grave seriousness as he helpfully helped both Mel and Jay into the hallway and, hopefully, beyond the noise screen provided by frying food in the kitchen. His voice was suddenly low. "Okay. Real talk: what I see can get real personal real quick. I don't think your brother got that, exactly." A sigh. "I don't want to get anyone's hopes up or pry into family business." He paused, smile turning apologetic. "What I can do is see memories based on big emotions — so we need something your sister might have held while really feeling feelings about her plans."

"Don't suppose we could be so lucky as to think she left her diary, do you?" Jay asked. He knew Jo kept it wedged between her side of the headboard and the wall. It was one of them locking ones. He'd know. He'd gotten it for her. She wore the key on her bracelet like a charm. "...Does clothing work?" he asked belatedly, seeing one of her sweater's hanging on a peg in front of him. It was her good, date-night sweater. She must have left in a hurry if she left it.

The blond man shrugged just a little, hanging in the doorway of the shared room as the siblings began to peruse. It hadn't been a long trip at all from the kitchen. "That's an excellent idea," Arthur encouraged as he took in the details. He hadn't taken off his gloves, but was pawing at them in thought. "Can't hurt to try. But more so — that's real ace detective thinking, Jay. What didn't she take? And then, what's missing that she did?"

Mel shuffled through the drawers, noting how barely any of Joelle’s clothes were missing. Gone in a hurry indeed. Nothing in particular popped out that seemed like it would be of use in this case. “You findin’ anythin’ Jay?”

Jay had shoved his hands in the side of her bed, but no such luck as to find her diary. There was a comb he didn't know if belonged to Liz or Joelle, and a pair of lost earrings. Those were definitely Elle's. "Maybe," he called out, holding up what he found. "These are her goin' out pair, right?"

She looked over and nodded to confirm. “Yeah, they are.” In her rifling she finally came across something useful, maybe. Mel held it up to show her brother, and to a lesser extent Arthur. “She left one of her favorite shirts, could be good, yeah?”

Arthur had removed one glove by now and held out his hand in offering. "Can't know until we try. I gotta tell ya both I'm happy to not even be a little telepathetic, but seems there's a lot going unsaid." He offered a meaningful look.

Jay made a non-committal noise as he handed the objects to Arthur. A lot going unsaid was practically the family motto. Besides, anything he'd be wanting to say to Mel, he didn't want to be saying in front of a stranger, no matter how nice Arthur was. "We just gotta find her, is all."

Mel, admittedly, had never been the closest to Joelle, especially after Sam left. They just didn’t mesh well. That being said, she knew Elle was sensitive, and had a lot of…. hang ups when it came to those of them who’d left home. She shrugged as she handed over the items she’d found. “Jay an’ I don’t need to know everythin’ you get. Jus’ whatever you think is relevant.” Better off preserving at least some of their sister’s privacy.

"Continue to object me, then. Let's see what we can get." Arthur was already reaching out, but paused. "Objectify me. . . no. Read me?" Giving up, he began to gently touch the objects laid out before him and his attention slid somewhere else entirely. His eyes went blank.

Quietly, Mel continued to shuffle around searching for items, even crouching down to check under the beds. This yielded a few more things to add to the pile on the bed. She glanced at Arthur with an air of curiosity, wondering what he was seeing.

The silence stretched as Arthur's face went through an interesting progression of emotion, but he'd note later for anyone asking that should be noted as remarkable that his processing of teenage girl emotions only resulted in a full body shudder. The man blinked several times, reorienting, searching the room like something was misplaced.

"Where's Joelle keep her bible?"

Jay found Joelle's bible, a little pink one she'd gotten as a child in the back of her dresser drawers. He was surprised to see he didn't take it with her. "Here," he handed it to him.

The change as Arthur touched the book was immediate. He stiffened at first, posture immediately slouching. The far away look was back. Just, this time, there was a fierceness to it. "He knows I'm special," came in a voice that held none of the man's causal ease. "He gets me." It was a sentence that started life as a lonely howl, but he clenched his throat and framed it into words, biting each one off between his teeth.

Arthur shook his head and dropped the object.

Mel nearly jumped back at the mannerisms Arthur adopted, watching him with eyes wide. He was an actor, yes, but that was something else entirely. Almost like a possession. “Was that…?”

Whatever it was, the look that crossed the blond man's face next possessed a mighty need for caffeine. Or stronger. A few more blinks, and he tried to smile. "I," and it was Arthur now, "saw the caves she goes to. She's been meeting a religious guy – Reverend? Pastor? – outside town. She's not thinking of Jesus when she goes to bible study."

What he didn't mention was the intense floor of insecurity that had washed over him. Anger. Resentment. Hatred, but the secondhand teenage kind. Instead, Arthur stood. "Let's find a map. See if we can narrow the search."

Appalachia 101: The Guthrie Siblings split up the group to try to help get everyone to "fit in" as much as possible.

In a rare moment for the currently overcrowded house, Paige found herself alone with Q. Between all her siblings and Sam’s teammates, she was surprised it was possible to find room on the couch to sit on. Everyone must be off doing their own thing for the moment.

“So,” she said, flopping down on the couch. “How much has Sam told you about home? I know he wants y’all to do some snoopin’ around to find out about this group Joelle is tied up with.”

"You're a whole different class of white folks from what I grew up with," Quentin answered wryly. He roamed the living room, perusing the framed photos and other accoutrements lying around. "This is gonna be a situation where Inez, Hope, Sue, and Arthur get farther than I can, what with the whole . . ." He gestured vaguely at his face.

Paige gave him a sympathetic wince. “We could probably find you a hat for the hair, and if you keep a low profile, it should be fine. But if you don’t want to go out, that’s probably fine, too. Not really sure what y’all discussed.”

"I could just stop at a bodega and pick up some dye for now," Quentin reluctantly conceded, noting the irony of having to artificially change it to its original color after years of making it pink to stand out, only for that to ultimately become his natural color. "Wait, you do have bodegas here, right?"

“Definitely not,” she chuckled. “We have a dollar tree and a general store in town, though the owners don’t like us too much. It’s either a hat or we make a run into town to get you some hair dye.”

"Just wondering, does anyone in this town like your family?" He shrugged. "It doesn't matter, I can make anyone conveniently ignore me long enough to go shopping and disguise myself. But that still doesn't solve the problem of me not having seen a single non-White person in a fifteen-mile radius."

“…Yeah there’s not a whole lot I can do for you there.” Paige shrugged. “Maybe Sam and the others will have thought of somethin’.” She pulled out her phone to text her brother.

He was probably going to have to cede a lot of the face-to-face investigations to his staff, he realized, while he stayed behind and handled whatever could be done remotely, or stand back and observe things telepathically. Either way, hair dye would be essential so he was not forced to hole up the whole time for fear of blowing their cover.

"Take me to whichever store nearby stock Revlon," he directed Paige, "I can at least tolerate that garbage for a couple days. And on the way, show me your sister's usual haunts so we have somewhere to start looking."

Paige nodded before sending off another text to let Sam know where they went. Getting off the couch, she grabbed a hat from the closet, tossed it over to Q, and grabbed the car keys.

“Can show you around town while we’re at it. Maybe someone has heard somethin’ about Elle.” And would hopefully be willing to tell them.

Jay was standing out on the porch with Yana and chewed his lip, trying to think about how to bring up what he wanted to say. Best to just say it. "Ya kinda stick out like a sore thumb. Is there anyway ya can tone down all the... You?" Queen of limbo and executive secretary both. "Be less intense, like. People might be more inclined to speak ta ya then."

Illyana frowned, then shrugged. "Maybe? Cannot get rid of accent, but can dress more like Russian girl fresh from farm? Still outsider, but maybe will come across better if I look more like... not local, but same. Work land, just used to working different land. Skills are the same, yes?" She rifles through the rather large suitcase she'd brought with her, then disappears into the bathroom for a few minutes.

When she comes out, she's still Illyana, but... not quite the same. Softer, younger looking. Her hair's in a mostly neat French braid down her back, and she's still got on her jeans, but her shirt's been changed out for a soft-looking, oversized purple flannel that's tied at her waist, buttons open over a plain black tank top. Her makeup is different too, more natural, just a hint of color to her lips and cheeks like she's used to being outside and getting a little sun. "Will this work better?"

Jay nodded in approval at the change- she looked like she was just coming here to work, just like anyone else. Until she spoke, you wouldn't know her to be any different from anyone else. "That's real good- and the idea of you jes' being another farmer is real good. Ya look much more like you can be spoken to. Thanks for doin' it."

Illyana gave him a small grin. "Do not mind, unless I am asked to actually do work of farm. That is what parents do, and brother too, now that he is there to help out. It is not work I have desire to do, trying to beat life into dead land where things do not want to grow."

Jay barked a laugh. "Talkin' like that you'll fit in just fine with all the other twenty-somethings," he said and threw his arm around her shoulder. "Swear I've heard just about the same thing said 'round here before."

"Is easy to want more, when what you know is just trying to survive." Illyana shrugs. "Think in some ways here is not so different. See the downsides of stripping the land in the mines, decide that is no life you want, move away. Maybe come back, marry. Teach next generation to leave, mend those who remain as best as you can. Limited options. Brother has made same lament. Parents will not leave, so he sets aside dream for now, takes care. Does not look to marry because it is hard to find bride who wants to live on dying land with nothing around. I send money, take trips with tools, seeds, things to help land subsist for now." She wraps her arm around Jay's side and squeezes lightly. "We can do same here, if you think will help. Tools, fertilizer to make small farm manageable."

Jay shook his head at the kind offer. "This ain't the kind'a land you should be growin' on, not really. Coal's rotted it up to the core. Even just t'garden and such ya shouldn't be usin' it, but we all make due." And he realized that 'Yana'd been making due her whole life. She'd really fit in just fine.

Mel surveyed the two women in front of her, chewing on her lip in thought. They were both so…. Not from Cumberland, would stick out like a sore thumb. “Well,” she started. “If y’all are goin’ t’be wantin’ to check things out around town, we’ve got some clothes you can wear. They’re old, but it’ll help y’all blend in.”

"Very well." It would not be the first time Hope would be changing her outfit to blend in somewhere. "Just to be fair, Sue and I speak up and we will still stick out like a sore thumb." She cautioned Mel. "What did you have in mind?"

"Speak for yourself, I vehemently oppose any idea that I might be a sore thumb, I'm a fabulous thumb and don't you forget it." The blonde lifted her nose into the air for a moment before winking, "Obviously, we let Mel do all the talking...for as long as we can bear it."

Mel shuddered to think what their attempts at her accent would be, but laughed lightly all the same. “Even with the clothes y’all will stick out, s’jus’ the way you act, y’know? It’s a lot different down here, but not in the ways y’all probably think. A lot of the yankee stereotypes ‘bout us ain’t true at all.” She paused for a moment, considering her words. “Jus’.. a lot of folks ain’t gonna want to talk t’ya even if I’m there, but it don’ mean they know anythin’ ‘bout Elle. People ain’t real trustin’ of outsiders ‘round here, there’s a lot of bad history. So tread lightly, I guess? Not that I think y’all’re gonna cause a fuss, but jus’ a heads up.”

"Mel, I do not wish to dismiss your thoughts and I certainly plan to dress far more understated, but if we are going to be standing out... perhaps it might be better to simply own it instead of trying to camouflage it." Hope spoke after a few moments of thought. "But if you truly feel it is better, I will happily change."

“Yeah, I do. It’s just..” Mel bit her lip and tried to think of how to explain it. “Most people in this town are poor, that’s jus’ a fact of it. An’ well, y’all ain’t. It’s better t’meet people on their level in the ways you can. People’s be more receptive to ya.”

"If it'll help us even a little bit then why don't we try, one of those where else are you ever gonna get those experiences kinda things. Mel's right, we go in like normal and people are likely to just avoid us, bail out of any shop or bar we're in." It had happened to Sue on a roadtrip or two before.

"Then that is what we will do." Hope simply declared. "What do you have for us?"

Sam led his coworkers up to the attic where he knew they kept some old clothes if Arthur or Inez were to need them. He rolled his shoulders, an anxious habit he'd picked up after the mine accident and turned to look at them. "Alright, so I ain't too worried about the two of you, Arthur's...Arthur, and Inez, there's about four folks in town who wear a cowboy hat as often as you do."

He smiled some, though it was strained. "So...any questions? I've got plenty of old farm clothes that oughta fit y'all if you think you'll need 'em."

"What if," Arthur said as his attention tightened on the hat in question, "we all wore cowboy hats. Started a trend. Pretended to be a country band. Or a rodeo." He nodded at this. "Folks are going to know we're new anyway, and I wouldn't dream of any case where Inez didn't have her lucky hat."

"I'm all in favour of borrowin' appropriate attire, but I wouldn't dream of it either," Inez replied with a playful grin as she ran her fingers gently along the brim of said allegedly lucky hat. "Though I'd be remiss if I didn't point out it's equal parts bein' good t'be lucky, an' bein' lucky t'be good," she said with a wink at Arthur. "Hats'd work... what else we workin' with here?" she asked, looking around the room for options for Arthur, given that she was pretty comfy with her ability to fit in herself.

"We got work clothes of a few kinds, old minin' clothes and farm clothes. Nothin' fancy, god knows we aint' got the money fer that. Got a whole mess of ballcaps layin' around. Honestly the big thing is attitude - but I really ain't worried 'bout y'all. I'm just glad Paige is handlin' Q."

Arthur exchanged a look with Inez. "Now, I can play a role, don't get me wrong, but what's the story we're selling? Small town visitors from nowhere nearby? As the lady said, we're good on luck."

“What about just, Sam’s friend who’s trying to help him make sure his sister is safe? Yer gonna get clocked as not from here no matter what - but we ain’t gotta spin a yarn so long as yer not being classist dickheads who believe everything carpetbaggers and yanks say about Kentucky. Which I know y’all won’t so we’ll be fine.”

"Simple's great," Arthur said, his typical accent flattening into generic American. "I'm real good at simple."

Inez opened her mouth to say something but just grinned and lightly elbowed Arthur instead. "Too easy, hah," she said playfully instead. "But yeah, we'll be just fine I think. S'good a cover as anythin' else," she agreed, reaching for a nearby Bass Pro Shops hat and plucking it down on Arthur's head. "There y'go, perfect."

Lucinda tries to give Paige some motherly advice.

Paige wandered into the kitchen, looking for a snack and a corner of the house that was not currently full of people. While it was nice that Sam's friends had come to help them out, it did make the already full house even more overwhelming. Seeing her mother sitting at the table meant a 50/50 chance of silence or having her entire life questioned, but that was better odds than most of the rest of the house. Deciding to risk it, Paige walked fully into the room and opened the pantry to see what was available to her.

"How's that fancy school o'yers?" Lucinda breaks the quiet, but the quick flick of her eyes over her daughter is fast enough to go unnoticed. She looks good, all things considered. A little overwhelmed, and her mother attributes it to the mass of people invading their house. But settled. Happy. It's good. Devastatingly painful, for how strongly it reminds her of what her sister could have been, but good. She blinks a few times, eyes seemingly focused firmly on the checkbook in front of her.

“Fine.” Paige continued to riffle through the pantry. Seemed like most of her favorites were either picked over or not there anymore. They should probably do some grocery shopping before they left. She’d have to remember to mention that to Sam. “Learnin’ a lot. Doin’ a lot of work.”

"Glad yer lessons on not ruinin yer chances ain't goin to waste then," Lucinda replies through pursed lips. The indecisive rustling has a familiar pattern to it, and while Sammy might say what he likes and believe what he does, she does actually give a shit about the children even if this one always starts bleedin if she stares too damn long, like a damn haint. "Them cookies you like is hidin on the top shelf, behind the molasses an brown sugar," she finally says when the rustling starts scratchin against her nerves. "Should be some left 'less one of yer older brothers found 'em for a midnight snack."

“Oh. Thanks.” Paige reached up to the top shelf and felt around until she felt the familiar package. It was almost done, so she swiped the last few cookies and tossed the package. Her mother seemed to be in a good mood, so she decided to sit down at the kitchen table to eat.

"Any boys been sniffin around? Least I don't hafta worry about you losin yer fool head like yer sister has, but them cityslick men ain't too good at hearin a no sometimes. Don't waste that fancy book learnin yer gettin fer some man whisperin pretty words at ya, Paige Elizabeth." Lucinda's voice was stern, but she still wasn't looking directly at Paige. Lord don't let the girl repeat some o'her mistakes. "Most men ain't as decent as yer Daddy was, they'll promise the moon an won't even deliver a steady paycheck for milk an bread."

Paige paused with a cookie halfway to her mouth, the ring on her left thumb fully visible since she hadn't thought to take it off before leaving for home. Jono was her friend, but it was unlikely her mother would understand that. Hell, her siblings hadn't even understood that. Maybe she should just bite the bullet and tell her mother before anyone else tried to tell Lucinda about her "not-boyfriend," as Mel had been putting it.

"Well...there is one guy." Paige tried to keep her face neutral. "His name is Jono, and he's very nice. He helps me study sometimes. He's a rock musician." She added on the last part just to see the look on Lucinda's face.

Lucinda wrinkled her nose. Lord help her with these children sometimes. "Studyin anatomy ain't gonna finish yer degree, girl. You jest..." she let out a sigh. "I know you ain't wanna be stuck here, so don't you go doin nothin with this man that'll leave it as yer only option, ya hear? Get yerself on the longest form birth control yer school insurance will cover an make him wear a rubber too. You got options up in the city that ain't possible here." It was easier for her to remember that she actually did love her oldest daughter when she was farther away, not constantly double-vision with the bleeding form of a woman most of the kids ain't even know existed. "Don't go bein foolish and get knocked up anytime soon, babies take time an money an you got other shit to worry bout instead. You start thinkin you want babies get a job as a nanny an take care o' someone elses. Ain't like you don't got the experience doin it for yer siblings already."

“Don’t worry, Mama. I’m not you.” With that, Paige stood up and went to go find somewhere to eat her cookies in peace.

X-Factor and Illyana do some reconnaissance to get more information at the caves

One of the nice things about the wilderness of Appalachia, was that even so close to town, the area around the caves was densely wooded with plenty of boulders to hide around, making it easy to keep an eye on the cave entrance and to keep the hot summer sun off your neck.

Still, no amount of foliage canopy would keep Quentin from proper skin care, so even as X-Factor Investigations settled into stealth, he applied another layer of moisturizing sunscreen to his face. "So on a scale of cubby hole to Underdark, how extensive are these caves?" he asked, then sighed at the look he got from everyone. "Ugh, don't give me that. Your sister talks Dungeons & Dragons way too much, even I can't avoid it."

"When we was kids we used to think of it like a cubby hole, and then one of the town boys got hisself lost and hurt down here and it stopped bein' a place to play and we mostly kept our distance. That was afore Elle's time though, she weren't even born yet....I mostly still know the layout, I made some...maps for everyone- they ain't perfect but it can't hurt."

Sam passed out some crudely drawn maps of the caves done on printer paper to his coworkers and smiled apologetically at the quality. Art skills were not among his particular strengths, as had been evidenced by his twelve year old sister asking if she could help him so the maps were readable the night before.

"The fuck is an underdark," Inez said, mostly to herself but also genuinely curious if unwilling to ask much louder than at a grumble. She examined the map and turned a corner of her lip up in a reluctant acknowledgment of the workmanship. "S'not bad, I've had t'do much more with much less before, I reckon," she said. "Though if it's alright y'can take point," she added.

Garibaldi and his group had set up camp outside the cave entrance, a grill, coolers and chairs in addition to the haphazardly parked trucks. Men were coming in and out of the cave, carrying besa blocks in on trolleys while two others held a discussion that was inaudible at a distance but clearly related to the grill, given the gestures and pointing. Garibaldi came out of the cave, said something else inaudible and obviously annoyed before going back inside. One of the men followed him and the other began to light the grill.

Preacher sat from his seat and watched as the others took part in getting things organized. He wasn't about to do that, not when he had people who were able and willing to do it. He would never force them to but he didn't have to. They would do what he asked, and happily. Such was the way he liked life, and there was no getting around that. It's why he was so bothered about this situation. Those damn Guthries. "Joelle, honey," he said, patting at the seat next to him. "Remind me about your siblings a little. You got 8, right? And four are in New York?" He caught Garibaldi's eye and motioned with his head for the other man to join them. They needed to hear this, all of them.

Garibaldi nodded. "Finish placing those bricks inside," he said to the men before turning back to Preacher and Joelle. "I'm all ears, sweetheart," he said, dropping to sit on a chair himself.

At the mention of her name, Joelle had perked up, taking her seat beside Preacher as her hand reached for his nervously to intertwine their fingers "I - yes," she tripped over the word, stopping to recenter herself before she continued. "Mel went up early this year, Jay 'n' Paige went up before her, then Sam's been there for a while. Jay's got wings, uh, can fly, if Bobby John ain't lying so can Mel, 'n' Sam got outta a mine collapse, but I don't know specifics on that. He. . .never told me nothing." There was a desperation to be useful in her voice as she looked up at Garibaldi.

"Lotta folks could have died that day. Can't prove he caused the collapse, but he sure as hell made it worse. Brought half the mountain down." Garibaldi shook his head. "They need to be registered. Something. Or people will keep on getting hurt like that. Can't go around messing with cave ins."

Preacher stayed quiet, nodding carefully, his hand strong over hers. This was a complicated situation -- complicated in that he needed to move carefully without involving any authorities. Clearly the siblings needed to be dealt with. "Well, Joelle, that's all good information. Thank you, darlin'. Much 'preciated. We can figure out what we need t' do t' take care o' the situation, cause we gotta do something. Can't have people hurt or nothin'. Be the worst thing ever." His lips curled slightly. "Would ruin everything." He raised his brows at Garibaldi. Tightening his grip a little, he stroked Joelle's hand with his thumb. "And we can't have you in harm's way. That jus' ain't right. I take care of my own, and you ... you're important t' me. We'll take care of this. All of it."

"I'm going to puke," Quentin muttered. He'd sat down behind a boulder large enough to hide him while he opened his mind to the gathering of the hicks. A light touch to each of them, just in case any of them (particularly this Garibaldi person) was unexpectedly psi-sensitive. And what little he'd picked up twisted his guts into knots. He'd invaded plenty of bigoted minds before, so that was nothing new. The hopes and thoughts this "Preacher" had for Joelle, though, ugh. Quentin could only describe those as sludge. "Hope, Sue, we should consider some stealth."

Hope studied the maps Sam has passed out, shifting a little uncomfortably in her crouch. "I especially wonder what might be hiding inside these even. It could contain any number of nasty surprises. A quick scouting mission perhaps, see what we can disable if we have the chance?" She quickly suggested, glancing at both Sue and QQ.

There were times when Sue was flippant and irreverent, ok so most of the time, but she knew when to be serious and this was one of those. There was no hand waving, no flare ot it, she was simply there one moment and then gone the next, bending light had been one of the first tricks she'd learned. "I can sneak closer, see if we can find anything, you two ride on my shoulder? I could use some...advantages."

Illyana's lip curled in disgust as she watched Preacher pet at Jay's sister like a prized pet. Some gestures did not require telepathy to be received clearly. " Give me one swing, he will not prey on little girl again. Would be benefit to all of humanity to do this service." Her eyes scanned the crude maps Sam had provided, and a lacquered nail tapped a place along a back wall. "Could open portal, listen like we are ceiling cat meme. Chance to be spotted, but chance to create ambush if clear."

"Love the enthusiasm, hold onto that energy, but now's not the right time," Quentin advised. "Bunch of mutants attacking a Klan barbecue? They're going to get off, we're going to be smeared as the bad guys, and Joelle is going to be even more convinced her family only wants to control her. We need to be more systematic."

"'s also not gonna help her idea that mutants bring danger and violence.....Mel got shot at near the house before she moved in at the mansion. Jay and that fight at Julia's funeral....me....much as it pains me, right now we need to get information so we can form a solid plan." Sam said, eyes never leaving his sister.

Quentin tries to give Sam a heart attack.

Sam stared at his phone and frowned when he saw the caller ID. He sighed as he picked up the phone. "If you done got yerself lost in a town with one goddamn traffic light and can't find yer way back to the farm, I will laugh at you."

"Your friend Levi Austen is a faggot." How's that for saying hello? Quentin wished this were a video chat so Sam could see his shit-eating grin. "What a fucking cliche. Typical bigot, deeply in the closet, cheating on his pregnant wife. But you know, Samuel, sometimes I can't pass up a little bit of rough trade."

“Quentin-“ Sam sighed. “We all know that man’s about as straight as a roundabout.”

Sam had once made out with him at a bonfire when he’d come home from Scotland for Thanksgiving after all. The man had gotten a Grindr notification in church for God’s sake.

It was then that it clicked that Quentin had done something with that information.

“Did you fuck Levi Austen?” He hissed over the phone.

"No no no," Quentin reassured Sam. He waited a beat for Sam to express relief before dropping the bomb. "My top era is on a break. He fucked me."

“I wanna be mad but mostly I’m just sad for you.” Sam sighed. “Does he still kiss like he’s tryin’ his best to emulate a vacuum cleaner?”

Always good to throw Quentin for a loop. He really hoped Q would tell him what he supposedly got out of this.

"The Hoover impression doesn't end there. But I'm not calling to brag." Quentin's tone suddenly darkened. "The terrorists who have your sister are planning something big. Our mutual fuckbuddy doesn't know the particulars, but I got a sort of lynching impression."

"Shit." Sam hissed through his teeth. Just once he'd like to be pleasantly surprised by Cumberland. "Okay- we oughta try and finalize our plan to move into the caves tomorrow then.....do you need me to pick you up and take you back to the farm?"

"No need. I ought to walk it out. But, Sam . . . You need to be really careful. We already thought this was bad for your sister but this is bigger. Like, they got a real William Joseph Simmons guy down here."

"Understood...." Sam sighed. "Thanks fer the warnin' Q....remind me to buy you a drink after all this is over."

"We'll get fucked up after we avert this pogrom," Quentin finished solmenly before hanging up. He sighed heavily and looked over his shoulder at Levi's slumbering form. Near comatose, really, after Quentin had telepathically KO'd him so he could make this call in private.

He quickly dressed and then, after barely a moment's consideration, reached into Levi's discarded jeans for his wallet, and absconded with what little cash he held.

"Consider this your 'closeted homophobe' tax. Be better."

Paige makes a phone call back to New York.

It was after midnight, meaning the house and barn were both finally quiet. With no siblings or teammates around to ask what she was doing, Paige decided it was time to call Jono and give him an update. Just like in high school, she climbed up onto the roof of the barn to guarantee she wouldn’t be interrupted. Better to sure no one would be around to hear what she had to say.

She lay down, looking up at all the stars above her, and dialed Jono’s number. Hopefully, he was still awake. The longer the ringing went on, the more anxious she got.

Jono answered the phone immediately and typed as fast as possible. "You know I can't talk right?"

He winced. "Sorry, how are things going?"

“I know, I’m sorry. Just wanted to talk out loud to someone.” Paige breathed a sigh of relief that she wasn’t disturbing him. “You can text me while I talk if that’s easier for you.”

Jono texted her with an emoji he hoped conveyed the tone, 'sheepish.' "Sorry angel, promise I was just teasing. Are you okay?"

“I don’t know…it’s weird being back here.” That was an understatement. Between the conversation with her mother and everything they were finding out about Joelle, the mood in the house kept getting more tense. “Elle got tied up in somethin’ real bad and Mama don’t really seem to care and the little ones are just scared ‘cause they don’t know what’s goin’ on but there’s a ton of people here askin’ all ‘bout Elle and we brought them here…sorry. I’m rambling’ at you. Again.”

Paige took a moment and rubbed her face. “How are things back there? Calmer, I hope.”

"Boring honestly." Jono replied. "You know you can talk to me about it right? If the only way I can help is by listening, I want you to tell me."

Paige still felt bad about how often she seemed to be dumping her problems on him, but she needed to talk to someone. “Thanks. You’re really nice to me. I’m just…I’m really worried for Elle. They’ve got some compound up in the mountains and this guy she ran off with sounds like a real piece of work…I hope we’re not too late.”

"Older guy and your sister's a teenager right?" Jono asked. "Used to fight guys like that at the bars we played at."

“Yeah? Good…wish you’d been here for Joelle. We’re still workin’ out a plan to get her back. Glad Sammy thought to bring his coworkers along.” Paige fiddled with the ring on her left thumb. “Also, I talked to Mama earlier.”

Jono's response, though only two words, conveyed every thought he'd formed about Paige's mother so far. "Ah. Her."

“Yeah…” There wasn’t anything Paige could say to make those two words less scathing. It may be the robotic voice of the light writer, but Jono still got his emotions across. “Gave me a lecture about not ‘wasting my chance’ up there by letting boys come ‘sniffing around.’ Like she has a right to say any of that after completely ignorin’ what was goin’ on with Elle.” She sat up and hugged her knees. Time to tell him the rest of the story. “…Also I kind of told Mama you’re my boyfriend to piss her off.”

Paige could hear Jono typing out a response on his light writer and the taping of the keys made her anxiety shoot through the roof. “Sorry about that gotta go bye,” she rushed out before slamming her finger down on the end call button. Well. That definitely could have gone better. She’d have to give him a proper apology. Eventually. Maybe when they got back to the mansion. Yeah, a in person apology she could draft on the car ride home. Better than a text message. For now, she put her phone back in her pocket and climbed back down to the ground. She should get back to bed before Mel noticed she was gone.

The lightwriter spoke before Jono realized that she'd hung up. "You told your mother that I'm what?"