xp_logs | Doug and Angie in JFK (Reply)

Midafternoon Wednesday, waiting in the security lines. Doug discovers a bit of a downside to his powers (not a huge one, just that he doesn't do well in crowds). Angie is cute and supportive. Mostly just fluff.

Security lines, Marie-Ange decided, sucked. Doubly so when you were
not a citizen, and if she had to show one more person her ID,
passport, Student Visa or tickets, she was going to scream. Well, she
wanted to scream, anyway, and would likely just nod, smile and hand
over the papers -again-, and be polite and quiet and try to look not
like an unruly teenager.

Perhaps the next time she flew, she would see if a flight was
available at three in the morning. At least then the airport would not
be quite to massivly crowded. The lines had been terribly long, they
still had not had dinner, neither her nor Doug, and she was not sure if
they would get a chance before boarding.

Doug, for his part, was ready to scream as well, but for different
reasons. As they stood in the line, he was slowly developing a
crushing headache, and he wasn't exactly sure why. His head kept
flicking from side to side distractedly, and he set his carryon at his
feet for a moment to reach both hands up to rub his temples, closing
his eyes and sighing slightly.

Marie-Ange reached out her free arm to wrap around Doug's waist,
giving him a concerned look. "I have aspirin, if you want it.." she
said, quietly, noticing the tension in his neck. She reached down to
grab his carry-on bag as the line moved again, and gently nudged Doug
a few steps forward.

Doug managed to move forward those few steps, guided by Marie-Ange's
arm, keeping his eyes closed, as it seemed to lessen the growing
tension throughout his body. "Don't know if it'd help, love," he
replied just as quietly. "I'm not really sure what's going on." He
reopened his eyes cautiously, and the tension returned full force, his
eyes flicking from side to side distractedly, practically unable to
stay in one place for very long.

Marie-Ange wrinkled her nose and hoisted both bags over her shoulder.
"If you are worried about meeting my parents, you should not be. It
will be fine. You are nice, and polite." She smiled faintly, and
kissed Doug's cheek gently. "And you speak French. Even my
grandparents will like you."'

Doug shook his head slowly. "I don't think it's that, although I am
still kinda nervous about meeting your parents. Mostly your mom.
Your dad sounds okay. And then there's your cousin..." He rubbed the
bridge of his nose again. "No, something's just bugging the crap out
of me. It's right at the back of my head, almost like with the
cicadas. And it's annoying, that I can't figure out what it is!"

"Mama will be fine. She may be a bit insistant that we go to Mass on
Sunday, but she will not bother us too much. She is just a little...
odd lately." The line moved forward again, and Marie-Ange took Doug's
arm as he hesitated, attention elsewhere. "Is it -not- the cicadas, is
it? I cannot hear them here, but they bothered you before they
bothered anyone else... "

Doug shook his head, indicating the lack of white noise generators on
his ears. "No, the damn cicadas are finally gone, thank god. It's
something like that, though. But it's not exactly noise, it's
something different this time..." His eyes continued to flick around
the terminal in manic fashion, and he was unable to keep his attention
on Marie-Ange.

"Maybe it is just a headache? Yesterday was kind of insane.." The
line slowed to a crawl as a man several people ahead of them threw a
fit, as a security officer asked him to remove his heavy boots, as
they were setting off the metal detector. "Once we're done, you can
sit for a while. We do not have to go anywhere until boarding, and no
more long waiting until we get to France." She frowned, and added.
"And then Immigration, which will be more lines."

Doug's eyes fixed on the man at the head of the line, and his fists
clenched in tension, nails digging into his palms unconsciously.
"It's not a headache, Angie," he said, trying to stay as calm and
collected as he could. "It's like tension everywhere in my body. It
_hurts_."

Marie-Ange followed Doug's gaze over to the man at the head of the
line, who was loudly insisting that his rights as a citizen were being
violated, and that he should not have to remove his boots, and that he
was not a terrorist and why should he have to stand in this line and
put up with this anyway. His fists were clentched, and the muscles in
his neck were standing out visibly.

Without a second thought, Marie-Ange grabbed one of Doug's hands, and
gently tried to pry it open. "You are going to hurt yourself. Look,
you are all balled up in fists.." she said.

As Marie-Ange stepped in front of him, Doug's concentration was
broken, and he blinked confusedly. "Huh?" As she took his fists in
her hands, he slowly unclenched them, shaking his fingers in a bit of
pain. "What's going on, Angie?" he asked, trying to keep his focus
simply on her.

"You looked upset, and I was worried." Marie-Ange said. "Like you
were upset about the man slowing down the line." She shook her head.
"I would say, it is nothing to get upset about, but this is not like
you." She took one of his hands, and examined it, smoothing her
fingers over the little red marks where Doug's fingernails had dug
into his palm a little.

Doug grimaced at the marks on his palms, and shivered at the contact
of Marie-Ange's hands in his. He felt like he was on a ragged edge.
"I just...I can't concentrate on anything for some reason. I'm all
distracted, just like with the cicadas, but I'm not hearing anything
like that. It doesn't make sense."

"The cicadas were a problem because of your power, yes?" Marie-Ange
asked. "Maybe there is something here that is the same?"

Doug shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, it's _possible_, because
there's all these people in the crowd, but I'm not really hearing..."
He trailed off and looked thoughtful for a moment. "That's it! It's
not people talking, it's all the body language of people in this crowd
that's distracting me." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"Not sure what we can do about it, though."

"A lot of cranky travelers.. " Marie-Ange said, nodded. "No wonder.
Most people would be upset, you ... just get that much more of the
worst part of it." She bit her lip for a moment, then frowned
thoughtfully. "Maybe closing your eyes so you are not looking at all
the people? But that .. might look a little odd."

Doug bent down and fished through his carryon for a moment, finally
emerging with a pair of sunglasses. "What I really need are a closed
pair like Scott has, so I'm not getting everything in my peripheral
vision. But these'll do for the moment, and it won't look quite as
odd if I close my eyes. Just...stay close?" he asked quietly.

"Of course." Marie-Ange put an arm around Doug's waist and rested her
head lightly on his upper arm. Outwardly, the very picture of an
affectionate girlfriend - which was not untrue. But the close contact
allowed her to gently prod Doug forward when the line moved again.