xp_logs | The Grief That Just Keeps On Giving.

x-pyromaniac.livejournal.com posting in

[OOC: After dinner, Thursday night, John decided to sleep in the couch in the TV Room, because of Bobby avoidance, but he did go back to his old room late Friday to check on some things. Follows as a result of this thread.]

John swivelled in his chair, and glowered at the back of the other figure in the room. "This is stupid, dude. We're in the same fucking /room/."

"But this way I don't actually have to talk to you," Jono replied, not turning.

"Are you usually this social, or is this your party mood?" John replied, before rolling his eyes. "/Freak/," he muttered under his breath.

"This is especially for you, St. John," Jono glanced at him over his shoulder, either not hearing or deciding not to react to John's last comment.

"You're the exact reason why mutant hatred is widespread, you know," John countered. "You're a king amongst fucking insects and all you can do is glower and be moody. You've got no /pride./"

"Pride?" Jono turned fully this time, staring at John. "Should I be proud of /this/?"

"Yes," says John simply. "You can't let them walk all over you."

"They don't even want to walk on the same side of the street as me," Jono crosses his hands over his chest protectively.

John grins. "Yeah, and you need them how?"

"And this is mutant superiority in action?" Jono raises an eyebrow. "Scare humans so much they can't bear to look at you?"

"Do you think you scare them?" John asks quietly. "Simply because of how you look and who you are?"

"Aren't people always afraid of things they don't know?" Jono glares at the floor now. "Afraid of them or hating them."

"Yeah. Women, gays, blacks...doesn't mean that hatred is right, though, does it?"

"It's not," Jono replies. "Isn't that what Xavier and this place is about?"

"Yep." Broad grin, and John leans forward. "But everytime you act like you're wrong, or that people will hate you, and you don't protest it, you might as well be encouraging it to happen."

"But they're absolutely right in thinking that I'm wrong. I am a monster."

"...You think you're a monster?" Woah. He wasn't expecting that.

"Is low self-esteem something they forgot to cover in the school of evil?" Jono says sharply. "Yeah, I think I'm a monster. A freak. Not even remotely human."

"Well. You've been smoking some serious crack."

"Not really. Smoking would require the presence of a mouth and lungs."

"Ha ha." John deadpans. "Someone needs to inject prozac into your bloodstream."

"What bloodstream," Jono says flatly.

Okay. He can recover from this. Somehow. "Fiddle with your electromagnetic thingys then. Anything to get you from sounding like a broken record."

"I'm surprised you're not bored of listening to yourself yet. You've been stuck on that pride and superiority for some time now."

"Yeah, well, at least I'm not going to convince myself or anyone else to jump in front of moving traffic."

"No, you'd expect the traffic to stop for you," Jono rolls his eyes, even his mental projection of a voice sounding exasperated.

John stands up and flops back down on his bed, arms crossed over his chest. "It's better than asking people to beat me to death and put me out of my /pane/."

"I'm asking anyone else to kill me. I'll do it myself," Jono turns back to the computer. "It's just good manners."

"What/ever/," John says, and sounds suspiciously valley girl-esque. He's seen Clueless far too many times. "I'm blowing this joint, anyway," he mutters, half to himself, and springs up off the bed. "Later, sunshine," is the farewell, and then he's out the door.