1963-07-08 - Oh god you devil
Summary: Feet get inserted into mouths. Many times.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
nightcrawler fury cannonball jubilee rogue 

It's a hot, summer's day in Hell's Kitchen and while there would usually be more children playing outside, there are a couple blocks where it is oddly quiet of children's shouts, laughter, and games. There are the remnants of chalk drawings and hopscotch squares, but no one is playing.

Another block or so past that quiet street, however, those shouts and laughter can be heard coming from a nearby playground. The kids from that neighborhood are all gathered, some on the playground equipment, some running around, some playing games of marbles or jumping rope. Some calls of, "Kurt! Kurt, look at me! Kurt, catch me! Kurt, push the swing!" can be heard over some of the general hubbub of the area.

One of the braver kids jumps off of the top of the jungle gym and is caught by the only adult in the crowd (or is he?). The kid is then set down and the figure claps his hands and creates a megaphone with his hands, "Kinder! Hai! Listen!" Oddly enough, all the kids stop and look to the dark blue-skinned, yellow-eyed, demon-like being in jeans and a t-shirt who stands a little taller than most of them. "Put your right hand up, so was!" He raises his three-finger right hand, as if doing a boy scout oath, and the boys and girls do as well. "The oder hand…on your heart. So was." And his left hand is placed on his heart and the other kids copy him. "Say after me. 'I will not do the…flips unless Kurt is there and says it is ok.'" The kids don't seem too happy but the blue 'demon' encourages them and, reluctantly, they make the oath.

No more jumping off of the jungle gym and playground equipment.

"Daaaaaang," Sam Guthrie breathes, shading his eyes and staring upward at the Manhattan buildings around the little group of Xavier's students. He does a little spin, trying to view the scene from multiple angles, and nearly knocks into a couple of real New Yorkers, who shoot him dirty looks and shove him aside. (He doesn't seem to notice or mind.) "This place is crazy, y'all!" he says enthusiastically, spreading his arms and letting his gaze drop back down to street level. "Also, we are so lost." The farm boy is wearing a blue ballcap, sleeveless shirt, jeans, and a big touristy grin. The noise of kids on a playground doesn't really seem to reach him: frankly, there's so much noise here in the city that it's amazing anything can get through.

Jubilee isn't quite lost. But she did go shopping in midtown Manhattan. In fact she still has a bag in hand, of a few things she bought. Not from the fanciest store, but you do what you can with what you have. She has a bag in her hand yet, as she ends up in Hell's kitchen, and stops to look at what's going on, with this giving of instructions to children.

A hot summer day is the perfect time to slink inside an ice-filled arena and dream about penguins in Antarctica. Maybe take a jump in the public fountains in front of so many parks, though none really in Hell's Kitchen. Perhaps sweat out the sweltering heat under a nice tree granting shade. All these form a recipe for a drowsy afternoon, but they do not include a variety of physical activities demanding any more effort than rolling over.

All the more reason why an attractive redhead strolling the streets under a paper Chinese umbrella would be deemed unusual in its own right. Turns out her broad-brimmed sunhat is not just a fashion statement but an eminently practical addition to avoid the wrath of the hateful daystar trying to bake the tarmac to a magma mire. Now if she were at street level, that would be entirely normal. Rogue, however, happens to be sauntering along a broken wall like no one's business. Someone might call it parkourin another forty yearsbut slower, less jumpy, and all the more focused on balance. A simple camera hangs around her neck from an embroidered strap, which might explain why she is up rather than down where a nice girl like her belongs. Unless she just ran out of a fire escape, dashed down to the wall, and now might be beating a hasty escape from being no good bohemian that she is. Also possible, all things considered, though the girl in the sunset peach dress is doing absolutely nothing to conceal her presence. All the laughter pulls her in that direction, causing her to gravitate there without the least conscious effort.

"I swear, rat, I'm going to find you if it's the last thing I do. Eat my snapdragons, will you?" Her murmured dismay is at odds with the playfulness, but a little critter *does* go scampering towards a swing set, brazen as you please, chased by the young woman at a quicker stride.

Once the kids have sworn the 'oath' to his satisfaction, Kurt grins and gestures that they can all go back to what they were doing. A few look upset that now they can't jump off of the equipment, but the others just go back to whatever games they were playing. One of the girls in pigtails, Emma, goes over to grab a three-fingered hand and lead Kurt over to a game of marbles. He failed the first time he tried to play, but she seems absolutely determined to teach him the game.

Even though he does try to listen to the shouted instructions, yellow eyes do look up every few moments to make sure the kids are all right.

"Pardon me, Miss— Er. Pardon me, Sir, but Ah—" Sam keeps trying to get the attention of passers-by to ask for directions, but whether because he's obviously a tourist, obviously a yokel, or obviously not assertive enough to deter any real New Yorkers from their existing goals, he's not having a lot of luck. "Ah just need to get back to Times Square — Ah think Ah could figure the rest out from there," he says, a polite general announcement that goes over like a lead balloon. If there is anything as certain to repel natives of this city as the name of the Dread Intersection, who even knows what it is. The lanky teenager scratches his head, perplexed. "Y'all ain't real talkative today, are ya."

Jubilee walks into the park proper now. Bag from her shopping still in bag, she looks around at the kids, and sees the person in charge. "What is going on here? I s this a class trip or something?" she asks nobody in particular. Then she notices Sam, and waves her bag, trying to get his attention, to drag him over.

One of the other kids who was playing tag near where Jubilee enters hears her question, "It's summer! There's no school!" and he goes back to chasing the other kids. As another non-kid from the neighborhood steps into the playground, Kurt looks up from his crouch by the game of marbles and watches her warily. It's then that one of the marbles-players whines, "Ow! Kurt, your tail just smacked me!" But she doesn't seem too hurt by it. In fact, she's grinning.

Spotting Jubilee, Sam grins and makes his way into the park to join her. Once inside, however, he sees Kurt and his face freezes in a horrified expression. "Oh Jesus. Oh Holy Jesus." His hands fly up in a warding gesture, and he starts to back away from the blue boy. "It's a demon. The devil done sent a demon to make off with my immortal soul!" The blond youth's voice is loud and cracking, his blue eyes wide with fear. "Why me?" he wails. "What'd Ah do? Is this about them impure thoughts Ah had?" From pleading to shouting in a second: "'Cause ''Ah didn't have 'em!''" His slow backward retreat brings him banging up against a bunch of metal garbage cans just to the side of a stoop; he knocks one over, and nearly trips and falls himself.

The step down from the wall leaves the redhead hastening into the playground, and more than aware all these small people are probably alarmed by the presence of a rat. The rat doesn't care, skittering for cover under a swing set. Until sudden movement of a child going back and forth causing it to divert instead for cover under the gym, such as it exists. No doubt some of those older kids might have a squawk or two for the sudden appearance. She moves at speed if she can, speaking softly under her breath to the state of affairs. Her umbrella sways over her shoulder and she swings it down, shutting the tines as fast as she can. "Oh dear. Pardon me." That's two voices raised in the same melody, even if they come from different sources. Recognizing that figure at the marbles, she exclaims softly, "Have you seen anything fuzzy about? Good afternoon, by the way."

Jubilee looks at Sam, shaking her head as she looks to the country boy, and to who he's looking at. She clicks her tongue and smiles. "Come now. You're really going to have to get used to not judging people by how they look."

The step down from the wall leaves the redhead hastening into the playground, and more than aware all these small people are probably alarmed by the presence of a rat. The rat doesn't care, skittering for cover under a swing set. Until sudden movement of a child going back and forth causing it to divert instead for cover under the gym, such as it exists. No doubt some of those older kids might have a squawk or two for the sudden appearance.

The young woman hastens her pace as she enters the park, no doubt to intercept the naughty squeaker before any child notice. Her umbrella snaps shut, swung down in a heap of oiled paper and folded bamboo tines. About to open her mouth to pardon her path through a child's game, she swivels to the outburst of a masculine voice speaking about a devil. Already those too-bright green eyes recognize the figure by the marble circle, shades of intuition propelling her in that direction without conscious reflex.

"Sam Guthrie, what's your bag?" Imagine Joan Jett crossed with Scarlett O'Hara, and you're in the right vocal range. "No one likes a clyde, sugar. Are you trying to cause trouble?"

It isn't until the blonde teen begins to shout to the heavens and backs into the garbage cans that the kids sort of stop to stare. Once he's down, having tripped over the cans, a couple of kids march on over, "What'd you call him?" demands one, and another insists, "Kurt ain't a demon! He's our friend!"

Nightcrawler's army indeed.

One of the girls looks to the one chasing a rat and blinks, "Lady, there are rats all over. This is Hell's Kitchen. You think you're gonna find one specific one?" These kids have attitude, that's for certain. Their new friend was just insulted and a few aren't going to let that go too easily.

The subject of the moment, however, stands slowly and looks at Rogue, "The Fraulein from the cafe." She gets a grin — he's not hiding under a fedora or in a trenchcoat this time. He also looks to Jubilee as she chides the other boy but he doesn't move just yet. After a moment though, he moves from the throng of kids over to where the younger man has fallen among the garbage cans. He crouches slowly, his tail flicking from one side to the other and then, with a sudden grin, offers, "Boo!"

Sam gapes at Kurt as he speaks. Something about what he's saying seems to be getting through to the southerner, who finally blurts out: "It ain't just a demon — it's a ''NAT-ZI!''" At the 'boo,' he staggers away from the trash cans and the encroaching army of probably-mind-controlled children, kicking garbage all over, bringing a few particularly clingy bits with him. He reaches out toward Jubilee with one hand, then in the opposite direction toward Rogue. "C'mere! Grab hold! Ah'll blast us all outta here before it can drag us down into the pit from whence it came!"

Jubilee rests her free hand on her face, and sighs deeply at the reaction. PArting two fingers to look at im between them gain though. "Sam, please." She then leans in, trying to speak where only he will hear. "Just because you can pass for being normal…"

Rogue is not impressed, and upon that note, her gaze flares to a brilliant shade of green when Sam goes overboard. Her mouth turns downward and she mutters, "Foolish boys. Not a wit in your head when you are afraid, thinking how you might scare everyone else." She wheels sharply upon her heel and presents her back to Sam and Jubilee, her skirt swirling around her in a torrent of sunset pink on orange. Those fantastic boots tromp over the ground, and she wades right into the midst of the children, attitude or no attitude. "I'm looking for a very specific rat, and one that ate my flowers. It may have stolen a ring, but that is for another time."

Her braids twitch and she plants the point of the umbrella down. "I am terribly sorry about that. He is a decent young man, but overreacting?"

Oh no he DIDN'T! The children collectively gasp at the word…twenty years later and they still know what it means. It's as bad as being called a 'Communist'! Kurt's grin disappears and he stands, looking at the blonde boy for a moment before he looks to the kids, "Go home. We will come back here again tomorrow." A couple of the younger kids protest, but the older kids know that tone from their parents. It brooks no arguments. Jumpropes and marbles are quickly gathered up, Rogue gets a funny look when she says she's looking for a specific rat, and the kids dart off to whisper and gossip and wait for Kurt to come back to the apartment building where he's been staying.

"Listen to me, you…Gadje Dummkopf…" Kurt steps in closer, yellow eyes flicking to Jubilee and then to Rogue as if saying he'll address their comments in a moment. "I am from Germany, ja. But if you think for one moment that I was one of them…" There's a quick breath in and out before he sticks a scarified blue arm in the other's face, "See this?" He points to a deep scar that was made a part of the others that seem to be more flowing and symbolic. "They did this to see what color my Blut would run. My blood." He then points to one on his face, along his jawline, "This was to see how my skull was shaped." His spaded tail flicks forward, a scar there as well, "To see what it was made from. I have five more like these," although many more 'decorative' scars. "Do you need to see those. I was the age of these kids!" he points to the playground where they were just all playing. "Do not -ever- call me a Nazi again."

"Overreactin'? Are y'all not seein' this? Has he cast some kinda witchcraft to hide his true form?" Sam pleads, gesturing with a flat hand toward Kurt and staring at his friends with a baffled expression. "Ain't y'all never heard of the Bible up north?" The Kentucky boy has heard rumors of godless yankees, but he never imagined that it was this bad.

Then Kurt launches into his impassioned speech and Sam just stands there, jaw working, wary enough to keep his distance but transfixed by the horrible events Kurt is describing. Once the German is finished, Sam has to take a few seconds to collect himself before he can reply. "Well… Ah mean… that does sound terrible," he admits. "Ah'm sorry if all of that really happened to ya, but you can't blame a fella for bein' a little skittish about someone who looks like the blue devil himself."

Still leaning away from Kurt, Sam squints sidelong at him and asks, "You promise you ain't some kind of witch or demon? Swear it on the Good Book?" An ingenious ruse. Everyone knows fell creatures can't abide the Word.

Jubilee sighs. Her free hand grabs Sam by the shoulder, and tries to spin him to face her. Whether he moves or not, she lets out a frustrated groan. "Stop that. You have to stop obsessing with what people look like. Some of us get enough of that ourselves."

A pause lingers in the air, thickening as the children take their toys and gear, fleeing for safety presumably somewhere unsafe in the highest of degrees. Nothing is so unkind as the human spirit turned against itself, as the corruption of fear painting dark knowledge in men's eyes. The redhead crosses her arms over her chest, a line appearing between her brows. When it comes to sides, she stands where she is. "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Those who belong to Christ have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking one another, envying one another." A recitation of Galatians comes with a rolling meter hinting somewhat at the southern strains of her accent mingled to the New York standard, sophisticated and graceful. "He has to promise you nothing, he has already shown enough, I think. The whole spirit of this country is about giving one another a chance, a fresh start. What else were our parents fighting for, back on Omaha Beach or in the desert?"

Rogue's fingers flex even as she is ramrod straight, perhaps not aware why, but there the same. "You," she says to Kurt, "are a good man. Did you ever find the friend you were looking for? I hope so."

Nightcrawler touches a hand to his own neck and, with a thumb, pulls out the cross he wears about his neck. "God made me and He did not turn away in my hour of need. I take Communion and go to Church each Sunday." As if that should be enough. Yellow eyes look between the others, "He only said what others will think. At leas the children see past the way I look." The children and a few adults it seems. His eyes linger on Rogue as she quotes the bible but then he nods, "I did. Danke for your kindness when I first came here. It gave me hope…" even though that hope was brutally crushed during the mutant riot.

His eyes go back to Sam, "How do you know what color demons are? Have you seen one?"

Sam's on his guard about Kurt, but he does turn to face Jubilee when she tugs on him. Her words sink in — he has since realized that he wasn't all that gracious when he first met her, or when he first met Nancy. That doesn't put him at ease, exactly: there's a bright distinction, even in his ignorance, between looking Asiatic and looking like a demon. It does make him a little more willing to accept that he's overreacting again, at least.

And then Rogue just piles on the guilt with a long quotation of scripture. His face heats and he looks away, blushing furiously. It's one thing to wave your religious affiliation in someone else's face in a superstitious tribal display. It's quite another to heed the actual teachings of your belief system.

When Kurt shows the cross he wears around his neck, that only compounds Sam's embarrassment. That's pretty incontrovertible, in religious circles. The Kentucky boy stares at the pavement and mumbles, "Ah mean… Ah guess Ah was just startled…" This insufficient, defensive non-apology is all he's able to come up with for a second. "Ah didn't mean anythin' by it."

Jubilee looks to the others, and back to Sam. Seeing that he's been thoroughly chastened, she takes a slow, deep breath. They're all in a park, recently filled with kids. She's holding a bag from a very recent clothes shopping trip. Patting him on the shoulder, she hums, and quietly suggests "Shake hands?"

"Now, we can all go have some cake. Let us eat cake, it will be just the sort of thing to bridge fences." Rogue nods in agreement to Jubilee, giving the Asian girl a mark of distinct approval. It could say something about her, she's carrying a Chinese umbrella probably from one of the vendors in Chinatown. She also apparently sides with Nazi demons, so she might have some explaining to do to the Committee of Unamerican Activities if they ever clue in. "Everyone makes mistakes, Mr. Sam, and the best part is when we can look past those and make up for them. No one is perfect, at any rate."

A haphazard glance goes to Kurt. "Would it be rude to ask which church you attend? The one I go to is a bit conservative, and sometimes I wish they remembered the message of love and acceptance more than authority and absolute rule."

A couple of the kids, after they were run off, went to bang on the door to Fury's apartment. They managed to babble out that they were at the playground and some people were yelling at Kurt who told them to go home. Luckily, the playground is only a couple of blocks from the building.

"You didn't mean anything by calling me a demon und a Nazi?" Kurt asks, a bit baffled by the pseudo apology. He looks to Jubilee at her suggestion, "Why? He seems to think I am something evil." But there's apparently some peer pressure by this younger crowd to shake hands so he does offer his with a sigh. It doesn't change the fact that it has only three fingers and is blue.

Rogue's question is answered with, "The Catholic one in Hell's Kitchen." He'll give her the official name, but it's not necessarily progressive. "I am in the balcony for the services." He's not among the congregants.

Still unable to make eye contact, Sam shuffles over toward Kurt like a prisoner walking the green mile and hesitantly takes the stranger's hand. "Ah apologize," he finally says, sounding miserable. The strange nature of the hand he shakes doesn't exactly seem to help his composure, but he does his best not to be put off by it. "Ya just don't look like anythin' Ah ever seen before in all Creation. God knows Ah ain't the best at social graces."

A gaggle of negro children form a circle around a large, no-nonsense looking black man with an eyepatch. The little girls skip to keep up, their hair in pink pigtails and decked out in dresses. The young boys are a little somber; they've got a little more understanding of what may happen should the situation escalate. The boys are the ones who've grown up a little more than the girls; even at this age, and even if girls are 'yucky', they have to be protected.

Sergeant Nick approves of this. And, as a result, the kids have seem to have taken with the blue demon looking man with the three-fingers and tail. (Of course, daily ice cream doesn't hurt either!)

"I am thinkin' more and more that the god damned kids are the only ones in their right minds!" is called from the center of that group. "When they've got more sense than adults, it's time to put them in charge." Nick does -not- sound happy, and even if he's not yelling, there is no question that his voice carries and he's quite used to addressing groups of people with this particular intonation.

"Kurt. These people tryin' to run you outta town on the next train?" He's choosing his words carefully and deliberately. "Hell, that ain't no better than the effin' Nazis I killed to make sure you could life a proper life."

Once he reaches the spot, Nick looks around and narrows the single eye as the handshake is offered first by the blue teleporter. "What in Sam-Hill is going on?" Beat. "Kurt, you apologizing for something?"

Jubilee blinks and looks to Fury when he comes on. "No no no no," she says quickly. Putting her hands up, shopping bag dangling from one. "Just a big misunderstanding. Just a misunderstanding. Nobody's giving Kurt any trouble."

With Sam's reaction to the handshake, Kurt doesn't allow it to last very long. There's a bit of disappointment in the other's obvious revulsion and he even takes a step away, just to make sure the blonde boy isn't feeling crowded by his 'demon-ness'. It's only when Fury's voice is heard does he turn in that direction, yellow eyes widening some. He didn't even think that the kids might relay what was happening. "Nein," is offered after a moment's consideration. "They were just…surprised." He looks more to Sam at that before he answers, his own eyes lowering, "Only for being who I am." Something he's sort of used to apologizing for.

One of the little girls tugs on Fury's shirt so that she can whisper something to him…telling him that the girls were being nice and pretty.

Sam Hill is close enough to Sam Guthrie to necessitate an explanation out of the Kentucky farm boy. He's been nearly asked for by name. Rogue slides her umbrella over her shoulder and pushes up the wooden grip, guiding the bamboo tines to open up again. A panda's feast shelters her under waxed paper painted brightly by flowers and twining leaves, a pretty orbit spun to the light curve of her fingers. A nudge here and a nudge there.

"Hello, sir." She isn't the type to quite flinch, not fully. Behind the mask maybe she is, but *manners* dammit! "Mr. Kurt startled the young man over there. He didn't think to put a filter in front of his mouth, and may have blurted out a few words he wish he could take back. The young lady there did her part to calm him down, and Mr. Kurt was nothing but patient throughout. I do believe it's one of those lessons about thinking before speaking?"

Backpedaling away from the handshake in a hurry, Sam from the Hills sizes up the new arrival with obvious concern. "Now, y'all wait a minute here," he says, sidling half behind the garbage can he knocked over earlier to put some obstacles between himself and the angry colored man. "Ah was just apologizin'," he says to Nick, shooting a betrayed look at Kurt. "Ah may have overreacted, but Ah was doin' the honorable thing and Ah don't think it's necessary to bring in no posse and make a bad situation worse! So everybody just calm right down and let's all be civil."

Jubilee nods, looking straight ahead of herself at Fury. "He did put his foot in his mouth, and he got told off for it. Deservedly." She lays it on a bit now, after the handshake routine. Kind of annoyed her idea didn't work out. "Sam realizes now he was wrong, and he apologized for it. And maybe he's going to offer to do something for the kids to make up for ruining their playtime today. Isn't he?" And now she looks back to Sam.

Nick looks at the gathering with that deadpanned, neutral eye. When he's tugged, however, he's crouching so he can hear the whispers from the little girl in pigtails. As she whispers, his gaze flickers from one to the next to the next. Once finished and the little girl steps back, he rises slowly to full height once again.

"Right. Kurt, look at me, son. He apologize to you?" He actually sounds a little dubious, given that Kurt was the first to offer the hand of friendship rather than the one who began it all.

"Overreacted? Is that what they're callin' it these days?" He looks around at the ladies and considers, "I think 'civil' is a good word for it. I don't expect everyone to get along, but I sure as hell expect civil if you can't find your way to respect."

Nick looks at Jubilee now and he nods, "You all bothered these kids, not only Kurt.. because that guy with the tail happens to be one of their favorite people. So I think apologizing to them is in order. Teach them right from wrong."

Rogue slants the umbrella such that it leaves a bar of shade ahead of her, mingling with her shadow on the cracked ground of the park. She remains very quiet in this stead, having said her piece and not venturing to offer any more. Anyone with an ounce of observational skills might realize she is breathing in incredibly rhythmic, even ways through her nose, the steady pulse something you could probably time with a metronome if it came down to it.

To be fair, Kurt sort of exascerbated it a little. He isn't unaware of that. "Und I am sorry that I scared you…" he actually admits to Sam but the other is already scampering behind one of the trash cans. He looks at the blonde boy for a moment before answering Fury, "As much as he could. I accept the apology." He also steps away from the others, a little closer to Fury and the kids, "Don't make them do anything they don't want to do. The kids understand, I think. I just did not want them to see me so angry," Nor did he want them to hear what he told Sam when he was called a Nazi. "But I think maybe they need to know that not all from Germany are Nazis." He looks at Sam for that one.

"Wha—?" Guthrie stares at Nick in disbelief — and, after a second, mounting annoyance. "Now, Ah did not come into y'all's neighborhood to start any trouble, and Ah realized Ah was wrong and apologized for my mistake." Sam puts his hands on his hips, eyebrows lowering over his bright blue eyes. "Fair's fair and right's right and you won't hear me complain about that." He glances over at Kurt, picking up on the cue, and adds, "Ah ain't never met a German outside a newsreel, so Ah guess Ah had a bad impression of the whole country, and that ain't rightly fair. And Ah sure never met anybody who looked like this fella, so Ah jumped to conclusions and put my foot in my mouth, which anyone'll tell you is kinda my number one pasttime."

One might consider this a promising beginning. One might also want to consider what follows it. "But Ah tell you what: Ah do not take kindly to bein' bossed around by some… negro pirate!" Still far from fearless of the one-eyed veteran, Sam nonetheless juts his jaw forward pugnaciously. "So Ah'd appreciate it if you let up on me, boy, and mind your own beeswax!"

Silence. Not even birds chirping. Yes, ladies and gentlemen: Sam Guthrie just called Sgt. Nick Fury 'boy.' One might reasonably assume that, somewhere out in space, Uatu the Watcher just did a spit-take.

Jubilee drops her jaw at Sam's comments. Her face falls, and she turns around to face him. Then looking to Fury, then to Kurt, she shakes her head. "I'm so sorry, but I can't do this anymore. I just cant." Then with a shrug at Rouge, she sighs heavily, throws up her hands, and walks away

"I know lots of Germans, and no, not all of 'em were Nazis. Some of them actually risked their own lives to help save Jews, and Catholics, and Gypsies and…" Here, Nick uses one of the words that he really dislikes, "And Mutants."

For a moment, Nick looks mollified. It's an apology, after a sort, about the young man's prediliction to foot in mouth disease until…


The ladies gearing up for their departure probably will be hastened. Nick looks down at the kids and murmurs, "You all, go home. We're gonna have a grown-up conversation here." The kids know… they have imagined the things that Sergeant Nick could have done, could have been in order to have gained that eyepatch. Stories of soldiering.

"What did you just say?" Nick takes a step closer to Sam. "I don't think I heard you correctly, son. I need you to speak up, and maybe talk a little slower just so I am sure you understand exactly why I am going to kick your ass from this side of the park to the other." He pauses, and there's a hint of a smile that comes to his face, and it's not one filled with humor. "Unless you decide that maybe that wasn't the smartest thing you could have said and turn around, and leave."

Peace, love and understanding are almost the bohemian way. And that lovely redheaded girl bites her lip when Sam starts to speak, the pronounced inward draw of her eyebrows deepened when he executes seppuku by shoe leather. Harikiri on his own biases looks as ugly as it sounds, and her shuttered expression finally crumbles onto an imperious look probably last seen on a large French statue cast in green around the harbour. Not happy, oh no.

"Now, I really am sorry. Apologies to everyone that they had a piece of this ugliness, and not a thing I could do to curb it." Rogue pulls down her sleeves and flexes her hands. "Time to be off before we start a third world war. Kurt, I am sorry. Truly and utterly." Where Jubilee has already stalked off, she takes a more direct route right past Sam. The stop is a very short one, maybe a second. Long enough for her arm to shoot out, and she seizes a handful of his shirt at the back. A tight, good one, enough to get a solid grip, because she resumes her stalking mosey right out of the park. Funny, she is a rather toned girl but not much to a Kentucky farm boy, but anger must give her a hell of an adrenaline rush. And angry, that pretty belle is in spades.

"Ah'm just… Ah'm just gonna leave now," Sam says, skidding away after Rogue, feeling an odd sort of gratitude for her actions, even though they just mean a delayed ass-kicking. "The lady seems real insistent."

Even Kurt freezes and stares at Sam when he calls Fury the Name. He looks to Jubilee as she just can't take anymore and offers her a commisserating glance. He gets it. She's not going to be judged by leaving before the explosion. He's tempted, but he kind of wants to see this. "Mein Gott…" is murmured as he waits for the inevitable.

As Fury steps forward to address the issue he just blinks. Rogue is given somewhat of a wave before he just blinks at Cannonball's response.

Only when they're out of earshot…or mostly out of earshot does he actually begin to snicker. "Pirate…" He's trying so hard to make it stop, but the giggles just keep coming!

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