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"Wuf."
A yellow cab has pulled up to the outside of the Xavier's Institute grounds, and an Old English Sheepdog is sticking his face out of the window. The dog has had the time of his life getting blasted by the wind, and his tongue hangs out of his mouth to pant happily.
The young woman in the back of the cab scoots herself over to put her face out of the window next to the dog's. "Quite," she says, blue eyes taking in the gates of the fence, and the stately mansion beyond them.
The girl pays the cabbie, who helps her take her trunk out of the, er, trunk. There's no way she'd be able to carry it on her own — she's this slender young thing in a skirt and a cardigan. She did call ahead that she'd be arriving, but she doesn't see anyone out here to greet her. Curious.
The dog climbs out of the car, shakes itself to limber up, and then sits next to her, tail wagging on the ground. The girl takes out a cigarette from her cardigan and lights it with a pretty spiffy Zippo. After that first exhale of smoke, she looks down at the dog. "I suppose now we just have to wait for them to realize we're here, Garf," she says, London cityfolk accent distinct.
*
The welcome committee stumbles down the sidewalk. The brunette, with a large katana sheathed around her back, ambles towards the school dizzily. Her steps are not remotely straight as she heads towards the front door. The taxi has her head canting to the side and her eyes squinting as she attempts to figure out who has come to visit — or live.
Unfortunately, however, as her head tilts to the side, she actually falls over.
THUD
The sword on her back clangs against the pavement as it slides from her shoulder. She stares at the pavement and her hands on it, trying to figure out who put that there.
*
SOON ENOUGH:
Noemi Noronha, wearing a mint-green dress, comes hastening out of the front of the Mansion. She is carrying with her - pushing, really - one of the greatest works of American engineering… Mister Wheels.
(This is, in fact, a hand-truck, suitable for carrying several chests of goods without trouble. It may or may not also be able to carry Kitty Pryde.)
"Hey! Violet, right? I'm N-" Noemi stops dead as she hears Kitty's samurai sword go "clang."
"Oh Jesus. Kit- Kitty!" Noemi says, abandoning the handtruck, which flops over and skitters briefly, perhaps interesting Garf. "I'm so sorry, Violet," Noemi tells the new arrival as she hastens towards Kitty's collapsed form, rolling her onto her side so she doesn't go like Jimi eventually will, and feeling, on reflex, for a pulse. "This isn't usual, I promise you."
*
Kitty might look up in her musings on the nature of sidewalks to find a dog sniffing at her hair. "Oi! Get out of the poor thing's face, Garf," Violet says, pulling the dog's collar just as Noemi is coming over to help.
Violet takes a step back to keep the dog settled. "That's me," Violet confirms. She looks down at Kitty, smoking her cigarette thoughtfully. "I thought maybe there was a welcome party that had started without me. Why does she have a sword?"
*
Kitty rolls easily enough, but her eyes squint up at Noemi distantly as she feels for her pulse. The brunette lifts a hand and tries to bat away Noemi's fingers, "Pffft. You haven't even bought me dinner yet!" The objection may be telling. Then again maybe not.
The noxious smell of liquor and cigarettes wafts from her in waves. She motions towards the sword, "Swords lob heads offa bad guys." She points emphatically at this, but doesn't bother moving from the pavement. Evidently that's where she's staying for the time being.
*
Noemi opens her mouth and closes it when Violet raises a very good question. "You know," she says, "that's a very good question and I don't know the whole story behind it." She is projecting her Donna Reed very well, considering that she's dealing with Kitty Pryde's possibly-rapidly-cooling corpse. "However, I think that she got it in Japan. A-"
Noemi does not blush because she is made out of rubber and carbide tubes. She does, however, have an expression of sheerest mortification on her face as she rocks back on her heels, not rising upwards as she sees Kitty decide to stay obstinately on the ground. Noemi knows this is doubtless a vain effort - if Kitty is awake enough to speak she can doubtless phase through Noemi's helpless fingers.
"We don't lob heads off of people very often," Noemi says, slipping back into the Donna Reed Zone.
*
"You should take her sword away," Violet notes. "She's drunk." When Noemi recoils, Violet steps forward. "Here, let me try."
Violet taps her toe into Kitty's shoulder. Not hard enough to really be considered a kick, or painful, but it's basically a gentle kick. "Get up, you."
Violet then has another drag on her cigarette as she waits for the response to her novel tactics.
*
Except when Violet's toe reaches Kitty's shoulder it rolls through nothing, causing Kitty to erupt in a series of ridiculous giggles — one after another. She manages a broad grin. "My sword!" she reaches for it and causes it to roll into incorporeality. Welcome to Mutant School, Violet. It's all the fun~
Her nose wrinkles as she looks from Noemi to Violet, "Who's that?"
*
Noemi's eyes flick at Violet and then just sort of around, possibly auguring an impending psychotic break.
She sounds even more TV Voice when the sword gets obviously made phase-y and thus untouchable. "Kitty, this is Violet Sabre, you remember? She's from England! She's arriving today!" Noemi is smiling as she says this. It is kind of idiotic. She doesn't stop. "Don't you think you'll be more comfortable inside?"
*
Violet's reaction to her foot going through Kitty's shoulder, and the giggling, is to widen her eyes like she's taking in a nearby auto accident. There's a long moment of silence from the Englishwoman. Then Garf barks.
"Good idea, Garf," Violet says, turning toward Noemi. "Why don't we go inside? She looks comfortable enough. I'm sure she won't roll into the road or anything. Even if she does, clearly she has defenses against an accident, right?"
*
Kitty's arms curl around the sword like a security blanket. Her eyes lid lightly. Evidently she's staying on the road. This has to be safe, right? "I met a reporter today. He goes through boyfriends like tissues~" the words are virtually sung as Kitty begins to share whatever is on her mind. Because there is no filter.
"Not me~ But it wasn't the men int was the booze and cigarettes, and smell of dying that made it so awful. It's okay~ They won't get me, I got my sword now~"
*
"Oh - what a handsome puppy -" Violet begins, but then Kitty embraces a sword like some kind of horrible fantasy novel.
Kitty brings up boyfriends in the context of another man. Noemi gets that 'I am dying inside' expression again. "I — Kitty, please, come on, do you need me to carry you? I'll do it, but you have to, you know —" Violet's suggestion seems to be CRUELLY IGNORED.
But explained. "We try not to draw attention we don't have to, and um - Well, I'm concerned about her -" Noemi does FINALLY get up, though, and move towards the fallen handtruck. "We can certainly move your things inside. I am /so/ sorry about this."
*
Violet walks over and intercepts Garf, who has fixed his eyes on Noemi and is about to march over to start sniffing. Clearly, he detects that something about this mutant's chemical composition is similar to his favorite rubber fetch balls. "Garf, behave," Violet says, patting the dog on the head to distract him.
"No need to apologize. We have drunks in London. We have poofs, too, but it's not considered polite to talk about it." Violet gives Noemi a canny smile.
*
The sword is clutched even tighter. "They did everything everything everything to destroy us~" Kitty continues to sing. Each of the words are considered in that same singsong voice. There is one thing for certain: Kitty Pryde CANNOT hold her liquor. "Jewish not Jew-ish. Or Jew-esque~ Mutant, Jewish. Kitty Pryde. Katherine Anne Pryde. Kat. Kate. Cat. Kitkat. Any of those? All of the above!" there seems to be a glimmer of triumph at the last.
"Or 1-5-3! That's me 1-5-3! Everyday I remember them and the way they said it~ 1-5-3~"
IT's only then that she realizes that she should try to push herself off the pavement. "The road is hard," she murmurs as she straightens and moves towards Noemi. "Hello VIOLET!" she finally greets far too loudly. "Kitty. Kitty Pryde. Kath-Er-Eeeen."
*
Noemi says, "Well I'm sure I don't know just what that means, but I assure you this isn't how she usually-"
TALK
Noemi proffers a hand to Kitty, despite all. "That's right. We're both students here too! I hope you're going to enjoy it here, Violet!" Noemi says, doing another of those smiles!!!. "And what kind of a puppy is Garf! Am I saying his name right? He seems like such a good boy," as well as being much safer and less stressful to talk about than whatever horror-scape Kitty has recently voyaged through.
*
Violet lids her eyes slightly while watching Kitty roll around and jabber on the road, clutching her samurai sword. She really doesn't seem all too sympathetic to poor Kitten's drunken enfeeblement. She actually turns her body to face Noemi, and again tries to keep Garf from wandering over to inspect this woman-sized superball.
"Garf, that's right. His name's actually Garfield, but evidently we got lazy in calling to him," Violet says with a little smile. "He's a sheepdog. And yes, he's a very good boy. Aren't you, Garf? Here, let him sniff your hand, then he'll let you pet."
Then: Kitty gets in Violet's face. "Hullo," she responds. "Oof, careful, dear. I can smell the whiskey on your shout and I've got a lit cigarette here."
*
"Doesn't even matter! Fire doesn't matter! We light fires, and they snuff 'em out. Again. And again. And again~" Whatever Kitty is prattling on about is anyone's guess. Her eyes turn upwards to the sky. "It gets better, apparently." And then quieter, she voices her uncertainty, "Maybe." There's a small frown that forms after that.
"Piece by piece. It ached. It ripped." Her arms tighten around the weapon. "Piece by piece." Her nostrils flared. "Carson. They talked about Carson! Put the girl on a slab and rip her apart to talk about Johnny Carson~ Wonderful idea!" She looks towards the house and gives Noemi's hand a squeeze. "I yelled at a reporter. He said liquor helps." It doesn't seem to have.
*
Noemi seems kind of stunned into silence at the moment. She proffers a hand to Garf, which will, inevitably, smell like rubber no matter how much she washes, and squeezes Kitty's hand back on pure reflex.
*
Illyana walks out of the Institute in a simple white shift, the sort of thing that's better suited for sleeping than clothing. From the grubby grasstains on the hem and the crinkling of the fabric, it's obvious she's wearing the plain white clothing as as simple dress. Her bare feet whisper against the concrete of the driveway as she makes a way towards the sound of drunken, emotional exhortation.
"Kitty?" Illyana frowns at her friend, sensing her intoxication without being able to identify it. "What is problem with Kitty?" she inquires of Violet and Spiral.
"…and who are you two?" she demands.
*
Garf sniffs at Noemi's hand curiously. And then more curiously. And then he gets onto all four legs and his tail begins wagging furiously. He starts licking at her hand like it's made of pure dog candy, and takes a break at one point to woof happily.
"Wow. He really likes you," Violet says, apparently surprised by the degree to which Garf is reacting. "I think she's doing… poetry," Violet finally says, regarding Kitty, narrowing her eyes at the other girl. "I've heard stuff like this at nightclubs. Usually it's… in nightclubs, though. When it's on the side of the road I think it's mostly classified as ranting. Oi, Kitty. Fag?" Violet holds her pack of cigarettes out towards Kitty. Maybe smoking will help, due to its numerous health benefits.
Then Illyana arrives. Violet waves with her free (lit-cigarette-holding) hand. "Hullo. I'm Violet, the dog is Garf. I live here now. And the problem with Kitty is that she's drank alcohol, apparently."
*
"I'm trying to encourage her to come inside," Noemi tells Illyana, her Donna Reed Cheer tone having slipped down towards about sixty percent strength. "And… to welcome Violet! That's all!"
Violet shows herself to be materially more mature than Noemi. Her teeth set for a moment, but not at anyone in particular. "Garf came here with Violet," Noemi explains parenthetically. "This is Violet Sabre, by the way, our new fellow student!"
*
The cigarette is, oddly, accepted. Has Kitty ever smoked before? "This is my fourth one!" Kitty declares proudly as if she's a seasoned smoker now and no one should doubt this fact. "Yana!!" she declares delightedly as she prances up towards the other woman in a very not-straight line. "Helloooooo! This is Violet and her dog Gruff." And then she motions to Noemi, "And I don't know who Noemi's other friend is. Maybe she has a sister!"
"Kitty is fiiiiiine. Katherine. Kate. Kitty. KitKat." She smirks. "Kitten!" She lifts a single finger following that particular name, "Dad always called me his Kitten." She winces, "Not entirely sure wheyey."
*
Illyana looks Violet up and down. Then looks at Noemi with an uplifted brow. Then she looks at Kitty again.
"Why is Kitty drunk?" she inquires of the other two women, looking perplexed. "I am not sure I have ever seen her drunk. Is very unlike her," Illyana informs Noemi.
She turns her gaze to Violet, frankly appraising. "Hmm. New? Why are you here?" she asks Violet. "We seem to get new people all times of years. Is late to be starting fall semester, no?"
*
Kitty has actually wandered off before Violet can light her cigarette. Violet's lighter, if looked at closely, is a Zippo with what appears to be an RAF logo of some kind engraved into it. Violet shrugs, putting the lighter away as Kitty stumbles to Illyana.
Violet doesn't seem to be too fazed by Illyana looking her over. She seems to be the type to take a lot of things in stride. (Garf, meanwhile, is still trying to slobber all over Noemi.) "Hullo to you too, Rosa Klebb." Clearly Violet has read 'From Russia With Love' — maybe she'll even go to see the movie when it premieres in about a week. "My understanding is that this place is a special curriculum for special folks. And, well, I guess I'm just special."
*
Illyana has a large number of questions Noemi can't answer. She briefly considers disappearing into the earth and just hiding until the bombs fall, but presses on, because someone has to. "Violet, this is Illyana - I imagine you're going to have some classwork together -" Noemi interjects as Violet gets /saucy/.
"So how about you help her inside," Noemi tells Illyana with a pleading look, "and I'll get Violet's trunks all together and everything and then we can all have some coffee or something! Oh, is coffee alright?"
*
Dizzily, Kitty ambles into the school… only to disappear instants upon getting inside. Presumably she went to her room? Probably? Who knows. It's Kitty. She can become incorporeal and virtually invisible on a dime. Or maybe she's playing a trick and pretending to be a ghost? Regardless, she seems to disappear like an ether.
*
"Da. I will help," Illyana says— and turns on her heel without a farewell to make sure Kitty doesn't pass out drunk and fall through into the basement, or something.
*
When Illyana departs, Noemi sags with visible relief.
"Violet - please, on behalf of the whole school, I apologize for all of that," Noemi tells the new arrival, her hands coming up to wring together in heartfelt demonstration. "This was really just an awful time. I'm sure Kitty will be mortified by everything when she feels better."
A beat. "Could I ask you for a cigarette, please."
*
"Of course," Violet replies, getting the cigarettes back out and giving one to Noemi — and even lighting it for her, too. "No need to apologize. I've lived on military bases for ages. Trust me, she had nothing on some of the drunk soldiers I've heard in my time." Violet laughs, and since her own cigarette is about done, she drops it and steps on it to dash it out.
"Come on, let me help you get this rolling. No offense intended, but I've had quite a long trip here — I'd like to put my bed to work." Violet laughs, and walks over to her steamer trunk — she just has the one — and moves to help Noemi with it. Garf, meanwhile, follows Noemi closely, tail wagging like he's just won the Super Bowl.
*
Noemi accepts the cigarette and enjoys it vigorously enough to make an amusing wartime photo of the Home Front. After it's about half done, she stacks the trunks - which does not seem too hard for her, but not trivial either - and pushes down the handtruck. "O.K. — no problem at all. Do you want to be woken up for supper?"
And from there, into the mansion!
"Oh, he seems to like me! Usually dogs don't like me that much," Noemi observes, possibly as the camera is panning over the stately home.