1963-11-19 - The Aftermath of Joe
Summary: Jean brings everyone back to the house to recoup. Too bad she doesn't.
Related: [http://marvel1963mush.wikidot.com/log:1963-11-19-what-happened-to-handsome-joe]
Theme Song: None
lynette domino jean 


There will be time to protest later. For now the important thing is staying low and going to ground. In this respect the universe has provided in the form of a known redhead(ed bitch) and a conveniently located safe house.

Within -seconds- upon arriving Domino is looking for something alcoholic in nature to drink, anything short of rubbing alcohol would do. Jean's working street-side cleanup, probably with that whole 'psychic' thing of hers, leaving the albino alone with the peculiar wound-projecting girl.

It's only -after- Dom finds her drink that she turns her attention to Lynette. From a fairly safe distance, if..such a distance could be attained within a Harlem apartment. "This might be a stupid question, but..are you hurt?"


Lynette had crashed into Jean. She had only met the girl once, (twice?) and often in passing as they share a work space at the same bar. Her legs were like jelly, but she made it to the apartment, and once inside, she slumps down on the sofa without pause and seems to be out like a light. She's breathing, deeply, her petite chest rising and falling, and her hands rest on the flat of her stomach.

Her fingers are normal, nothing popping out or having left its joint. Her leg? It's 'wound' has closed, and that ripped patch of fabric is all that's left to suggest something had happened at all. There's still blood, though, even if it was not her own. Her sleeve, shirt collar, and some of her hair is decorated with the rest of the man who had ran, face first, into oblivion. The question causes the girl to open one dark eye, and she smiles.

"Non, I ain't hurt chere. M'jus'…tired. Ain't a stupid question nietha. T'anks f'askin'." Then, her finger lifts and points lazily her way. "Y'self? Y'doin' ok?"


'Chere?' Domino only knows one other person that talks in such a manner. It also happens to sound a bit more 'natural' when spoken from a man. Hearing Lynette use the same word like this causes Whitey to pause, her head subtly dipping to one side.

"Fine…" she replies at length. She's content to cut her own response short, taking a quick but healthy swig off of the clear bottle before searching for a towel. "I wasn't the one playing human pincushion with myself. That was some dark shit back there, and I don't mean whatever it was that you did with the shadows. If that was you."

A towel is found (white, naturally!) and wet down in the sink, then she makes her way over to Lynette and offers it over. Something to clean up the gore with, regardless of who it belongs to.

"Name's Domino. There may or may not be a relation to the game. Mark today as a 'wrong place, wrong time,' though I've no idea who the other guy following me was."


"Good. Dat's good." Hearing her talk, Lynette scoffs gently and shakes her head, sending those curls swaying. Towel out, she pushes herself up with a bit of strain as if she were sore from some type of extensive workout. "T'anks. N'm'Lynette. Nice t'meet y', Domino." Then, she starts cleaning herself off, the white fabric staining instantly with a copper-brown residue.

"Yeah, dat w's me, too. Jus' tryin' t'make'm blind so he didn' hurt nobody else. Guess it didn' really work." She frowns, still cleaning. Then, her brow quirks and she eyes Domino directly. "Y'was bein' followed? I, uh, sorry. Didn' notice. Y'ok? Dey didn' hurt y'none, did dey?"


However long it took, Jean returned. Five bags of food (obviously stolen from the vendors that vacated the streets and weren't full of blood and brain matter) within her grasp, set down upon the coffee table before she returns to the door to close and lock it shut. She says nothing for a time, moving towards the bathroom so that she could wash her hands clean, allowing the two women to recover and talk things through while she gets her own brain in order. Someone -had- to play hostess, right?


"Don't take it out on yourself," Dom automatically tells Lynette. It's the sort of response which is born of repetition, something which she's probably told herself countless times over the years. "You can't save everyone."

..Crud. Okay, maybe she shouldn't have bothered to mention the other person. "Never had a chance to, and I'm pretty sure that I have you to thank for that. When you messed up Joe's finger he solved the problem for me. Pretty crazy odds, but it did the trick."

She goes to take a seat, setting the bottle down beside the bags of food Jean had carried in then extracting the hitman's sidearm. It's another automatic thing for her to clear the rounds out of it, catching the chambered bullet out of the air then setting the one bullet and magazine onto the table next to the bottle. She has no problem with making herself right at home!

"I might have offended someone in a previous life or something," she thinks aloud while looking over the .45. Then her pale gaze jumps back up to Lynette, asking "How long have you known Jean?" Because Jean sure seems to know Lynette!


Lynette watches after Jean, moving to help her with the bags, but that instant hit of dizzy settles on her mind, and she reconsiders. Slumping back on the sofa, she finishes cleaning off as best she can, and folds up the used towel, before setting it aside on a near by end table. "Yeah, I…I know dat." She relents to Domino's comment about those you can save, and those you can't.

She's silent now, watching the other women move about and do whatever it is they mean, or need, to do. Back to Domino, her eyes widen slightly before the question is realized. "Oh, ah…couple weeks now I t'ink?" She rubs at the nape of her neck, looking out after the red-head to get some confirmation on the timeline. "Jus' met'r at de bar dat we work at."


With Domino having her own drink, Jean settles into the kitchen not too far away to prepare ice waters for her and Lynette. Jean was not a drinker herself (which would be a disaster), so she rightfully assumes that Lynette was not. But once ice was dropped into the glass, and the water poured, she dutifully carries it towards the women, taking her place upon the couch as the glasses were set upon the table.

"I went to work last night, you weren't there."

Gee, show some concern! Though, she remains silent for a time, a few sniffs delivered, her hands reaching out for the bags to begin to set the plates out upon the table. "I don't know what happened there.." She finally says. "..but.. you guys made a mess!"


..What. Really? They both work at a -bar?- Domino glances between the two with one brow hooked further upward than the other. Hearing this she actually smirks, "Guess my luck hasn't run dry, after all. What's the place called? You may have found yourself another regular."

Lynette missed work last night?! Say it ain't so! Eh, Dom's staying out of this one. Besides, there's more important matters for her to deal with.


"Hey, that was -not- my fault!" she instantly jumps to the defensive with hands and empty pistol held out for emphasis. Then she points the empty weapon right at herself, "I was just standing there! Don't be pegging someone else's mess on my shoulders, this ketchup ain't mine."

That..probably means something for Jean and Dom.


"S'called de Cigar Factory. N'…" She looks pointedly at Jean. "I had last night off so I could study for a…" Then her face goes pale. "Well, shit. I missed class t'day." Muttering, she rubs at her eyes and grumbles a bit more. Accepting the water, she eyes it for a moment and starts sipping.

"S'my ketchup. Uh, or whateva. Dat guy jus' showed up n'started poppin' brains like frogs n'a fryin' pan. Had t'stop'm." Shrugging, she drinks more and then reaches up, picking up some stray grey matter from a dangling kink.


Yes. Jean works at a bar. While she could have relied on Charles Xavier to be her sugar daddy until she was old and grey, she had to strike out and make something of herself -somewhere!- It just happened to be a bar. Of all places. Her own place was cracked open, a steaming pile of ribs laid there, all soon broken up with apinch of her fingers to discard the bone off to the side, her jaw working as she takes a side glance towards Lynette, and back to her foot again as Domino makes her declarations. Even the ketchup part has her grinning.

The gun pointing? It makes her falter. "S..stop that."

Guy popping brains aside? She pushes her plate away from her, then leans back upon the couch. The mental imagery she creates for herself without the help of the two women were enough to make her lose her ideas for a meal. Then as Lynette begins to pick brain matter from her head, Jean 'urps' quietly, the back of her hand pressed against her lips as she swallows hard, eyes watering.

"When I went back there.. it was just.. police crews and coroners. I didn't see.." *URP* "..anyone.." *URRP!* "..excuse me." Poor Lady Grey, she rushes from the couch and heads straight towards the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.


"Nooo, it was -Joe's- fault," Domino counters Lynette taking the blame for herself. "-Joe- was the dumbass who decided to go on a homicidal rampage for no apparent reason. -We- are the reason why there's only half a dozen odd bodies lying on the street instead of -three- dozen. You're welcome," she adds with a firm stare back at Jean.

Not Dom's fault! Or Lynette's, for that matter! That girl proved her worth today.

Glancing to Lynette again, she suggests "You can get a hero's pass on that one." Missing whatever it was she had been studying for, that is.

That Jean gets nervous with the gun waving around is noted for later. Maybe because Dom had already shot her once before… These kinds of situations tend to have an effect on people for some reason.

When Jean goes running for the bathroom she gently rolls her eyes, muttering "Lightweight" as she reaches for a bag of food.

The gun's set aside if just to free up her hands for the matter of building a plate for herself, though she makes sure to speak loud enough that Jean can still hear. "Some guy ran into me, said 'Joe is nuts.' No clue who that idiot was but a lot of the locals seemed to have known him. They'll probably have something about it on the news soon enough."


Lynette watches Jean attentively as the girl runs off. Her lips punch to the side and her expression is instantly apologetic. But that smell, of food? That's always a winner for the mambo. Pressing up off the sofa, she swaggers, wobbles, and then regains her balance. Looking at what's up for grabs, she makes herself a plate as well, and then slinks back to the sofa. Eating, one of Lyn's favorite passtimes.

She eats as if it might be her last meal, cheeks full and chipmunk like as she chews away, mouth closed, at least. She suckles at her fingers, nursing away any sauce or juices that may have been left behind. "Hero pass. Right. I bet we be blasted 'bout it soon 'nough. Dead people, n'de black? Merde…I be s'prised if 'nyone care."

A few more bites down, she calls out, "'ey! Jeanie-bean. Y'doin' alright, chere?"


A quiet voice hails from the bathroom. "Y..yeah!" *URPS*


Wow, that girl can -eat!- Looks like only one of the three is a 'lightweight.' Whitey's actually rather surprised, especially with Lynette having brain matter in her hair and all. "I'm guessing you and Death have an extra-special relationship, huh."

Did..did Lynette bother to clean her hands between moving grey matter and licking her fingers? Sheesh, that girl could make the Marines cringe!

At 'Jeanie-bean' Dom about loses it, not helped any by the weary response from the bathroom. "Don't worry, Jean! He wasn't using that brain, anyway!" she calls back with a broad grin. Then she thumbs over to the bathroom, voice dropping in volume as she tells Lynette "The -psychic- can't handle the grey stuff. Do you find some irony in that?"

As far as dead people and the color of their skin goes, she doesn't comment.


"De Baron?" She perks, stuffing her face with a bit more food before sitting back and working her jaw. "De troof?" She clears her throat and swallows, trying not to speak with her mouth completely full. "Neva met'm. Least, don' t'ink I have. Dis city's crazy, so…who knows." Shrugging, she finishes off the mass in her mouth and falls silent. "I don'…like doin' dat stuff. I jus' wasn' t'inkin'. He was hurtin' people, my people, n' I jus'…" Tapping the bones of the rib on her plate, she starts cleaning off her hands on a clean side of the towel she had use for her face, and the blood that was once decorating it.

At the new information about Jean, Lyn's eyes stare at the bathroom for a moment, and then roll back toward Domino. "Y'know…I didn' know dat."


The sound of running water comes from the bathroom. Jean couldn't hear nor even bother to think about what was on their surface thoughts. She was getting better at being intrusive, at least. Though no too sooner later, she emerges from the bathroom, pale as all get out, heading towards the sink yet again to drown her stomach with the goodness that was water.


"Just gotta do what needs to be done."

..Um. Whoopsie.

As soon as the admission is made Domino sits perfectly still, staring back at Lynette with a rib in hand halfway to her mouth. "You should probably just forget about that part."

Was there some code about not outing another's abilities..? She really didn't know! No more than she knew who 'De Baron' happened to be, though she won't dwell on it now. This time she relents, Jean's looking almost as pale as the albino is. Time for a subject change!

"Who owns this place?" she asks out of the blue. Frankly it seems a little much to belong to Red, and her pal in the cabin doesn't seem like the type to have a place in the middle of Harlem.


Lynette sifts her gaze from Domino, to Jean, and back again. Another shrug, she returns to her meal, this time soaking up juices with a huge hunk of cornbread. The question is one she happens to be curious about, too, however, until Domino spoke it, the girl had assumed that maybe Red did come from a much better place in the world.


Once the water was devoured, Jean slowly rises to shut it off, reaching for a -clean- towel to dab a little at her face. The question of the apartment itself was suspect, so she decides to take the Punisher route. Lying her ass off.

"Someone who doesn't need it anymore." Sound omnious? Of course! It was a don't tell everyone it was Charles' thing, at least she was keeping his secret! But still, she moves to settle upon the couch in between the two women, slumped back, hand pressed to her face. "But you two are alright, yes?"


Dom's eyes widen some, inclining her head in an 'Ah huh' motion as the question is deflected. Yep! She's familiar with that tactic. "Then they won't be missing this any," she easily replies while just as easily washing her food down with another drink from the bottle.

With Jean's next question she looks down at herself then over to Lynette. "Could probably use a few more napkins..?" she hesitantly replies. "We're fine. She's more concerned about having missed class today and I've got a new toy to play with. You're the one to be concerned about. I'm surprised, given what..else..you've seen…"

Speaking of. New toy, new leads. Hanging around these two. "Hey, listen. I appreciate the cooldown but I should get moving again." Lest more of the trouble hunting her down finds its way back here.


The girl quirks a brow, briefly, at Jean's answer. Another shrug later, and she keeps her silence. Then, her plate is empty. Cleaning off her fingers, and her mouth, she folds up the towel, again, always keeping the stained parts on the insides, and not in possible view of Jean. "Hey. S'nice school. Dey lettin' me attend f'free n' I don' wanna screw dat up." She pouts, defensively.

The last few words from Domino, and how they stall out after each one, has the girl looking between the pair once more. It's a knowing look, one of 'this is an inside thing', but she simply thins her lips, and allows them to fill back out naturally. "Yeah…m'fine, chere. Should be goin', too. Gotta get me a cab back t'school. Need a shower, n' maybe dey let me take a make up test or whateva."


Jean shakes her head, no. Charles wouldn't be missing the drink, considering where she knows the secret little stashes that he does keep within the manse, one bottle was but a tiny dent in the whole collection! There was a slight stare given towards Domino, she really didn't know what the woman meant, but more napkins had her lurching forward to dig through the bag until her words finally hit her. "OH!" The mind-fuck thing! Jean was a wee bit embarrased after all that had transpired..

But then again, seeing it in your mind and seeing it picked from a glorious fro are two different things. There was a quiet burp yet again that makes her cringe. She was about to throw up again.

Napkins handed over, she gives a slight smile towards Lynette. "Given the school and who we are, you'll get all the passes in the world. Trust me." Jean Grey, girl who hadn't gotten her high school diploma, frequently misses class and somehow finds a way to make it up! Either at the Frost Institute or with Xavier's.

"When you ladies were with me coming here, we were invisible. No one saw us. So you'll be okay to leave after ten feet.. just.. make sure no one heads this way, will you?"


When it finally dawns upon Jean Domino almost winces, as if all of the details of this mind-fuck secret are about to get dumped out onto the floor. It's a silent sigh of relief she breathes when the matter of school is brought up again. She'll quietly help herself to some of those napkins and get back to work.

Knowing that no one else knows the three are here is some kinda cool. A soft, thoughtful "Huh" is voiced before she gives Jean a single thumbs up. "Not a soul from my world," she promises while reaching for her previously discarded equipment.

This pistol is going to come in handy. Sooner rather than later, in fact.

"Ah hell, is that really the time? Yeah..I've gotta jet." SOMEone here has a secret military cache to rob blind in a manner of hours! Standing, she points to Lynette. "Nice meetin' ya, kiddo." Then, once she's safely made it back to the door, she calls back, "Be seein' ya, Jeanie-bean."


"Y'know where I go t'school?" She questions Jean, only to offer Domino a soft wave of her hand. "Y'stay safe out dere, ok, Spot?" Musing a smirk, she winks toward the departing Domino and then looks back to Jean. "Look, m'sorry if I made y'sick. I jus'…dat was crazy. I dunno what y'did or how or…whateva. M't'ankful." She smiles, moving to stand now that she's a bit more rested, but there's an obvious show of drain on her features.

Picking up after herself, she starts finishing off her glass of water, then another, and once done with her third, sighs and tosses the rest of the ice into the sink. "I, ah, guess I be seein' y'at work, non? Y'need 'nyt'ing b'fore I head out n'back up state?"


"Good!" Not like Jean was worried, she'd just run again. Possibly somewhere a bit farther. Like Minnesota. But as Domino leaves, the little quirk to her lip is given, the new nickname is offered with a shake of her head as settles her gaze upon Lynette. "Yeah." She finally offers up, lifting a hand to tap lightly at her head. "I can hear most of everything when I don't shut it out. Your voice is familiar in my mind."

But she does shake her head at the apology, leaning forward to slowly push herself upright. "Everything makes me sick, even myself. So it's no problem, really. I just have to build a stronger constitution."

She would remain standing, though as the question of needing anything stands, she gives a shake of her head. "No. I'm fine. I'm just going to take a nap."


"M'sorry. I didn' know. M'…sorry if 'nyt'ing in here made y'scared." The girl murmurs, motioning toward her own mind. "I don', ah…don' usu'ly touch people cause a s'mt'ing like dat. S'mtimes I get dese visions, or hear t'ings. S'pain. N'scary." She confesses, offering some common ground for the redhead. "Don'…don' be hard on y'self, dough. S'easier said den done, I know dat, but jus'…try. S'all y'c'n do."

Watching after the redhead, Lynette makes sure that she's ok(ish) enough to not feel guilty for leaving. "Naps sounds good. M'get one a'dos once m'back in m'room. See y't'morrow, Jeanie. T'anks 'gain." A step back, the mambo finally turns and heads out the door, making sure it clicks shut behind her.


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