1963-11-21 - Cold Beer on a Cold Night
Summary: Madrox finds a bar that has cheap beer and is nominally mutant-friendly. Also a bartender that's cute as a button.
Related: None
Theme Song: Shake It Off - Taylor Swift
lynette madrox 


It was snowing now outside. The night was dark and cold, but the snow always seems to have an uncanny ability to makes things calm, quiet, and peaceful. Not many places were still open in the burrow at this time, but one of them happens to be a bar called The Cigar Factory. A number of its usual patrons were at their tables, or playing pool, but the populace here was far and few in between. It was getting late, after all, so only the last and faithful remained.

Behind the counter is a petite girl with dark skin and black eyes. The sleeves of her baggy, second-hand blouse are rolled up, and her massive hair is being held back by a red, woven cap. Some curls do not obey its hold, however, an tendril out from under its brim. She's elbow deep in a sink of bubbly water, seeming hard at work battling some dishes.

*

Madrox steps in through the doors, shaking some of the snow from his shoes. "Brr!" he practically shouts when he enters, no doubt attracting some attention from those who remain, and immediately makes his way up to the bar. Finding a seat at a stool, he eases himself up, still a little tender from his tussle earlier in the day, which had resulted in a quick trip to the clinic for some stitches. Still sore, but definitely improved. "Hey darlin'," he says to Lynette with an obnoxiously charming smile on his face, making no effort to hide his midwestern accent. "I'll, uh, take a beer? Whatever's on special, or cheap." He's not picky. Or rich. The tips will probably follow suit, unfortunately.

*

Lynette smirks up toward the door after hearing the man's vocal entry. She continues her work, only after making sure that the front door was, indeed, shut, and the warmth of the bar wasn't compromised. One he's at the bar, she offers him a bright, welcoming smile and slips her hands away from the water. "Sure t'ing." The girl nods while toweling off her arms and going to reach for his beer. Popping its top off, she sets it before the man and glances over his face gently. "Y'doin' alright? Got a patch on y'face." The Creole explains her reason for concern. "Don' worry 'bout de cold, neitha. Y'warm up here quick like." Comes her promise as she returns to her work in the mean time. "Y'don' wan' s'mt'ing hot t'drink? Cider or coffee? C'n have de boys in de back heat y's'm up if you'd like."

*

"Thanks," Madrox says cheerfully when Lynette pops the cap off the beer and hands it over. He lifts it toward her in a kind of 'cheers' motion, and takes a quick swig. Nothing beats cheap beer. "Ahh," the satisfaction in his voice is palpable. "Nah, good with the beer," he says, rebuffing the offer for something hot in that friendly, jovial tone of voice. "Oh, the shiner," he says when she mentions the bruise on his face. "Got that this afternoon from a few guys who thought it'd be okay to harass a mutant girl," he explains. "Not on my watch," he says with conviction, and takes another swig from the bottle. "Nothin' to worry about though, it's healing up nicely. Can barely feel it, actually. Might be numb from the cold out there," Madrox continues. "Once the blood starts flowing to my extremities again, I'm sure I'll start to feel it. But hey, that's what beer's for, right?"

*

When the words come up 'harass a mutant girl', Lynettes eyes turn to his direction, now very curious. As he continues, she smiles and nods, clearly approving of his actions. "Dat's good. 's de girl ok?" She then frowns, a genuine concern voiced in her question. Her head cants as she studies his bruise, trying to make sure that's all it was after all. "Well, y'did good. Dat one's on me." She motions toward the beer and her smile returns. "Dat bein' said, y'wan' s'mt'ing else a bit more…well, quality?"

*

"I think she's okay," Jamie says, his tone a bit questioning. In truth, he doesn't actually know. "She ran off when I interrupted. Figured it'd be better if I kept the goons distracted, you know? Didn't think she'd want some stranger following afterward, so I let her go," he explains, picking up the beer again. "Nah, I like the cheap stuff. If I start drinking the good stuff, I'll never be able to drink again," he says, smirking. "But thanks, appreciate the offer. Not too many people, even in this part of town, willing to reward someone standing up for mutants."

*

Lynette chuckles and nods. "I get y'. N's'alright. All de cheap stuff y'wan's'on me, ok, hero?" Another smile and a wink, she dips into the sink and continues her washing. There's a stack of already clean glasses beside her, drip drying. "Nah, dey ain't. But…dis place a lil diff'rent. Undastandin', too. De world's pretty scary right now, but, we look out f'each otha when we can, non? I'd like t't'ink dey be s'mbody lookin' out f'me, too. N'if y'needed it, I'd watch y'back." Pulling a glass out, she sets it aside and wipes her arms down. "M'Lynette, by de way. What's y'name, beau?"

*

"Jamie," Madrox replies, holding out his hand to shake hers, if she'll let him. "Must be my lucky day. You know, beatings aside. Found myself both a bar and a clinic," he says with a grin. "If there were more regular human folk like you, we wouldn't have all these troubles in the world, I think. Folk just being decent folk. It's a good dream," he says, lifting the beer to his lips again. "Unfortunately, especially lately, seems there are more like the thugs I met earlier, than kind folk like you. Doesn't seem to be getting much better, despite all the public efforts. This peace rally I saw an ad for? Nice idea. Gives me the warm fuzzies. But I'm not convinced it'll do much good. Once people have hate in their hearts.. hard to get it out." In other words, haters gonna hate hate hate hate.

*

"Nice t'meet y', Jamie." Hand out, she offers hers in return. Her grip is gentle, at first, but after their flesh touches, that grip tightens for a brief moment. Eyes forward, her brows slope before she pulls back and takes a deep, shuddering breath. "Uh, yeah. Yeah. Dat'd be nice n'all, n'maybe we get dere s'mday, non? Y'do what y'c'n." The comment on the flyer causes a soft giggle to fall from her lips. "Well, m'glad m'attempts give y'de 'warm'n fuzzies'. Y'right, dough. Might not change a damn t'ing, but…dey's lots a fightin' out dere already. If we c'n get dem babies s'm money n'not have heads cracked? Worth it. Least t'me."

*

In that moment of contact, Lynette sees a flash from Jamie's past. The moment his kinetic dampening suit broke down, and the total loss of control. Duplicates emerging from his body without his being able to stop them, or control them. The panic, as he realizes he can't stop, and even more as he realizes the toll it's taking on his mind. The voices, the confusion, the total separation of self from body. And then nothing. Jamie is unconscious, but awake. Catatonic.

In the present, Jamie releases the handshake after a moment, and cants his head to the side. "You're the one organizing?" He asks, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed by what he said. "I mean, yeah. It's a good cause, for sure. Help the kids, and all. Definitely worth trying something," he says. "In the long run, it's the kids we've gotta teach. For the most part, the ones who are already grown are set in their ways. Old prejudices run deep."

*

Lynette chuckles and nods. "Yeah, dat's me. S'alright. I ain't disagreein' wit y', what y'sayin's right, y'know? Old dog n'new tricks. But, de babies need help, n'dey d'serve a good Christmas." She murmurs, finishing up a load of dishes and starting to drain the sink, then refilling it with fresh, hot water, and new suds. She looks up, gazinging into the man's eyes, studying his features, before offering him a gentle frown. "Hey, ah…Don'-don' freak out on me, ok? But I, ah…know y'diff'rent. N'dat's ok. I am, too." She confesses softly, but there's that look of worry on her young expression regardless; a deep seated fear that's hard to shake.

*

"Not making a secret out of it, darlin'," Jamie replies with a bit of a grin. He did come in here bragging about beating up some anti-mutant goons earlier, after all. "I don't generally go around showing off or anything, but I don't try to hide what I am." He drinks another sip from the bottle, looking into Lynette's eyes as she does the same to his. "Always happy to meet another one of our own," he replies, voice a little softer now, in case her status as a mutant isn't one she wants others to hear. "Should have guessed though, that it wouldn't be a regular human trying to stem the hate," he says with a bit of a shrug, the smile never leaving his lips. "You want a few dozen more people at your peace rally, you say the word and I'll be there," he offers. Mutants gotta have each other's backs.

*

"Well, I…s'mtimes, when I touch people, I see t'ings. C'n' c'ntrol it, but…I wanted t'let y'know I undastand." She reaches up and gently gives her temple a wet finghered tap. "De voices. De…lack a c'ntrol. Dat fear?" Frowning, she reaches out and gives his wrist a soft caress and squeeze, this time without any sudden 'hitch' of power loss. "Ah, dat ain't it, sugah. Lots a people out dere give a damn, if y'let'm. Me bein', well, me? Don' matter. If it ain' one t'ing t'fight for, it's s'notha." She was young, dark in skin, and female in body; oh the wars yet to fight. "I wouldn't mind seein' y'gain, if y'fine wit dat. N'y welcome t'join, too. All's welcome."

*

Jamie gives a nod. A slow one. How could she know about the voices? He hasn't had a problem like that in.. years? Time is kind of a fuzzy subject in his brain. But yes, it had been years. Not since he was a kid. Learned to shut out the other inner monologues a long time ago. He doesn't give any more comment on it, though, just shakes off the unsettling memory, and smiles again. "I'll be there," he promises. "Me and thirty of me," he says with a smirk, lifting the bottle to his lips. "I'll take another one of these, too, if you'd be so kind?"

*

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