1963-12-12 - Martini Discourse
Summary: Martini's and… other stuff… and current events.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
magneto scott alex bobby 


It's about nine in the evening. Any possible office hours have ended and the chance of being bothered by students is slim to nil. Bobby's in just a pair of shorts, not unusual for someone who never gets cold, and sprawled on Alex's bed. There's a couple glasses of gin in reach and a faint haze of pot in the air cause when you combine booze and grass, you need less of both.

*

For his part, Alex is sorta sprawled on the end of the bed himself; but he's not shirtless, because frankly he DOES get cold. But his turtleneck is very fitted. Some people might consider that Alex is a high functioning alcoholic, but the truth is, he simply loves him his dirty martini's. He'll drink straight up gin if he needs to, but since he always keeps olives, brine and vermouth on hand, spending a little extra effort to mix up a proper martini makes his soul warm and fuzzy. Plus it helps if you're dating someone who can keep your drink cold without it getting watered down with ice. He sips his drink, gazing over at Bobby with a bit of a silly grin, "So, I've been thinking…" But before he finishes that thought…

*

Scott got back by cab, slunk in the back door, showered off giant blood, left a note for Erik, and then died. Well. Napped, but really, death would have been preferable — especially on waking. There's a certain aggressive state of being awake that comes with a terrible migraine. An awful, weird halo surrounds everything, even with his eyes closed. Run time it is. Then gym.

All this time to think means the whole Gabriel thing is looming and Scott is just hazy enough to be sure that this is the ideal reason to talk to his brother. Practical things. He shows up at Alex's door in a tired-looking sweatshirt, jeans that have seen better days, and his damp hair in disarray. It's all good.

Knocking. And something smells weird…Scott is not unfamiliar with it, once he gets a good enough sample. Maybe not the best time.

*

Alex has been thinking? That's often fun. But before Bobby can find out what he's been thinking, there's a knock on the door. Some might panic and try to hide the grass. He does neither since he doesn't give a damn. Though he does look to Alex since this is his room.

*

Blinking a moment, Alex pushes up off of the bed and pauses a moment, making sure he's relatively steady. He hesitates, eyes the window and considers opening it and trying to air the room out— but, with a grunt, he shakes his head and goes for the door. Tugging it open with martini in hand, he blinks a moment then flashes a grin to his brother, "Hey, Scott." He backs in, opening the door more and making a gesture for him to come in. "Care for a martini?"

*

Scott takes a few steps in — martini is still seeping in past the haze, it's having to wait in line behind the pot smoke matter being processed. Then both matters get booted into secondary compartments when Scott registers Bobby and his state of dress. There's a long moment in which Scott is standing in the doorway with a carefully neutral expression and it might look like judgement from the outside.

Imagine a multiple choice page with careful rows of empty circles. A #2 pencil carefully fills in each appropriate bubble. Then the paper goes into the scantron for marking. The answer emerges and it's rather smudged. It would be more legible if someone hadn't written JESUS CHRIST FUCKING GIANTS across it in red marker. Scott's brain skips back five minutes to try this whole thing again.

"Yeah, sure," Scott says, to whatever the question was. "Do you know someone named Gabriel?"

*

Bobby props himself up on an elbow and gives Scott a nod. "Hey Scott. Help yourself to a toke or two if you want." he offers, nodding toward the ashtray on the desk where half a joint rests next to some matches. The odor, the smoke, why pretend? "Gabriel. Recent arrival. I think Jean found him and brought him home? Something wrong?"

*

Alex closes the door behind Scott, then turns and heads over to his closet: a third glass is fished out, then he heads over to the table and proceeds to start mixing up a martini. After all, Scott did say sure: he was listening, right? "Kind of weird guy Jean found and brought around the Institute without having him vetted first. He's… I don't know. Off. Something is broken in his head." Having Bobby shirtless in his room with alcohol and pot doesn't seem to phase Alex one bit, even if Scott has himself a deer in the headlights expression on seeing it.

*

"No, thanks," Scott says to Bobby, reflexively. He tries the scantron again and this time he gets an answer that makes perfect sense but wasn't something he'd really given much credit to before he walked in the door. Maybe he should have spoken to Alex earlier because Scott has no idea what's going on in his brother's life, obviously. He gives himself a mental shake, then exhales sharply. "But thanks for offering." This time, he does manage a smile and actual eye contact with Bobby.

He looks around for a place to sit. "Yeah, she's upset about him. Dumped a bunch of his memories in my head the other day because she wants me to help him or something."

Finally, his brain registers that Alex is making him a drink. All caught up with the facts, still working on reacting to them. Maybe one drink won't hurt but God knows he doesn't want to be stoned if a giant gate opens up here in Westchester.

"Sorry, am I interrupting? I didn't mean…" Oh, there's his manners. He has those.

*

"Dumped a bunch of memories?" Bobby repeats. "She did ask first, right? But if he's got issues of that nature, she should be talking to the Professor about it. In fact, she shouldn't be doing /anything/ about it at all. She shouldn't be in his head to begin with and even if it was an accident, she's not experienced enough to be trying to fix anything." Interrupting? "No, man. We're just hanging out."

*

Finishing making the martini, complete wih a toothpick with two olives, Alex turns and hands it over to Scott with a quick grin, then settles down on the end of the bed to sip his own. He gestures over to the chair by the desk as a suggestion, his expression… lazy. Relaxed. "Does he even have memories? He seemed— out of it when I saw him." Then he waves away the question on interrupting, "We're just relaxing. World's kinda going to hell, having some down time keeps me sane." He nods his head in agreement with Bobby's words, "I think Jean probably should be training a lot more before she starts trying to fix people… besides, what can you do to help him?"

*

"Thanks. I was there for some of the going to Hell earlier. Broadway's fucked." There is no other word for it. Okay, chair. Scott doesn't bother doing anything but collapsing in it as his legs start to complain about today's events.

"And, yes, she asked. She can't get in my head without my help so maybe that's why she keeps coming around. It's like having a little shadow some days." Scott shrugs, then takes a drink. Good job, Alex. "She's convinced there's something similar between him and me and on the one hand, I'm a little offended. Because I'm not clear on what's going on there but I'm not sure I want to be — or that I'd be okay with it if I was clear."

*

"She can't get in your head? Useful. Does that work against the Prof too?" Bobby inquires. Carefully, he sits up and folds one leg under him, steadying himself with a hand against the wall. "You are allowed to say no, you know. She's just a student here too."

*

Alex blinks slowly, giving Scott an odd expression, "Wait, how could there be anything similar between you and that guy? He's… I don't know, weird. You're not. Well, you're a bit of a stick in the mud, but in an adorable way." He pauses, then blinks, "You can keep telepaths out? That's handy. You'll have to teach me how you manage that." As Bobby rises, Alex can't help but check him out a bit. Because really he has no shirt and that's just cheating. But Alex tries to be subtle about it.

*

"Yeah, him too, so far. My head is pretty broken. Could be the same reason I can't turn the eyes off. I don't mind letting her in, though." Scott shakes his head, then regrets it, deeply, as everything just keeps spinning for a moment after he stops. Of course, the spinning subsides in time for him to catch Alex's look at Bobby. Not subtle, kid.

"There's nothing of interest in my head to anyone but me and she was upset, didn't want to say anything out loud. She's not okay to begin with and something about him worries her at the same time that she wants to look after him." It was a tough morning. He remembers her saying that. "She says he looks like us. I really don't care about that. What I do care about is this thing with him possibly destabilizing her if she takes on too much." He sounds uncharacteristically angry, under a layer of downplaying it all.

Scott eyes the olives left in the glass now that the alcohol is gone. Food. Right. His nemesis. And the thing he forgot in all this. He gauges whether or not they'll stay down but carpe diem. He'll find out.

*

"And that's why she should be going to the Professor instead of you." Bobby states. "But since she's not, you should since she's gotten you involved." Then he frowns and looks at the two brothers. They look alike? One shoulder shrugs lightly; he doesn't see it. "Don't let her get you involved in something she's already over her head in. Go to the Prof."

*

"What? She thinks he looks like us?" The expression that Alex gives Scott is mildly incredulous, "What, does she think he's some long lost Summers cousin? I don't even remember if we have any aunts or uncles or an extended family." That said, he wrinkles his nose, lifting one of his olives and ploppin it into his mouth, mmm. Alex lives for olives. "She isn't exactly the most stable to begin with. But, its possible helping him might give her something to focus on and actually stabalize her. Possible, I'm not saying likely." He squints at Scott a bit, "You okay, man?"

*

"Headache," Scott says mildly. "Well, migraine. I was in town taking stock of the damage so I could see if there was anything we could do to help when something like a dimensional gate opened up on Broadway. Anyway. Lots of angry giants, ice, lightning, swords, a lot of yelling and it wasn't going well, so I had to take the visor off to shut them down. I lasted for about a second, blew some of them back through the gate, collapsed it — or so Liv told me because I was out cold almost as soon as I took the shot. But I'm good now. Just the headache."

"Don't worry. I'm getting around to talking to the Professor," Scott doesn't look too irritated at the insistence. "I've had…things. Like today, for example." Yes, things. He puts the glass down on the desk and gives Alex a nod. "Thanks again."

*

"Giants? On Broadway?" Bobby glances over at Alex a moment then looks back to Scott. "Do you always pass out when you use your power at full blast? How long before you do? Do you know what the cause is or do we need to do some experimentation and try to build up your tolerance to it?" Glancing down at his glass, he knocks back the remainder then leans over to set it down on the floor. "No, don't bother answering. Now's not the best time to start talking about your training." Not when he's drunk and stoned. "Come find me tomorrow." Pause. "During the day."

*

"You really should take a hit off the joint, man." Alex nods his head firmly, peer pressuring his old brother like whoa, "It's great for headaches and pain in general." He pauses, and blinks, "Wait, angry giants?" He sighs deeply, "If it's not one thing its a twenty fucking more, isn't it? Remember the good ol' days when we only had to worry about outta control mutants and bigots?" Bobby's curiosity over Scott's many limits has Havok grinning, and he asides to Scott, "He's like that. He interrogated me deeply about all my various limits too. He's quite good at finding ways to challenge us."

*

Magneto has arrived.

*

"I'm sure he does," Scott says dryly, giving Alex a wry look. "And, yeah, giants." He rubs at his temples and slouches deeper in the chair.

"I need the visor adjusted," he says to Bobby. "I don't know why it knocked me out to take it off, same thing happened when I was a kid and let — by accident or on purpose. Maybe it's a failsafe, so I don't just go full bore? Because I can go full with the visor, I'm guessing there's some feedback that mitigates the failsafe."

The scene is surprisingly mundane, in spite of the fantastical topic. Alex's room has a haze of pot smoke and there's plenty of evidence of alcohol around as well. Bobby, in nothing but shorts, and Alex are both seated on the bed, Scott is sprawled in Alex's chair by the desk. The three of them were deep in conversation.

*

What… on earth.

Erik knows that smell.

The lock undoes itself, and the door swings open, leaving a hazy cloud to float out into the hall. Erik, dressed in his X-Men uniform, is standing in the doorway, his eyes narrowed and mouth frowning.

*

Bobby gives Scott a look at the tone but he's not in the mood - or the shape - to try to figure it out. "Well, we'll try to figure it out in the danger room." It'll just takes about twenty feet of solid ice. Each time. When the door opens, he looks over, blinking a little as he shifts his focus. "Oh, hi Erik. Come in and close the door before the smell gets all over the mansion." Don't want the kiddies to start doing things only adults should do.

*

Alex blinks over at the door as it swings open, and he frowns, "Magneto, man. This is my room. The correct thing to do if you want to enter someone's room is not to magno-fiddle the lock but to knock." But he shrugs, and waves the man in, "Want a martini?" Finishing off his, and swallowing the last of his olives, he shifts up to stand a little unsteadily, and goes over to the table to go about making him another. He lays a hand on Scott's shoulder while there, giving it a squeeze, "The visor might server as a kind of buffer, so even if you go at full blast with it on it still might serve as a regulator."

*

"Erik." Scott looks slightly off but it's not chemical. The contact on his shoulder is a little unsettling but it's Alex so it's tolerable. "Did you get my report?"

He tries to gauge the mood of the room, Alex's attitude, Bobby's tone, Erik's expression. Maybe he should have had another drink — no, that wouldn't help. Stress is managed by discipline, not avoidance.

"That's my theory," he says as an aside to Alex.

*

It is with a rueful expression that Erik comes in, closing the door behind him. His hand lingers in the air for a moment, and the lock twists shut again.

"You should be glad it's me and not Charles," Erik quips in response to Alex's complaint. He considers the offer, and glances toward whatever bottle of booze Alex has come up with. "Only if you make it dry. I don't care much for olives."

His attention turns to Bobby. He's not new to this whole thing; in a manner of speaking, it reminds him of his youth. "The smell is what drew me here." Then, to Scott. "Your report is why."

Erik looks around, trying to find a seat. "Scott, your report was thorough and well written. I'm pleased with your ambition. This matter of… 'passing out'. That is concerning."

*

"I'm going to guess that it slows things down just enough." Bobby muses, looking at Scott. "It acts as a dam to your power. Even with the floodgates fully open, it keeps all the water from rushing downstream all at once. I want one of the docs to hook you up while we test you out. I wouldn't be surprised if your blood pressure drops drastically at full blast without the visor on. Just a guess though; I'm not a medic." Erik gets a nod. "You're welcome to have some." he offers, motioning to the ashtray with half a join in it.

*

"Oh, I can do them all. Wet, dry, perfect, dirty. I just prefer dirty." Leaving his bottle on the table, Alex heads over to his closet, and takes out another martini glass, and an lemon and a peeler. Alex is serious about his martini's. The booze is gin, though. Alex does not do vodka martini's. Pouring just a touch of the vermouth, adding the gin, then he shaves off a twist of lemon peel and drops it in after stirring it all up. Then the secret of Alex's Bar— he reaches it over for Bobby with a quick grin. Who needs to dilute a good drink with ice when Iceman can do that for you? Once Bobby chills it, he'll hand it over to Magneto.

"You think the Professor doesn't know?" Alex laughs softly and shakes his head, "I long since gave up on even pretending I could keep any secrets from him, even though I know he doesn't pry on purpose. For his part, he gestures for Erik to claim the end of the bed, and he plops himself up on the desk. "He knows I have my vices, but I'm up every morning bright and early and working and I'm never late, so he leaves me to them." He does give Bobby a thoughtful look at his analysis."

*

"Ambition?" Scott looks confused. "I just saw the news and it felt indecent to sit here on my ass so I was going down to bring you back a report of how we could help, even if no one knew about it. I was on the bus when the portal started forming right in the middle of Broadway. So I got out." Because…that's what you do. Right?

Scott waves off the concern. He's more annoyed. "I'm pretty sure it's some kind of failsafe. It just gave me a hell of a migraine. I was only out a couple seconds and right back up when Liv slapped the visor back on and grabbed me to shoot whatever thing was trying to eat Spider-Man. No loss of power. That seemed personal, not related to the giants, by the way."

*

The whole affair is considered; Alex's mixing skills, Bobby's talent with ice, even the smoldering joint in its ashtray. "Thank you," he tells the two, and tests the martini with a slow sip, and soon, an approving nod.

"The energy that comes from your eyes," he tells Scott. "I don't see how it could originate there. It would blow out, or burn out, your retinae. No, I imagine it comes from somewhere in your mind. I'm not a doctor either, but I've been studying mutations, almost as long as Charles." He nods his head toward Scott. "You'll only grow accustomed to it the more familiar you are with it."

Decidedly, Erik sets the martini down and reaches for the joint and a lighter nearby. He studies it for a moment. "Jean and I saw some of what… was caused by the ice creatures. Uncanny. I don't think anything could create anything like it, save you." A tip of his head to Bobby, before he perches the joint between his lips.

"Don't tell the Professor."

*

"It's good it worked out." Bobby agrees then adds "This time. Next time you might be out longer than a few seconds. Assuming you don't get killed by whatever's attacking you. Or someone else could get killed because you were unconscious. You can't depend on always having the visor available. It can ge destroyed or stolen. It's important, Scott and we're not going to just ignore it." Seeing Erik lighting up, he grins. "You really think anything happens in this place the Prof doesn't know about? He's just good at pretending he doesn't know when it's not something important."

*

"Scott's power seems… similar, but different from mine. But I wouldn't assume that it would burn out his retinae— after all…" Alex lifts a hand, and a blue haze forms around his hand, swirling motes of plasma emerging from his body, swirling around, focusing in a tiny star in his hand. He takes a long, deep breath, and focuses: and the plasma soaks back into where it came. How long ago was it that he couldn't do that? That once he started a plasmatic discharge, he had to? He has grown in control quite a lot.

Even while high. "Our bodies might be… immune to our own abilities, somehow. But…" he glances at Scott thoughtfully, "I know where my power comes from: I am continually absorbing cosmic energy. From light, to background radiation. I don't pass out if I lose control or go all out— but I can run out. I can… 'feel' how 'full' my reserves are at any given time. Do you feel… limits?"

Then he glances over at Bobby, and, in a slightly defensive tone, "The thing is, he has to depend on the visor. He can't control it. Yeah, its a weakness, but its also a reality." His expression softening, he nods, "The Professor knows everything and is just polite enough to pretend he doesn't as long as its not a problem."

"Ice creatures?"

*

"Yeah, ice or frost giants, Liv said. From Jotunheim. Some kind of alternate dimension, I think. So that makes it a weird month…" Scott trails off. Time travellers and giants. This is fine. "Elementalists. They were putting up an ice portal, from the look of it, and it was getting pretty big and pretty solid, which is why I took the chance. I couldn't let them get a foothold and the shot just lined up so I took it. Liv was holding her own pretty well and there was a flying woman with black hair and elf ears who was making some headway as well. It was a calculated risk. I wasn't alone or anything. I'm kind of sorry you guys missed it."

"No, I don't feel limits, to answer your question. It feels infinite." Scott actually cracks a bit of a smile. "The noise it made was just incredible. Like the air was a giant bell that I hit with a hammer. I can see through it so it's not coming out of the eye structure itself. It's something else."

*

A knowing grin is sent Bobby's way, an unspoken dialogue. He's well aware that Charles turns a blind eye to many things. After one plentiful drag, Erik removes the joint and studies it for a moment, before exhaling smoothly. It's been… a long time. The cough that comes afterward is to be expected, but it isn't more than one or two quiet horks.

Erik takes to listening carefully, looking between Alex and Scott. "When you did it," he asks Scott, "did you feel any kind of backlash? A push back against your head, your neck?" A pause, to allow him an answer. "This, I believe, is what we were made for. The X-Men. To stand in and help, to use our powers for the greater good." He offers the joint to whomever would like it next. "Pity we don't have a strong method of communication. I'd recommend radios, but they're a bit clunky. And frankly… they don't work so well around me."

*

"Hey, I'm not saying he can control it without the visor. But we can't have him passing out without it." Bobby tells Alex. "We need to find out why it's happening and see if it can be prevented so he can still be effective without the visor." When it's offered, he takes the roach from Erik and takes a toke before passing it on to Alex.

*

Alex takes up the joint himself, and lifts it up for a long, slow drag: Alex takes his pot serious and slow. He holds it in and hands it over to Scott with a grin, all while refusing to breathe. You don't waste this shit by exhaling before maximum penetration. Trust Alex: he knows about maximum penetration.

Finally, slowly, he exhales through his nose. Controlled, easy, and with a slow sigh. "Oh, I agree with that, Magneto, man. We're here to help our people, to help eachother, to grow, to be stronger, safer, more secure. To do what we can for the world. When the Professor is around, he can rely through us telepathically, but he can't always be around. But communication is always a problem in any team scenario."

He glances to Bobby then, and nods, but shrugs at the same time, sipping his martini, "But what if that's simply how it is? For me, anger is the trigger. The more angry I am the more I can't control it and everyone's day sucks. For Scott… it just is. And if he's without his visor, what's he going to do? Go around with his eyes closed blindly?"

*

"Actually, yes," Scott laughs outright at Alex, then winces. Okay, laughing is out. "I spend a lot of time blind because I can't take the chance that I'll lose the glasses or the visor. I got both my black belts blind when I was at Stanford. I read Braille, I can use a white cane. I don't even need to see to aim sometimes. It's just a sense thing. I don't need to see."

For a moment, he looks at Alex, frowning slightly. "You all are always saying how uptight I am. Did you think I'd take my chances with that?"

*

Erik considers all of this for a long moment. The marijuana is certainly affecting him, but he did not hold it in for as long as he knows he should have. His goal here is not to get, as they say, 'baked'. Things have been tense lately, though; the offer is certainly appreciated.

"Charles once told me," he tells Alex, "that true power lies somewhere between rage and serenity." He considers that for a moment. "I do admit, without tapping into… my anger? I don't reach my full potential. But I cannot let it get the best of me, or I lose control, and bad things happen." Like Dallas. "I'm sure it isn't the same for everyone."

He looks then toward Scott. "Your skill with angles is most impressive. But I agree with Bobby. We can't afford to have you losing consciousness like that." He reaches for the martini. "I know that I can't push myself too hard, or I become tired."

*

"We won't know till we try to find out." Bobby points out, after he's exhaled a billowing cloud of smoke up toward the ceiling. "I'll get back to you on that after the testing." Closing his eyes, he takes a moment to feel the effects of the pot. "We'll figure it out, Scott. It's what we do here."

*

"I… just can't even imagine what its like." admits Alex with a more sober, serious shake of his head for his brother, "Not being able to see. Not being able to rely on my sight. I can't even contemplate it. If I got rendered blind— even temporarily— I'd be completely useless." He purses his lips, thoughtfully.

But, Alex does nod to Erik slowly, "I don't know if I'm more powerful when tapping into my anger— for me,…" He hesitates a long moment, then says softly, "The first time my power manifested was when I was a teenager. I managed to suppress it for years after that, because trauma, but that first time. I was kidnapped. Me and my sister." A glance at Scott, "My adoptive sister. He was… cruel. I incinerated him. And most of the house we were in: frankly both of us were lucky we survived."

"Its possible this 'between rage and serenity' is the right balance, but I'm still… wary, of embracing rage. Intense self-control and unwavering discipline is how I can use my power safely." Then again, that's also why he needs to… relax, as he's doing now.

Idly, Alex reaches over and pats Bobby on the knee, as he nods in agreement: we'll figure it out. Only he shouldn't be patting Bobby's knee. Only he's drunk and high.

*

Scott doesn't miss that pat either but it only gets a hint of a smile out of him. "I'm sure there are other emotions that would make you just as strong as being angry, Alex. It doesn't work like that for me. It's always there, so long as I'm conscious and my eyes are open. Being angry is…inconvenient. Most feelings just keep me from weighing all the angles."

"I want to go back into town if I can tomorrow," he says to Erik. "I'm going to try and contact Liv later, see if I can't meet up with her again. I feel like we should be there. No matter how we communicate with each other. I should sleep for now, see if I can't shake this headache. The migraine auras mess with my aim."

*

"Mutations typically render themselves during times of great stress or torment," Magneto answers matter of factly. There is empathy in his expression, but he doesn't speak of his first time. Instead, he drinks from the martini, appreciating how it's still cold. Nice one, Bobby.

To Scott, he gives a curious look at this mention of 'Liv' again, but he doesn't pry. "I think we all should go," he agrees. "Jean and I were able to break some of the ice at the docks, though it took great effort. I think," he looks to Bobby, "your talents, especially, might be critical in our response."

He nods his head to Scott. "Get some rest. If you do end up going visorless? Make sure someone is there to catch you."

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