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FIVE YEARS AGO:
SMALL DINER OUTSIDE OF OXFORD:
O'Charley's was a hip spot back in the day. Cuisine stolen straight from the americas, possibly due to an immigrant and what was seen on television or heard upon radios or books. The booze flowed freely of course, and Raven was there, a lot younger than she was or appeared to be for the sake of.. well, being her. Two years before she managed to settle down near Oxford to be around Charles she was missing. But that time went unnoticed and quick, something she refused to speak about and yet, all she could do was say that she was globtrotting.
The bar/diner itself was winding down for thenight, the usual customers there, mostly college students there turning tales or a trade of their studies and the theories of the dissertations they were meaning to write. Other college students attended so that they could take home a guy or a girl, or just needing a place to get away and relax after a long hard day of studying.
But they were all slightly insufferable. To the one who tried to grab her wrist and the other who accidentally spilled beer on her shoe. Raven was tired, and she worked like a dog that night.. one of which would soon come to a close..
*
It's not the first pub that young Tony Stark was kicked out of that night, nor will it be the last. Even though the clientele seems to be winding down, the brash American bursts into the pub and announces, "Drinks on me!" No doubt that will get some going. He certainly looks like he's had more than a few himself as he makes his way to the bar, nearly tripping over it as his eyes follow the pretty, blonde waitress there. That is -certainly- an improvement from the last couple of bars!
*
It's not an establishment that Charles is particularly fond of patronizing, because in his words "After going to all the trouble to study in England why would I want to go to a fake American pub?" though he also considers the name a bit too on-the-nose.
But one thing that will bring him in just the same is to see his little sister. Even though there's been an unspoken understanding for some years now that Raven wasn't really as old as he'd once believed her to be, he still thinks of her that way most of the time.
Charles hasn't been around much this week, mired in course work in an effort to have a clear weekend for a certain flashy friend who was due to arrive.
Due to arrive tomorrow actually, he'd thought…
"Aren't you rather early?" Charles replies to Tony's outburst with a mild smile, sitting off in the corner where he was waiting for Raven to finish up her shift. "Actually, I stand corrected.. you're already dead and well preserved, if I'm any judge."
*
Raven winces! The call to drinks on him has her tray flipping within her hand, tucked beneath her arm as she draws out a sigh. There was an obvious trudge to her steps, mayhaps she was the pretty blonde that Tony thought of, but the scowl upon her face lets most of the clientele know that she was -not- happy. "Why'd you have to go and say that.." She mutters quietly, moving behind the bar as she begins to prepare the shouted drink orders, her hands quick and nimble, yet she was obviously distressed. She hadn't worked this hard in -years-! She needed a drink herself.
With that said, a quick shot of whiskey was poured on her own, quickly drank, and immediately she takes to sliding beers and shots here and there, even spilling a bit down her arm. "Dammit.. Charles.. why'd your friend say that!"
*
"Am I?" Tony tries to look at his wristwatch, "Uhm. I think I'm late. Really late. Or really early." He looks about the pub, "What the hell time is it here?" He makes his way over to the table that Charles has chosen, reaching out to give his friend a punch on the arm. "How are you, Sherlock? I'm impressed that you even came out from under your books and you are not -yet- as preserved as you should be." He turns to call to the pretty blonde at the bar, "Two rounds of shots over here!" Because apparently Charles isn't going to be leaving sober.
The question from said pretty blonde has him grinning and answering back, "Because I can!" She gets an appraising glance before he turns back to Charles, "You know her? Think I can get her number?"
*
There's a startled frown from Charles and a reprovingly whispered, "Raven!" as she downs the shot of whiskey. Considering the throng of elated uni boys suddenly crowding her, the word is echoed faintly in her mind lest it be lost entirely.
For his part though, Charles folds up the notebook and pockets the small volume of Shakespeare he'd been jotting notes on into one pocket of the cardigan he has on over his button-down, only just managing not to knock an elbow into his own drink when Tony punches his arm. It doesn't stop Charles from clapping Tony on the shoulder with a grin himself— hopefully Tony isn't so deep in his cups that he can't keep his balance.
"It's just after midnight, and I am very well," Charles replies, bemused. "I rather have to be if I plan to be in a state to keep up with you of a weekend. And if that's what you're intending for the evening, could you please save it for somewhere where my sister isn't likely to strangle us both for it? She's supposed to be off, you know."
And if Tony didn't realize it before, yes, that pretty blonde there is apparently none other than little Raven.
*
Two rounds of shots?
Raven takes in a deep breath, preparing the shot glasses by cleaning them and drying them quickly, lining them up and pouring the liquor in with much fanfaire. The way in which she does it causes a little bit of cheer, the men hooting and whistling, her eyes slightly rolling as she takes another drink.. 'Raven!'
The light scolding has her body growing stiff, her hands shaking immediately as she lets out a huff through gritted teeth. "That's enough boys, break it up!" A few 'awws' here and there actually does make her laugh, a smile put on just for the tips as she carries the shot tray towards the table..
"Strangle who for what?" She asks, her brows lifting as she begins to set the shots upon the table. Two for Charles, and two for Tony. And with a chair pulled out so that she could rest her feet, she settles down with a slight slump of her shoulders, possibly waiting for the chance to steal her brothers drink, lest he decide not to partake. "Hi." She says to Tony, though.. one brow lifting. "Oh Anthony! Hello!"
*
Tony isn't falling over yet. He's just in a really, really good mood and a bit louder than usual…which is probably pretty loud. He certainly stands out among the cool Brits. "Oh, so then I -am- early!" since it's 'only' midnight. He grins widely at his friend, "Come on, you didn't think I'd sit around and read," his eyes flick to the book, "Henry V with you, did you?" Not to be outdone, he climbs onto a chair and begins to recite:
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
He probably read it once…ten years ago.
And then the pretty blonde comes over with the drinks and he hops down from the chair, "No…Raven's just a -kid-! This," he tilts his head, "Stunning creature can't be Raven." A shot glass is taken and he nods for Charles to do the same. It's lifted and held up towards Raven, "Thank Heaven for Little Girls…" before he downs the shot easily.
*
"Thank you Raven." Charles says, taking one of the shots with a somewhat apologetic smile and downing it. "Really though, you've had a long day. Late or early or whatever he is, we should go somewhere el-Tony!" Charles exclaims when his friend launches into a monologue atop an unsteady pup stool. Charles laughs, shaking his head half at Tony's outrageousness and half at his flawless memory. "Alright, enough, down you get—" though an eyebrow is raised as another aspect of Tony he's well familiar with is trotted out. "Are you flirting with my sister?" he says, more with the tone of one who finds the situation surreal than anything. Though it does remind him, "..We really should go somewhere else, I think."
*
What was more shocking or a blessing was that Tony didn't recognize her. Or maybe it was the way he stood upon the stool with an ability unknown to men around! Her eyes grow wide, her hands were even held out to catch, but he fluidly lands and Raven's heart doesn't jump -right- out of her chest. Once Tony settles down, she takes a breath, her hand placed upon her chest to still her beating heart, her eyes soon lifted towards Tony as he .. toasts .. to her.. and.. Nope!
The shots that were left behind by the men were immediately taken up, one downed, swallowed with a blush to her cheeks, her eyes watering as she smacks her lips and goes for the other, which was immediately sucked back like an old pro on the field. She lets out a soft little squeak, her feet quickly padding against the ground as if she were running, her hands squeezing into fists and relaxing. "No.. he's not flirting with me.." Please don't hurt him! "..he's.. poetic.." Oh, god. This is awkward. So awkward. "I'll.. get you two a refill."
*
"Yes," Tony admits, unabashedly unashamed. "She's Smoking!" Why -wouldn't- he flirt with her? Of course, then she takes his drinks, "Hey! Chuckie, your sister just stole our drinks," and had a rough time downing one of them. He's not entirely sure what to do now, but then Xavier mentions going somewhere else. "Oh. Uh, sure, wherever, man. I'm at your disposal. Unless you guys want to come back to the hotel…there's a mini-bar to destroy."
He's obviously had quite a bit to drink but isn't falling over or even really slurring his words too much. Is his judgment impaired? It's hard to say. This is Tony Stark, after all: One of America's wealthiest, most intelligent, and wildest bachelors.
"Your sister's coming with us, right? I mean, come on…what woman wouldn't want the two of us as arm candy," he gestures between himself and Xavier before peering at his friend, "Hairline receeding a little there, huh, Sherlock?" American-style ribbing at its best.
*
Charles almost grabs for Raven's wrist in reflex when she starts slamming those remaining drinks, taken aback. I thought we'd agreed no drinking save at home? he sends, the concern edging his thoughts visible on his features. But— her shift is over, after all, or at least it normally is. He pushes aside his concern and adds, And honestly Raven, what do you take me for? He's my friend, I'm hardly going to fry his brain over some silly little—
Did Tony just ask Raven back to his room in the same breath as suggesting Charles and she looked good together? …And also took a jab at his hair apparently? "ALL right, and that's COMPLETELY enough of that." Charles says, clapping his hands together smartly. "Raven? I'll see you tomorrow, take care on your way home, yes? Tony, with me, if you please." and with that he starts steering the inebriated Stark towards the door. "We'll square up the tab tomorrow."
*
"Hmm? Oh…sure…" Tab. Tony reaches into his pocket, pulls out a wallet, and tosses some British money down on the table, not even bothering to count it. "Figure that out would you, Gorgeous?" is offered to Raven. "I can't tell a Pound from a Quid…" even though he probably could and knows exactly how much everything cost. "Keep the change, ok?" But then he's being led towards the door by Xavier. "If there's anything leftover, sure. I'll get it tomorrow. Where are we going now? I haven't had a Guinness yet this trip…" even though he's only been in the country for a couple of hours.
*
Raven was just at a loss for words! She's been through war! Had a kid! And.. and now this! While she was used to men hitting on her, she wasn't used to men hitting on her in front of her -brother-! This.. this.. "Huh?!"
The grab of her wrists has her fingers clenching into a fist, so tempted to snatch away from him, her eyes nearly crossing as he admonishes her for her drinking. They -did- have an agreement, usually when she had gotten drunk, the clothes came off and she was true blue. Now, was not so different..
But she watches them off, her gaze slightly owlish, her lips parting in a little bit of shock. The money was soon pocketed.. and Raven.. she just.. sits there.
What in the world just happened! Was she just late-night-romp-blocked?! "Hey! I wanna go too!"
But chances are, they were probably already gone..
*
If Charles has anything to say about it, certainly. He's not the least bit bothered how much Tony over or under paid, and marches them both outside and promptly around the corner. He does take a moment to orient himself, and start off again towards a different pub he rather likes that boasts local libations and a particular lack of sisters on the wait staff.
"I'm flattered you sought me before the Guinness." Charles remarks. "Or was that just happenstance?" he had mentioned the place as a possible meet up, but seeing as it's also a bar and he has a tougher time reading drunks, he's just about as willing to believe Tony just stumbled in on his own. "When -did- you arrive, by the way?"
*
Tony also doesn't seem to care if he overpaid. He steps outside with Xavier and also peers around before turning back to his friend, "It was the pub closest to Oxford? I figured if you weren't there, someone would know where you were." Because apparently everyone in London knows Charles Xavier, right? "Actually, I had Scotch, because when in…uhm…" he's not going to finish that one. "But I totally saved the Guinness for you." Right. He meant to do that.
When did he arrive? Tony looks at his watch again and can suddenly tell time in different time zones. "About three hours ago. It was hellish going through Customs and I totally needed a drink, so we kind of stopped off at a few pubs on the way to here." 'We'…him and the driver he hired for the trip from Heathrow.
*
This close to Oxford, it's easy to tell one isn't in America anymore. Even the small shops have an air of age to them, of history. Charles, now that he's decided where he's going navigates confidently, be it main roads or meandering shortcut alleyways. Despite looking like nothing so much as a well off and possibly tipsy uni student, he doesn't seem at all worried about which routes he takes. "What was the matter at customs?" Charles wonders, though he adds with a chuckle, "Is that to mean that you expect everyone around Oxford to know me, or only everyone in it's pubs?"
*
Tony doesn't seem worried about letting Charles guide him. Maybe he knows London, maybe not…it doesn't really matter. Tony Stark seems to be able to find a place no matter where he goes. He has led an incredibly charmed life. "Customs? Uh, the fact that I had to go -through- it?" Of course! He gets preferential treatment! The chuckle has him grinning and the question just widens that grin, "Yes to both? You can't fool me. Under that tweed blazer is a party animal!"
*
Charles laughs, high spirits soon returning now that the disaster of Tony being reintroduced to Raven is for the moment averted. "Now, you know, I've never seen why the two are so often viewed as mutually exclusive. Perhaps we simply need to get you something of that stripe as well, and then where Tony Stark goes, fashion will soon follow, yes?" Charles says, casting about as if in the hope of coming across a clothing shop conveniently open at midnight in a university back alley.
As he looks he adds, "And though the UK may be incredibly compact compared to the United States, I feel I should mention London's over an hour's drive away, just in case you'd any notion of tipping one back at the base of Big Ben tonight or something."
*
"Tweed…ugh. My professors wore tweed." He doesn't seem amenable to the idea at all. "Pass. Thanks, though. I mean, come on, can you see me trying to come off like a Conservative Brit?" Tony grins at his friend as they walk along, "Fashion might follow or fight. I'm in the papers enough that I'd rather not be in them for what I'm wearing." Or not wearing.
As Charles mentions Big Ben, Tony brightens as if he hadn't even thought of the idea, but he is now! "Actually, think we can go to Buckingham Palace and have breakfast with the Queen? She's kind of cute."
*
"Well, the joke is on you then, my friend; if all goes well I'll have a PhD or two myself by the time I'm through here; you're associating as we speak with a professor to be!" Charles says merrily. "And we needn't go so far as tweed; I was thinking perhaps a nice jumper. I'd wager we could even find one in bright red. You could wear it to meet the queen in."
*
"Jumper…" Tony looks at Charles. "What, like a Union Suit? You think she's into that?" Because British English and American English certainly have some different definitions. "I think that if you're the one who wants to teach, the joke is on -you-. I wouldn't have the patience." Tony just -does-. He doesn't explain how it works because he's assured that most wouldn't understand, and he'd probably be right. "And kids. Ugh."
*
"Sorry, sweater, rather!" Charles chuckles, though the mindful might notice that he doesn't actually look the least bit contrite and probably used the British term on purpose.
"Oh, I don't know. I'm doing rather well with my undergraduates, if I do say so myself. And for all you know I'm teaching you now, look, we've already covered a lesson on timezones, geography and the local vernacular." Their destination is drawing close, this pub decidedly old fashioned with a heavy wood door and wrought iron fixtures.
*
"Sometimes it's just a matter of understanding how a particular student learns."
*
Tony gives a dismissive wave, "If she's into sweaters, sure…" because what's another item of clothing? As talk turns to students, he makes something of a face, "I know about timezones and I know I'm not in London." There's a snort of laughter, "I can't help it if you have weird words for perfectly normal things like sweaters, cookies, and elevators." Oh, those crazy Brits!
"Better you than me, Sherlock. I'd much rather 'do' than teach how to do it. It's so much faster that way," and much more fun for him at least. "Besides, I like being out of school. Although…I do like the co-eds. Maybe you're onto something there…"
*
"You forgot boot." Charles replies without so much as a pause, crossing the street with his hands in his pockets. Because yes, he enjoys wordplay and being back in England with an American friend why not?
"But why Sherlock? You know barring a few stories in the country, the tweed and deerstalker came from one illustration and the films, yes? From what I recall he dressed far better than I generally do— sober suits, tie and everything."
*
"I also left out 'chips', 'flat', and 'fanny'," Tony does his best British impression which probably isn't half bad. Even more than half-drunk, Tony's happy to carry on a semi-intelligent conversation with his friend. At the question of the nickname, he shrugs.
"'Chuck' sounds like some meathead football player and 'Charlie' is an inept kid in a comic strip. 'Sherlock' was an intelligent, albeit flawed genius. I can think of another name for you if you'd rather. 'Shakespeare'? 'King Arthur'? 'Robin Hood'? He'll go through a list of famous and infamous Brits but while any preference may be noted, it's still going to be a name that Tony chooses on a whim. He's not really the most reciprocal of friends.
*
Charles snorts as the conversation tips briefly towards the vulgar, but honestly that does tend to go with the territory with Tony as a friend. He can only shake his head with a helpless laugh as Tony explains his reasoning, and is soon waving his hand as the options get worse and worse. "Alright, alright! Forget I said anything, I should have known to quit while I was ahead I suppose!"
The heavy door is swung open and warm light and lively talk spill out from inside. He can only hope Tony will let the matter rest, because otherwise Charles has a weekend of awful nicknames to look forward to. Though as much as he's generally allergic to the concept of nicknames as a whole, all in all, he finds himself looking forward.
*
When you are done, don't forget to tag your log with the names of the participants as they appear on the game![[/size]]