1964-06-10 - Social Working
Summary: In which two strangers meet and discuss what they do, did, or may do, for those in need.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
daire johnny-storm 

It's evening, but not all that late. The Eight Ball is not a dive, but it isn't exactly the hippest place in town. As such, it might be a little surprising for people to see Johnny Storm here. For one thing he's not a mutant and this place has standards: but being one of the Fantastic Four and being able to turn into living flame makes it so people don't really quibble about that fact. To a lot of people the Four are not any different then mutants: everyone knows about them, though. For another, he's just famous and not only for the freak space accident that gave him his power and made him a superhero. He can get into the best places in town: if not on his fame then on his notoriety. But there he is, in a very fitted black t-shirt and pair of jeans, leaning against the bar, laughing. Chatting up the bartender, a glass of the most potent rum you can get that should rightfully only be served as shots, he sips.

Daire comes in every so often. He doesn't need to be anyone to get inside, and so it's without any fanfare that he makes his way into the bar, through the thick haze of smoke. His eyes seem to glow in that haze, reflecting off the particles in the air. He has his hoodie on, but it isn't pulled up, not bothering with concealment here, of all places. He makes his way over to the bar and slides onto one of the stools, folding his arms in front of him. A beer is set in front of him without him even asking, and there's a dip of his head to the bartender as he lifts it and takes a solid swig. There's a glance over at Johnny for a moment, recognition, of course, who doesn't? "Thanks," he says to the bartender, and asks after one of the other 'tenders not on shift. But no, the current one doesn't seem to know if he'll be on.

Johnny's eyes fall upon Daire, and he pauses, staring a moment: there's a lot of odd things here or there around these parts, but he hasn't yet ran into anyone with horns. So he lifts his drink and slides over to take a seat closer to the guy, "Hey. I'm Johnny." His grin is easy: and to say he has the confidence of ten men is underselling it. That grin says, 'but of course you know that', but he knows its polite to not assume so. He offers a hand to shake as he does so.

When Johnny moves over closer, Daire glances over at him with a sort of vague curiosity in those startlingly green eyes, not natural with their sort of glow for a human being. "Hey," he says, reaching over to take the offered hand and gives it a firm but friendly shake before releasing it. "Daire," he offers, since introductions are being made. He doesn't come right out and say that he knows who Johnny is, but it's evident enough from the way that he nods his head when the name is given. "How's it going?"

"Good." Johnny nods his head, glancing around, sipping the dark gold of his drink, "I like coming every so often, seeing how things are going for those people who aren't lucky enough to be me." Which sounds so deeply egotistical that even he realizes it and he waves it away, "By which I mean so deeply lucky and privileged that I managed to be a freak without everyone hating me. Though plenty still do. And I don't mean the freak thing: that's what the idiots say, is all. I'm not a mutant, but hey, I figure I should get to know the people who are what they are without any choice at all. Makes arguing for their rights and equal treatment easier then if I just stuck to the lofty halls of the Baxter Building." He grins at Daire then, "Nice to meet you. Interesting eyes, man."

"Uh huh," Daire says with one brow arched while the sheer wave of Johnny's ego washes past him. He lifts his beer and takes a sip from it before setting it down again and says, "So you're slummin' it, basically." There's no real ire in it, though there's no particular amusement either. He says then, "But that's magnanimous of you, and all, supporting the poor suckers out there." His tone is a little bit dry, but there's the faintest hint of a smile, maybe, to take a little bit of the bite out of it. "Yeah, nice to meet you too." There's a moment where those eyes gutter and the glow seems to be gone but the unusual color remains. "All the better to see you with, said the wolf to red riding hood."

Johnny laughs and shakes his head slowly, "Not at all. I've slummed it before. I'm trying to understand. See I spent most of my life being just like everyone else." Well, except hotter. "Most mutants can't readily advocate for their position. I can. I'm known and have connections. But how can I speak for mutants if I don't really know them? What they go through?" Then he shrugs, "Naw, its not magnanimous. It's just another part of the service. The Fantastic Four and the Future Foundation want a better future. Its our raison d'etre. Its, basically, my job." Then he laughs, and the grin that rises after is openly flirtatious, even if that is simply Not Done in 1964. Of course, not being done, it might just be read as something else. "And between us, *you're* the wolf?"

Daire leans agains the bar, arms folded in front of him as he listens to Johnny, his attention shifting somewhat to the bottles on their shelves, but he's still listening, nodding just a bit here and there to indicate that he's paying attention. Looking back over towards Johnny he says, "So, research then?" While it may not be done in 1964, Daire can read people fairly well, not in any supernatural sort of way. But body language, the shift of a grin, the furrow of a brow, things that others might miss he can sometimes pick up on. He can't help but laugh a little and says, "No, likely not. It just sounded good in my head. Unless wolves suddenly grew horns."

The rum is more alcohol then anything else, so Johnny touches a finger to it and it ignites. He lifts his glass of burning rum up and regards it for a moment, "That's very clinical. Why are you so intent on dehumanizing things? I want to get to know people. I want to know what people need and give it to them if I can. I want to know what needs doing and do it. I'm a man of action." And then he grins, and he sips the burning drink, because of course fire has no effect on him at all. He lays his hand over the glass after that until the oxygen starves the fire away, "Well good, I'd feel terribly mis-cast if I suddenly was given the role of red riding hood or her grandma."

"Unless grandma lit the wolf on fire," Daire says with a little bit of amusement creeping into his voice, "But no.. no offense meant." As for the question of dehumanization, Daire falls silent and mulls that one over for a bit, fingers tracing the outside edge of his pint. "I don't know," he admits finally. "Not sure I realized that was what I was doing." It's suddenly a very honest and straightforward answer. "Sorry," he says after a moment's pause to consider it.

Johnny waves away both the possible offense and the apology, "It's all good." He smiles, sipping his drink some more, nodding to the man, "So. Interesting eyes and horns. That has to make life complicated. I can't say I understand what its like— not like Ben does— because for some reason I sometimes go places and people don't know who I am. You might not be known but you're noticed." He gestures around, "There's more then a few obvious mutants around. If you don't mind my asking, when did this start for you? I understand usually its somewhere around puberty. For me, it was two years ago, of course."

Daire turns a little toward Johnny and flashes a smile that is all teeth, all sharp teeth, with canines that are fanglike in nature, most of that concealed when he talks by strategic angles, holding of the glass, and trying not to smile enough to show his teeth. "My teens," he says. "It started with the eyes, which weren't too bad. Contacts sucked but they helped keep it under control. Hoodies help when contacts aren't available. Though, when I got older the contacts didn't work anymore. What was it like? Kids freaked out. Their parents freaked out because kids freaked out. It sucked. College was better because nobody who knew me was there… could hide it again, and kids in college spend less time paying attention to other kids in their class and where they come from."

The fangs cause Johnny to raise an eyebrow: and maybe reconsider flirting grins. Well. Can he? Johnny only has flirting grins. But he nods seriously, "I can understand people freaking out, though of course I can turn it on.." He lifts a hand and snaps, and his hand is enveloped in fire, "And off." Another snap, and its just a hand. "So I recognize I'm lucky that way. But fire is something we fear on a primordial level. I think its in the genes: its amazing cavemen got the courage to harness it." Then he nods his head, "For me, college was… well, a big ass frat party. And mechanical engineering courses." That's a fact most people either don't notice or don't remember about Johnny: that he's not just a playboy, a racer, a stuntman. "What was your major?" he asks curiously.

Daire sees that eyebrow raise and gestures with one finger, lifting it from the rim of his pint and gesturing in his direction. "That.. among other things.. is pretty common, and as a kid you begin to see the way that people shift quick from looking at you one way, to looking at you another. It's not an easy thing." He shrugs his shouldersa little bit, and then he lifts his beer and takes another long draught of its contents before setting it down, watching the hand light aflame and then go out again with a snap of his fingers. "The voluntary part of my changes.. they're.. better not done in a bar full of people. Mostly because I don't want to knock anybody over." He nods though and says, "I went to parties in college, and classes — mostly classes, but I had a good time, too, until things got to be more than I could take." After a moment he says, "Psychology. I was going to go into youth counseling."

Johnny nods his head as he listens, "In all fairness, that happens even when you aren't a mutant. Its just that mutants are *such* an easy target for kids drawing lines of us verses them." He looks openly curious about the voluntary part, but doesn't press it: it is a public setting, at least. "Seems a youth counselor around here would be useful, even if its not official. Seems counseling young mutants who are coming into their own and not understanding or dealing.. seems that's the most difficult part. I was lucky, I changed at 24. Stable, confident, adult." He finishes off his drink and rises, "Hey look, you wanna talk more, come to Baxter." Its perhaps the most famous building in the city: after all, the Fantastic Four's logo is imprinted at the top where they reside. They are anything but hiding. "Ask Reception to see Johnny, they'll call up."

Daire chuckles a bit and says, "When I finally get all my own shit together, I'll think about helping someone else with theirs. That was back when I thought that I could handle everything, that this whole thing was going to be no sweat, you know? That life was going to still be some semblance of normal. I was pretty idealistic for a while." He then smiles a little when Johnny gets up to go and says, "Yeah, sure. Nice to meet you, Johnny. Good luck with making teh world a better place." Whether he intends to show up or not isn't entirely clear, but he does seem to genuinely mean it — not speaking tongue in cheek.

"You do what you can do. There's always someone more fucked up then you are." says Johnny whose life is more or less rosy, in a wise tone. Maybe he needs to be hit in the face more. Or maybe he's right. Or maybe the fire has gone to his head. He lifts a hand to wave, heads out, and the moment he's outside he's enveloped in flame and is quickly rising into the sky.

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