1964-10-16 - A Chance Meeting
Summary: Bobby and Chance chat with a cameo by Remy.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
bobby chance remy-lebeau 

A relatively calm afternoon at Xavier's Institute.

The rear grounds are playing host to a myriad of different activities this early fall afternoon. The leaves have just began their shift from green to shades of red, orange, and brown before one by one they drift down to the grass below. Students lounge about in the mild weather, some laying out in the grass, others huddled together in a tight ring with notebooks and other learning materials strewn about as they study. Others refuse to waste such a nice afternoon on trivial things like school work and swim in the lake or throw a football back and forth to one another. Reclined with his back against a tree trunk, Scott Summers has his knees bent and a notebook resting on his thigh, a pen moving back and forth as he writes, not really paying attention to anything going on around him.

Bobby headed off to California about a year ago, give or take. But now he's back! Though he did neglect to actually tell Xavier when he'd be arriving: just that he was heading back and would probably be there late summer or early fall sometime. Having arrived on a Harley yesterday, he claimed a spare room and promptly went to sleep. In a pair of shorts and some sneakers, he's now wandering around getting his bearings once again. "Hey Scott. How goes?"

Scott glances up from his writing and turns his head toward Bobby's voice. If he were not wearing his visor, there would no doubt be a widening of his eyes in surprise as he sees the man walking toward him. Closing his book and setting it aside, Scott presses himself up to his feet quickly and sticks his hand out toward Bobby for a friendly shake before he saying, "Bobby! It is good to see you again! I had heard you were back in town, but wasn't sure when I'd actually see you!"

Screw the handshake, Bobby goes for the hug. "Yeah, I got to the city a couple days ago and the school yesterday. It's good to be back though it was fun to travel around a while. San Francisco is a fun place. You should visit if you haven't. So anything fun and exciting going on lately?"

Scott laughs as Bobby heads in for a hug and doesn't pull away from the more friendly greeting. He slaps Bobby on the back a few times before pushing out to arm's length. "Oh, it's been about the same as far as I know. I've been mostly here teaching, going out with the team when we're needed. What about you? Tell me what you got into out in California?" Scott turns, offering gesture for Bobby to pull up some grass and join him.

"Oh, pretty much what you'd expect to find in San Francisco." Bobby says as he lowers himself to the grass, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his palms. "Met a lot of cool cats into poetry and activism. Picked up some new songs to play on my guitar, learned to ride a motorcycle and fix it up. Even bought one and drove across country which was very cool. Some friends I met out there knew this guy who wrote about going across country and it sounded so neat, I had to do it."

"Oh yeah?" Scott says, his interest immediately catching at the knowledge that Bobby has scored himself a bike. "That's awesome!" he says with a grin. "Guess that's another person I'll have to share the garage with. I think Julie has been hogging most of the space. I squeezed my panhead in there, and I guess yours is in there now. We'll have to get out and go for a ride sometime." Scott glances aside as he leans back against the tree, relaxing for a moment as he watches the kids out there throwing the ball. "Are you back to work on the team again?" he asks after a pause.

Bobby nods confirmation of where his bike is. "Yeah, sure. Any time you need me. I also heard the Avengers were up and running again so I stopped by that mansion of theirs to see what was going on with them." He and Alex had been members of the first incarnation before the team got disbanded by the government. It could have gone better even before that. "So it'll be nice to get some action again. Not a lot happenin the middle of the country and I was bored the entire drive. You have no idea how flat Kansas is."

Scott nods his head before he says, "Yeah, I've heard that about those states out there. A whole lot of nothing worth seeing, and a long time to get through it all." He chuckles before he looks back to Bobby, looking the man over for a moment before he says, "Hopefully the Avengers will work out for you this time around. With the Avengers and X-men, you'll have your hands full. That's for sure."

Bobby shrugs a shoulder. "Maybe. I didn't hook up with them yet. Still need to talk to Steve and get a feel for everyone on the team. Made the mistake once of going in blind and that was a disaster. No need to rush this time. I did run into another mutant there though. Name is Hope. You meet her? She claims to be from the future."

Word has spread: there's been trouble.

Some thugs armed with crowbars and pipes and the like. They broke glass in cars, in houses, threatened people.

Word has spread: it got taken care of, and the thugs? Handled. Decisively. But people are still worried there's going to be more trouble. For the moment, Chance is up top, not masked, not armored, because he didn't plan on patrolling today. He does have his long black metal stave, though. He's looking down at the street, monitoring: and seeing something in an alley, he steps back and takes a running jump. He spins through the air like diving, and if one is paying attention, slows right at the very end to land with inhuman grace and lightness, crouching to absorb in his legs what little of a resistance that 'flight' cost him. He brings his stave forward into a combat posture as he eyes the alley…

Bobby hasn't been back to Mutant Town since he returned to New York. And while he never spent a great deal of time there, he does like to know what's going on with the place. After all, they're his people. He'd heard at the school there'd been trouble so decided today was a good time to stop by. Harleys aren't quiet so the sound of the bike heralds his arrival by about five seconds as he rides up the street.

Stalking into the alley, Chance is there for a moment before turning around and walking back out, looking more relaxed then he looked going in. Still, the stave in no way looks like a walking stick, and wandering around with a weapon isn't especially common.

Bobby is slowly going up the street, glancing left and right, seeing what if anything is different and making sure no one is causing trouble. Which is when he spots Chance. Coming to a halt five or six feet away, he sits back and puts his feet on the pavement. "You're not planning on using that on anyone, right? Or anything, like windows?"

"Actually, I am." Chance's tone is a bit grave, a bit serious, "You haven't heard? Some human thugs were in here earlier, harassing people, threatening people. We took care of them, but." he shrugs, "I don't know that is the end of it, especially since they might be out for some revenge. People need to learn that Mutant Town isn't a barrel full of fish that its okay to shoot in." He shrugs, looking Bobby over for a moment, and offering a quick smile once the gravity of his tone fades.

"I had heard." Bobby tells him. "You looked like a human thug with a staff. But if you took care of them, then cool. Saves me the trouble." Craning his head to the side, he cracks his neck. "I should buy you a drink. About time the hero gets a reward beyond 'thank you' and having the cops come after him."

Chance chuckles softly, accepting the point that he doesn't look the part of the mutant, "Well, yeah, I have the benefit of not being obvious. It lets me run my day job business while living off of coffee and patrolling for trouble at night." He flashes a grin, "But I wouldn't turn down a drink. Usually when I'm out doing the night job, I'm in a mask, explicitly to avoid the cops and such complications. I was here just socially today, though." He twists the stave, and through some hidden mechanism it splits into two batons, glancing over towards the bar, "I'll get the second round?"

"Sure." Bobby agrees, motioning toward the bar then riding over to it to park at the curb. Dismounting, he heads to the then waits for Chance before going in. "Bobby, by the way. Who're you?"

Heading in, Chance inclines his head, turning backwards to offer a hand once Bobby is in to shake. He smiles, "Chance. In the mask, Freefall." Then he heads over towards the bar, and leans there a moment, not intending on staying, but this isn't exactly the kind of place with waitresses. He nods to the bartender, considering a moment, "A gin and tonic." he orders, then looks over to Bobby, curious about his drink.

"Bra…" No, Bobby. Remember where you are. "Gin and orange juice." he orders. "Don't think I've heard that second name before. New to the scene or just very good at keeping a low profile?"

"Low profile." Chance nods his head slightly, "In fact, before today, no one's ever seen my use my ability without a mask, and most people who see the mask don't actually get an introduction. They get the shit kicked out of them. Now… things might have to change." He looks a little pained, "At least around here, I might start being a little less low profile."

"The ability to carry a long stick?" Bobby asks with a quick grin. "I think a lot of people have that one." But he grows serious a moment later. "Yeah, seems like stuff is getting worse lately all over the place. Anyone who's the least bit different is looked down on."

Chance laughs softly, and reaches out for one of the peanuts on the bar, setting it down before them. He nods to it, touches it with its finger— and it rises up quickly and sticks to the ceiling. "The stick is because the more direct combat applications are somewhat problematic." He nods his head more soberly then, "I'm starting to think we should build a wall around the neighborhood and start patrolling it. This isn't really a tenable situation. But turtling isn't exactly good, either."

Bobby follows the path of the peanut up to the ceiling. "Interesting. I can think of several ways of doing that. Which is yours?" At the comment, he nods his agreement. "Not exactly a good idea. I don't think it would go over well at all. The city would object, the cops would object, and the humans would object. It's one thing to have all the muties in a slum. It's another to have them wall themselves off."

"*Something* has to change. At the very least, something like organized patrols." Chance reaches out to take up his drink once they're delivered, and heads over to a table. Once Bobby is with, he flashes a quick grin, "I control gravity." he explains, "Though not by thinking or manipulating gravity itself, exactly. Instead I control the relation between an object's center-of-gravity and its interaction with the graviton field. I changed 'down' for the peanut, basically, and it fell… up. It'll sit there on the ceiling for a day until the gravity-binding vanishes, then fall into someone's drink." He snickers softly.

Bobby pulls out a chair, angles it to the side, then sits down and stretches his legs out. "Huh. That's a new one to me." He looks back toward the peanut then asks "You can't just end it whenever you want? Can you affect as many objects as you want?" He's obviously trying to run through all the ramifications of such a power.

"To change it again, I'd have to touch it." Chance nods his head, setting the batons on the table, and sipping his gin and tonic, "I don't have a limit in number of bindings— but the total strength of all the bindings has to be no more then around twenty gravities, as far as I've been able to tell. Used to be around ten. Like, that peanut? Its up at one G: so unless I go up there and turn it off, I'm out a G for the next day." He grins, "The coolest thing is flying— I can take you if you want." He shrugs, "Though its not like anyone elses flight. I fall up for awhile, then fall //forward/ for awhile. I might hover for awhile, binding myself up and down each at one G: I'm instantly weightless, gravity simply cancelled. As I come back down at the last few moments. I bind myself up 9/10ths of a gravity and down one g simultaneously, and land soft and smooth. What can you do?"

Bobby absently sips his drink as he listens, brow furrowed at all the details. "Do you have to touch something directly or can you use something between you? Like, a kite string to affect the kite." When talk turns to him, he grins and looks at the drink in Chance's hand. It frosts over. "I am the Iceman."

"Directly; well, except myself. I can shift my own gravity instinctively, rapidly, in such subtle detail that it looks like superhuman acrobatics, when really I'm just a gymnast." Chance shrugs, and then he blinks at his glass and laughs, "I was intending on drinking that, Iceman." But then he considers a moment, "But yeah, I have to touch it directly. It sounds like a serious limitation, but its not as bad as it sounds; partly because planefighting is so disorienting. People have a great deal of difficulty keeping focus when I'm casually jumping form floor to wall to ceiling and back and forth, randomly. Guns are a problem for me, but I can usually get in close. Then me and the stave set to work. Oh, I don't have to bind to a *direction*." He reaches over to the ashtray, and touches it and the table both. "Lift it up." Bobby's strong, he might be able to lift it briefly— but if he isn't careful it'll *slam* back down to the table.

"Just break the ice on top. It's thin." Bobby advises. He glances from Chance to the ashtray then back before nodding and setting his glass down. Reaching over, he tries lifting the ashtray but when it doesn't budge, puts some effort into it. "Nice. Good for keeping someone where you want them."

"The problem is, that many G's will hurt someone. Maybe not right away, but overtime." Chance only vaguely sounds like he finds that a problem: if he's doing that to someone in his mind they probably deserve it. But he reaches over to tap the try, releasing the binding. He muses, "Now if I bind someone's jacket ten G's to a wall, I'd like to see them manage to get out of it or move at all, and while that'd be uncomfortable, it wouldn't be the same as the pressure on the internal organs." He taps his drink, grins, and takes a long sip, "So you freeze things? Or have… cold-rays from your eyes? Or throw ice shards?"

"No cold rays from my eyes." Bobby answers but then pauses to consider it. He probably could if he wanted to; hands are just the default choice. "But yes to the others, among other things. Cold, snow, ice, you name it. I make an awesome skating rink and my ice slides into lakes are in great demand during summer."

Chance looks surprised, and he laughs softly; he's got an easy, friendly smile, despite how grave he is in a fight. "That's more involved then I was thinking; that's quite a lot of control, really. I was thinking raw just…freeze-powers. Me.. I do one thing, but I've learned to be incredibly ..inventive with its application, on the fly. I sort of invented my own martial art— planefighting."

"That's very cool. Knowing how to make the most of your power, that's really important." Bobby tells Chance. "Even small powers can be useful when used the right way. Sounds like you started with a really useful ability and then made it even more so. That's great."

"Well…" A little sheepish, Chance can't help but laugh at himself, "I was thirteen, my dad scared me, and I almost broke my neck when I fell to the ceiling. That's bad enough but it took me most of a day before I could figure out how to reverse it. Let me pose to you a hypothetical question." He pauses, and becomes serious, "What would happen if my dad had scared me while I was outside?"

"It became really important to master control."

"You'd have become the first man on the moon." Bobby answers. "Though you wouldn't have known it." A sudden thought makes him frown thoughtfully and he looks at Chance a moment. "Can you affect air? And since it's all connected, how much and how far?"

"Yeah, I'd fall right up into space and die the most lonely death possible." Chance has to laugh, but then he pauses, and he blinks, "I… honestly don't know, and I wouldn't want to test it without being in a fairly secure room with an oxygen tank, just in case." He purses his lips a moment, "Generally, 'much' isn't a concern. I don't have a mass limit, per se: when changing *gravity*, since *gravity* determines mass, … mass is meaningless. But all my experimentation so far says I can only affect a *discrete, complete thing*. I can bind a knife, a car, a truck. No difference, power-wise, between the two. I can't bind a building: its not discrete and separate from the ground."

"Then you probably can't affect air." Bobby muses. "Which is good, I suppose. If you could, you might have been able to send it all into space in one try if it's all connected. That would have been… not good."

Chance nod shis head soberly, "That's why I'd only have tried in a secure room… but honestly, yeah. I don't think air has a 'discrete, whole thing' quality beyond individual molecules." He gets a sudden idea, eyes his drink, and sticks a finger into the end of it. Nothing happens. "Can't do liquids, either. That tells me air won't, too. I guess only solid objects have a clear enough center-of-gravity for me to bind."

Bobby nods approvingly at the experiment. "Good thought though. Better to know what you can and can't do in advance than get into a situation and then hope something works. This way you know what not to plan on. Do you carry projectiles with you? Ball bearings, that kind of thing."

"I've gone back and forth on that." Chance purses his lips, "Its true I can make projectiles; but ten gravities— the most I can put onto a single binding— is only a bit over two hundred mph. That's like a fraction of what a bullet does. Yeah it would still hurt, could do an injury, but its not a lot of bang for the buck. I've found its more useful to improvise with what's wrong: cars are useful to throw at people, for example." He flashes a grin, then adds more seriously, "But I might start bringing some projectiles just for… flexibility."

"And you can't release your power on something without touching it." Bobby muses. "So you'd basically be throwing away potential you might need later on. Yeah, not worth it. You need something on a line that you can retrieve. Like, a five pound steel ball bolted to a thing cable. Then you can 'fire' it then yank it back."

"That's too heavy; I couldn't pull it back fast eno— wait, I could. If the chain is attached to the ball, its one coherent object. I could reverse its gravity back towards me to get it back. I'd have to practice so as to not brain myself." Chance chuckles, taking a long drink from his gin and tonic, nodding his head, "Really: if it was just a chain, getting hit with a chain going at you at ten gravities would knock most people out. At least those without high degree of durability."

"Probably break some ribs too so you'll want to be careful not to get anyone in the head." Bobby cautions. Not that he sounds too worried about the potential thugs who'll almost certainly deserve it. "But sounds like you have a new tactic to try out."

"I'm not especially worried about someone getting hurt; if I'm attacking them its for a reason." Chance shakes his head slowly, wrinkling his nose, "And the chain can't be any more dangerous then just touching them and saying 'up' — at least if they're outside. Inside up is only dangerous if there's some extra gravities behind it." He nods his head then, flashing a grin, "Yeah, I have something to practice on."

"You know…" Bobby muses, still thinking about it. "If you wrapped the chain around someone's waist or legs, or a whip would work, you could use it to drag them around, up and down, side to side, however you wanted. Even spin them in circles in mid air if you kept changing the pull of gravity."

"I have some pretty fine control of my own gravity, but of other things— its just not that malleable. I could shoot the chain out, but the level of changes needed to get it to wrap…" The gravity guy shakes his head, "That's a lot of fine adjustments, beyond anything I've done. More, the *entire* chain or whip is pulled to the same point, and if I'm holding onto the end of it, then the stronger the pull, I have to keep hold of it. I'm fit, don't get me wrong." He grins, "Gymnastics, all the way through college; I've kept up with it. BUt I'm not *that* strong. I have just normal human strength."

"Well, whips wrap around." Bobby points out. "But point, you can only affect an entire object. Did you learn how to use your power all on your own? Just through trial and error?"

Chance nods his head slighty, grinning, "They wrap around because of centrifugal force, which people equate with gravity but only simulates gravity. " He sips is drink a moment, "Yeah, trial and error over time. I first learned basic control of self: and developed the planefighting technique. Then… other uses. I've mostly kept what I can do a secret, because frankly, its illegal for me to take the law into my own hands, and sometimes those I'm fighting get hurt. And gravity isn't a common power."

"No, I don't think I've run into it before." Bobby agrees. "And lots of things are illegal. I don't let it worry me. Do what's necessary to do because no one else is doing it, not even those who are supposed to. Anyway, good job on what you've done on your own."

"You make it sound like you trained your own ability with others? Besides those people around here I don't know a lot of mutants. Plus, I have a day job. I'm a private investigator, my partner doesn't even know I'm a mutant." Chance hesitates a long moment, and grins wryly, "I'm something of a lone wolf, I suppose you could say. But no, I don't care about illegal, I care about justice and protecting those who can't protect themselves. But I do not want to give up what pay sthe bills, either."

Bobby nods. "Yeah, I had help learning to control it and use it well. There were several of us so we could practice against each other and brainstorm. I've helped others too. Not everyone has that opportunity though so it's good to see someone who's managed it well."

Chance looks a little wistful, "I wonder if we should set something up at the Community Center, to try to get young mutants to come and learn their powers, learn control, learn limits… some sort of workshop that those who are experienced can show those who aren't how to go about it. I wonder how many mutants end up killing themselves on accident in the early times when they're just starting to learn their powers."

"Too many." Bobby answers quietly. "Themselves or others. It's a good idea. You'd need a safe place to practice though. And preferably one that isn't easily destroyed or damaged. A lot of powers are destructive and those need training the most. But to learn contrl, you need to actually use it."

"Yeah. One is too many, but I fear its a lot more then that." Chance's tone is grave, serious, but then he adds, "Maybe we organize it at the Center, but then bus people out to some big empty field outside the city. I'm sure we can find a safe place like that. I'll check in on my contacts, I think."

Bobby nods. "Good, do it. I"d try to keep it relatively quiet though. Some groups might not like the idea of mutants learning to use their powers in an organized manner and becoming even more of a threat. Which is exactly why we need it."

Chance nods his head slightly, "Then again, are those groups showing up at the community center? Sure, we don't put up big signs saying 'power training, every tuesday at 10', but we spread it by word of mouth, and I don't see mutants leaking this to the people who its a concern for." He purses his full lips, and then grins, "But hey, I'm good at covert. I'll make some sort of plan."

"Good. Once you set it up, I can probably come by now and then." Bobby tells Chance. "Can tell some others too who I know would be interested. SHould be able to have at least one person who has experience in teaching others this kind of thing."

"Yeah, I don't especially know how to teach, since yeah, all self-taught." Chance finishes off his drink, and leans back a moment, lifting his hands up behind his head to thread fingers together and watch Bobby for a moment, "So I'll take any teaching tips you end up having when you can attend, after we get this set up."

"Don't let them get frustrated or lose their temper." Bobby answers. "That's the best way to lose control. And make it into a game so it's fun. What else depends on their ages and what powers they have."

Chance looks skeptical, arching a brow a moment, "Make it into… a game?" He clearly has absolutely no idea how to go about doing *that*. He shakes his head, "I play chess, and otherwise… I don't really know games, besides well, football. I was in gymnastics for almost all of my free time up until I graduated from college: I can't say clearly how much dedication it takes to excel at the sport."

"Improvise." Bobby says with a grin. "For instance… Get some peanuts." On the table in front of him, two small walls of ice form. The second is about two inches behind the first and three times thicker. "Now, your job is to use a peanut to break through the first wall. But. You can't hit the second wall. So you need to use just enough force to punch through the first wall then fall to the table before it hits the second. If you do it in three tries, I'll buy you dinner."

Chance considers, and then he laughs softly and shakes his head, "I get what you're saying, but my power doesn't work like that: once bound it stays bound. The peanut will keep falling 'down', its not a question of force. If I bind it enough to break through the first wall, then it'll keep going until it hits the 'ground', the bottom, the center of the gravity well. Things are a little different when I'm controlling my own orientation, but we'd need bigger walls. I think I'd have to have you there to make up the games, it sounds like something you're good at."

Bobby considers that then nods. "Right. I forgot you aren't controlling gravity per se; you're controlling the gravity on a specific item. Well, you get the idea. Tailor the practice to each student, make it something creative, and provide a reward. For older kids, it can be a competition but for younger cooperative works better." Shrugging, he takes a drink from his glass. "It's not hard. But sure, if I'm there, I can do it."

"I can try, but I'm not sure how good at it I'd be. I'm an investigator: logical, methodical, steadfast." Chance laughs softly, tilting his drink back and finishing it up, "Now, I can relax and have fun, but that's usually… like, poker or blackjack or checkers and a lot of alcohol and maybe some dancing. But games? The kinds of games I'd play at when I was a kid was my dad leading me through a case he solved— he was a detective— making a game out of me solving the puzzles."

"So set up a situation for them to investigate that can only be solved by each of them using their powers as a team." Bobby suggests. "That could be a fun game too. Just tailor it to their skill levels and give each of them a role. Sounds like that's something you could do well."

Chance shakes his head slowly, "Investigation isn't a thing you *do* with powers unless you have like… psychometry or telepathy or something of that order. Look, you're the game guy, I'm not. I can set up trials but its just not me to do that. There's nothing wrong with your method, I'd just need to see you do it in practice before I'd even know where to begin."

"Physical evidence." Bobby states. "Is one of the kids a telekinetic or can fly? Put a piece of evidence high up where only he can reach it. Super strong? Under a car that doesn't have tires. Put all the pieces together and it tells them who the guilt guy is. But yeah, I'll be happy to do a couple and let you watch."

Chance still looks skeptical, but he shrugs slightly, "I don't know. The only reason I found this fun was it was spending time with my dad, and eventually, because I enjoyed investigation. Not everyone is going to like that." He rises, "Need another drink?" And hesitates to allow an answer, but does muse, "Though everyone likes Clue, so maybe there's a way. I don't know, I'll think about it."

Bobby glances down at the glass in his hand then knocks back the remainder and sets it down. "Sure, I'll have another. Of course, this all depends on kids actually showing up and wanting to be taught. Or adults too."

Heading to the bar, Chance is gone for awhile, but he returns with a second of each of their drinks, and settles down, "It also sort of requires me figuring out what stretching their abilities and limits would be. But as for people showing up? I imagine there will be few at first, but over time, maybe things can spread. Even if it just helps one or two kids, though? Or adults? That's better then nothing. We need… more of a sense of community here."

"Any at all is better than none." Bobby agrees. They're in the Eight Ball in Mutant Town and sitting at a table. "And the sense of community is just as important. They have to want to work together, to trust each other, to care about each other so they're willing to risk themselves."

"It's already starting, I think. The fact taht people— sort of— think they can be safe here, or at least safer, even though past history shows us that is simply not true." Chance is drinking a gin and tonic with Bobby at the table, "Its knitting people together. It just needs… a helping start, to become something more."

It's been a while since Remy LeBeau has come in here. Given that he's going to be heading out on a long road trip soon, he figures stopping for a drink is just as well. He enters and immediately reaches for a pack of cigarettes, popping one in between his lips as he lights up. An inhale and a slight wince with one eye later, he's looking around as he moves to the bar and orders a beer.

Looking over at the door whenever someone walks in is habit. Never know when you're about to get caught in a raid, right? It's not cops though so he just takes a drink. ""Well, I'll be happy to help start things. Not the first time I've signed up for this kind of thing." There are two small walls of ice on the table and just noticing they're still there, Bobby makes a small shooing motion with his finger and they disappear.

Chance catches sight of Remy, and he pauses to consider the man a moment, and lift a hand up to wave and quietly offer him to come join them. The shooing gesture has him flashing a grin at Bobby, shaking his head, "Oh? I haven't heard of any other similar… programs, before. Though I'm not sure why not, come to think of it. Its possible since I can pass I don't pay enough attention to what goes on here then I should."

Remy takes his beer and strolls over to Chance and Bobby and gives a nod. "Boys. Wha's good dis evenin?" he asks as he puts his drink down on the table but remains standin. "Hopin' y'all is stayin' outta trouble."

"We try to be quiet about it." Bobby answers, glancing over at Remy as Chance invites him over. "Helping kids learn to control their powers so they don't get in trouble." As Remy arrives, he motions to an extra chair. "Not if I can help it." he answers.

"I try to stay out of trouble." agrees Chance, though he grins a moment later, "Right up until I need to get something done, then that promise is up in the air." He nods to Bobby, "I was talking about, quietly, maybe starting some classes at the Community Center to try to teach those who are just coming into their powers some control: like I told Bobby here, the only reason I'm still alive is because my power first manifested indoors. I wonder how many people end up killing themselves accidentally when mutant abilities manifest or shortly after."

"Prolly quite a few," Remy says with a steep drag of his cigarette mixed somewhere in there. "Kinna a shitty ting t'tink 'bout, no?" He exhales bluish smoke over his shoulder. "Could be a differen' world out dere, fo' shure."

"More likely killing someone else. I'm not sure I've seen someone who wasn't immune to their own power." Bobby says musingly. "Directly, that is. Killing themselves indirectly is still possible. Anyway, having them taught properly is in everyone's best interest. Bobby." he says to the newcomer.

"Yeah, first time I tweaked gravity I stuck myself to a ceiling and it was hours before I could figure out how to make down be down again." Chance shakes his head ruefully, "But yeah, it could be a different world out there, but its not until someone *makes* the world that we deserve. If we wait? It'll never happen."

"Remy LeBeau," the Cajun says confidently. As if he's not been in the paper or spent time in jail over the past few months. He mashes his cigarette out in the ashtray. "Can't disagree with y'there," he adds to Chance.

Bobby nods his agreement. "The only question is how do we make it happen? On the one hand, there's working from the assumption that all it takes is opening the eyes of the humans that we're not a threat. On the other, force. Sometimes I'm not sure either is the right way."

"I'm not a big picture guy." admits Chance, shaking his head slowly, "I'm a doer and a fixer. I see something wrong, I fix it. I see an injustice, I try to make it right. I don't know how to do big problems, how to plan for changing the world. I do know that I saved a mutant the other day when some freaks tried to kill him, and that's good enough, for me. Saving these kids. Showing them a safe place that's safe because, in part, I kick anyone's ass who tries to cause trouble."

Remy nods to Chance, "Been tinkin a whole lotta folks make dis so complicated. Do some good tings, do it long enough and enough times ya make your lil part better. Ah ain't one for de plans. Plans are made t'be fucked up."

"There's something to be said for that." Bobby agrees. "But swimming against the current gets you nowhere. You need to approach it on an angle and zig zag back and forth in order to make progress. Which isn't to say small goals aren't important. You just need both approaches."

Chance tilts his drink back, and makes a gesture to Remy, but he does nod at Bobby, "I just know me; I'm not the guy who makes the big goals. I'm not the leader, I'm barely a team-player, but I'm working on that. So while what you say is true, I'm not the one to look for making the big plans and the big goals. If you are, all power to you, I'll happily accept direction and be pointed where I need to be pointed. I'm not subtle, I'm dogged. I'll see a problem and widdle it away to its roots, or I'll overwhelm it. But its right there in front of me."

Remy goes to grab another cigarette. "Half de probleme is good folks like y'all spend all de time tinkin' and talkin'. Jus' need to be doin. Talkin' about it and plannin' bout it don't do it. Dunno bout approaches and angles and zaggin' an all dat."

"You're making assumptions that are wrong." Bobby tells Remy. "But there's only so many of us and only so much we can do. And there's always something going on. We can't be everywhere. But you're right that action has to be combined with planning."

"Oh, I'm out every night doing, Remy." Chance inclines his head, lifting his drink with a toast, "Every night. Or, every day— depending on my schedule from the day job. I go looking for people that need help, especially mutants, but really, anyone. But I have to see a problem to fix it: sometimes I go look into situations in the news… like that crazy doctor guy."

Remy gives Bobby a long look that makes it clear that he takes exception to something that the man said. Rather than add anything, or respond to Chance, he brings his beer back up to his lips and looks around at the room. "Worse tings t'be den crazy."

As he listens to the conversation, Bobby's idly running a finger in circles on the table, leaving a path of ice behind that grows higher with each pass. "Like being owned by the government. They'd like nothing better than to have us in their control, I'm sure."

"Crazy is pretty up there, to me." Chance remarks with a slight shake of his head, looking between the pair of them for a moment, consideringly, "But the government getting involved… yes. That's no good at all. Though the government's not a monolithic thing: there's plenty who, I imagine, would like nothing better for us to not *be*, at all."

"Well," Remy says with resignation and a big sigh. "If y'all find y'selves 'bout actually ready to do sometin, sometin, jus' put de word out." His head tilts, "Till den, ole Remy gunna see around to de ladies at dotha side of de bar." He gives a little wink and nods to each of the men before grabbing his beer.

"Depends on what it is." Bobby answers then asides to Chance "Sounds like a member of the Brotherhood. I know they mean nothing but the best for our kind but the way they go about it is way too extreme. Killing people is rarely the answer." Though not 'never'.

On the topic of killing, Chance shrugs indifferently, "Sometimes you have to do what you have to do. I don't make a habit of pulling my punches: but again, I mostly fly solo. There's often me being outnumbered, and at that point when someone's down I need to be sure they stay down. My power doesn't come with any healing or durability. Especially when guns are involved, them-dead is better then me-dead."

"Everything is dependent on the circumstances." Bobby says with a shrug. "There's also a different between being in the heat of battle and cold blooded planning to kill lots of people, some of whom might even be civilians. Case by case is the best, I think."

There's a silent moment as Chance considers, "Context matters." he agrees, "Though I'm not against cold blooded killing: to honor my father I'll let the authorities have a shot at bringing justice, but when it comes to mutants, that's rare. And if it comes down to it, I don't mind being executioner if that is justice and no one else will hold the guilty to account." He shrugs, "Thus the mask."

"While I agree to a degree, we need to be careful that the fallout doesn't land on other mutants once we're not there." Bobby suggests. "We're out numbered and not every mutant has a power that he can defend himself with. It's complicated." he adds with a grimace. "I should get going."

Lifting his drink, Chance flashes a quick, easy smile and waves, "See you later."

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