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Know what's cool? THIS GUY! There's no doubt, he's one of the cool kids. And with that, its easy to either like him, or hate him, exuding all that positive energy all the time, and that dimpled smile. Currently he's finishing up a frisbee game and jogging over to get the missed frisbee from the ground.
Wither was not one of the cool kids. Kevin would love to be, sure, but the truth was people were afraid of him. Being popular was difficult when your gift to the world was ruining things was difficult. It didn't stop the scrap artist from trying though. "Hey." He looked at him, the frisbee, and the plastic disc again. The yard got a squint, "You got a game going, or want one?"
|ROLL| Cannonball +rolls 1d20 for: 4
Cannonball smiles over at Wither and comes closer to the man. He's familiar with his destructive powers, but…he's pretty sure frisbee isn't going to kill him. He hoists the disc and then sends it sailing at Wither. "Just finished with a few underclassmen. I could do a bit more…ah…you're…" He fingerguns at Wither, "Uh…" eye squints, trying to remember the name. He fails.
Wither paused and shifted from one foot. He lifted a hand and scratched behind his ear. "Kevin. Ah'm , um, yeah they call me Wither, but my name's Kevin." The Atlanta boy answered. He waited for Sam to make sone convenient out which was cool, that's… cool. But he didn't. There was a faint smile that came to him, "Yeah, bunch of new faces around. Remembering everyone's going to be interesting."
Cannonball wets his lips and flaps his hand, waiting for Wither to send the disc on back to him, "Sure, Kevin, got it. I think this should…all be safe, right?" AKA…the guy isn't gonna ash his frisbee, right?
Wither jogged off a little ways and took the frisbee out of the air turning with it. "Oh shhhhhh-" Kevin looked oh his shoulder at Sama nd gave him a lopsided smile and waggled the plastic plate in the air, "Yeah, nah, plastic's still my friend. You're good." He took a few steps back and flung the disc back. "Heard all sorts of things 'bout you."
Cannonball seems to be playing frisbee with Wither, which is a great, non-contact sport. The blond jogs to snap the disc out of the air and slows down, turning and tossing it right back. He's dressed casually in sneakers, shorts and a snug tshirt. There's a little sweat in his floppy, blond hair.
"Yeah? Good stuff, I hope. I try to be a good guy." He smiles, showing off dimples on either side of his mouth.
Kitty wanders between the two. She is lost in her own head, oblivious to her surroundings. She is staring down at the ground, muttering under her breath as she ambles around the grounds.
Wither chuckled and ventured to offer him, "Well, they were saying I wasn't the only one to wipe out a tree on campus. That you and Summers both did. There was," He paused and chose his words carefully, "some debate as t'which one of y'all had the more oppressive hand in that." Yes blasting off and catching it on fire, or accidentally splitting it in half peering at it. It was a toss up. Now one of the varied reasons Kevin never seemed to date anyone #8 seemed to be inability to halt when one should let go of the frisbee. In this case it sailed out of his hand nearly hitting Kitty. "Lookout!"
Cannonball arches his brows as the frisbee heads for Kitty, and instead of trying to save her, he jogs a bit so that he can still catch it, if it manages to go through her! He has such confidence in the lady! "More'n just us three, I'd think. Logan probably kills a half a dozen a day with his piss." He chuckles.
Kitty turns as she hears the shouted warnning. "Whoah!" she phases just in time to let the frisbee pass unhindered toward its original target. She then stops and glances around, seeming to notice her surroundings for the first time. She smiles apologeticaly "Thanks for the warning. I really should watch where I'm going." She looks more closely at Wither, brow furrowing in concentration "I don't think we've met?" She steps toward him extending her hand, "My names Kitty."
Wither actually relaxed up on the grin and wrinkled his nose. "Ya reckon?" It was when Sam had to duck back to follow up with being hailed that the kid withthe far less impressive hair seemed a bit disappointed. He looked at Kitty's outstretched hand and looked startled pulling his hands back back. "Oooh hi. Um, you probably don't want to, um, do that." He held up a finger. One moment, and pulled out what looked like nylon gloves that were dusty btu servicable, and then, and only then, shook her hand. "Kevin."
As it was when Magma and Doug arrive there's a Kitty on the back lawn holding a hand out to one of the more recent students in the last year that just makes a habit of keeping to himself. Who backs away from a handshake like it's scary? You do if you are Kevin Ford; kid with stigma. He fished out gloves and then shook her hand before letting go pretty damn fast. It was the native Georgia lean in his language that came out when he observed, "Yeah that was, never mind I guess y'all know Sam." Stop talking now, Kevin. Just stop. He looked up to Doug and Magma holding up a hand in a wave. Well he was friendly enough at least.
Doug has had a busy day! Not that he claims any connection with that racket earlier. But he did have a very nice breakfast. And now, he's back — and he's got his shorts and school t-shirt on and a basketball in one hand. He was about to hit the court. "Kitty! And… Kevin, right?" He tosses the ball from hand to hand, as he approaches. "Hey!" He dribbles, as he comes to a halt. "Was just gonna get some excercise. Sam found this diner that does… ugh. Country gravy. On everything. I don't know what country gravy is made of but I'm pretty sure it's lard."
It has not been a very busy day for Amara, in fact, she has had the sort of calm, quiet day many would kill for. But that also means boring, and it has driven her outside to the rear grounds, her shoes held by two fingers as she moves across the lawn. When she spots the gathering of others she lifts a shoeless hand, offering a return wave.
Kitty "I don't know Sam all that well. Mostly by reputation". she turns to see Doug approaching. "Hey, just the guy I was looking for!" She waves at Doug.
Wither boggled at Doug and laughed good natured enough, and curious. Dough needed someone to translate Southern? This amused him and the Georgia boy offered in return, "Uhhhh not usually. Not how my mama used to. Oil, whole milk, some flour, some pepper but no lard. Where'd y'all get lard from?" Not in his gravy anyways. His had waved and paused arching an eyebrow as Amara started coming across the lawn at them before waving and blushing just a hair. "Doug if I am remembering? My roommate last year mentioned you a bit. Hey."
"I'm a Mormon boy from Salem Center, Kevin. I was not raised on Country Gravy." Doug tilts his head, "Oh yeah? Interesting… who'd you room with?" He looks up at Kitty, and beams, brightly, before he tosses the basketball up in the air and catches it. "Well you found me! My wish is your command—" Then he espies Amara, and beams brighter. "Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii~" He waves an arm.
"Gravy?" Amara wonders when she is within hearing range, not making the mental connection between word and food item. She tucks her shoes beneath one arm before she offers a quick smile to Douglas before she resumes this questioning about things like gravy, "What is this gravy…and why is it country?"
Kittycrosses her arms and shifts her weight back on one foot, leaving the other leg slightly bent. She cocks her head to the side, "Haven't seen you since the whole taco Tuesday fiasco." She gestures vaugely at the mansion, "I had hoped someone might have a better way to track you down." She pauses for a moment. "Although I am now feeling just slighlty older than I used to." She notices Amara's approach. "Ah, another new face!"
Wither pressed his lips together and didn't know how to answer Amara's question and chuckled, "It's southern because it tastes amazin' and gravy's like a … well like a thick cause you put on biscuits n' dumplin's, an chicken an' things. Pretty much," he thought about it and squint one eye before nodding, "I reckon most things. most things that were worth eatin'"
Doug rubs the back of his neck. "Oh. It's… like Garum, kind of, Amara. It… you put it on food to add flavor to it, you know? Except it's not fermented fish sauce, it's like… the drippings from meat, thickened with flour and in this case I guess milk, and then you add… herbs and bits of meat." Doug shrugs, once. Then he grins. "Oh. Well, I'm teaching here, but I've been in New York a lot, doing translation work. But, you know. You can always leave me a message in my cubby." He looks back at Amara. "Roberto got in this morning. We grabbed Sam and got breakfast. Kitty, Amara. Amara, Kitty…"
"It sounds very filling." Amara replies, nodding to both Wither's explanation, and Doug's before she glances at Kitty when introduced. Her head tilts very faintly before she inclines it towards her, "It is quite the pleasure to meet you, Kitty." A look is then slanted towards Douglas, "I've decided that I quite like coffee."
Kitty raises an eyebrow, "Your teaching now?" She then turns to the young woman who has joined them. "A pleasure Amara." She extends her hand in greeting. "So when you say you like coffee, do you like coffee or coffee in disguise?"
Wither honestly wondered if he added enough sugar if coffee would be palatable for just long enough. Coffee wasn't far off ground dirt to really be too bad right? Maybe. He took a half step back and instead of engaging on food bit his lip. He was hungry and nothing really sated anymore. Ah well. Instead he looked from Kitty and Doug to Amara and added awkwardly. "Kevin. I'm um, I'm Kevin. Nice to meet you, Amara."
"It's really something, and that stuff Bobby imports from Brazil could double as fuel for the car in a pinch." Doug says, in agreement with Amara, "Yeah, Languages, computer theory for some of the advanced students here. You know. Just to keep my hand in… keep myself busy." He shrugs his shoulders. "It's not like I'm gonna get pinched for the X-Men anytime soon, so I might as well chip in somehow."
"Why would you put clothes on coffee?" Amara wonders, her brows furrowing just a fraction before she glances at Douglas, seeking potential explanation as to what coffee in disguise is all about. Then, minding her manners once more, she nods to Wither, "Amara, very nice to meet you, Kevin."
Kitty chuckles and shakes her head, "Sorry, I mean do you like your coffee plain or do you like to put sugar or cream in it?" She turns to look at Doug, "Don't sell yourself short, you and your friend were the one who dealt with the taco truck terror. Besides, the crazy life isn't allways all it's cracked up to be."
Wither folded his arms across his chest pulling his hood up. Fall air was a tad nippy. "Man, Doug, I think you an' I have different concerns about that one." This actually amused him a bit. He could commiserate with him on one point though, "The uniforms do look faaaar out." Okay those were the super cool kids and he could daydream about that for a good hour. Kev pulled out a watch which was an old pocket watch on a chain and looked to them apologetically, "Speakin g of suits I gotta suit up and go stare at things and figure out if they're radioactive or not. Fun. Stuff. Thank you Dr. McCoy." He sighed, "Miss Kitty, Doug, Miss Amara. nice runnin into all y'all. Maybe soon again."
"Oh, yeah. There's different ways to take coffee. I'll show you all the different ways you can get it in Italy later, Amara, but the BEST coffee is in Vienna. I never got tired of it." He spins the basketball on his finger, briefly, before he glances up at Wither, and says, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Kevin. Anyway, I'm gonna go hit the court… work off some of that country gravy." He grins at Amara. "We're all bouncing all over the place, but I think somebody's gonna try to round the gang back up, beautiful—maybe see if we can hit a concert down in New York or something. Who knows where we'll wind up?"
"It was a pleasure." Amara offers to Wither when he makes his exit, then she nods to Douglas, "Coffee later then, and then a concert." She fully expects there to now be a concert. On those notes, however, she nods to those that haven't yet made their exit, "I need to go find something to wear."