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Cannonball is wearing everything a little too tightly tonight. Jeans…glued to his legs and hips. Shirt? Buttons at the top are screaming. Sleeves…so tight about his upper arms that he's in danger of busting a seam. And then he has a cowboy hat on, with his straw-like hair sticking out from under it at all angles. And of course…boots. Pointy. He's here to have a goooood time, and is well into his cups.
Harry's Hideaway wasn't so much a pinnacle of its name. Sure it was down in the basement, set against bricks and dirt that would erode the underground structure in due time, but it was the most famous place near outside of Westchester and the cookie there does something to his fries. Which is what Jean herself tries to partake in. It's very rare that she gets time out to herself; actually eating food that someone else cooked as she tries to discover what taste it could be so that she could mimic it when she gets home.
The place itself was crowded tonight; many throngs of people gathered in their little corners. Big and tall, little and small, some wide and often with a pointy ear or two. Harry's doesn't discriminate. The only language and kind here is those who are there to drink and spend money, and even probably cut a rug with the tune that was playing on the jukebox.
Jean dips a fry into the ketchup, bopping her head back and forth, nearing to the point of airplaining the potato into her mouth but decidedly.. stopping herself.
Ben Grimm probably causes something of a stir. He's a famous guy, after all - being a cosmic-powered rock monster will do that for you, especially if you're part of a team of heroes that doesn't bother to wear masks. Not that a mask could do much for him anyway.
He's wearing a trenchcoat and a fedora, a little bit smushed by the roof of the cab, the coat itself kind of rumpled as he makes his way up to the bar, "Gimme about three beers, foamy head, then scram for twenty before ya do it again," he says, tossing a couple of bills across th counter and waiting, his craggy brow furrowing as he looks around the room.
|ROLL| Cannonball +rolls 1d20 for: 12
Cannonball suddenly sits down with Jean at her table, uninvited, with the drink in his hand and smiles…smiles all the way to dimpling his cheeks in a manner that he clearly thinks is charming. Cornflower blue eyes twinkle at the red head. "Fancy seein' a pretty la-…oh…damn, is that you, Jean?" His shoulders relax from his schmooze. "Damn…I was gonna hit on ya fer some a them fries." He chuckles.
Another fry bites the dust. Jean was slightly dancing in her seat, her eyes upon the door until it's suddenly ripped away by Sam's appearance. "Sam?!" She nearly screeches with happiness, nearing ready to jump out of her seat to give him a hug but, decorum is what mattered in a dump like this. Sort of.
"Why I cannot believe my eyes." She says, finally pushing the basket of fries to the middle of the table, offering to wordlessly share with a friend. "Where have you been? I mean, it's been months. You gotta stop disa—.."
Of course, words are cut off at the emergence of Ben Grimm. Jean's nose didn't wrinkle but she does openly stare. Mouth not agape but.. it was something to see him out there in public. She's only met one of them once before. Briefly. And a very, very long time ago. "Holy. Crap."
Ben overhears the momentary happy reunion, cut off by the recognition of his big bulk as a presence. He takes the first beer slid to him and drains it in a single gulp, hooking the mug with one finger and wiping the foam from his mouth with the back of his free hand.
"Don't worry, baby, I ain't here to mess nothin' up. You an' yer pal go ahead and have yer happy reunion. Cheers to ya an' all that, courtesy o' the ever-lovin' Thing," he says, raising his now empty glass in salute.
Samuel Gutherie winked and squeezed her hands at least, then totally took a fry. He's far too loud in replying to Ben, "Ah dun think so big fella! Bring that big hunk a rock ass over 'ere, cuz who wouldn't want ta sit beside this," He points to Jean, then himself, "Or this…I mean…I dunno what yer inta..I guess. Anyways, come sit with us, Mr. Celebrity!"
Jean looked surprised! Very surprised! So much so that she really begins to sputter on her words, then stops to take a sip of water. In fact, she continues to drink her water as Sam begins to call Ben over. Especially in the manner that he does. With cheeks burning red, she puts down the glass, reaching for a fry to pop into her mouth. In between chews, she mumbles loud enough for Sam to hear. "You could have at least said it nicer.. he's not going to come over here now.." God, they're like kids.
Ben walks over closer, although he doesn't immediately take a seat. Truth is, he doesn't love it when people make a fuss over him, but he can tell the kid means no harm. "I ain't nobody tonight. Just a fella comin' to get some beers and a little piece of comfort," he says. "I wouldn't wanna intervene on two lovebirds," he says.
Cannonball grins crookedly, "Ah wuz bein' nice. That's…comradery and such." He excuses to Jean, before lifting his voice again, "We aint together. Friends. Sometimes we work together. Like on a /special team/." He winks.
"Ahh.." Jean starts, but it was clear that Sam was the shaker and mover of the two. It was actually pretty amusing, and refreshing to see someone so full of life. "Not lovebirds. Tragically and forever single." Jean lifts her empty glass, then frowns. "Eh. I need a refill." She pushes her chair back to allow the two men to talk, immediately squeezing in between two lugs in between the bar. "Pardon me Sirs!" She calls out, her hand outstretching and glass wiggling between her fingers. "Another glass of water please? Ice this time too!"
Ben Grimm snorts, "Sorry, dollface, I think I got dibs on all the loneliness weepies out o' everybody. Bein' made o' orange spacerock will do quite a number on a man's datin' prospects, I gotta tell ya," he says. "Torch gets to have his powers and his handsome and his famous and he…well, he's him. But me? Most dames take one look at me and wonder when I start carryin' 'em up the Empire State Buildin'."
Cannonball looks Ben up and down curiously. "Really? You think not one of em wonders…you know…" The noticably drunk Sam points downwards. "I bet they do. I /bet/ /they/ /do/." He lids his eyes and steals another fry.
The Glass was filled quickly enough, Jean receiving a few hellos and a pats to the shoulder from the big lugs she was in between. Apparently, she was a regular there and so were they, and she knew them on a first name basis. Ben's words were not missed though, and as she slides into her seat she gestures towards the chair, allowing it to slide out with a fling of her TK, and wisely bolstered by its strength.
"SAM!" Jean nearly barks out, snapping her fingers in his direction repeatedly. "Stop that! Anyways, don't mind him. And I'm not minding you either, Mr. Grimm. I'm sure there's someone out there who would love you for who you are, orange plastered and all. And I'm sure that person probably wouldn't mind a swing or three on top of that building, either. View's wonderful."
Ben's baby blues narrow towards Sam for a moment, although he lets Jean talk him down a bit, "Believe it or not, pally, "Hey, big boy, can I see yer big stone dingus?" ain't exactly my favorite pick-up line," he says. "I ain't some greaser lookin' to get laid in the backseat after a sock hop. I'm a grown-ass man an' I ain't nobody's circus ride. I want a woman o' quality, god dammit, not some cheap-ass floozy lookin' fer a thrill," he says.
He nods to Jean, "Pardon if I I got out o' line there. Kind of a sore point fer me, as ya might imagine. I ain't quite as optimistic at my chances as you is, but I do try an' keep a good thought. In the meantime, here's to ya," he says, draining his second beer with a gulp.
Cannonball tips his drink to his mouth, and still smiles. "I'm not a grown-ass man. Well. I am. I just ain't done having fun yet." Unapologetic for his behavior, apparently, and unappologetically lively.
It was a little unsettling, they were there to have a good time but a quick quip to change the subject was in order. "Wait wait.. its all fine and dandy! Besides, we're alive.. the place is booming, drinks are flowing.." As Ben lifts his drink, and Sam takes his, Jean lifts hers in a salute to at least keep things cheery. "Oh. I forgot. I'm Jean Grey. This here is Sam Guthrie." She gestures to Sam. "Everyone knows who you are, and what you do.. but, what is your actual job?" Now to the meat of it all! "Other than heroing. I run a school. Or a home. They're pretty much an all in one thing." She was totally blabbing now.
"I can see that, squirt," he says. "Young, dumb and full o'…well, let's just say give it a decade or two an' you find different kindsa fun," he says.
"Nice to meetcha. Well, the heroin' kinda is my job, in a funny way. We have da Future Foundation, which is kinda a big research an' charity thingamajig. I help wit' dat an' I get a few bucks and a pad in exchange. Not much, but the rest o' the Four are loaded anyways, so they can spare me a decent salary and some insurance."
Cannonball bobs his head eagerly. "Hey, you ever wanna kick that Johnny out of the club, ya can come to me." He thumbs at himself. "God knows I could use a better job. I'm just bartendin', and takin' care of mah brothers and so on. Sending money back home to Kentucky to my ma."
It was actually interesting to hear that little tidbit, especially from Sam. At least she knows where he's been most of the time, especially when he's not at the mansion. But she nods completely, now she was damn near on the verge to talk business..
"I know this is probably a bad time to ask but, do you think the Future Foundation offers scholarships to high school seniors looking to enter into college?" Hey, why not. Maybe Sam will buckle and go to college himself.
"Sounds like the kinda thing Reed gets all gushy about. I imagine there's somethin' like that, although I don't know all the particulars. I got a card in my coat here, it's got the phone number an' ev'rythin'," he says.
"And the Fantastic Four is a family, kid. Don't kick people outta families, even hotheaded little pretty boys."
Cannonball draws in a deep breath, "I swear ahm tryin', here. I swear it. Mah brother Jay does a better job a this I guess. I can't seem ta catch a break. Ah'll just drink fer a bit and see how its done."
Jean laughs a bit, shaking her head towards Sam. "Don't mind him, he's really smarter than he gives himself credit for." With that said, business card taken, and Jean rises from her seat, leaving her water untouched. "Alright, its my witching hour. Hope we both can probably stop by the foundation and speak with Mr. Richards about the scholarships, and hey. Maybe we all should catch some burgers sometime. Or maybe a movie." Cause, Superheroes have friends, right?
Ben Grimm nods, "Don't be a stranger. And don't worry too much, kid. I stuck my foot in my mouth a few times at her age, too," he says, giving Sam a friendly clap on the back that probably knocks the wind out of him a little bit.
Cannonball puffs out some air and definitely gets to eat the rest of Jean's fries now. His beer sloshes though, and he makes an 'awww' sound. "Aslong as there aint no hard feelin's."