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Post by Simon Burkett on Jul 20, 2006 15:16:27 GMT -5
Simon had been walking for nearly half an hour, munching on pringles and guzzling soda when the roof of the house peaked into view through the trees. Jeanette had been right; it was a ways out of town. The sun had climbed a little higher and though the morning was nowhere near done the oppressive heat was already on the rise. The air was filled the chirrup and buzz of bush-dwelling insect life as he trooped along resolutely, the abundance of bugs only adding weight to his desire not to spend the night outdoors.
He hoped they would take him in. He hoped they would not charge too much. He hoped they had room for one more. Mostly he hoped they had air-conditioning.
Already on the list of 'Things Simon Must Buy' were a pair of cut-offs (he firmly believed that he should not expose himself to the world with shorts, but would meet them half way with a compromise) and more short sleeved shirts.
All of this hinged on him being able to get more money. Which was, of course, questionable. There probably wasn't any call around here for a mostly trained software engineer. He gave a small sigh and trudged on up the road toward the house.
It was set back from the road and flanked by trees; a bright gravel drive stretched up to the canopied porch. Parked in front of the porch was a lean, powerful looking motorcycle. Simon raised an eyebrow; people who stayed in hostels generally couldn't afford expensive looking bikes.
Intrigued he crossed the road and crunched his way up the drive to the porch. It really was a nice bike. Simon was no expert but it was pretty obvious that somebody cared very much for their vehicle.
He resisted the urge to get into the seat; knowing his luck the owner would choose exactly that moment to emerge from the building, and knowing his luck the owner would be a seven foot tall, tattooed, shaven headed biker psycho.
And then he would die.
He stepped away from the bike and climbed the steps to the porch. Making a silent prayer to whichever passing deities might be listening he knocked on the door.
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Post by logan on Jul 20, 2006 17:49:21 GMT -5
Logan didn’t need to lean forward to get a gracious whiff of the beauty what was Grits ala Marie. He was marveled at how like his tastes hers were, and once again noted what small similarities the two had shown. His smiled up at her, and dipped his spoon heartily, taking a few well portioned bites.
Nodding, he gave her his approval.
“Not bad, kid, not bad at all.” He said, after stuffing down a few more heavy bites. He was absolutely starved. “You know, any flamin’ idiot wants to call you a coward for your choice can shove. You made the decision your gut told you, and you spared yourself a life you didn’t want nor need. Sounds logical to me.”
He cut her a grin, and then paused, his ears moving slightly. A half-second later, a knock was heard at the front door. His instinct cut in, but he overpowered it with calm, and waited to see what she’d do. This was a place of healing, after all.
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Post by Admin on Jul 20, 2006 21:51:17 GMT -5
Grinning as she sat down to her own grits, Marie nodded her thanks with her first bite. "Thanks Logan," she said as she swallowed, "I'm glad not everyone feels the same about it."
Almost before she'd finished speaking he'd heard something outside the door, and then there was a knock. Although she felt his own attitude change, she smiled inwardly and got up to answer the door before anyone else could.
"Hello," Marie said easily as she opened the door on the man standing outside. He was probably around her age, and looked as if he could use a good dusting off and a good meal - like most of the other kids that graced her doorstep. "Welcome to Rogue's Place. How can I help you?"
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Post by Simon Burkett on Jul 21, 2006 7:52:17 GMT -5
Well this was unexpected.
Simon opened and closed his mouth a couple of times like a landed fish before marshaling his reserves of courage. He'd expected either a matronly woman in her forties or fifties or some sort of balding biker throwback.
The young woman standing in the doorway was certainly neither of the above. Maybe, he figured, it was the matronly womans daughter.
"Uh, hi," he began somewhat awkwardly, "I just got into town and, uh, I've been looking for a place to stay."
He felt about as awkward as it was humanly possible to be. This wasn't going at all as he had imagined.
"Only I asked down the road at the store and, uh, they said this place might be ok."
A thought occurred.
"I have got the right place havn't I? Only if I havn't I'm sorry, I'll be getting right along." He trailed off, ready to die of embarrassment and made ready to hit the road.
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Post by logan on Jul 21, 2006 9:41:48 GMT -5
Logan chuckled quietly from his place at the kitchen table, unseen and unheard by the awkward youth outside. He’d grown accustomed to the misplaced lack of confidence from most young people, thanks to the Xavier Institute. At that place all former self-doubts thanks to mutant powers had vanished, and they were replaced by the more standard gamut of self-doubts, all based off of appearance or popularity. Or, of course, the opposite sex. This guy outside seemed as uncomfortable as any he’d seen at the school… but then again, what a strange place to walk up to and try to enter. It was probably the only of its kind on the Earth currently.
He took the extra time to finish his grits, shoveling in spoonfuls of the delicious stuff.
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Post by Admin on Jul 22, 2006 7:00:58 GMT -5
Smiling warmly, Marie nodded, "you've got the right place, sugah. We're always happy to put a traveller up for a night." The majority of the time, the travellers were restored humans anyways (especially the young ones) and it would eventually come out as such. Besides, she had a sixth sense about these things, and he certainly came across to her as a cured mutant.
"Comon in, are you hungry?" She held the door open for him and had resolved already to give him the rest of her grits, small portion as it was, as she started up a second batch. Then again, he sounded like a yankee, and not all yanks like grits. Until they tried them, of course.
"I'm Marie," she said and stuck a hand out, always happy that she could do so without gloves on, "this is my house. You can stay as long as you need."
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Post by Simon Burkett on Jul 23, 2006 12:52:13 GMT -5
Simon blushed a little before making a point of mopping his brow as if hot. At least he had got the right place, though he had never would have imagined it was run by a rather attractive young woman who looked barely older than him. He clasped her hand awkwardly and gave it a shake.
"Uh, hi Marie, I'm Simon, Simon Burkett," his tongue felt about ten times too big for his mouth. And then, even though he had just eaten most of a tube of pringles, "I am a bit hungry, yes."
He stepped inside, "I'll try not to hang about too long, um, just until I find a place to work," he unslung his pack and rooted around inside, eventually finding the roll of cash hidden at the bottom. He withdrew the money.
"Uh, I don't have much," he said apologetically, "but I'll pay for my time here, how much is it per night?"
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Post by Admin on Jul 23, 2006 16:48:50 GMT -5
"It's free, unless you want to make a donation. Most of the kids here don't have the funds to pay." She led him inside, grabbed a clean spoon from the kitchen, and then pointed him to a seat, switching out her barely-used spoon for a new one. "I took one bite, but I don't have cooties or anything. You can eat the rest and I'll make up another batch." You had to appreciate her southern hospitality at least - Marie always made sure people were fed when they came to the door, even if it meant she didn't get much to eat herself.
As he sat down, she motioned towards the silent man stuffing his mouth with food. "Simon, meet Logan. Logan, Simon. Enjoy each other's company while I get some more grits on the stove." And with that she was back into the kitchen, washing the pot out, getting the grits ready, and starting up a new batch.
"You want something to drink, Simon?" she called back over her shoulder.
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Post by Simon Burkett on Jul 23, 2006 17:39:33 GMT -5
"A donation?" Not entirely sure how much was decent he divided his cash in half, determined to pay his way if he possibly could. He hoped it was a worthy enough donation for what amounted to unlimited hospitality. A little hesitantly he followed Marie into the dining room where an incredibly hairy man in leathers was feasting.
It would be HIS bike then. Simon looked askance at the man, wondering why someone who could afford to run a nice looking bike would hang out in a hostel. He tried to look like he wasn't looking; from what he'd heard of bikers they wern't the most even tempered bunch and he didn't want to be caught staring.
Then Marie introduced him.
"Oh, uh, hi Logan," Simon greeted him cautiously, making sure to keep the table between them. He took a scoop of his grits and suddenly his appetite returned with a vengeance and reminded him that man cannot live on pringles alone. He also had a thirst and realised it almost exactly as Marie asked about drink.
"Uh, yeah, please," he said, already feeling like he was imposing, "I'll, I'll have a soda if you have any," he glanced surreptitiously at Logan. How did you address a biker? Normally he would have called the older man sir, but bikers might be offended by sir, and Simon was pretty sure this was one guy he didn't want to offend. On the other hand he'd only just met him, he couldn't just call him Logan. Could he?
He had a sudden unwanted mental image of Logan tearing down a highway cackling like a lunatic with Simon lassoed to the tailpipe.
"So ... uh, Mr. ... Logan," Simon tried experimentally, "that's a nice bike you've got out there." He figured he couldn't go far wrong by complimenting the mans machine.
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Post by logan on Jul 23, 2006 19:07:49 GMT -5
Logan raised an eyebrow over a spoonful of Grits. The new guy at Rogue’s place seemed awkward enough to be treated royally by the hospitable young southern belle, and Logan couldn’t help but smile internally at the fortune people in the kid’s position had with her about. Of all the places to wander, it was good he ended up here.
Realizing he was just staring at the kid, probably seeming somewhat intimidating (for Logan knew he had this affect on people, and was quite glad it was so,) He sat his spoon down into the empty bowl before him and did his best to smile casually.
“Thanks, its previous owner knew a bit about taking care of machines.” He said, the image of how Scott used to pine over his vehicles bringing a smirk to his face. “I do my best by it, but ultimately on much of an engineer. I’ve being putting her through hell over the past few months, I only hope she stays up until I can get her home.”
He leaned back in his chair, promoting another creaking session from it, and put both hands on his stomach in a full gesture. Those grits really hit the spot. “What do you do, Simon? Got a trade?”
The kid looked like a computer programmer, or possibly a professional couch potato.
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Post by Simon Burkett on Jul 24, 2006 14:51:55 GMT -5
The guy even sounded like a biker; all growl and gristle. He seemed to have taken the compliment that way it was intended however and had not opted to bash Simon with a tyre-iron. Simon considered this a good thing. That fact that he had mentioned getting the bike home also revealed that he was just passing through, not actually hanging out as first suspected.
It took a moment for his brain to digest all of this before he realised he had been asked a question.
"A trade?" He repeated slightly stupidly. Then mentally coughed back into alertness; don't keep the hairy man waiting!
"Uh, yeah, sort of, I was studying to be a software engineer, you know, video games and stuff," he said it slightly shame faced, the words made him sound like such a geek. It was what he was good at though.
He wondered briefly if he should ask Mr. Logan what he did for a living but he was A) not sure he wanted to know and B) not sure that asking wouldn't be another excuse to get him a beating.
Instead he opted for what he hoped was safe territory, "so, uh, you're just passing through then?"
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Post by logan on Jul 25, 2006 3:31:32 GMT -5
The Wolverine was definitely amused. He specifically didn’t look at Rogue, who was no doubt giving him a look that clearly said ‘try not to scare anyone here, bub.’ Instead, he nodded at the young man and smiled.
He’d seen his fair share of video games at the Mansion during his stays there, and even tried one once with Bobby – some game where you went around shooting things. Wolverine’s heightened reflexes and coordination didn’t seem to help him with the flamin’ thing though, as the Iceman still kicked his ass. Logan had managed to leave within seconds of putting his claws through the X-Box.
Still, technology always impressed Logan. He didn’t much care to use it more than he had too, but he always found its many applications something of a marvel.
He had the kid pegged, though. Sometimes the self-proclaimed geeks of the world can be spotted on sight. Most times, actually.
Logan knew he liked this kid. He was actually happy to have him here with Rogue, as he seemed like someone who’d be honest and could be trusted too, probably provide her with some decent company too, for which he was thankful. The girl was tough, but he didn’t want her to have to be. She needed the support of other people in her position, and knew they needed the same, which was why she opened this place.
"so, uh, you're just passing through then?"
He nodded, taking a drink of his soda. “Yep, on my way back to Xavier’s. Long ride ahead, but that’s the way I like it. I know Marie here from way back, figured I’d stop by and see how she was. The grits were a bonus.”
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Post by Simon Burkett on Jul 25, 2006 9:50:35 GMT -5
Xaviers? The name didn't ring any bells. It was probably a biker bar up in Detroit or someplace like that, all bearded men and leathers arm-wrestling and wearing shades indoors. Simon could see Logan fitting pretty well into that environment.
As for knowing Marie from way back, that seemed a little odd. He wondered briefly how long Logan considered 'way back'. He glanced surreptitiously at Marie as she busied herself around the kitchen and then back at Logan. There didn't appear to be any sort of family resemblance, heaven forbid, but that didn't mean anything. Maybe he was like the strange, hairy old uncle that people didn't like to talk about and had actually raised Marie after she'd lost her parents.
Maybe.
That would explain why he was used to her cooking. He would have expected her to have more rough edges if that had been the case though. From what he had seen, biker babes tended toward impossibly tight leather, lurid hair colours and more piercings than an explosion in a rivet factory.
The only affectation Marie seemed to have was a lock of white that tumbled down her brow like a snowy cascade. Weird choice. Simon supposed it was some sort of statement of independence, she did run her own hostel after all; respect!
He shoveled some more of the grits in and chewed contentedly; at least he wouldn't go hungry while he was here.
"So, uh," he said, attempting to fill the conversation gap, "how many people are staying here?" The place had looked pretty big from the outside, it would be weird, not to mention a little bit awkward, rattling around the place if it was only him and Marie.
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Post by Admin on Jul 25, 2006 12:06:19 GMT -5
"Here you go," Rogue said with a smile as she set a glass of soda and ice cubes down in front of Simon, her shock of white hair falling in her face before she could catch it. She thumbbed it back behind her ear as she heard him as how many people lived at Rogue's Place.
"Bout two dozen or so, give or take." She peered into the kitchen to make sure the grits weren't boiling over, then took a seat herself. "There's me and Lee, we kinda run the place. And then a half dozen young kids, and most of the rest of them are high school aged. Oh, and James and Lars, who both showed up yesterday. Lars doesn't live here, he's got a temporary place in town, but you'll probably see James."
It seemed to remind her of something, and she turned to Logan with a bit of a frown on her face. "You never met a mutant named James did you? At the mansion? The man seems so familiar, but I just can't place him." She breathed a laugh as another thought struck her, "man I hope he's not one of Magneto's lackeys who were cured. I'd have to kick him out then, and he makes great spaghetti."
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Post by logan on Jul 25, 2006 22:34:54 GMT -5
Wolverine considered it for a moment, then shook his head. “Nope, don’t recall a James. Not that I did my best to memorize all the kids, though.”
Logan passed a glance back between Rogue and Simon, and put his hands behind his head, locking the fingers.
“So Simon, were you a mutant?”
Say what you will about Logan, he had a certain lack of tact. He believed in talking about things in an up-front fashion, and held no qualms or pickiness about subject matter. He wasn’t necessarily crude, but was definitely a bit rough.
Ambiguity and the vague usually annoyed him, and he couldn’t tell from Rogue’s conversation if this guy really was restored, or just happened to be passing through.
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Post by Simon Burkett on Jul 26, 2006 15:20:27 GMT -5
Lee. That explained a thing or two; she didn't run the place alone. Made sense that a pretty southern girl like Marie would have a boyfriend. Good for him. Simon hoped he wouldn't take offense to another guy being around the place, though from the sound of it there were at least a couple of others. Hopefully he was an easy-going sort.
He sat back and took a slug of his soda. Mountain Dew. Awesome.
He tried to imagine the place running riot with two dozen kids underfoot. He never had been to good with kids; they chattered all the time, broke stuff and cried.
The evidence in Lee's favour grew. He must be one tolerant guy.
Simon continued to chew away on his grits while Marie and Logan discussed James, a mansion and Magneto. Simon may have not payed much attention to the mutant issue but he recognised the name Magneto. There wern't many people who didn't after the Alcatraz incident. Did these people seriously know Magneto?
He found it highly unlikely. Pondering this he took another swig of Mountain Dew.
Then Logan popped a question.
Deer. Headlights. Speeding car. The works.
Simon inhaled half his drink, spluttered uncontrollably for a few seconds, spilling some of it down his chin and then started choking. He managed to force down the liquid that hadn't invaded his lungs and sat there for a moment dripping.
"Uh," frowned apologetically, "sorry, I, I'll get a cloth."
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Post by Admin on Jul 26, 2006 16:08:33 GMT -5
"No, James is alot older - thirties/fourties maybe?" But she couldn't help but smile at his confession of not memorizing all the kids names. Made her feel kinda special, that he had not only remembered her name, but that he had gone out of his way to come visit her today.
She turned suddenly as Simon coughed, and jumped up before he was even finished talking. "No, don't worry, Sug, I've got it." She had to check on the grits anyways, so she just grabbed a kitchen towel while she was there and came back to wipe the table off. She handed it over to him so he could wipe himself off and smiled to herself. He wouldn't have acted like that if he hadn't been a mutant (or maybe he was a mutant currently and Logan could take him up to the mansion when he left), but she sure would have used a little more tact with the matter. Shooting him a 'tsk tsk' look that still held alot of amusement, she took the soiled towel to the bathroom and threw it in the dirty hamper.
On her way back through the kitchen she checked the grits one more time, found them to be perfect consistancy, and grabbed a third bowl and spoon before taking the whole pot out to the table. "Help yourself," she said with a smile, letting Logan press the issue of his mutantcy.
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Post by logan on Jul 27, 2006 3:15:25 GMT -5
Logan almost laughed, but struggled extremely hard not to. He knew that the kid was either cured or still a mutant, he just hadn’t decided which. Likely cured. His only change in expression was the lifting of an eyebrow at the mess, though after a moment he finally broke down and chuckled.
“Calm down, kid, you’re talking to a mutant.” Wolverine had been pulling a cigar out of his pocket, and now stuffed it between his teeth as he raised a fist before him. Out came the claws, not as fast as he could have pulled them, but definately not slowly.
*SNIKT*
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Post by Simon Burkett on Jul 27, 2006 10:47:55 GMT -5
Simon mopped himself down with the towel and sighed disconsolately; he really did need more than one set of clothes if stuff like this was going to keep happening.
He appreciated the offer to help himself but he'd almost finished the first bowl and he suddenly found he'd lost his appetite. Where the hell had that question come from?
Was it possible to tell what he'd been even though he'd been cured?
Mutant.
*SNIKT*
Simon had only just sat down when Mr. Logan admitted to being a mutant as if it were and every day conversation topic. Then he sprouted claws. Simon visibly jumped, almost upsetting his bowl and a comical look of panic crossed his face.
Oh NOW I die! He thought to himself, eyes fixed on the pointy metal prongs extending from between Mr. Logan's knuckles.
He glanced over at Marie.
Simon had never been brave by any measure, but Marie was just standing there, a small smile on her face as if everything were perfectly normal, as if hairy, leather-clad bikers with ten inch claws was a perfectly natural thing.
Wait.
She could be a mutant too!
And this was the deep south!
Simon suddenly remembered all those horror movies he'd seen of the big houses, set back in the trees on lonely southern roads. The houses where the crazy families lived that abducted hitchhikers and stuck them on meat-hooks before inviting them to dinner.
Oh shit.
He made a small noise that might have been a squeak and then fainted.
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Post by Admin on Jul 27, 2006 11:22:46 GMT -5
Rogue couldn't help but smile as Logan's claws came out. She remembered the first time she'd seen them, unaware of what he was, and she had been terrified. But not terrified enough to keep her from sneaking into the back of his truck. But as Simon made a small squeak of surprise and then fainted, her smile disappeared and she shook her head.
"Logan, really. You didn't have to show off, sug." But as she checked the other's pulse and felt it beating normally and strengthening under her fingers, she couldn't help but smile.
"Simon?" she called out softly in a sing-song voice, hoping to rouse him gently. "You're ok, Simon, he's not going to hurt you. Logan looks intimidating, but he's really just a big teddy bear inside." A big teddy bear that she'd watched kill dozens of men on more than one occassion.
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