Going to party like it's 1999!

[Gunslinger]

Roy strode down the hallway with his light, quiet steps, shifting the contents of his jeans pocket around indecisively.

On one hand, parties were a whole lot of fun. There was likely to be food, drink, and a whole host of people to sing with and shout at all night long.

On the other hand... birthdays. Roy hated birthdays. There was no such thing in the lab.

Fuck that, his stomach growled at him. I'm hungry! Get me some food!

Scratching the stubble on his chin, he took a deep breath and strode forward towards the noise.

[Mercy]

Mercy followed behind Deadpool into the room, wary but not afraid - partly because she had lived in a compound in NYC that had desensitized her to thugs and violence, and partly because she was refusing to let the rational side of her brain fully think through the fact that these people were some of the highest on the government's grocery list. She was slightly worried, though, that her Senses would decide that they needed to show up for some reason or another. She doubted she had very much control over them.

As Deadpool stopped, Mercy moved from behind him to stand at his side. She noticed that none of them seemed to be wearing costumes, and she glanced sideways - her eyes coming about level with Deadpool's chest - at Wade's red-and-black leather. Then she pictured how disgusting Wade's skin had looked when he'd taken off his leather face mask, and suddenly she didn't care how comicbook Deadpool looked, as long as he kept his skin covered up.

She herself didn't have a get-up, but she'd tried for something that at least looked more proper than street clothes. An entirely black ensemble had been the default choice, but Mercy didn't like being so drab. She'd never worn all black back home - it was bad enough being a little white chick, but she didn't want people thinking she was some kind of gothic freak. There was a certain way she had to act to stay safe, and she'd toed the line very carefully. So she'd decided that gray and black would do. She wore gray pants, a gray top, and a black fitted trenchcoat over it, tied closed.

The word 'trust' as it was applied to Deadpool always seemed to come with 'worry' attached. But Mercy tried to shrug it off - maybe the leader of this gang had accepted Deadpool more warmly than Mercy would have thought. The way Deadpool waltzed into the party, you'd think he was a VIP guest.

She didn't say anything, just looked around at everyone. 'Oh, shit--is that guy dead?!' she wondered, faint alarm and a tinge of sickness registering on her face. The others looked more or less normal. Except for the giant fish that Mercy stared at unblinkingly for the duration of Deadpool's attempt at conversation.

[Nightingale]

There was something very nice about arriving in the kitchen arm-in-arm with Pyro. Even if Angie knew that it wasn't quite for the reason she wanted it to be. Not to mention that she knew that everyone else knew that too.

There was something very confusing about that train of thought. She blinked a few times before deciding that she didn't care, beaming at the black-and-red-leather clad person who entered just after.

"Merc with a mouth? But... I mean, doesn't everyone have a mouth? How does that make you special?" She tugged Pyro over toward the table, sliding back into her seat and immediately feeling more confident. Which made it seem like finishing her drink and having another would be a good idea.

Yep. It was going to be an interesting night.

"Where's Cain? And Roy? And Dharma? And Callisto and Sy?" The latter two tended to keep to themselves, so she wasn't really expecting to see them. And Python was missing, too, apparently gone on a supply run or something - not to mention Aurora and Mystique. That had her torn down the middle - on the one hand, not having Mystique there to look down at her and feel like a little kid again was a good thing, but on the other, it would have been nice to see Aurora.

So, in some kind of compromise, she pulled her mobile phone out of her pocket and looked at the picture message again with a smile.

[impact]

Lucas was starting to get... a little edgy.

Watching everyone come in, he continued draining beer bottles like he was conducting some kind of liquor-to-piss experiment. Sinking back into his chair- as much as a man his size could shrink, anyway- Lucas listened to the conversations, smirking when people laughed, frowning when people tended toward the serious. All in all, Lucas didn't do parties. And he didn't like rooms full of people will him at the back corner.

Leaning in towards Gracie to say something, he changed his mind and scooted his chair back, rubbing the small of his back beneath his tshirt. The gun made him sweaty where it rested against his skin, but it made him feel safe. Safe enough around this group of fucked up crazies anyway. Particularly that Dead Man. At least he was halfway across the room.

When Pyro came in with Angie, Lucas nodded, smirking a bit at the fact that he had the birthday girl on his arm. That's a boy. At least he knew how to take care of the stray women on the island.

Lucas looked to Gracie again, and smiled, drinking down half a Corona, and lighting himself another cigarette.

[deadpool]

Deadpool seemed to be greeted as if he belonged there, which made sense, considering that Pyro was right there and it seemed natural enough. This was good.

He stepped over to the food stuff, and looked over his shoulder to see if anyone minded. When he wasn't prompted not to serve himself, he heaped rice and chicken onto a plate and handed it to Mercy. Then created his own portion, and scooted up a chair. It took him a moment to adjust the two swords on his back, and the various firearms about his person for him to sit in it.

“Man it's been forever since I've been to a Birthday party! Please tell me there's cake and ice cream. Maybe a clown or two? That would rock. I love clowns – they're so creepy! They remind me of my uncle Larry... long story. Not fit for the dinner table either.” He shrugged, and took out a do-rag. Tying it around his head, like a bandito in a wild-west movie, he tugged up his mask. The rag prevented anyone from seeing his face as he spooned food underneath it and began to munch.

He nodded across the table at the remarkably male model looking duo that seemed to be chillin' with the punker chick.

“Oh crackers!” he said, and sat down his spoon. “Who's the birthday person?”

One of the male models observed him warily, but nodded to the pretty Australian girl who'd come in Pyro's arm (probably his girlfriend, they seemed like a nice couple.)

“Kinda rude of me not to wrap my present...” he said, and reached behind him, drawing out a high-tech semi-automatic pistol (not by the handle, but by the top of it. Deadpool was crazy, but drawing iron in front of the Brotherhood was a level of crazy even he lacked.) He sat it down on the table, and slid it over to her. The pistol was silver in color, had a sight on the top, as well as a laser scope attached to the bottom. Seemed to have an extended flash suppressor and silencer on it as well as a particularly long clip. “There ya go! The gift that keeps on givin'!”

[Pyro]

More than a little bemused by Deadpool's effervescence, by his companion, by his gift to Angie, John absently accepted a drink off...someone, possibly Gill, although he wasn't paying attention.

He took a swig of the glass of Coke he'd been handed and hesitated. There was, without doubt, alcohol in this glass. And he knew that he and alcohol were something of an unholy mix. However, he suddenly felt acutely aware of the presence of Lucas and Gracie, who he had no desire to wimp out in front of, so he simply drank it.

It took less than four swigs for the alcohol to immediately start causing his physiology to react as though he had drunk a dozen glasses of the staff. This was partly good in a way, because he actually started to relax and enjoy himself. It was, however, also bad because if he wasn't careful, another glass of the stuff could send him into the sort of drunken stupour that only a night of solid binge drinking could be accomplished by most people.

"I think," he said, "that we need to eat this fantastic food and have a few more drinks and generally chill out - Gill, could you go and get some music playing? And I do mean music, none of your bloody Johnny Cash stuff. Y'know. Things we can...dance to."

He jiggled slightly as though emphasising a point. A couple of spots of colour had appeared on his cheeks and he had the faintest hint of a decidedly silly grin.

[sy]

Since his arrival, Sy had pretty much ignored and been ignored by the majority of the residents on the Brotherhood's island. He prefered it that way. He was sure they always knew where to find him; even if they didn't have all the gadgets that the Xavier mansion had - which they might - it was a pretty safe guess that you would find the God of the Seas in the ocean. He had gone for a swim the first day and been pretty much married to the ocean since then. Except for mealtime - even Sy was human.

But he wasn't expecting a birthday party today as he made his way into the dinning room. He didn't even know what a birthday party was, for that matter - birthdays were vanity in excess, according to his parents, and Sy didn't know what day he was born, he just had a vague idea of how old he was. He also didn't know about presents, and therefore came empty-handed to the party.

It was a busy dinner, from the looks of it, with a whole crop of new folks he didn't recognize. So Sy eased himself into the crowded room, pulled on his sleeves to make sure he was covered, and took a seat in what was probably Juggernaut's reserved spot, judging by how big it was.

[Nightingale]

"Oh!" That was... unexpected. "Thank you."

He'd given her a gun. A gun. Deadpool had no way of knowing how appropriate his gift actually was - Angie was the only member of the Brotherhood who had no way of protecting herself, or even getting away effectively, but... It was a gun.

"Are you going to be around long? I'll need to learn... You know, how to use it."

Wait. There was a gun on the table. People were drinking. That didn't really seem like the best combination.

"Um, excuse me for a second, I'm just going to take my things," she trailed off, waving one hand in the direction of her room, and stood a little unsteadily to gather up most of it in her arms. Gill's bourbon and Jane's cigar box, Angie left where they were, but the rest of it was tucked as well as could be into Gill's gift bag, along with the sack of ransacked (appropriate, she noted with a giggle) goodies, and began tottering her way down the hall.

Gill appeared at her elbow, taking the statue Dom had made and giving her one of his wide-mouthed smiles as he escorted her to her room, then silently kept going on his way up to his office. Angie's goodies got left beside her desk, the gun going into a drawer, before she tottered back out, pulling the door shut behind her (and letting it click locked, for once - she just felt a bit weird about leaving it open for anyone to go into now that she had a loaded gun around).

When she returned to the party, she took up her glass again and was dismayed to realise that it was empty. Well, that was easily fixed. Sliding back into her seat again, she looked around to see if there was anything interesting happening.

"What'd I miss?" Then she noticed that Juggernaut's usual spot was filled - but not with the Juggernaut's bulk. "Hey, Sy. You want a drink? Does anyone want a drink?" Her voice raised at the end to be heard over the music, and she turned to look at Pyro, wanting to know if he really was going to dance.

[Mercy]

Mercy watched the birthday girl receive an array of presents that were straight-up weird. When Deadpool pulled out a gun, though she realized his intent was to give it to Angie, Mercy nearly held her breath. She completely expected at least someone in the room to freak out and have Deadpool's ass in a headlock before he could set the gun on the table. But he set it down, and people seemed to stay relaxed. Huh. Maybe things really are cool.

Mercy had been eyeing the alcohol, and as Angie collected her gifts, Mercy sidled over to it. She took a bottle, being silent and as discreet as possible. If Wade didn't see her drinking, he couldn't stop her, could he? She wasn't alltogether sure that he would stop her, but she'd rather get a few drinks in her before she had a chance to find out.

She looked to the side as she opened the bottle, at the dark-haired guy who sat near the alcohol - probably for easy access, as he seemed to be drinking quite a lot. He was tough-looking, but not in the way she was used to. He was more...mob type. White people's version of a gang. And the girl next to her was definently not hood-friendly. But they looked like a couple of street-smart people, which was much better than a lot of other kinds of people - rich people, weak people. The Po-po's.

[recluse]

The amused smile hadn't left her face since Angie and Sparks had walked back in arm in arm, not even when Deadpool gave her a gun - though she did raise her eyebrows at that. Sparks did nothing, though, so Gracie figured it was fine and watched as Angie wandered out with all of her presents.

Lucas had scooted his chair back a bit so, even though it made her feel like a complete tool, she scooted hers back a bit too and rested her bare foot on top of his shoe. Though she wasn't generally one for public displays of affection, she leaned over to nudge him with her shoulder before taking a good sip of beer in that way that always seemed to catch his attention.

Just because they couldn't leave the party yet...

[Gunslinger]

Walking into the room with an unconcerned stretch, Roy leaned against the wall next to the doorway, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Things actually seemed... relaxed. In a room with all these mutants hanging about, the last thing Roy had expected was for it to be at all calm.

Of course, it did help that their leader man seemed to be losing his head a bit. Roy could only hope it had taken more than just the single drink he was toting about. There was so much just off about this group, though, that he wouldn't have been surprised if that was all it took.

He was actually feeling slightly guilty - or as close to it as was possible for him - because he hadn't know about Angie's birthday until the day before the party was supposed to happen. When he'd found out, he'd also discovered the trouble with being on a jungle island: there were very few shopping opportunities. With no way to leave the island, there was no way to get to a Gap or Old Navy or whatever the hell people were wearing these days.

Roy tended to just waltz into a store, find a shirt that fit, and not worry about the label that was on it. He'd wound up paying quite a bit more than was wise that way.

Normally he wouldn't have felt bad about it at all, but Angie had shown him the friendliest side he'd seen since arriving on Genosha. That gave over to just enough guilt to rifle through his things randomly and find something that she could use somehow.

Which was why he was carrying around $500 in $20 bills wrapped in brown paper. His luggage contained a remarkable amount of cash at any given time - a whole lot more than it looked like he had, and he liked it that way - but that was the way of a bankrobber. And it also meant that when he wanted more, he'd just find another bank.

Walking forward through the small mass of people, he pulled it out of his pocket and tossed it on the table in front of Angie with a mumbled, "Happy birthday," before walking past towards the counter with the alcohol, ignoring the young girl edging the same way. All this birthday shit was giving him a headache.

[impact]

Lucas looked at Gracie, and smirked, narrowing his eyes on her like a lion to a gazelle. She really was an outstanding woman. He set a large hand on her knee and squeezed a bit, looking around the party.

Watching Roy join the party, he finished yet another beer and tracked the kid's movements. He wasn't half as slick as he thought he was. And what was with the presents? Sure it was her birthday. Didn't mean any of them owed her shit. Lucas figured, was his money that supplied the beer. That's about where his contribution ended. She wanted more than that, she knew where to find it.

The thoughts turning around Luke's head made him chuckle, and he grinned to himself.

[dharma]

Dharma had been skittering around behind the counter listening for some time. He hadn't expected anyone to enter, and didn't want to frighten anyone. But when Angie mentioned him, he felt he had best not disappoint the young girl on her birthday. They seemed to find birthdays so important. A celebration of self, and the entrance into suffering. Dharma didn't understand it. But, they did celebrate Buddha's birthday in his culture. That he could understand.

The small black beetle found a place among the crowd of people where Dharma's reappearance wouldn't displace another body. Willing himself upwards, the man grew to full standing height within only a second. His long black hair fell in a rope off his shoulder, and he nodded his head to Angie respectfully.

"I am late. I apologize." He looked around at the others, then his eyes- and only his eyes seemed to move- were back to Angie. "Your gift." He gestured over to a large bucket-shaped planter carved of the same green wood the temple outside had been made of, disregarded where it had sat since before the party began. It was easily 3 feet wide at the mouth. His fingers extended and the tips flicked a bit, and into the planter grew soil, and from the soil a good sized tree, about three feet tall.

"It is a Sacred Fig. The Bodhi Tree, where Buddha came to enlightenment, was the same tree. Perhaps with care you will find the asme."

Completely unaware of what an austere and somber gesture he had made of the gift, Dharma nodded to the others, as if telling them he didn't mean to interrupt whatever had been going on before.

[Aurora]

An unexpected face appeared in the doorway - Aurora's. She was laden with bags, including a gift box wrapped and tied with a bow. She paused a moment, looking around. "The one party we have in this place - and you think you can have it without inviting me?" she asked, pretending to be insulted, though the effect didn't come across so much when she was smiling so widely at Angie.

Her eyes scanned the room as she set her bags down by the door, and she moved toward where Angie sat, holding only the gift box. "Get up - if you still can," she said, eyeing Angie's glass. "--and give me a hug!"

She wore a leather corset coat - the classic jacket, but more form-fitting - and dark jeans which fit like a glove. Clearly, the woman hadn't spent the entirety of her trip doing research. She'd done a bit of shopping as well.

[Nightingale]

"Oh! Thanks Roy!" The young Australian raised her glass, but Roy was already gone. A peek into the paper bag told her that she wasn't going to have to worry about money again for a while - which was good, she didn't like having to ask Python to buy things like clothes or bathroom stuff. Or books or CDs or the little luxuries that she'd indulged on when they'd last been in New York. Shopping again would be nice, actually.

Then Dharma was growing out of nowhere, and Angie clapped one hand over her surprised grin, though it still showed in her eyes. It always amazed her to see him use his talents, and she shook her head to his apology. When he announced the significance of his gift, she smiled again, taking her hand away from her mouth so that he could see it.

"Thank you, Dharma. Will you help me move it somewhere later? Do you think it will do well in my room, or would somewhere with sunlight be better?" Plants needed sunlight, as nice as it would be to have something living in her room.

Of course, there wasn't much of a chance for conversation before Aurora was walking in, and Angie's eyes lit up at the sight. "Oh. My. God!!!" She practically squealed, bounding out of the chair at Aurora's request - and almost bowling the other girl over in both her enthusiasm and inebriated state.

"I didn't know you were coming back today!" With what was possibly the most rib cracking hug that Angie was capable of, the girl looked past Aurora to try to see Python. Unfortunately he wasn't there; she'd wanted to thank him for such a fabulous gift.

[avalanche]

Dominic Petros observed the room serenely, eating his rice and chicken with a particular delight. It was good, and he was definitely looking forward to cooking with Angie at some point in the near future. His eyes scanned over all the assembled people, and he was starting to get an understanding of the limited numbers that the Brotherhood had.

There was John and Angie, who seemed like the most normal of sorts. There was the New York crew: Himself, Lucas, Recluse and Roy. The new blood, really. There was Gill, who apparently stayed on the island, and was a hub of information. Dead Man, of course, was standing nearly as still as death against the far wall. Dharma had entered, and he seemed to represent the spirituality of the place – the wisdom. Aurora had entered, still stunningly beautiful in that ridiculously mainstream way. A bald guy there was also, whom Dom didn't recognize. That left Deadpool and Mercy, who'd Dominic had neither ever heard about nor seen. The black and leather clad guy was a complete nutcase – and the girl looked very on guard here, sneaking over to the alcohol. Where they not regulars? They could be new like him. John didn't seem to care. Who'd that leave? Juggernaut, Python, and Mystique. If there were others, no one else seemed to notice them or mention them.

The party had a good mood about it, especially with John kicking back drinks... which Dom knew from personal experience, was a terribly bad idea. He eyed his young friend carefully, but still laughed out loud at some dancing gesture he made.

Everyone was drinking, eating, and have a generally good time. Dom felt that the place could be home... here he felt as if he was among equals, not leading or calling the shots. Sure, John was the leader, but it seemed an almost clinical position – there for necessity, not because of the draw of his planning or leadership skills. Not that he lacked in those areas, of course, just that it wasn't what was holding the thing together. These were people held together by purpose alone, and that felt great.

Dominic caught John's eye, and raised his glass to him in a sort of salute, nodding and smiling.

[Pyro]

John was rapidly becoming faintly overwhelmed by the whole thing. It was a bizarre feeling being semi-intoxicated and witnessing a friendly, sociable gathering of all these people...

No, all his friends.

The realisation touched him deeply and he wandered off into something of a daydream. When Magneto had been in charge, he - John - had commanded a certain level of respect from Callisto and her cronies through the edge he hand on time spent under Magneto's command. They'd never respected him for being Pyro.

But he was starting to gain that respect now and it did his heart good. The brooding, miserable mood that had been on him earlier began to lift (possibly carried away in the arms of Mr. Jack Daniels) and he finally started to relax and enjoy himself.

He didn't exactly break into a spontaneous dance, but he performed a sort of half-hearted jiggle that was faintly rhythmic. He caught Dominic's eye and toast and bounced gleefully across to flop down in the chair next to him.

"This," he said, "is fun. Do you have any idea it is since I had fun, Dom? Any idea at all? Ages, that's how long. I vote we do this next year when I'm twenty one." He slid down in the chair slightly and took another sip of his drink. He nudged Dom in the ribs and nodded towards Angie.

"She's something, ain't she? I reckon," he waved his finger soberly. "I reckon as you should make a move on her."

Something wistful crossed his face and he appeared to be about to say something else when Aurora entered.

His green eyes lit up and he looked past her, but there was no Mystique.

His disappointment was palpable.

He hid it well by holding up his right hand in a Vulcan salute and shouting "Live long and prosper, 'Rora!" and reducing himself to helpless giggles in so doing.

[Aurora]

Aurora's smile turned to a grin as Angie greeted her so enthusiastically. Luckily, she managed to set the gift down on the table before Angie tackled her. Wrapping her arms around her friend, Aurora returned the heartfelt hug. "Yeah, I figured I'd surprise you," she said as she let go. Picking up the gift, she held it out to Angie. "So - surprise!"

Upon hearing Pyro's exclamation, she turned and caught him in the Vulcan salute before he collapsed into a fit of giggles. Her eyebrows rose as she watched him laugh himself silly, an amused smile slowly growing on her face. She'd been quite amused while watching Star Trek a few weeks earlier to see a character with such pointy ears like hers. Thus the salute made sense to her, even if no one else got it.

She ran her hands through her hair to pull it behind her shoulders, revealing her pointed ears, and returned the salute. Dropping her hand, she examined Pyro's drink. "Pyro - drunk?" she asked with a smirk as he continued to laugh. "I'm so glad I'm not missing this."

She looked around. There were a couple of people she didn't recognize, but she saw most of the people she knew - and then there were those from the hotel, who hadn't grown any less attractive since she'd seen them last. Especially Impact.

But before she could focus on meeting anyone, she wanted Angie to open her gift. "Go on, open it," she urged her with a smile, her eyes glittering as she turned her head back to Angie.

[avalanche]

“Any idea how long it's been since you had fun?” Dom repeated, eyebrows raised. “Dude, you're surrounded by gorgeous women on a private island fortress, and in control the premiere mutant gang in the world. If you haven't been having fun, it's totally your own fault.”

He grinned wickedly at his friend, and listened to him suggest hitting on Angie. This, naturally, forced Dom into all sorts of awkward questions as to the nature of his own being – questions that have been buried nicely under a year's worth of pure training, and mutant mastery. Being unwilling, at least at this point, to address them, he replied simply with: “As much as I'd like to show you the moves that made Avalanche the talk of the town, I'm afraid a girl like her takes a bit finagling. You know, you've gotta go for the long haul?”

Then Pyro addressed Aurora in the bizarre Vulcan thing, a joke that Dom didn't catch at first until the supermodel revealed her pointed ears, and then he joined John in the fit of laughter. It felt great. It always felt great. There was something about the connection he had with Pyro that just clicked right. As if nothing could ever go wrong.

“Oh shit, I totally forgot to ask you. My room sucks... can I create my own room? I know this is Magneto's joint, but do you think he'd mind if a created my own chamber? I'll make sure it's structurally sound.”

[Gunslinger]

Ignoring the feeling of someone's eyes on his back, Roy grabbed a glass and searched through the bottles for something, anything, that would make the experience a bit more enjoyable. Grinning as his eyes fell on a bottle of scotch, he snatched it up and poured the amber liquid into his glass before turning back to the crowd and leaning against the bartop.

He had thought that he'd be the last one to arrive - it had taken him a long time to decide to go at all - but it turned out that there were others just as late as he was. The beautiful woman who stepped through the door, though, looked as though she was coming home after a long trip.

Which, of course, she was, he reminded himself. She was one of the people who had greeted them in New York. Not the one who had been eyeing him; her sister, if he recalled correctly. They hadn't been on the plane back to Genosha, certainly, and he hadn't seen her around the base since he'd arrived, so the wanderers must have finally returned.

Taking a long drink of his scotch and letting his face twist into his usual smirk, he rolled the small of his back against the bar, bringing him around to face the direction of the gaze he'd felt earlier. His unconcerned expression fell on none other than Lucas James, looking vaguely amused with something. For someone with a legendary poker face, the guy wasn't half as secretive as he thought he was. Pushing off from the bar, he winked at the big guy; he had something to drink, and he was already feeling better.