10142/Brad and Gwendolyn: Late Night Conversation

Brad and Gwendolyn: Late Night Conversation
Date of Scene:	21 November 2019
Location:	Gwendolyn's Room, Xavier's School
Synopsis:	Brad comes to show Gwendolyn a new trick! He then vomits. Romance!
Cast of Characters:	Haunt, Dragonfly (Armenteros)

---

Haunt has posed:
From the hallway, on Gwendolyn's door, comes a knock. Brad reconsiders, trying to decide how best to attract Gwendolyn's attention other than that, but just decides to wait, first. The temptation to use his senses to see if she's home is very strong, but he reminds himself he is NOT a creeper, and instead just waits in the hallway.

Brad is entirely invisible at the moment, which doesn't make him easily apparent if one were to peek out of the door, of course. But his scent will be there, and sounds of him breathing and his heartbeat. He doesn't have the cancelling Backpack with him.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
The previous day was rather...nice. Normal, in the scheme of things. For a mutant like Gwendolyn, finding those little pools of normalcy was something to enjoy and savor and remember over the course of days. Little things like going to the mall, with friends, was a rarity and any time she could experience it, she did. Even the stop on the way home at In-n-Out burger was special, and the little paper hat she was handed as a joke was perched on top of the lamp next to her bed as a memento of the wonderful day she had.

Dressed for bed, Gwendolyn had already removed her everpresent goggles in the quiet darkness of her room and was just about ready to crawl in for a long winter's nap when the soft rapping on the door caught her attention. "Yes? Oh, wait...just a second!" she calls out, even though it probably won't be heard outside the room, slipping out of bed and heading to the door. The lock is undone and the door is swung open slightly, Gwendolyn squinting out at the light pouring in from the hallways, blinking when no-one is there. Except, that's not the case. Her eyes narrow and she reaches out with her senses, just a little more, and the sound of breathing, the sound of a heartbeat, the rustle of clothes that aren't visible, can be heard. Just barely.

"Brad?" she whispers softly. "I hope that's you, 'cause I don't know any other invisible people."

Haunt has posed:
Normally Brad would say something the moment the door opened so that the person didn't walk directly into him: he's had that. Knocking on a door and the person walks right out looking for whoever had knocked. Awkward. In this case he had started to wander off down the hallway anyway, as he'd been unable to hear her reply from the soundproof room, and didn't 'cheat' to see if she was inside. Even if she was, or was asleep, it wouldn't have given him useful information really. "Yeah, Brad," Brad says, from about six feet up the hallway towards the stairs. He starts to come back, quietly padding in the hallway.

"Hi." He picks up that her goggles are off, but not on the night-clothes. She could be wearing anything, to his lack of perception. But the goggle thing is enough. "Sorry, are you sleeping? I didn't mean to barge in. I forgot to find out what time it was before I came by," Brad says, guilty.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
Gwendolyn is wearing things, although for Brad's peace of mind and potential conversation, it's probably best that she didn't decide to sleep in less like she usually does. It's cold, after all, and skin doesn't hold heat nearly as well as clothes do. She glances down the hall to make sure no-one is about before opening the door wider, stepping into the hall and looking towards the voice. "Well..." She glances again, stepping aside. "Come in. It's bright out here and if we're going to talk, I'd rather do it while I'm comfortable." She giggles. "You're bold, Brad. This is the women's dorm, and I don't want you getting in trouble, getting caught."

Yes, while a boy in the girl's dorm is a bad thing, him being both invisible and blind would probably negate a lot of the negative stigma.

"Just getting ready to go to sleep, actually." Gwendolyn says. "I've got some time to chat, though."

Haunt has posed:
"I was going to invite you to come out; I know I shouldn't be in here, and there's telepaths around to catch me," Brad laughs softly. "I met one today. A teacher, I mean." Brad comes forward but doesn't enter her room, he hedges on the doorway area. Getting kicked out of the school right now isn't something he's sure he wants, and Gwendolyn just reminded him about that.

Still, there's something strange about her room, and it draws his curiosity. "Your room sounds funny. Quiet."Brad pauses, trying to figure out what it is. His telekinetic breeze flutters gently in the room as he attempts to take in why her room is different to his senses. He can't quite make sense of the insulated property, but he's trying.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
"They're mostly asleep now. And besides, I'm a good girl. No sort of canoodling is going to go on in my room." As far as they know, at least. Gwendolyn almost brags about that point, looking down the hall again. And as far as she knows, she's right. The chaperones do make rounds, from time to time, but her room is mostly avoided since she's the new kid and pretty much keeps to herself as a group of friends.

Gwendolyn nearly says 'take a look' but realizes how that might come out, so she just steps aside to let his telekinetic feelers do their thing. "The staff really helped with my sensory issues. It's how I knew you were out here without seeing you. In here I can take off my goggles and earplugs and just sleep without worrying about getting woke up by someone walking down the hall too enthusiastically." She slaps the wall next to her, the sound deadening doing it's job perfectly well. "Thick carpet, thick walls, hanging stuff from the ceiling. My room's kind of like a cave. It's nice. Even has a fireplace."

Haunt has posed:
"Yeah, I can sense the ceiling things," Brad says. Some of the ceiling items swing a little, as if there were an earthquake: just Brad 'feeling' her room out, and showing her that. "So it's dark in here?" Brad asks, curiously. Again, no awareness of that. "Huh. That's nice to have a special room. I guess you don't have a roommate."

Brad does come inside, his curiosity taking over for the moment. "Maybe if we leave the door open a little. I'm not here to /do/ anything," Brad says, as if that were obvious. Did that come across wrong? Gah that was awkward. Just as well she can't see his cheeks flame.

Quick, move on! "I have a roommate. Jay Guthrie. I kind of like it, actually," Brad answers.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
There's a movement of air as Brad moves past Gwen and into her inner sanctum, the door left ajar, but not closed, the heavy wooden barrier blocking out most of the light from the hallway. Gwendoly turns to watch, trying to pick up where he is in relation to the rest of the room. Little movements in the carpet pile do give hints of about where he is, as well as his voice. She can mostly pinpoint him to a five foot area, give or take, using her senses. "Yes, it's dark. The fireplace is enough light for me to get by. I could have a lamp or something on if I really needed it, but with the senses, too much light is overwhelming. Thus the goggles." If Brad feels around, he'll find a little table next to the door with a stand on it, and on that stand are Gwendolyn's goggles.

"Walking to the fireplace." Gwendolyn says, leaving her spot by the door and moving through the darkness of her room, sitting on one of the two chairs in front of the glowing fireplace, reaching down to add another stick of wood to the embers, a flicker of flame grabbing on to the dry wood, hungry, starting to devour it, the flames starting to catch. "no roommate. My sensory stuff is a little overwhelming and I'd never be able to take off the goggles if someone was in here that needed to see with regular light. And don't even get me /started/ if someone snored. Before I got here...." She snickers. "The place I was staying, the dad snored so bad I could hear him from two rooms away, and that was before the enhanced hearing."

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
The awkward 'we're not going to do anything?' Gwendolyn caught that but, thoughtfully, doesn't say anything in regards to that. They're not. They're just chatting. Like friends would.

Haunt has posed:
"Obviously the dark doesn't bother me at all," Brad chuckles. "And you don't need to warn me when you move. I'm keeping track right now. It's that backpack that shut off my --- sixth sense," Brad explains. "The fire isn't too bright?" He's stalling, slightly oddly. And he realizes that he is.

"Anyway. I know it's late. I just wanted to tell somebody," Brad says, in a rush of words. He's pleased, proud, excited, elated. It's all very clear in his voice. "Ms. Braddock and I worked for HOURS tonight with my invisility," Brad explains. "It's easier with her there, but I can sort of.... Are you looking?"

Brad sounds like a child begging a parent to watch while he does a dive into the pool. Is she watching?

There's a little pause, and then Brad visably flickers into view. It's a flutter of invisibility getting shut on and off rapidly: in the darkness and firelight it's VERY creepy, like a ghost in a horror film. Brad's dressed simply in a black tank top and some comfortable blue lounge pants, socks. His skin being as pale as it is adds to the ghostly shape of his shoulders and arms.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
Gwendolyn giggles. "Obviously. And the fire doesn't bother me at all. As long as I keep it low, I mean. Firelight puts off more light in the red spectrum, which isn't as intense as, say, a lightbulb or the sun. I throw like twenty logs on here, yeah, it'll be too bright, but this?" A second log is placed, crossing over the first. "This is just fine."

Gwendolyn turns in her seat toward around where Brad is in the room. "I'm looking." She says, her voice heavy with anticipation and excitement, the girl sitting up a bit straighter in her seat. It's almost like someone waiting for the big reveal in a movie, Gwendolyn leaning forward a little to see better and then, when Brad flickers into view, she jumps.

"I see you, Brad!" She claps her hands lightly, careful not to blow out her own hearing from the noise. "I see you!" The effect reminds her of watching a film at school that's being run to show every other frame, Brad's form flickering, insubstantial. If she didn't know he was there, she wouldn't know how to react, but him warning her has her rising to her feet, walking over to where he stands. "You look like a ghost." she says, almost as a tease, reaching out to tap his shoulder. "You're definitely there, though."

Haunt has posed:
Brad appears and disappears as she pokes him. The touch, or him responding verbally broke the flashing. "Oof. It's dizzying to do," Brad admits. He doesn't necessarily step back, but he does widen his stance a little bit, to ground himself better. He flickers visible once more: which does show his adjustment in trying not to fall over.

"Ms. Braddock helped me anchor this more," Brad says, now once more invisible, but sounding elated. He's also breathing a little heavily, and some sweat has appeared. "Ooph. More dizzy. But. Yay! You saw me, right?"

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
The effect, for Gwendolyn, is something akin to an old movie camera flickering as it pulls film through at an odd rate with a weak bulb throwing the image to the screen. She doesn't poke him again, stepping back, offering him a hand in case he ends up losing his balance and toppling over. Better to help him to a chair than it is to let him collapse on her floor. He gets injured, and she'll have to explain invisble blood to everyone, which is something she doens't know how she'll do, or even if it's possible!

"I really saw you. Black top, blue pants, socks. Haircut." Gwendolyn grins, staying close but not too far. "Don't push yourself. I'm sure Miss Braddock said the same thing. It's like my wings - if I try too much I'll end up hurting myself. Probably the same with you."

Haunt has posed:
"Yay! You're in something yellow. Pajamas?" He's got a good gist. "So the 'problem' is I'm sort of seeing and my telekinetics is still on and it makes my brain feel like it's been whirled around in spinny-ride, but /look/," Brad says, bravely. He clearly makes an effort, and appears, without a strobe, for a few long seconds. His jaw is set, eyes wide open and staring straight ahead at a wall, the fire's light flickering off his dark eyes and features. He looks outright eerie, his expression intense enough to suggest extreme stress or pain.

"//I exist,//" Brad says, proudly, orienting his eyes actually on her, with a focus in them that suggests he's entirely aware of exactly where she is. Maybe he can see her, maybe not. But his expression is victorious and powerful, as if he had just slain a crowd of monsters and somehow survived to stand there and take it in, disoriented but present. A smile erupts.

And then something changes, and he grabs at her forearm, eyes fluttering back in his head. "Shit. I'm sorry. I might need... a trash can," Brad says suddenly, urgently. But he's still visible. "Ms. Braddock told me to take it easy but..." But Brad is a show-off and this was something big for him.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
"Yes, yes." Gwendolyn smiles, clapping, a bit too loud for her ears but this is success and deserves to be celebrated, no matter the cost. "You saw me in my pajamas." A tank top and yoga pants, basically, but that's neither here nor there. He saw her. He really saw her and she really saw him, for real! "You bet you exist, buster. You're not just a figment of imagination anymore. Keep this up and people'll wonder who the new kid in the halls is."

When he staggers, Gwen moves forward a half step to help catch him. And, thankfully for Brad, despite being a couple inches shorter and about twenty pounds lighter, Gwendolyn's fairly solid, as far as things go. When he grabs her forearm, she turns it so he doesn't accidentaly poke himself on the blunt spines growing out of the lateral parts of her and twists, shifting him to sit on the edge of her bed as she scampers for the trashcan near the door, passing it close before he messily redecorates her room.

Haunt has posed:
"This might be loud," mutters Brad apologetically as she gives him the trash can. He's aware enough of her padded, quiet room to remember that much. He hadn't been yelling anyway. Also he'd prefer it if she didn't witness what's about to---

Yep, Brad is sick in the trash can. He contains it, at least. He's visible throughout the episode, though his eyes are shut tightly and he has one muscular forearm curved around the upper rim of the can.

There isn't much to say about what just happened, so Brad just sort of stays there, panting with a mix of physical stress and embarrassment. He did not mean to come to her room and puke in her trash. This was the opposite of impressive. He lacks words for it.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
There are times, in every person's life, that they throw up. It might be from drinking too much, running too hard at school, or getting punched in the stomach during a fight; it's just something that happens to everyone at some point. It's usually embarassing when you're alone - after all, one of the things about being grown up is maintaining a streak of not throwing up, at least according to Sienfeld. This, happening in front of Gwendolyn, in her room, in her trash can, is probably right up there on the mortification scale of things for Brad. And, to her credit, Gwendolyn doesn't run away or shriek or do anything that might draw attention to her having a boy in her room. Somehow, she's self-concious enough about the implication of him being here for her to do anything but be thoughtful and patient and calm. Thank god for her time in the swamps, sitting still while fishing. The practice helped.

Ignoring the sound of violent retching (and wincing from the sound,) Gwendolyn slips off to her bathroom and runs some water over a hand cloth, wringing it out in the sink and returning when he's finished evacuating everything inside of him into her trash can. She sits, carefully, on the bed next to him and offers him the towel, her right hand resting on his back, just below the nape of his neck.

"Don't worry. It's okay. You just pushed yourself." Her voice, somehow, is calm and quiet, her hand cool on his skin. "You just stretched a little bit too much. Like....like when I tried to fly for more than my body could handle. I had a backache for three days thanks to the strain. You..." She shakes her head, her hair swishing softly. "Popped a fuse, I guess. Too much input from your powers and from your senses. Kind of like the first time I saw the past with my ability."

Haunt has posed:
"When I was little," Brad begins, his voice low in timbre from the stress of the sudden evacuation of his stomach. His voice echoes in the gross trash can. "We'd go to theme parks. There was this one we went to that had a roller-coaster that had 3d effects, and you had 3d glasses to wear," Brad explains. "We all got sick from it. Something was off from what you were seeing and the direction you were moving in the roller-coaster. Like your body was telling you that you were turning, but the visual was lagging, or just different. This is like that. That's what this feels like." Brad clears his throat, spitting into the trash.

"Like I'm seeing one thing but my senses say it's oriented in another way. Like my eyes aren't keeping up with it." Brad spits once more, but then becomes sick again, in a painful dry-heave.

Still, he comes out of it, shaking under her hand if she had not moved away. He's unaware of the towel, he doesn't reach for it, but he does lower the trash to the floor between his feet.

"I'm sorry. This wasn't supposed to go like that. I'll clean this up. Sorry Gwen."

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
"Don't worry about it. Really. Here, I've got a wet towel." Gwen's voice is more concerned than anything, and not grossed out. When you grow up in a swamp, bad smells and sights are par for the course, especially during hunting season. While this is gross, it's not too terribly bad. The towel in her right hand is brushed against his hands so he can take it, the trash can moved out of accidental kicking range, but close enough to be grabbed in case there's something else in there that needs to come out.

He's still insubstantial, flickering, but he's still visible. "I can still see you, Brad...I..." She gets an idea and stands, getting her goggles, adjusting them a little wider so they'll fit over his eyes instead of hers. She's got it down to a science, basically, adjusting that thing and, once she's back to the bed, she carefully presses them over his eyes if he'll let her, hopefully cutting the stimulus of the outside world down to a managable level for him to process. "These may help, Brad. You're still visible. I can still see you." Mostly. "Unclench that muscle. You've been holding it back for a couple of years, now. It's a lot to take."

Haunt has posed:
Brad gropes for the wet towel: his eyes are squeezed shut already. He accepts it when she pushes it to his hands, and uses it to wipe off his lower face and mouth, grossed out by himself, but too ill to really care a huge amount.

"What? What are you handing me," Brad asks, disoriented. His telekinesis comes in, and breezes obviously around her: and also blocks the goggles: there's disembodied pressure to keep them off his head at first. He didn't know what she was doing, and naturally defended.

"It's okay, I'll keep my eyes shut. I don't want to barf on your glasses," Brad says gently, embarrassment loaded in his voice. But he does raise one hand to fold the fingers over her wrist that holds the glasses if she stays put. He isn't telling her off. His touch is very cold: all his heat is not in his hands, he's trembling.

Then, Brad entirely disappears, the strobe ends. He vanishes; there's a floating trash can there now, though his hand is still felt at her wrist, but starts to draw back. Brad's retreat of shame. The vanishing act right then seemed deliberate. Which means there's SOME level of control!

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
Gwendolyn isn't the sort to force something on someone when they don't want it. At the pressure on her arm, on her hands, she stops right where she is and even withdraws a little, sitting down on the bed, the mattress sagging a little beneath her weight, next to Brad.

"It's okay, Brad. A secret between you and me." Like she'd dare tell anyone this, even in confidence? This is one of those moments that Brad probably wishes the earth would open up and swallow him - Gwendolyn certainly would feel that way, getting sick in another person's room like this, even if it was a success. "Hey, listen to me. Concentrate on my voice." It's the same voice a friend would use to another who had to much to drink. "We'll stay here as long as you need to, okay? Once your legs are back under you, we'll get you back to your room." Yes, Gwendolyn is going to brave the Boy's side of the dorms to get Brad back to Jay's room - hopefully undetected, but definitely in her robe because her pajamas do cover, but they don't conceal very well.

Vanishing, Brad's still there - his weight on her blankets, the form of him sitting there, leaned over. The cold touch of his hand on her arm is another sign that he's there. "Hey, good news?" She tries to sound cheerful. "You only just vanished. You were visible for, like, a minute. Probably more."

Haunt has posed:
Brad had curled the towel tight in his hand. He uncurls it out of his palm, and it reappears: it isn't close enough to his skin to take on his ambient invisibility. He doesn't notice: he turns the towel to fold the yuck part inside it, and then uses it to pass over his cheek and then around his neck.

"Yeah, if you can keep that I threw up to yourself, that'd be great," Brad says lamely. The trash can lifts and moves over to the bathroom. It was empty before, so this isn't difficult. Brad's telekinetics puts it down near the toilet.

"I'm okay. I want to clean this up, though. I'm not too dizzy for that." It's important he not leave her with a gross mess. He can at least do that. The door to Gwen's bathroom shuts, and then there's sounds of water. He isn't showing off: that's not the objective here. He's just cleaning up the mess he made, and if he shuts that door, they don't have to smell it.

"I think I shouldn't try again tonight. Got any headache medicine?" Brad asks her, hopefully.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
"My lips are sealed." Gwendolyn makes the motion of zipping her lips, not saying anything as the trashcan is magically transported to her bathroom and cleaned, the door closed to hide the smell. Thankfully, increased smell isn't in her skillset, so the closed door and the running water are taking care of everything that might be considered unpleasant, and the towel folded has the gross part inside, so she's okay right now. "Yeah, I've got some ibuproufen." The bed rocks a little as she leans over to snag a small bottle of pills from her nightstand and one of those tiny bottles of water, leaving her goggles on the table, out of the way.

She rattles the bottle and undoes the child proof cap. "Just take two of these." With him invisible, she's fairly sure his TK is operational right now, so he should be able to sense what's going on around him. "I've got a bottle of water, too, to wash them down. Sip it. There was this one girl in high school who drank too much, then downed like two bottles of water and ended up making herself sicker...." She sighs nervously. "Why am I telling you this story...?"

Haunt has posed:
The bathroom activity pauses while Brad focuses more on the girl by his side and the pill jar. He's not in a place where he can run various telekinetic activities all at the same time, and trying to maneuver the barf can under the bathtub faucet while also trying to manage turning the water on is already a lot. Turning faucets isn't a strong thing for him.

"Hey, tell me all the story you want; I can use the distraction from being embarrassed," Brad says with a soft laugh. He accepts the bottle telekinetically, pulling it to his hand, and is able to shake the pills out easily into the other with a mix of his abilities and touch. He hands the pill bottle back to her and takes the water, though he doesn't take the pills right away. Best to be sure they won't just come back up, so he sips a little bit. It looks like the water is pouring into nothing: tilting itself, then just vanishing. Trippy show.

"Weird day," Brad says ruefully.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
"Yeah, really." Gwendolyn responds, leaning over to bump him with her shoulder.

Pulling one knee to her chest, Gwendolyn wraps her arms around it to stay upright on the side of the bed without falling over, turning her head and resting it, looking at the water vanishing into thin air from the bottle. "Watching you drink that is kind of like a mental typo. My brain tries to make sense of it and just goes *twerp* when it fails." IT's not a negative or a positive - it's just the way it is right now.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
"Her name was Caroline Booregard." She says it like that, drawing out the Boo in the name, almost disdainfully. Seems she and Caroline didn't get along very well, probably due to the mutation. "Had a big bonfire on the levee for christmas, and someone managed to sneak a whole case of White Claws from the back of the grocery store, and since Caroline was the big shot, she ended up having four on an empty stomach, a whole plate of jambalaya, and then two more. So...yeah. When it came up, it weren't pretty." And as she talks, Gwendolyn's accent kind of starts coming in. Normally she speaks with a very precise, measured way, but when she speaks of home? That cajun drawl comes out, and many interesting spellings and punctuations can almost be seen as she talks. "Girl nearly filled a john boat up. Fed de gators all de way home an' drank a whole two bottles of water. Soon as it hit her belly, hoo-wee, it went bad. Girl nearly exploded. Got the entire side o de truck we was ridin' in. Poor Pookie nearly got hit." She chuckles. "Story of th' year, that was."

Haunt has posed:
The accent is interesting, and Brad's not worldly enough to identify it quickly. "Where are you from?" he ends up asking, interested. It isn't asked in a derogatory way, but he's wondering.

Brad thinks about what she's explaining for his water drinking, and laughs. "Oh, because it's probably vanishing, instead of poured on the floor?" Brad hasn't seen it. He can't quite understand what it must look like. "I can make the bottle disappear, I usually try to if I'm in public. I don't like being weird," Brad says, but there's no anger in his voice, just a tired quality. She can't see it but he smirked a little when she bumped his shoulder with hers, and he answers with a leaning bump back against her. It isn't heavy: he's aware he weighs more and isn't trying to knock her over.

It's a quiet thank-you, in a way. He finally takes the pills, with a bit more water. "Come watch me play drums sometime if you want. I know that's fun to watch drums play themselves," Brad offers. He slides off the bed to his feet, but moves one hand towards her - knee, hand, somewhere around leg zone, just as a pat. "I'm gonna get your trash can." Manually. Brad heads over to the bathroom.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
"Lots of places." A coy answer comes from Gwen after her story ends, followed by a short giggle. "My last name is Armenteros. So, Cuban ancestry to start with." As she speaks her accent changes to the dialects of the states, from her clipped and precise to her more comfortable. "Sprinkle one Cuban girl with a little bit of Florida, Georgia, South Carolina, and end her up in Cajun Country, Lousiana, an' you get an' accent like mine that changes as reg'lar as th' tide on th' Bayou."

She leans against him lightly, watching as the pills are shaken out of the bottle and vanish, re-taking her equilibrium as he stands and, somehow, not falling over when he does so. The touch on her knee is light, and she carefully brushes her fingers over his. Yes, she felt that pat and you're welcome, is all that touch says. "I might do that. After Saturday football. LSU is supposed to be playing the Aggies. I don' know if you're a college fan, but that's good football." She goes quiet for a second. "I'll make popcorn."

Haunt has posed:
"I cannot /wait/ to maybe be able to watch football again," Brad says, his voice thick with the longing about it. He escapes into her bathroom, though. There's sounds of him fully rinsing out the trash can and leaving it there to dry: as well as rinsing out his mouth at her sink, too. Because yuck. He dries off and comes back out, clearing his throat as he re-emerges, just to make her aware about where he has moved to.

"Anyway. Thanks for, you know. I'll make it back to my room okay, I think. I'm sorry I kept you up late," Brad apologizes; his voice movement carries him towards the door.