13556/We're not gentlemen... not even close

We're not gentlemen... not even close
Date of Scene:	25 June 2021
Location:	Rec Room - Xavier's School
Synopsis:	Warren offers Scott a visual guide... or something.
Cast of Characters:	Archangel, Cyclops

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Archangel has posed:
    Warren Kenneth Worthington sat at the bar in the Rec Room. It was past curfew, so all the students were in bed, or should have been, leaving it only to the faculty, and the odd student that didn't actually sleep, or slept very little. Mutant powers could be funny that way.
    He had a half drunk beer, jet black with only the faintest hint of yellow in the otherwise mostly white head. A game was playing on the televisions, though Warren didn't seem to be too interested. He owned one of the teams, but even that wasn't enough to lift his spirits.
    He had been down of late, single, alone, still dealing with the aftermath of what was done to him, what he did while being manipulated. The sad truth was, part of him, buried deep down inside, had enjoyed being Death.
    It had been some time, but he was still dealing with the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder brought on from it. Reaching for the bowl of pretzels, he poured some from the edge into his hand, so he could munch on them.
    He wore a white dress shirt, top two buttons undone; a tie draped over one of the seats nearby, along with his suit jacket. His pants matched the jacket, and the whole wardrobe probably cost thousands of dollars. His watch probably cost tens of thousands of dollars.

Cyclops has posed:
Scott Summers doesn't really spend a lot of time at the school as of late. With him and Jean having moved off campus, and school pretty much out for the summer, there hasn't been a lot for him to do here as of late. Fairly soon they'll likely be answering calls about new students to take in, or finding new students some other way, but for now he and Jean were trying to enjoy some quiet life.

It's just sometimes not that easy.

So, for Scott, when he can't sleep for whatever reason, he comes back to the mansion. They don't live that far away for the just in case they're needed quick, and he's likely been working in the garage on either his bike or his mustang for some time. About ready for a break, he's meandered himself into the rec room only to find the lights on and someone sitting at the bar.

Tilting his head, he walks up to the bar and glances side-eyed to Warren, giving a little smirk. "Hey. You doing alright?"

Archangel has posed:
    Swivelling on the chair, Warren gave Scott a polite nod, lifting up his glass in greeting, and then took a swig of the black stuff. It was probably Guinness. That was Warren's beer of choice. "Yeah, never better." If he had been looking a bit down, that body language was gone in a flash. He was in Angel mode.
    He was an expert at hiding his true feelings. It came from spending a lifetime between boarding schools and board rooms. No matter where he was, he was constantly challenged. He had to put up his armor. It was so effortless and practiced, that sometimes he wondered if the armored Warren was the real one, and the other was his mask.
    "Been working on that motorcycle of yours?" It was a good guess. He could smell some of the oils, grease, or gasoline on him. And then he thought about that. "Working on the bike this late. Something wrong with you and Jean? If you need someone to talk to, I'm here for you, Scott."

Cyclops has posed:
"Nah. Me and Jean are fine. Thanks tho, I appreciate that. It's just..." Scott trails off for a moment. The difference between him and Warren is, he TRIES to bury his feelings, but it's hard sometimes. When you work and now live with one of the strongest telepaths you know, its hard to really keep anything hidden. So really, the truth will always come out at some point. "Truth is, it's been way too quiet recently. Like I know the government doesn't give us any issues anymore." He pauses. "But I almost feel like... it's *too* quiet. Like there's something brewing just out of our reach..."

He walks around the bar to grab himself a bottle of beer, coming back around to take a stool near Warren. Keeping one between the two of them. "Anyway, that's all. I just couldn't sleep, and then it became some sort of wide awake second wind. So I came to work on the Mustang that I have in the garage here. The bike I coulda worked on back at home." He chuckles then.

Archangel has posed:
    "That's good; you two make a nice couple." Years ago, he and Scott had fought over Jean, but she made her choice, and Warren has no regrets, or at least none in that regard. "Don't ever let her go," he said as he watched Scott walk around the bar to grab himself a bottle of beer.
    "Not even to me," he added with a smirk. "Ah, yes, the mustang," Warren said. He never bought American cars. They were too unreliable, always needing tune ups, and the just couldn't seem to keep up with the European, or even the Asian models. Lots of horsepower, sure, but they were boats on wheels.
    Passing the bowl of pretzels over to Scott, Warren looked up when he saw the team he owned being awarded something called the Prince of Wales Trophy. According to the broadcasters, they were heading to the Stanley Cup finals, whatever that was. Warren barely showed any interest.

Cyclops has posed:
"Thanks. I mean... we're not quite a couple yet..." Jean may have picked Scott over Warren or Logan or anyone else...but there were still things they had to work through. For the moment, it was nice just being really close friends. But that is neither here nor there.

Well, not until that next comment. "Ha. I won't lose her to anyone. I hope not anyway. I mean...there's been some progress...bah. It's really of no importance.." He says this much while grabbing the beer and sitting down. When those pretzels are passed, he takes a couple and munches on them. Glancing up at the television he chuckles. "Nice work... off to the Stanley Cup? That's a thing...they're based in Canada right?" Asking about the team anyway. Or maybe some other country, who knows!

A brief period of time and some silence might pass again while Scott sips beer and eats pretzels. "I guess I'm just being my paranoid self right? If nothing has happened by now, likely nothing will happen. Right?"

Archangel has posed:
    Upon hearing that Jean and Scott aren't quite a couple yet, Warren furrowed his brow. "Yet you live together." He thought about that, debating a few different courses of action. His final solution proved to be quite comedic. Moving and draping an arm around Scott, Warren said, "I would have thought that you'd have figured this out before you turned twenty-seven, but you see, boys have a penis, that'd be the little dangly bit you see in the bathtub, and girls have a vagina..."
    "No, the arena's over in Elmont. That's in Hempstead, Nassau County." He paused, and then added, "long island. That's why they're called the New York Islanders. But the trophy comes from England actually. It was donated by Lord Stanley of Preston." Warren wasn't much of a hockey fan, but he owned the team. It was usually a good tax write-off, and it carried some prestige. But mostly it was a tax write-off.
    Deciding to play with Scott's paranoia, "or perhaps that's what they want you to think. It could be that you're being lulled into a false sense of security. Best time to strike, is it not?"

Cyclops has posed:
Scott Summers makes a face after Warren scoots a stool over and drapes an arm around his shoulders. He all but shrugs the man off with a chuckle. "Yeah, I know about the bits and bobs, smartass." He chuckles then, shaking his head. "And yeah, we do live together...it's easier for us to live off campus really..." Especially with things that have been happening with Jean but that wasn't important at this juncture.

Then Warren is explaining about the hockey teams and Scott seems...not really interested. But he listens and then he shrugs. "Ah, makes sense. Though I think Canadian teams can go for the Stanley playoffs too, right?" Lifting his beer to tip it back for a drink then , he smirks. "You know none of that shit you said made real sense to me right?" Side eyeing his friend for a moment before shaking his head.

"I'm not being lulled into anything. Jean knows how I feel about her, and vice versa. It's just...complicated. Especially when you take into account that we're both X-Men, and we really shouldn't be letting our emotions get in the way of missions and the like." Which is true. Or at least, it's what they tell each other on the surface. There's a lot more there than is likely let on though. "Anyway, at least I have someone who's interested. When's the last time you got laid, Richie Rich?"

Archangel has posed:
    It was nice to see and hear Scott chuckling. He was always so stolid. "Oh phew, I was worried I'd have to borrow some of Bobby's dolls." He didn't know whether Bobby played with dolls, or action figures, but it was a joke, and a guess.
    Back to the hockey, "yeah, there are seven Canadian teams, the rest are American." He was kind of surprised that Scott wasn't that interested in hockey, being from Alaska, and spending a lot of time in upstate New York, two hotbeds of hockey in America. He gave Scott a look, but shrugged it off.
    He followed along, nodding his head, there to support his friend, offering a friendly ear. He would joke, but not judge. And then Scott had to go and turn the tables on him. Without hesitation, Warren calmly stated, "a gentleman does not talk about such things, my friend." He paused, a wry grin coming over his lips, "Nor should he ask."

Cyclops has posed:
If he could roll his eyes, Scott would, but it wouldn't be seen because of his ruby-tinted glasses. So he just has to shrug his shoulders and shake his head. "No. I get it. I don't need any sort of visual guide or something." This and then he looks back up at the television.

It's not that he wasn't into hockey, just not /that/ into it. You don't have to be into a thing just because you're from the heart of where people are head over heels for it. Never the less, it's neither here nor there in the moment and he finishes off his beer in a couple swigs.

"Speaking of. I should get home. I left her a note, but she'll worry if she wakes up and I'm not around." He slides off his stool and slaps Warren on the shoulder a couple times. "That says it all big guy, cause you and I? We're not gentlemen...not even close. No matter how fancy you dress." A smirk and then he turns to leave. "See you around, Richie Rich."

Archangel has posed:
    "Oh, I can provide a visual guide. Would you prefer photos or video?" Warren laughed, a hearty laugh. Was he joking, or was he just teasing Scott. It was hard to tell. He was so practiced at these sort of things.
    Watching Scott finish off the beer, Warren said, "I hope you're not driving. Think of the example it'd give to anyone who might see, or sense." In this school, there were people with more than the usual allotment of senses. "Sleep well, Scotty. You are a very lucky man. Don't ever forget that."