136/The Dazzler

The Dazzler
Date of Scene:	24 April 2017
Location:	Xavier's School, Westchester, New York
Synopsis:	Summary needed.
Cast of Characters:	Dazzler, Gambit, Deadzone

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Dazzler has posed:
Mid-day, Westchester. The staff-side flooring of the mansion is upset with a strange, rumbling vibration that rattles the floorboards of the hallway near Alison Blaire's room. Strange isn't all too uncommon at the mansion, there's a Danger Room somewhere deep beneath it, but on the staff floor? Not so common. Then again, anyone who's ever spent time around a teenager's room can gather that the heavy rumbling in time with some kind of trip-hop beat is a blaringly loud stereo behind a wall of thick soundproofing.

On the other side? Alison Blaire. Fresh out of the shower, her recently dried, styled, and flat-ironed hair is //perfect//, but she's mid-step with a towel wrapped about her hips, bouncing about in a tee shirt that clings deeply off of one shoulder, tapping away messages to her agent. A bounce here, a scoot there, she's surrounded by a horrid wall of sound while getting ready for the night.

Gambit has posed:
Remy looks down the hall and rolls his eyes, he already has an idea of who's room that tubthumping is coming from, so he assumes he should be the kind teacher to step up and think about everyone else and so he's steping down the hall to knock on Alison's door, but knows she wont hear it and opens the door slowly to peek in. "ALISON!" He screams to be heard over her blaring speakers.

Deadzone has posed:
Climbing up the stairs and feeling pretty chuffed about her first time teaching Home Ec, Tate looks down the staff hall with the arch of a brow. The loud music, the fact that she's the music teacher, and two and two finally add up to four. "Wait.... Alison Blare as in *THE* Alison Blaire? Like the rock star? Wait! She's a mutant?!"

While Dazzler's music style isn't her preference, she of course knows who Dazzler is. And now the light shows at her concerts make way more sense. She joins Remy, looking around the man with a hand on his shoulder.

Dazzler has posed:
"And...no...weird...stuff...in the...green room." Tap. Alison finishes a message into her phone and spins about, clinging loosely to the knot in her towel, for a backwards walk over to her bed where a pair of cutoff shorts are waiting for her. She slips the phone into her mouth, biting down on the rubbery otter-type box with her teeth.

The muffled wall of sound, when the door is opened, comes out at an ear-ringing concert hall pitch. The mutant within, immune to sound, could stand right next to the roaring takeoff of a NASA shuttle launch and wouldn't bat an eyelash. For Alison Blaire, there really is no such thing as too loud. However, loud blends with loud.

The knot comes undone and the towel starts to unravel, and in the nick of time, Alison FLINCHES in seeing her door open, shrieks, and drops to the floor on the other side of her bed. THAT thump makes it through the floorboards just fine.

"OH-MI-GOD WHAT?!?!" Alison calls out, one arm coming up to bat across her bed, trying to find a remote control that's well within view of the two.

Gambit has posed:
Remy stiles a laugh as he half turns in the woman's room so he's facing the door he just walked into and allows her to get dressed, he's got his hand over his mouth and is starting to fear Rogue will find out he saw Alison wearing... a shirt.

Remy leans over to Tate, "You got t'e lead on t'is one. I didn' know she was naked." He chuckles more, trying to be polite but still in the room.

Deadzone has posed:
Tate smiles at Remy and gives him a punch in the arm. "What is it about you and walking into the ladies rooms? I think your goal is to see every one of us naked, just to say that you have," she admonishes. Her smile as she scolds him though is enough to indicate that Tate is at least not genuinely mad.

Holding a hand before her eyes, Tate smiles over to Alison. "I think Remy was going to tell you that your music is making the floor shake."

Dazzler has posed:
"There's soundproofing! Come in and close the door so no one else can hear it!" Alison yells out. Like a tentacle slapping the side of a submarine, Alison finds the remote, turns the music down to normal-person pitch, then grabs something fabric-like off of the bed. Once more, she disappears behind the bed to the tune of what sounds like a carp flopping on the back of a boat. Hip-hopping and trying to stay behind her bed, the dressing ritual is nearly complete.

"Okay!" Alison speaks up, music down. "So what? Tates? Remy? Did you say it's too loud?" A beat passes. "Hang on. Jeeeaaaans." Flop. "I thought I had it all contained."

Gambit has posed:
"No, you're ass is hangin' out everywhere!" Remy says, turning around and slowly pulling his fingers out of his ears. The thief missed much of the conversation due to the loud sounds, vibrations and his own digits in his ear holes.

As the sound returns to normal human levels, he is looking around the room and looks over at Tate, hoping she can give a level of insite that the male just can't understand about some of women's fashion.

Deadzone has posed:
Tate can't help but sneak the occasional peak beyond her hand. Hey! It's Dazzler! And she's freakin' hot! Yes, yes, she's a terrible person, but at least she's not trying to actively see Alison naked. But if a bit of extra flesh just happens to come into view, she's not going to complain either.

Her ears still ringing as the sound comes down. "The sound was contained, but it seems that it was still making the walls and floor shake. And, I feel like a ditz. I didn't realize when you said you were Alison Blaire, that you meant you were like THE Alison Blaire. I don't know if my world's version is a mutant. So... cool."

Looking to Remy, she rises her shoulders in a shrug. "Don't look at me. She doesn't wear nearly enough black or leather and I don't see a corset around here anywhere."

Dazzler has posed:
"It's my room. If there's one place my ass can hang out-" Alison grunts above the sound of a zipper, knees and hips lifting off of the floor. A final button is popped into place and the blonde rises from the floor, arms extended to either side in a wide, beaming ta-daaaa. Nevermind the shock of red around her ears. "-it's my own room. This is why I keep telling people to text me if they want to come in, because I don't wanna lock it if I'm listening to music loud. I'd never hear the knock in an emer--you know--forget I brought this up." Eyes boggling at how stupid her own door-plan is, she lets it go.

Quickly, Alison rounds the bed towards the two, pulling her hair down over one shoulder and cringing a half-gritted smile to the two to acknowledge the awkward. So awkward.

"Well it's definitely me. THE Dazzler, now not so much a stranger. I've got all kinds of stuff like that kept from music video shoots, you're free to raid my closet if you've got a hot date." Alison waves a twist of her wrist towards her closet, then clamps her hands at the small of her back, searching their faces. Well-plucked brows up high, her head swivels. "So...that was it? Y'all were just telling me to turn it down? I've got the night free if you guys do. Come on, let's do //somethin// non-babysittery."

Gambit has posed:
Remy starts to turn around when Alison stands up, acting like the show woman she is. Remy decides she's doing okay and with the music down enough the building isn't reverberating, so he's pleased, "I don' t'ink I need anyt'in' from your closet Alison, but t'anks for t'e offer." The cajun cajoles and turns opening the door, starting to step out, seemingly ignoring the offer to go hang out. He knows Rogue would be super upset if he went out with Alison and Tate without the southerner in tow, so he's not going to risk the cold shoulder.

Deadzone has posed:
Tate rests a hand on Remy's chest as he starts to leave. He's not getting away that easy. "Well, I will probably have to have my own black stuff, but I always like a splash of colour, so I might take you up on that offer."

"You have the night free? Hrmm... well, if you really wanted to, you could play Sugar Momma and buy me oodles of clothes since I'm *still* wearing borrowed stuff until payday."

Dazzler has posed:
"I was talkin' more her than you, Remy, but if you did I wouldn't think less of ya," Alison opens her mouth, widens her eyes, and brings it all down on one side in a joking wink to the retreating cajun. Her fingers snap behind her back and the gothling is given a sideways stick of her tongue, a funny face, as the blonde turns to find her cell phone. "I've got all kinds of stuff in there, just ask me first. Some stuff don't lend."

Cell phone up, Alison grabs her boots and socks. Her head shoots up with a look of horror to Tatum, then to Remy's back, and she shakes her head furtively. "Nuh-uh, borrowed clothes is a living hell. We're going out and I haven't goth-shopped in almost two years. This. Is. Happening. Boots!"

Hopping on one foot, Alison manages to get one on and grab her car keys. The other? She's tugging on and hopping in a slant towards the door, on a set course to shoulder into Remy's back.

"Sugar mama's got your back, Tates."

Gambit has posed:
With a hand on his chest, and then a few moments later a shoulder in his back. Remy offers, falling outwards into the hall, landing on his hands and chest. "Got it, I won' be gettin' in t'e way o' women 'n' t'eir clothes." The cajun says groaning softly as he pushes back up to his feet. He'll follow Alison and Tatum around all day as they demand, giving them honest answers, and not so honest answers at his wise discretion.

Deadzone has posed:
That is one thing Tatum had noticed about the X-ers. The ones that have are always willing to help those that are the have nots. Hell, when she found herself being a have, she started to pay it forward and spent it on others too. She helps up Remy and smirks. "Gonna need a man's opinion. Besides, you know this world's Hank better then I do, so you get to help a girl out. Though tell me this Hank hates gothic fashion and I'm afraid all bets are off. I will wear colours he likes but that's about as far as it goes to pander to a man as he's getting."

The trio paint the town red, Tate taking the others to all her favourite shops. Deadly Couture, Venus & Mars, Cabbages & Kings... Tate seems to be enjoying torturing poor Remy, modelling itty bitty outfits and asking his opinion. "Do you think this shows off too much skin?"

Dazzler has posed:
SHOPPING MONTAGE. A red, convertible BMW, a trunk filled with purchases from stores where, really, there's nothing there for Remy. Wrapping, pleated skirts, both short and long, swimwear, intimates, UNMENTIONABLES. While Alison is a fiend for the more colorful, magazine-type styles, she's got a grin ear to ear through the whole of the afternoon, chatterboxing away with Tatum and turning her around, tugging at corset-laces and throwing skirts over her changing booth's wall.

Blonde as most of the goth world isn't, Alison's caked on some dark kohl over her eyes and comes out in a blue and yellow pleated skirt, half a mile of fishnet fabric down to her boots, and a leather top that she's pushing and primping into place, coming to stand before her mirror. "Oh shit, I like this..." Alison drawls lowly, dipping a hip and tilting her head to get a look from a new angle. Then, she swings her head over to Tatum, lips twisting into a grin. "I think Hank'll like that. I //think//. You get him to walk into a cabinet yet?" Alison laughs and turns back to her mirror.

"This is giving me an idea for my next album..."

Deadzone has posed:
And lets not forget the make-up. A goth just isn't a goth without kohl and a nice pale foundation. Wearing clothing that actually fits her personal esthetic, Tate's smile grows, starting to finally show in her pale blue eyes. Her weakness appears to be footware. Heels in particular. Maybe it's because she's so short without them.

Looking over at Alison as she steps out of the dressing room, Tate whistles her appreciation. "Looking *very* good. Sorta reminiscent of Avril Lavigne's Boyfriend. The skirt at least." She is flipping through some colourful pieces to break up the monotany of the black. "No, no walking into walls yet. Mind you, until this week, he was sure he could get me home. Maybe now that it's certain I'm here for good... I don't know. I feel bad though. Cause he's not the same person. I shouldn't expect a relationship with him just because I've been dating his alternate self for almost a year."

Dazzler has posed:
"That's the part that sucks about being and staying blonde," Alison brushes down the front of the skirt, then turns around, cocking her hip, checking the length against the swish at her backside. "Blondes always look like tourists in the goth clubs, even when I went to them in Germany." the predominantly black skirt, with little blueish-yellow threaded striping, falls into place. With a confirming dip of her head, Alison rips the tag off, and throws it into her pile of keeps.

And then she's back behind her curtain, tugging at the buckles of the leather vest-like top she's wearing. "So how is he handling that anyway? Is he stammering a lot, at least? Any magnets going off, or is he just being a nerd about it and trying to solve your problems?" Alison asks, throwing the vest to hang over the curtain's rod. "And don't hate me for asking this, but how are you handling all of this? Same guy. Not same guy."

Deadzone has posed:
"Ah see? Now that's why you invest in wigs! They have some really nice ones and if they are too shiny? There are ways to make them look better. Baby powder and a good brush. I do that when I don't want to have black hair for something. Or when I want to look like my driver's license."

Having found tops that look good, she heads to the dressing room next to Alison's, talking as they change. "He's feeling guilty because he's figured out that he *can't* get me back home. Like it's his fault? I think the only way of getting me home is figuring out which alien race did it in the first place and use their tech. No race I recognize though. Mind you, I only ever was in one quadrant. I know for a fact that there is a whole lot that I hadn't seen." She looks over the shirt with the horses on it, the fabric hugging her curves making the print hard to make out unless you know what it is.

"Well, it's weird. Cause frankly, I just want to shut him up with a kiss and then more. But that's not exactly fair to him. Cause he's not my guy! That would be so out of bounds, you know? I mean, he's not my guy, but I still want him. So... am I cheating on my Hank? Or what? It's really confusing!"

Dazzler has posed:
The skirt, the keeper, flaps over the other side of the curtain's rung, on the keep side. Alison steps out of her shoes and can be heard walking about her changing booth in her underwear, taking hangers off of a rack, and looking over her selections. She makes a twisty noise, somewhere between a scratchy squeak and a growl, holding the note until she decides to let it go.

"I don't know. I don't think it's cheating?" Alison finally chooses, both a stance and a layered, black skirt that looks like it's made of scarves of different lengths. She steps into it, pulling it around her hips and tying it into place. "So, like," Alison is a //like// girl. At least when she's not on camera. "Your Hank is in another dimension and you don't know if you ever get home. Chances are he's having the same problem right now, and maybe, like, //our// Hank knows that if he's anything like your Hank, both of them are, //like//, trying to do the same thing right now," Alison huffs and turns her back to the curtain, chewing at her lip while trying to find a proper top to match. She'd chosen one in mind earlier, but she's lost it in the pile.

"So, if you and your Hank aren't married, even if it was just a year, and this Hank likes you, then...I totally get you wanting to keep something familiar to you." Alison rattles a hanger, helping a clingy, black top that bares more than it covers, off of it. "But I, like, never date so maybe this advice doesn't apply? I dunno. I mean...what if he kisses weird compared to the other Hank?"

Deadzone has posed:
"I mean, if I really wanted to, I could push the matter. All I really gotta do is growl some Klingon in his ear and he's likely to have me bent over the nearest flat surface. But do I really want to do that to him? It's not fair of me to use knowledge I have of him to do that, is it?" Slipping off the shirt, she puts it back on the hanger and puts it to the side of definite maybes.

More shirts are tried on, judged on cling, colour and cleavage. She nods as she listens, even though Alison can't see it. "Hank says my time signature has been changing since I got here. It's becoming this world's time signature. Whatever that means. And that's another thing. I barely graduated high school. I'm not the brightest bulb on Broaday, yanno? I could never figure out why *my* Hank wanted me around, other then the fact I turn off his blue fur. For all I know, this Hank isn't interested in me at all because I'm not exactly stimulating conversation for him. Unless he wants to talk music."

Two more tops are added to the first. She looks them over for possible layering potential. Not article of clothing she buys is ever a one off, all on its own sorta thing. Mix and match, for the win!"What do you mean you don't date? What? You asexual or something? And yeah, I get that. I am starting to think this Hank isn't as experienced as mine was. This one acts like he's never even kissed a girl! Or boy. See? I'm not even sure if this Hank likes girls! I am actually kinda glad I never knew you in my world. This is nice, having someone I don't have to worry about the differences with."

Dazzler has posed:
The rattle of a curtain opening chimes in time with a soft, breathy laugh from Alison Blaire. The failed leather top is set on a hanger beside the door, and the skirt she threw over is picked up, pinched onto a hanger, and set to the left of her changing booth. The bar there is cluttered with keeps, already.

"And I'm glad you didn't know me where you're from either. No offense." Alison answers quickly turning to step out to the large, three sectional mirror. She turns her side to it, for starters. "I'd rather be me, not your new version of me, and maybe that's the problem? Maybe big blue is just sensitive and wants to make sure he's not a temporary version of what you're really looking for, honey."

Alison sweeps a dangling bang of blonde hair away from her eyes, turns towards the mirror, smoothing and plucking and rocking on her heels until she's got her outfit looking the way she likes it.

"As for me, I have to live in fear of text messaging and paparazzi photos. So dating is, //mrrrngh//. My I.T. people told me last October that Russian hackers are offering bitcoin for my cloud password." Alison's voice changes direction and tone, chin against her collar, looking down the front of her outfit. "So, put that what you will towards dating. I had a close call with this douchebag last year who threatened to go to the press with some text messages. My lawyers jumped down his throat like a bunch of hellhounds. I mean, Tate-" Alison looks over to Tatum's curtain.

"How the //fuck// do you date when you wanna keep some things secret, right? I get movie audition offers every few weeks; nudity clause, nudity clause, nudity clause, and then if I bit on that-" Alison snorts and turns back to the mirror. "Then I'd be old news. It's dumb. I stay busy, but it feels like my naked time has had a bounty taken out on it by Boba Fett and it's hard to trust."

Deadzone has posed:
Satisfied with the shirts she tried on, the sound of the curtain being pushed aside comes from her dressing room. She places the shirts she likes on the pile and then sits down to try on some of the shoes that have come from the back room in her size. "And let's say that Hank does find a way to get me back home. Well, that means I have to decide which one of him means more to me. Which version of the same person do I stay with? And would that be an easier or harder decision if they weren't basically the same person?"

She starts to lace up the boots, going all the way to the knee. The sales people are trying not to let the dollar signs shine in their eyes, being very helpful as they watch the pile of keep items grow. "I still can't get over that you are you. Honestly, I had no clue. I wonder if she's got the gift. Her concerts have the same rep, so I think she might."

She stops talking to listen to the trouble of dating when you're famous. Her nose wrinkles at the idea of what Alison has to go through. "Man! I think I would just do my next performance starkers. If everyone's seen it, then they can't make money on selling it. But, that's just me. I like to shock people."

Dazzler has posed:
"Okay, so please don't take this to sound like prostitution," Alison whispers low to Tatum, wrinkling her nose and glancing over her shoulder to the clerks in the distance doing their best to not look like they're vulturing around a famous musician in their store. "But it's //crazy// the amount of money I've been offered to pose nude. Movies and stuff." Alison continues in a whisper. "And it's, like, both creepy and flattering all in the same, but I mean at this point if everyone's gonna see my boobs, and these days, it WOULD be everyone, forever, on the webs, then I might as well get a house out of it. I mean," Alison huffs and rolls her eyes. "At least right now I know who has and hasn't."

Alison pauses to tuck the strap of her black bra further under the top, hiding it from view. She shimmies her shoulders, trying to wiggle the arms of the top about to see if it holds in place.

"Hello, Mr. President." Alison whispers. "Hello First Lady. Hello, Pope. Oh you liked them? How sweet."

Alison turns and steps past Tatum, strolling back into her booth with a hiss of curtain fabric. "Maybe I'm overthinking it." A beat. "And maybe you are, too. Maybe you should just find someone, make sure the cell phones are locked away, get it out of your system, and one or both Hanks wouldn't blame you at all for being, like: 'Hey, I'm in another dimension, boyfriend's way over there. I got laid. I was safe about it; it was cool. If I ever go back I'm totally not gonna out Alison's alter ego because she's one of my besties now. Nice to see you again MY HANK. Jump.'" And then Alison, with a giggle, starts bumping her hip against the changing cube's wall, making it shake a little.

Deadzone has posed:
Standing up, Tate walks around in the boots to see how they fit. "Hey, I get it. And don't worry about it sounding like prostitution." She leans on the wall and talks softly into the booth. "Seriously, I just told Remy that he and Anne-Marie can use my power whenever they need in exchange for a Stradavarius. So, if we're going to be calling each other whores, I've already sold myself for exchange of good."

Tatum laughs at the thought of the Pope calling Alison to compliment her on her body. "Hey, like I said, I like to shock people. That for me is it's own reward. And ... you know, you might be right. I might be able to get *this* Hank out of my system if I just let it go and have a little bit of fun. Lucky I got the contraception implant when I did."

Dazzler has posed:
With another crack of her hip against the wall, Alison feigns a whispered moan. Getting it out of her system, the last few thumps against the changing room wall are the hardest. Then, with all of the grace of a dancer who has actually //been// a backup dancer for a hip-hop act, Alison rights her spine and turns for her pile of clothing. One arm slips under her top and gets to work in freeing the other.

"You're talking to a girl who uses music to make her powers put on a laser show for her fans. If cashing in on our powers is whoring, then you and I are one street corner away from being in an HBO documentary." Alison says with a lurid grin to her voice. Carefully, she gets her hair under the neckline, then lifts the top away without destroying her flat-ironing job. She selects another leather vest from the rack, dragging it over her shoulders and getting to work lacing it in the front.

"You see, now you're thinking, Tatum." Alison speaks quietly. "You're young, you're the kind of hot people like, you've got the implant, and you're not famous so no one's going to be chasing around whoever that person is on scooters trying to get details." Zip. Lace. Tug. "Have fun, be bold, and if Hank gets kind of droopy weird about you going out and having fun like an adult girl with adult needs in a world where she's allowed to have her fun, too, then maybe he'll jump in and bend you over something before he thinks it's too late."

The curtain rushes open and Alison stops in front of Tatum, her head tilted, matter-of-factly.

"Just go with your gut, and you should be fine."