15641/Avon Calling!

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Avon Calling!
Date of Scene: 28 September 2023
Location: Interior, 714 Titicus Road, Breakstone
Synopsis: Sin pops in to relate a bit of information on the Summers' residence porch. Hot chocolate was offered, including Bourbon, but it seemed inappropriate to indulge, what with the dire warnings and suchlike.
Cast of Characters: Sinister, Phoenix, Cyclops

Sinister has posed:
It's a peaceful Wednesday evening, in small town upstate New York. Shorter days and longer nights, mean that it's almost nice to get cozy on the couch of an evening, as the hints of chill yet to come are beginning to touch the evening air, here and there.

Golf courses and mansions, private land and trust funds, all of those things make neighbours few and far between and do afford some spectacular privacy.

Like tonight, surely everything is done for the time being, or is about to be begun, depending on your mood.

And on the porch of 714 Titicus Road, a tall, leather trenchcoat wearing fellow with his collar turned up to partially obscure his face, lurks in a manner that is utterly NOT dubious at all. Several times, his hand has raised, lowered, raised and lowered, in the hesitancy of actual knocking. And how is it that this particular individual, Doctor Essex, is able to get so close without setting off alarms? Well, when he wants to his mind is like a teflon coated duck. Water just slides off and nothing sticks -- a kind of static no-mind, just to prevent being lynched, though that has the effect of often backfiring.

One more time, the hand is raised and finally, it actually knocks a ra-ta-tap on the wood. "Avon Calling," a too-chipper, but rather quiet voice, is likely NOT going to be heard on the inside... but you never know.
Phoenix has posed:
This is Jean's favorite time of year.

When autumn is in full swing and the trees start changing colors for the coming of winter on the horizon. Just cold enough to bundle up beneath a blanket with some hot chocolate (and bourbon), but not so cold that they need to bundle up in a bunch of clothes during the day. The fire crackles in the hearth, Jean leans in against Scott while watching whatever they've decided to watch on Netflix.

It's a good night.

Not that it's suddenly not a good night when there's a late night visitor.

Oh, there'll be some concern, sure. Jean isn't use to being snuck up on, but one she realizes who it is? That'll make it easier right? I mean.. right?

"You expecting someone?" She asks Scott, peeling off of his side to pad over to the front door and peer out at their late night Gentleman Caller. With a furrowed brow, she pulls the portal open and stands with her head cant to one side. "If you tell me our kids turn into assholes in the future, I swear to god..." That's a Back to the Future reference, by the way.
Cyclops has posed:
It's a beautiful day. Scott and Jean are enjoying the perfect night. The Netflix and Chill night is a favorite past time. Sometijes a funny movie or romcom is a good way to destress from the insanity of a school day in addition to keeping the X-Men up to code. Then...there's a motion sensor.

You KNOW Cyclops has that entire house rigged with only the finest in security systems...of what he can get his hands on. A silent alarm had already hit Scott's watch and he looks at Jean.

<<Jean, listening in? Essex is at the front door.>>

Sinister has been...helpful of late, but one can never expect what Sinister has planning at any given moment. "Not at all." Cyclops stands up with irritation, sliding the blanket off and walking towards the door with a hand on his shades in preparation to blast the visitor off his porch.

"What's the occasion, Essex?"
Sinister has posed:
Sinister's rather deliberate and pointed staring at the hand on the visor followed by the singular upward uptick of an eyebrow speaks volumes. "Well, I'm sure in one iteration they turned out alright. There's quite the gaggle of them, Miss Grey..." Essex shrugs, sliding his hands into his pockets. He does not make any move to come further in, or even move much from the front stoop. "I just wanted to appraise you of a thing or two and frankly, I don't think you'd read any emails I sent. I ran into Alex in the City. That last time I was aware of him in the greater metropolitan area, he was a powderkeg full of piss and explosive, so I thought you might want to keep an eye out, he might reach out."

Inhaling slowly, he lets his breath out in a huff. "Secondly, I think I should warn you that I've sensed a measure of dabbling in places that should not be dabbled in. I tracked it down to Magneto who appears to be in Egypt at the moment and I'm fairly certain he's about to prove that overconfidence is key to idiocracy, in that I think he might be dabbling in finding Apocalypse. I plan on checking in to see, but it never hurts to spread the love and the migraine headache about a bit."

He grins, a little cheesily. "Thirdly... how are you? Been doing well? No after effects of Pilgrim insanity and vengeful ghosts?"
Phoenix has posed:
Jean doesn't jump to Essex's defense, though she is keenly aware of how helpful he's been of late. There's an old proverb, a scorpion and a frog... Jean looks at him very much like a Scorpion. Perhaps now he needs their help, or is just very helpful, but the future of their family (for what it's worth) is tied so intimately into things he's done AGAINST them, perhaps the only two people on Earth who have a RIGHT to be cautious where it pretains to Mister Sinister are Scott and Jean.

Though that's not going to stop her being polite. Laying a hand on Scott's arm, if only to lower it away from his glasses as their guest speaks on matters that have drawn him to their farm house on this beautiful autumn night.

"You saw Alex?" That's good news. Even if the news that accompanies is less so. Certainly not SURPRISING news. "Alex always was very angry. Thank you for letting us know." She takes a measured step back after a measured moment watching the leather clad man. "Would you like some hot chocolate?" She asks, waving her hand inward invitingly.

Not having missed the last part regarding Magneto.

She sighs softly and shakes her head.

"I felt something, but I wasn't certain what it was. Hopefully he knows what he's doing, but knowing Erik..." A glance up at Scott, a fragile smile, and she's walking towards the kitchen where hot chocolate is already prepared just waiting for a mug. "We've been well. A school to run. Children to educate. A million things to keep finite attention occupied when there's a million other things that require it... how have you been?" Pleasantries are important. Though they are cursory. She very obviously wants to hear more about what Magneto is up to. "Bourbon with your hot chocolate?"
Cyclops has posed:
Cyclops has Essex with a hair-trigger reaction. He has his hand ready. the muscles in his palm just waiting to take his sunglasses off to fire off an optic blast. But instead of doing that, he feels the presence of Jean's hand on his arm, slowly lowering it down after a moment's hesitation. A silence overtakes Scott and he slowly lowers his hand to his side, giving Jean a careful glance for a moment, trying to perhaps see what she's thinking, but he quickly turns his attention towards Essex.

"You saw Alex?" He asks Sinister, a frown touching his face. "How did he react to you?" He questions, and he hears that Alex was explosive and wasn't super friendly. "...I'll talk to him." Because taht's an amazing idea. Totally. Scott's only advantage is that he's immune to Havok's powers. Which is a critical one, mind, in case Alex explodes at him, but...

Then Sinister is informing Scott of Magneto's intentions. "I followed him for a time in Egypt. I had no idea he was looking for Apocalypse." Cyclops narrows his eyes behind those sunglasses. "It would be wise to go with a group. If you go and you get caught, we learn nothing." He pauses. "Why would you tell us this? Even if to spread the knowledge, why are you giving it to us for free?"

Of course, the question of spirits and ghosts makes Scott slightly scoff, but he doesn't provide an answer.

He turns to Jean finally, raising a brow when she invites him into their home. He reaches to squeeze her hand softly, as if to inform her to take great care. But she's his otherh alf. If she's welcoming someone, he's not going to question her decision. "I'm not sure Erik knows what he's doing half the time these days." Scott shakes his head, but he starts walking back towards the interior of the home, looking for the bourbon to pour himself before he's no doubt spiking hot chocolate with the stuff.
Sinister has posed:
There's a genuine moment of first footing trepidation that paints itself on their not-so-welcome guest's face. Sinister's eyebrows actually bettle a little in the middle, a crease that you could grow potatos in, if you had a mind. "I think it's probably best if I don't. I just have this feeling that hot cocoa with bourbon is a thing you do with people that aren't me. But thank you for the offer -- I'll try not to keep you burdened with the chill of the evening for -too- much longer."

He glances beyond, at Scott as the man retreats and shakes his head a little. "He wasn't explosive at me this time around, he barely recognized me, but that's not all that surprising. It came to him after a bit. By the by, I think Erik is actually going by Magnus these days, not that I'm going to let him lord that one over me."

Pause. How to progress. Another frown and a deeper one.

"I absolutely will get caught. But I have one advantage there, in that the Black King won't toast me offhand. Mostly because he's not particularly intellectually gifted and if he's going after what I think he's going after, he'll end up in trouble without some expertise. Besides which..." he stops himself "...nevermind. It's free because I'm burdened with an overabundance of largesse. One of these days, I'm just going to be a total ass and throw everyone off again."

He holds up a hand now, palm out and lifts one finger up. "I also need to make note that you should probably keep an eye on Betsy for a while. There was another Trauma incident -- the Willowbrook State School, in Staten Island. She and Warren... took care of things and frankly, I had a fight with an incinerator. I won, but I would just like to note that burning alive is not pleasant. Also..." pause "...there might be a Dream-killer on the loose. Just so as you know. He or she might be... after a few of you. I didn't get a good look, I was too busy ejecting them from my headspace."
Phoenix has posed:
There's nothing about the refusal, however polite, that surprises Jean. The history that this family has with Essex is certainly polarized by Scott's expression and hesitency to lower his hand from his glasses. They've been through a great deal. It's not easy to sweep away as apologies. When so much of that trauma has not even yet played out. Whether that happens here, in this universe?

Jean, as powerful as she very well may be, is not a fortune teller.

She is blessed with a Saints patience, however.

Smiling pleasantly, if not overtly friendly, to Essex's refusal. "Of course." This doesn't stop her from topping off her own mug or collecting her blanket from the couch. If they're going to take visitors on the porch, she's going to do so with some level of protection against the nights chill.

Once Scott's returned, she leans against him, balancing her mug with a finger through the grey ring. #1 Teacher, it says. Her expression, however, is far more serious than the novelty of her drinking cups. "Magnus? How pretentious can one person actually be..." The question is, of course, rhetorical. She knows precisely how pretentious he can be. "Do be careful, hmm? I would, and I'm sure Scott would agree, feel more comfortable if you were in the company of one of the X-Men teams. I understand your hesitency, but you have a wicked way of shielding yourself... even from me." Sipping from her mug, cheeks hollow.

Thoughts drifting too and from the possibilities of what, exactly, Erik may be trying to accomplish waking up Apocalypse, of all people. "I certainly hope he knows what he's doing. I have absolutely no intentions of leaving him to his personal devices, however. His plans, however well thought out he likely thinks they are, have far reaching implications that go well beyond his delusions of grandeur. Thank you for this information. I assure you we'll put it to use... good or ill."

She blinks then. Tilting her head, "Dream, killer, you say?" Quite the transition. Essex certainly is a font... a soul well even.. of information on their people. A glance up at Scott, concern in her eyes. "How has so much happened with our friends and we don't know about it?"
Cyclops has posed:
Jean's patience is being tried?

Scott's was being tried as soon as the offer to invite him into their home was made. It doesn't take long for Scott to come back, but he does take a quick shot of bourbon before he returns, somewhat calmer with the knowledge that Sinister had not intended to stay. All the same, Scott approaches Sinister as he speaks more about his brother. "Barely recognized you? Not like Alex to suffer from amnesia. Unless time diluted the memory." He sighs softly.

"Erik has a new name everytime we confront him. It must be a pleasant thought for you, to know that you will not be killed so swiftly, but it's still dangerous. Take your time, Sinister, I'll be waiting." For him to be an ass. There is still a lack of trust, but Scott is *trying* for the sake of others who work with him.

Around this time, he settles against Jean and curls an arm around her to keep her close. "I do agree. If but to be able to interfere when they realize the situation has gone out of hand. As for what has happened to our friends...I imagine it's them attempting to handle the problem themselves. If only it were so easy." He suggests with a deep frown on his face.

He looks at Jean, then looks back to Sinister. "Dream Killer....Hm. I may have to have Jean rally the telepaths on hte team so we can confront him, ensure mind palaces are up to date." Scott looks at him then, tilting his head. "You say that as if he has already claimed his victims."
Sinister has posed:
"They have," Sinister replies to Scott. There's no love lost, although there's a tightness around the doctor's eyes that is inexplicable. He takes a step back on the porch, bows his head in a strangely respectful incline. "As I said, I didn't get a good look, I was too busy at the time, but I know the flavour of that mind now and could find it in the dark. It tried to gaslight me, which I don't take kindly to." He sniffs, a singularly English dismissal of something of monumental proportion.

"But whoever they are, they admitted that this wasn't their first trip around the block. Beware. Whoever they are they're rather good at tapping into the subconscious idiomatic -- and with some individuals, that can be absolutely devastating." He looks briefly to Jean there, because lets face it, her subconscious when it gets going, can annihilate continental plates, because it has no governing consciousness. A tacit warning that, but one that is only communicated in bodylanguage.

"As to your friends... sometimes, the need to do, outweighs the need to share. But... believe me or not, I can't make you do either... I do care. So. I have shared. And now that I sound like a cartoon from the nineteen eighties, I am going to depart and let you get on with your night. Whatever it was you were doing with it. Thank you for your time."

Heels click together and that's that, suddenly he's skyrocketting toward the heavens, nothing more than a black shape on a black night sky.
Phoenix has posed:
Where it pretains to matters of the mind, there is arguably only one being on Earth that rivals Jean... and he's on holliday. That is of no matter of inner monologue that determines these things self congratulatorially. The acknowledgement of what Essex says and the response she gives in a fractional nod of agreement are the matter of fact. Jean Grey knows precisely who she is, but more important than that, what she is.

Throught he Phoenix?

Such a terrible landscape as a dream could become a playground of distruction the calculation of which is measured in 'totals' and 'absolutes'. This is as much a warning FOR her as TO her. The power of her mind, being what it is, could become a weapon against them if this dream killer catches her with her preverbial pants down.

The blanket is pulled tight around her shoulders. Not against any physical chill, but one of implication in Sinister's words. "Be safe." It's a final farewell. No need to make commentary on why their friends have no shared, that's a matter to be addressed with them, not a messanger.

Green eyes turn to look up at Scott, but then she turns completely and steps back inside. It is unlikely the romcom they had intended to watch will be of much good suffocating the anxiety that has now taken hold. From Magnus, to Alex, to Dream Killers.

There's a lot to think about.

What was it Jean had said about so much to do and so little time to do it in?
Cyclops has posed:
Scott narrows his eyes. This strange enemy has already made his effect known on some of their allies. "Then how the hell is this *now* coming to my attention?" Scott questions the timing, but silences himself for a moment, shaking his head. More a comment at himself than at Sinister, oddly enough. Yet, all the same, he keeps his attention on the strangely respectful Essex. "Then the next time this being comes close, we must be ready and prepared to kick it out."

He looks at Jean at that strange warning, a frown on his face as he regards his future wife, but then turns back to SInister as he bids them a farewell and rockets off into the sky.

Alone again, Scott doesn't wish Sinister a safe travel. But he /does/ turn his eyes towards Jean as she looks up at him, his lips pressed into a thin line. He says nothing in that moment, instead he turns and follows Jean inside, if but to hold and comfort her in what will certainly be dark days coming.

Another thing to add to the list.