2392/What Do You Do On A Saturday

What Do You Do On A Saturday
Date of Scene:	10 September 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Polaris, Jacky Diamond, Deadzone, M

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Polaris has posed:
"Netflix isn't so bad." Lorna murmurs and winces when Jacky eats the in shell fried shrimp. "That is not ok." She murmurs and drinks down her glass, reaching for her pitcher to refill it. "I'd have taken the ice cream over whatever that tragedy is you're consuming." She murmurs. The two are at the bar, Jacky's dinner solid, hers liquid.

Jacky Diamond has posed:
"It's not as bad as the grasshoppers I had to eat when we had the field trip to Guadalajara," Jacky replies, using one of those cello-wrapped toothpicks that go in some fruity drinks to make sure that the shrimp shell doesn't take residence between his teeth. He takes another sip of the stout and adjusts the origami bar-napkin coffin containing the tempura celery stick.

"Hey Harry? Could you give this poor thing a proper funeral?"

Deadzone has posed:
Since Lorna's last break-up, Tatum has been keeping tabs on her. When she discovers that Lorna has headed to Harry's again, Tate heads over there herself to come and join her. "So, got a question for ya. Does the long lived thing include protection from liver damage?"

Polaris has posed:
Glancing at Tatum, Lorna squints a moment, honestly weighing the answer. "More than likely." She concludes and looks to Jacky. "Taters, this is....a brave young man who didn't give me his name." She furrows her brow. "But he braved the mystery fried foods dish-it's haunting. Thirsty?" She asks and works on her beer, waving for Harry.

M has posed:
And cue up Nancy Sinatra in three, two, one...

The door to Harry's blows open, and Monet St. Croix-- a new addition to the residents at Xaiver's-- walks into the bar. She's dressed sharply: hip-hugging jeans, knee-high black boots with a stiletto heel, and a shawl draped over her shoulders that sets off a riot of color against her raven black hair.

Holding her arm to one side with her purse straps draped over her forearm. She's clearly out of place, fairly dripping with the blue blood of high socity.

Monet heads to the bar, glancing at Polaris, Tatum, and Jacky with a flickering look, and settles into one of high barstools.

"A vesper. Grey Goose, Bombay Sapphire," she tells the bartender, in a sultry, Monagasque accent. A credit card slides across lacquered wood. "Up, with lime, but-- cold."

Jacky Diamond has posed:
"Jacky Winters. Class of several years ago," he says, realizing that while he cheated with ESP to get Lorna's name, he didn't remember to give her his name. Which is probably because of the evil that is deep fried celery. He's almost fooled by the last disk-shaped tempura thing. It's a pickled beet, not an egg.

"Can I get a porter, something darker than the soul of a tax collector?" he asks Harry. "And a veggie burger?"

There's GOT to be some sort of an evil bar game that's played with the Deep Fried Things menu item. Otherwise, it's an assault on human decency.

Deadzone has posed:
Tate looks over her shoulder to the jukebox as Nancy Sinatra tells the bar about her boots. She grins that lop-sided grin of hers. "I do love this song," she says. "I think it might be the source of my boot obsession."

She looks over towards the door as Monet enters. She doesn't actually know the woman though, so doesn't pay her much of a mind. Her focus returns instead to Lorna. She nods hello to Jacky. "His name is Jacky and he's a friend of the schools. Used to be a student there."

Polaris has posed:
"Mmmph." Lorna offers as Jacky and Tate explain the boy. She glances to Monet and lifts her glass of beer. "Oh, a glass and another pitcher Harry!" She calls and tows Tatum over to sit. "Look, no mountainous men here, how can you possibly be fussing."

M has posed:
Monet St Croix returns the looks she gets with an even expression, examining the other patrons without the slightest bit of shyness. Alas, she has no drink to return the toast offered, and uplifts her chin a fractional inch at Lorna's salute instead. Long, immaculately manicured nails interlace and she rests her elbow on the bar, her little purse nestled in the crook of her elbow. The way she sits is somewhat open; legs swung to the side, facing partially away from the brass rail. At least she's not elbow-straddling her cups when they show up.

Deadzone has posed:
Tatum sits herself down beside Lorna. "How can I fuss? You realize you are totally ruining my reputation as the party girl? Between you and Hank? You've made me all responsible and shit. It's downright embarassing." She thanks the waitress that brings over the pitcher and glass, pouring herself one. "I'm assuming the other glass is for me?"

She looks to Jacky and offers him a wink. "How have you been, cutie? I haven't seen you since the beginning of the summer."

Jacky Diamond has posed:
"Mountainous men? Should I feel hurt and belittled?" Jacky says grinning. "I'm taller than Mr. Logan."

Yes, he was "Mr. Logan" to the students at the "not-destined-for-X-Men" school that they ran a few years back. But things have changed, a bit.

"I've been here and there. Did you know there are mutant turtles living in the sewers?"

He's joking of course. Nobody would possibly believe such a thing.

Polaris has posed:
"I'm ruining your rep?" Lorna chuckles. "No one is asking you to babysit. Drink, relax." She tells Tatum. Taking a sip she shakes her head. "Mister Logan? Shit? He'd grief you for calling him that. Mister Logan, shit. That sounds as right as mutant turtles."

M has posed:
Monet's vesper arrives, two olives speared with a cocktail sword laid across the rim. She pulls one between her teeth and chews lazily, then takes a sip of her cocktail to wash it down. All top-shelf booze; no well drinks for this girl.

"Mister Logan," Monet says, her voice carrying easily to the table. She draws the vowels out a little; an accent not quite French, but close to it. 'Meestar Logahn'. "The gardener? He is... a teacher, too?" she says, lifting one immaculately groomed brow.

Jacky Diamond has posed:
"Is that what he does? I just know we were terrified of accidentally stepping on one of his cigar butts," Jacky says. It's possible he's trolling. It's possible he's not.

Apparently a veggie burger doesn't take long to make; it's also apparently deep-fried, but no bar food is allowed to be healthy. Jacky drops another 20 for Harry, since his tab is getting a little low.

Deadzone has posed:
Tatum says, "Shouldn't that have been Mr. Howlett? Logan is his first name." She looks to Lorna and nods. "I know you don't need a babysitter. But I worry about you. Men suck, but even Hank isn't worth me drowning my misery in the bottom of a bottle.""

Polaris has posed:
"I'm not drowning, I'm pickling. Kurt had a point. I haven't exactly had time to be a good girfriend with Genosha, grad school, and teaching." Lorna sighs. She drinks more and looks at Jacky with a shake of her head. "Something like gardening." She murmurs and looks at Monet. "What about you. What're you doing about HArry's?"

Jacky Diamond has posed:
"Is it? All we were told was Mr. Logan," Jacky says, then quaffs the end of his stout, still waiting for the porter from Harry, who is letting it settle because the head is half the pint-glass.

"Definitely being dissed here," he says very quietly. The alcohol is doing lovely things for his mood though, so it doesn't matter. And the "veggie burger" is diced shiitake mushrooms, onions, beets, and carrots, but thank goodness no tofu in any configuration. It's shaped like a burger-disk and it fits. So he's eating it. Any hangover tomorrow is from the food, not the booze.

M has posed:
"'zat is what one of the students said, when he was pointed out to me," Monet informs Jacky. "He certainly looks like a groundskeeper. Brutish and with dirt under his nails." She sniffs a little disdain and sips her martini, balanced elegantly on the end of her perfectly manicured nails.

"I was scouring ze kitchen for a drink, and was informed the Institute ees a 'dry campus'," Monet tells Polaris, resting her elbow on the bar behind her. "Not even /wine/. You Yanks have peculiar attitudes regarding liquor," she sniffs.

Deadzone has posed:
Tatum's trademark grin, the one that lifts one corner of her mouth more then the other and makes people think she is laughing at them shows up as she looks to Monet when she talks about the school being a dry site. She leans over to Lorna and murmurs in her friend's ear with a that smirk before leaning back. "I don't think I've had the pleasure," she then says to the woman with the french accent.

Polaris has posed:
"Who is being dissed? Were we flirting?" Lorna asks Jacky and quirks her lips. "Then relax." She answers automatically and listens to Tatum's whisper. "Yes. A very dry campus." She nods, trying to maintain a straight face.

Jacky Diamond has posed:
Jacky grins inside, but not on the outside, at the idea that the school is a dry campus. On the outside, he's deadly serious with the sympathy, because someone is pranking the hell out of this fancy woman. He has a momentary image of a tiger and blinks. Stop that, brain. There are better things to do than hallucinate.

His ESP gnaws at the base of his medulla as if it were a puppy teething on a rawhide bone. HERE THERE BE TIGER DAMMIT.

"This is not bad for a veggie burger," Jacky says. "It's got a nice flavor. And if you didn't notice me flirting we must not have been."

M has posed:
Monet rises from her barstool and moves to the edge of the table, hooking a chair out with her toe and surveying the little crowd. "I am Monet st. Croix, of the Monaco St. Croix family," she explains, as if that should sum it all up. Anyone familiar with the aristocracy of Europe would know the name; anyone who isn't likely thinks she's a pretentious prig.

Except there's that haughty tilt to her chin and the thousand-dollar clutch on her forearm. She oozes not just the trappings of wealth, but the authority that comes with aristocratic blue blood. Can't be bought into.

Without invite, Monet settles into the chair and crosses her legs at the knee again, seated just far enough back she can still rest her martini on the table despite her reclined air.

"And you are all... students, oui? At the Institute," she guesses, her unusually hued eyes flickering from one face to another. Anyone with a lick of psychic talent would sense her mind probing and snuffling around for stray and undisciplined thoughts. A strong natural talent, but obviously no real training.

Deadzone has posed:
Yep, everyone at the table seems to be in total agreeance that it is a totally dry campus. Leaning back, Tate takes out a lollipop that is shaped like a three dimensional skull, unwraps the cola brown candy and pops it in her mouth, a wooden stick jutting out of her mouth.

Tatum looks up at Monet and smiles sweetly. Lorna knows that look. It's the look that says Tatum is being nice because she already doesn't like Monet. "Oh! The Monaco St. Croix. I was worried you were the Paris St. Croix. We nearly had words."

When asked about her position at the school, Tatum arches a brow. "Well, student's are not permitted off campus grounds without permission, and I doubt that would be given if we told them we were going drinking. Teachers and alumni, however....

Jacky Diamond has posed:
"Graduate," Jacky says. "I'm a veterinarian."

He notices the questing thought tendril and shares the flavor of the veggie burger. If it tries for more than that, of course the trap will snap. And nobody wants to experience "It's a Small World" in five dimensional stereo. But Jacky uses it to close his busking sessions when he's entertaining children, so he does have it to share.

Polaris has posed:
"Lorna Dane, of Genosha." Lorna smiles sweetly. "I teach teach earth science at the school." Small wonder what school. She doesn't dress high end, green locks aside, she'd be unremarkable in the bar. Among the psychics her mind must be a head ache, weighting political policies and considering lesson plans, her own homework, her shitty ex. Maybe it's a tactic to keep psychics out?

M has posed:
Monet smiles back at Tatum. It's a smile devoid of real humor. "What a tragedy that would have been," Monet tells Tatum, in a Perfectly Polite tone of voice. "Old vendettas can run for so long in memory. What was your family name again?"

"Ah, nevermind, it surely isn't important," she says, with a dismissive flick of her fingers. Monet's attention shifts to Jacky, and with a wary alertness she withdraws that questing thoughtprobe. A psychic battle in Harry's would get the evening off to a poor start.

"Lorna. And-- did I overhear, Jacky?" she asks, turning a lofted brow to the hulking fellow as she cements their names to her memory.

Deadzone has posed:
Tatum flips her hair and shrugs. She's about the answer when she is told that it isn't important. Her stick in her lollipop starts to wiggle from side to side and Lorna can feel a sensation on the arm closest to the Null of a lack of feeling the magnetic fields around her. Seems Tate's bubble is getting larger.

Jacky Diamond has posed:
"John Joseph Winters, and I go by Jacky most of the time. It's like having a secret identity or something."

An entirely human and normal empathic twinge of guilt tells him that the girl is probably lonely somewhere in that armor of aristocracy, but then again, being forced into the company of other people instead of drinking alone is probably a good thing, so whoever's pranking her did the right thing. Now if she'd just stop setting the battlements on fire.

"It's nice to meet you," he says, then sets about finishing his sandwich.

Polaris has posed:
"Oh." Lorna shivers and looks at Tatum. "You getting sweet on me?" She wonders dryly nudging Tatum. "A veterinarian Jacky boy? Not bad. Not what I would have guessed with your display earlier. Does Charles know? The School does have horses."

M has posed:
John's instincts are probably more accurate than he'd ever guess, but Monet's unreadable facade makes it impossible to confirm that suspicion. She peels another olive from her cocktail skewer, perfect white teeth making the olive vanish beind her full lips.

She chews discreetly, swallows, and washes it down with another sip of her cocktail. "Yes, the pleasure is mutual, of course," she murmurs back at Jacky. "I have heard the horses mentioned to me twice today, now. It seems no one rides, though everyone talks about them. Are they merely for show?" she inquires, lifting a brow curiously.

Deadzone has posed:
Tate looks over to Lorna when asked if she is getting sweet on her friend. "Huh?" THat's when she notices how her field isn't as close as she likes to keep it. She can tell because the knot that always forms in her stomach when she pulls in her power isn't as bad. "Sorry," she says, reining her field back in. Well, that's one way of giving away your emotional state. Tate grumbles to herself, hating that anger seems to make control harder for her.

"Anne Marie did most of the riding of the horses on the school grounds. If you are a guest of the school and know what you are doing, you are welcome to ride as you wish." Her own tone is cold, hollow, very unlike how she normally is.

Jacky Diamond has posed:
"I knew about the horses. I'm not a specialist in larger animals, but I do check on them when I actually visit the campus. I also clean the cats' teeth, and make sure the other strange beasties are doing ok. Mostly not students. Some of them are little animals but I'm not allowed to treat humans."

Jacky begins on the porter, and after the first draught, begins emitting a faintly tipsy aura. It's not telepathy, it's lower-frequency, at the bio-empathic level. It's difficult to tell whether it's intentional or if he's even aware of it.

Polaris has posed:
"I ride, Jeanie rides, or she used to." Lorna makes a face. Drinking her glass down and eying the pitcher she sighs. "Man. I did not drink enough." Time to top off her glass. She refills it slowly.

M has posed:
"I have ridden from a time of being very young," Monet assures Tate, with those rolling Monagasque vowels. "Dressage and polo, both," she explains. "And I have ridden in the Fantasia, in Algeria-- the Berber traditions," she adds. "I am quite competent on horseback."

She looks at Jacky, clearly picking up on the subtle psychic projection he's emitting. Nothing is said, however, and she looks back at the two women.

"So, zee is how you spend your time when not at school?" she says, venturing the question with a flicker of her fingers. "Is this... a regular occassion, or are you celebrating tonight?"

Deadzone has posed:
"Do you? I only ever saw Anne Marie on them. Always made me wonder why we had more then one. Never been on one myself. There's only one beast...." She stops mid-sentence and then just smiles, waggling her brows to Lorna to let her fill in the rest. She holds out her glass to let Lorna refill hers as well. "Actually, I usually spend my nights with my boyfriend, but I came here to be with my friend."

Jacky Diamond has posed:
There's a chirp from Jacky's wristwatch, and he looks at it twice before he realizes what it says.

"Ah, wonderful. I need to head back to the clinic. One of the dogs has gone into labor early. Good to meet all of you," he says and stands, swaying very slightly.

"Fooie. Can't drive. Oh well, I can walk it's a nice night."

Nobody walks. There's public transportation, or Uber, or whatever. But he leaves a fiver for a tip (cheapskate) and makes his way outside, and it only takes him two tries to teleport to the clinic. Of course, stopping after the first try to heave up everything he ate (thanks, Deep Fried Things) was probably not an expected diversion, but at least he's more sober sooner.