2451/Sorry about the Exile

Sorry about the Exile
Date of Scene:	14 September 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Warpath, Siryn

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Warpath has posed:
    To call him unhappy is to be unfair and exaggerating. To call him happy is an exaggeration. James Proudstar's contentment comes from doing the right thing, to his particular way of thinking. He owes Emma a lot. She is also the closest thing to family he has. So, today, James is at the park, on a bench, near one of the ponds. He has some duck food, and he is feeding them. He also has about 5 hot dogs in a sack for himself. He eats like a horse, and he still does. Takes a lot to keep that bulk moving. He actually is downwind from the pond, so he doesn't detect her coming. He is savoring the anticipation of surprise.
    His suit is bespoke. It has to be, given his height and size. The shirt is steel gray silk, and the tie splash of red.

Siryn has posed:
The slender redhead walks on quiet feet across the grass with her hands in the pockets of her jeans. It's a nice day, cool with a fluffy clouds up high. The sun glints off the copper strands of her hair as she approaches the duck pond. From behind and to his left, the delicate lilt of a familiar Irish brogue greets his ears. "Whit th' bloody hell they been feedin' ya, boyo?"

When he turns, she greets him with a dimpled smile, blue eyes taking in all the changes. When her gaze finally meets his dark eyes, she offers softly, "Hello."

Warpath has posed:
    "Blonds." James quips. He stands up. He's like NFL and NBA big. 7 foot, if an inch. Maybe more. "Want a hotdog?" He asks her, his smile never quite meeting his eyes. That is new to her. He used to live really big. Not so much now. Control seems to be what he lives with now. "You used to eat them with ketchup. I do not know if you still do, but I got you some." He is a mustard only guy. "It is good to see you." again the smile that never makes it to the eyes.

Siryn has posed:
Tilting her head, Theresa's eyes go a little wide as he stands up. Great galloping giraffes! Lit'rally! "Jaysis," she breathes. "Yer huge!" She can't quite keep the shock from her expression. But it's the look in his eyes that really draws her attention. "Roight, then, lad... out with it. Ye look like I just squelched yer cat."

Warpath has posed:
    "It is good to see you." James replies. "I know a hotdog is a small thing to say I am sorry. I showed up a couple of days after they sent you away. Logan was kind enough to tell me what had happened." He never went back. He hands the foil wrapped hot dog over. "I'm sorry. If I had understood... I would have brought you home with me. Emma would have solved it. I was... having a hard time. I thought family would understand. They didn't." His brows knit. He's mad. But then, he is probably always mad now. "Family should treat each other better."

Siryn has posed:
Taking the hot dog from him with one hand, Theresa simply rolls those blue eyes and steps in close to wrap her other arm around him. Or at least... well, he's rather large. So she hugs what she can of his waist. "Eejit. C'mere t' me," she tells him, gesturing him to bend downward a bit with the hand that holds the hot dog. She wants to see his eyes, and she makes sure she has them. "Don't apologize. Ya did whit ya thought I needed. And ye were havin' a right fair amount of trouble of yer own at th' time. I'm beyond sorry tha' I wasn' there for ye, Jimmy."

Warpath has posed:
    HIs big hand cups her derriere. He can basically palm it. Before she can get too angry, he simply lifts. With his let hand he just lifts her up like she is a toddler. His arm barely flexes. Sure, he kinda has a hand palming her butt, but it is not moving or squirming. It is simply efficient to hold her that way.
    "You had troubles of your own." The problem with looking at him eye to eye is it is also mouth to mouth. He can smell the odor of consumed alcoholic beverage. "You needed to take care of yourself. You owed me nothing. I did you wrong, and I am sorry." His eyes look a lot older than she remembers. He kinda needs a haircut. His breath is minty. he hasn't eaten anything waiting on her. "You look good, Terry. Healthy." His brows do knit though. He can smell the alcohol. He can always smell the alcohol.

Siryn has posed:
It was just a pint at the pub, officer! The redhead squeaks as he lifts her like that, and her fair skin turns quite red. "Oy!" She's steady there, though, and she has to use both hands on his shoulders, one turned backward to keep the hot dog from smushing against him, to stay balanced. "Ye didn' do a thing wrong, Jimmy," she tells him firmly. Whatever happened up to the mansion, that's on her own head. She studies his dark eyes and with her open hand traces a finger down his cheek. "Ye look wrecked. Whit's been goin' on while I've been gone?"

Warpath has posed:
    "Hellions went their merry way, myself included. School. Work." James answers her in his usual laconic manner. "I work for ms. Frost as an Executive Assistant." Yeah. He's her personal assistant? More like her personal body guard. He used to talk about leaving, and going on adventures. Something happened. "She's my family." he excuses himself with that reason.
    If she considers. She is. His whole tribe is dead. He has no one else. No wedding band. His hair is a little shaggy. He's basically 'living with mom'.

Siryn has posed:
Terry pats his shoulder with her hand. "Okay, put me doon now, right?" She grins at him, but she can see the quiet darkness that has seeped through him since she saw him last. He's so.... SAD. It's heartbreaking. "I can't tell ya whit t' do 'r anything. But I always thought ya'd hate something like an office job." She shrugs a little. "Then again, look at where I landed." Strange world.

Warpath has posed:
    He doesn't want to put her down. He does though. Slowly and gently. "She needs me." James says simply. To him, that is it. She cared for him. On some level, Emma Frost must have given him something he needed, and she is all he has. "On your feet." James says. 'Where you always land." He gives her a look. "They handle your situation?" He means all those pictures and police records.

Siryn has posed:
As she regains her feet, Theresa uses it as an excuse to look down and settle her balance. By the time she looks back up, her dimples are peeping out and she seems at ease. "Aye, 'tis fixed up. Ye know how it works -- they Know People." She shrugs.

Warpath has posed:
    "Makes it hard to have consequences to actions." James agrees. "Part of me want to just break things." You think? Surprising he hasn't been given his looks. "And see if they make it all go away." He pulls in a long breath. His shoulders swell, and he gets even bigger. His lungs are huge. He softly sighs. "But that would be the wrong thing to do."

Siryn has posed:
//Would it?// Theresa often wonders. "Sit. Tell me how yer likin' th' job. Tell me whit I can do t' be here for ye th' way ye always were for me."

Warpath has posed:
    "I love Emma." Of course he does. "I would die for he. She plucked me out of the desert. She gave me an education. I went to -college-. I have -two degrees-." Not bad for a kid off the reservation. "You do not thank someone who took care of a young man who lost his world by leaving them." Lost his world? James looks aside. He nearly lost his reserve there. Face. Pride. it is important that a man not cry.
    "You could maybe remind Emma to cut my hair. I hate to bother her." Because it has to be his mother, or his lover who does it.

Siryn has posed:
A single coppery brow raises up, and Theresa replies, "Go way outta that! When 'tis family, such a reminder is no bother, Jimmy." She pats his arm. "I'm no' much of a haircut person, but ye know, ye could just get it done at a salon." Terry could be missing something here, though.

Warpath has posed:
    "terry. It is a cultural ... it is a taboo." James explains it quietly. "It is a vulnerable activity. Your back is turned. There are sharp implements." And Apache are rather ruthless as an ethnic group. "A man allows only his lover or his mother, or rarely a sister to cut his hair. Maybe his brohers wife." And he has nothing. No one. Nada.
    His shoulders shrug. "I might be the last one from Cape Verde, but I will not abandon my traditions."

Siryn has posed:
OH! Well, clearly Theresa was missing something significant! The redhead looks a little flummoxed. "I don' think Emma Frost would take kindly t' a phone call outta th' clear blue sky remindin' her... but ye really should just ask her when ye need it..." She trails off. "If ye trust me enough, I could try. I'm ... no' yer mother or a sister or a lover, but ... yer m' best friend, Jimmy."

Warpath has posed:
    "We would have to be sleeping together." James answers. "So, if you are really my friend?" He teases. It is for a moment like it was. His lips twitch in a small smile. "I mean, if you were a real pal..."

Siryn has posed:
She whaps him. Right on the shoulder. Not like he'd notice -- he never does! "Aye, because I take all me bestest buddies t' bed!" Theresa retorts. "I'll .. I dunno -- text th' woman or something." She's VERY red in the face right now, though she averts her eyes to try to keep him from seeing just how embarrassed she is.

Warpath has posed:
    "Your loss." James quips. even though he cannot sell that. Sounds more like his. "So, you are working in New York? We could maybe do lunch, like once a week? Make sure you are doing okay." She is doing okay. because he is fine. Noe. Really. Just fine.
    "It would make me happy." James admits, allowing his reserve to diminish for a moment.

Siryn has posed:
"Aye, I'm workin' in New York," Theresa agrees, latching onto that segue with both hands, metaphorically speaking. The hot dog that she still holds in her one hand is now being toyed with. "I start in a couple of days, workin' at an auction house. Guess all those years of livin' wi' Tom were useful... they got me a job."

Warpath has posed:
    His lips twitch. "Yes. Remember the first rule." James tells her quietly. "We do not shit where we eat." A little vulgar, but he is under no illusions as to just what she meant by that. He tilts a dark brow upwards watching her body language.
    "I made it weird. I am sorry. You do not have to sleep with me."

Siryn has posed:
Theresa blinks at the vulgarity and then laughs at him. "I haven' th' faintest notion what yer on aboot," she retorts easily. The smile reaches her blue eyes and she leans over to lean on his shoulder. "Of course I doon't. Besides, ye deserve someone far nicer'n me in yer life, boyo." Someone not damaged. "When d'ye need t' be back at work?"

Warpath has posed:
    "I am the bosses favorite. If I told her I was with you... next week." James admits it quietly. "She was fond of you. Always wanted you at our school." He has a sack full of hotdogs. His stomach gives the loudest, most terrifying gurgle this side of Fred Dukes. "Erm. Pardon." he decides to maybe eat.

Siryn has posed:
Terry is both surprised at that information and then startled into laughter at the gurgle. "C'mere, then," she tells him, heading back to sit on the bench he vacated minutes ago. "Emma said tha'?" She's really somewhat shocked. She considers herself something of a Bad Seed despite the years of running with the X-Men. "Eat yer lunch before ye keel over. I'll never get ye off th' ground if ye pass out of low blood sugar."

Warpath has posed:
5tit is terrifying how few bites he can use to demolish a hotdog. Even with chweing olitely. Two vanish in very short order. Gone. Forever. Devoured. He nods at that. 'She did though. You were always more Hellion than X-Man." He has no negative tone when he says the word.

Siryn has posed:
Terry smirks. "I think some others, like me Da, thought so too," she observes. It's always difficult to tell with her what she's feeling when such things come up. She's very good at the neutral face. "If ye like, I'll come up and visit ye when she's around and remind her for ye."

Warpath has posed:
    "She gets busy. You could just remark that I look shaggy, or something. She will feel bad, and also feel inconveniened it is difficult. It is inconvenient." His shoulders move in a little shug. "It is hard to get too upset with her. I think she wishes I would just meet someone."

Siryn has posed:
"Well, ye'll do tha' in yer own time," Theresa replies mildly. "Shouldn' be in too big a hurry. Life's complicated enough when yer just tryin' t' take care of yerself an' those around ye. Relationships take way more work." She nibbled at the hot dog that he got her, and then she grins a little. "I forget whit crazy street foods American's like."

Warpath has posed:
    "Not all of us are globetrotters." James retorts quietly. His smile is quiet and warm. It reaches his eyes. Victory? 'Some of us are just country bumpkins off the rez." he affects a slower method of talking. "I was still raiding the town looking for a school marm." he teases.

Siryn has posed:
Theresa merely rolls her blue eyes at him and proceeds to enjoy the crazy American street food. The fact that his eyes finally smile at her is a win -- she'll take it. "Sure'n ye better be rangin' out t' th' countryside fer tha'. Th' city girls'll eat ye alive," she teases.

Warpath has posed:
    "I ama warrior borne." James says, his voice low and almost booming. He's got some bass in there. "Let them come. I can handle any little white girl." James winks at her warmly. He gives her shoulder a very gentle little squeeze. "Next lunch, we will go to a bar and grill." he promises, giving her a very small warning look. He'll be watching her.