8423/Lazy Day

Lazy Day
Date of Scene:	20 July 2019
Location:	Bedford Towers
Synopsis:	Illyana and Betsy hang out on the couch and discuss the 'Podruzhka Opyt'.
Cast of Characters:	Psylocke, Magik

---

Psylocke has posed:
Not all that long ago, Apartment 4A was almost deserted. Betsy rarely came by, and when she did it was only to sleep, shower, or change clothes. She couldn't stand to be in the place for any great length of time, and generally found any excuse to be out all day and most of the night. Although now it's become something like a romantic hideaway. A place to retreat from the outside world and spend time with someone she'd never really thought she would be involved with. She never imagined it, but now that it has happened it all seems like a natural progression with no other possible result.

At present, Betsy kneels on all fours in front of the sofa. One hand stretches out underneath it, pawing around as she tries to find something. Despite her usual artistocratic poise and bearing, the curse words that are coming from her sound like the sort that would make a sailor blush.

Magik has posed:
Illyana hasn't exactly moved in to the apartment, but she may as well have. She has no physical residence on Earth, so more often than not, this is where she ends up. It doesn't help at all that her propensity for boundries is practically nonexistant. "What you are looking for?" Poking her head around from the kitchen at a squating Betsy with a wrinkle nosed squint. "And how much of salt do I put in this? What is a dash? These are bad instructions..."

Really, it's not rocket science, it's just popcorn. But everything is a thing when Illyana is involved.

"Add two dash salt for taste.. how does this make sense?" Poking her head around the wall again, "You needing help?" This is probably the real reason everyone stays clear of her.

Psylocke has posed:
"No, I found it," Betsy calls, arm withdrawing from beneath the sofa with her phone clutched in it, "Not about to fish this out with TK. I'd probably make it explode or send it flying out the window. Though I suppose I'm due for an upgrade ... "

She kneels there on the floor for a moment, phone in both hands, and quickly flicks through the contents while checking messages. Satisfied there's nothing urgent, she stands back up and falls onto the sofa in a lazy half-sit.

"Just shake the shaker into the palm of your hand, then drop it in the. Do it twice and there you go, two dashes for taste. Smells lovely."

Magik has posed:
Illyana's blonde head appears for a second, staring at the aristocrat digging around beneath the couch for her phone. It is not at all something anyone would have ever expected to see and should almost be comical in how out of place it is, but Illy she grins, bobs her head a little from side to side, and disappears behind the wall to finish the popcorn.

"They should just say that... is much easier than made up words." She says as if it just occured to her and is perhaps the most important thing for the span of a few seconds. Then abruptly forgotten when instructions on what, precisely, a dash of salt is. She mouths these instructions to herself and duplicates them with narrowed eyes, drops the salt onto the bowl of popcorn, and gives it a little shake as she comes back out in the room with Betsy half sprawled on the sofa. "I did not burn it." Sniff, "Da, I did not burn it."

One leg hikes up as she nears the couch and steps over the back, carrying her other leg over so she can drop down on the cushion beside Betsy with her legs folded beneath her. "Brought more salt." For taste is a vague determinate.

Psylocke has posed:
"Do you feel like watching anything?"

Betsy reaches over to take a piece of popcorn from the bowl, flicking it into the air and catching it easily in her mouth. She picks her phone up off the arm of the couch, holding it to take a photo of herself and the blonde before she puts it back where she found it and retrieves the remote. She begins to flick through the channels, looking for something of interest.

"I'm sorry I didn't want to go out. I had a bit of a tear with Janet yesterday afternoon and I just wanted to curl up and do nothing."

Magik has posed:
Illy looks at the camera and even leans a little closer for the photo, but she looks about as bland as a board. While there, however, she kisses Betsy's temple as if she stole something and grins to herself at such a minor, insignificant, victory. Her reward is a small palm of popcorn which she tosses into her mouth absently. "What we watch? I do not know many things on television. Mostly old movies and horror." Because of course she likes horror.

Her attention shifts down to the bowl buried in the next of her legs, "Why you are sorry for this?" She needn't look up or over at Betsy, busy as she is poking popcorn buds with her fingertip as if looking for a very specific kernal amidst the family arrangement. "Who is Janet? Why she is making you not want to go out? Do you want me to hurt her for you?" Glancing up with steel grey eyes, blinking owlish. If not for the hint of a grin, it would be straight faced, but it's probably still hard to tell how serious she is.

Psylocke has posed:
"No, no, nothing like that," Betsy shakes her head quickly, letting the television stop on some reality cooking show she's never seen before, "Janet is a close friend of mine. The oldest friend I still have, actually. We were at finishing school together. We got drunk, and that my rather obtuse way of saying I had a hangover."

She restsa hand on Illyana's thigh and gives it a squeeze before taking another bit of popcorn and eating it, waiting til she's finished to speak, "I appreciate the sentiment, though."

Magik has posed:
"Oh." Illyana bobs her head in a few nods, looking back down into the bowl of in her lap. Another couple pieces of popcorn are slipped into her open mouth, but each one is very specifically chosen like some kind of ritualistic sacrifice to her stomach. "Da, I would probably not really hurt anyone for something like this." She clarifies, complicating the line between joke and seriousness further.

"Like ones who shooting Doug. I am going to kill them." Matter of fact, not even flinching or thinking about it, every single word meant. The small Russian takes one more peice and slides it in her mouth, then scoots over a little lean in against Betsy.

Wiggle.

Wiggle Wiggle.

The bowl is moved from her lap, into Betsy's, so that she can wrap the telepaths arm around her shoulder. Her legs come up onto the couch, folded over, and her gaze settles on the cooking show. "He says dash, but he uses way more salt than palm full. Is this not exact measurement?" As if she hadn't just said she fully intended on killing someone.

Psylocke has posed:
The talk of killing someone passes by Betsy in such a way that Illyana may as well have just said she planned to go to the store for a carton of eggs later. She understands the feeling and doesn't see much need to curtail it. Maybe she should at least try, but that isn't the basis of the thing they have. She wiggles right back as the popcorn bowl is plopped down in her lap, letting her arm be moved and wrapped about Illyana with no complaint and indeed a little shuffle to get in closer.

"I think they dash is just cooking talk for however much seems about right. I don't think it's an exact measurement, no."

A pause.

"I'm having a party in a few weeks, I want you to come. With me, I mean. Be there with me. As my date."

Magik has posed:
With it out there in the ether marinating with all the other dark things what have now seen this living room, all thought of killing are gone. Illyana is patient in that regard and doesn't need to rush off after anyone, point of fact, it's all part of the grand design. That said, Doug is a likable guy, so there's probably a waiting list for homicide on anyone who would hurt any human being that refers to pajamas as jimjams.

Illy, plays with some bit of Betsy's shirt, but it's absent and done more than anything because of the texture, if not just because she's nuzzled up against the other woman and it's right there for her to do so. "Then maybe they should not use it in a way making it sound like exact measurement. On back of box bought in super market hardly is seeming like good place to educate masses on semantics." It's a moot point, conversational.

And quickly forgotten.

Illy's head cranes up to look at the violet Aristocrat, "Da? Do I get to looking as pretty as you do?" Not that it matters, she's already grinning, her face turning just enough to bury it into Betsy's shoulder. "I am looking forward to this. I am wanting it very much."

Psylocke has posed:
"If you want to," Betsy takes another handful of popcorn and pops it into her mouth thoughtfully, "You can dress however you like. Janet said she'd help you put something together if you'd like, though. You should trust her opinion ... if you think I know how to dress? She puts me to shame sometimes.

She leans her head to one side, resting it atop Illyana's: "I'm glad you told Anna and Kitty. And Doug. I've told Janet, too. You're right that there's nothing to hide or be concerned about. It isn't anyone else's business but we should let them be happy for us if they want to be."

Magik has posed:
Illyana is still grinning, but she's no longer trying to hide it in Betsy's shoulder, and it's not nearly as goofy. Rather she's just curled up against her, half watching cooking, with a almost normal grin on her face. Something else that likely would be laughed at if anyone who knew her were to hear the story. "I know that public is your work." She says quietly, lightly taking the arm dangling over her shoulder so her fingers can lace with Betsy's, "I know how they are all.. watching... I guess is not good word for it. I am not really carying how I am looking and you are not caring how I am looking, but if public is your work and I am there with you, then I am having to look like I belong there with you?"

Glancing up, without moving her head, "This is silly thinking?"

Settling back, "I will talking with Janet." Definitive nod. "I am also glad I tell them, but I felt very guilty. I want friends to being happy for us, but I feel then at the time that I do what you did not want me to." Her thumb slides across Betsy's, "After I think about it I know you would not care if is Rogue and Kitty who knows."

Psylocke has posed:
Betsy gives Illyana's hand a squeeze, lifting her shoulders slightly, "I don't know that I didn't want you to. Maybe I did. I mean, I certainly didn't think it was a secret you wanted to keep and when you told me you wouldn't lie about it I didn't exactly press you into doing it. I just wanted a head start on people, I suppose."

She gives the Russian a pat on the thigh at her words, hand lingering there a moment to trail fingers back and forth for a moment.

"Did I tell you I've booked a venue for the party? Are you still coming?"

Magik has posed:
Illyana leans against Betsy's arm, wrapping it tighter around her shoulder, "I.. I do not wanting to take bull horn and shout to whole world, but I like you." She quirks her lips off to the side, glancing down at the popcorn tucked somewhere over on the other side of the telepath's cushion. "I tell people that matter to me... also I give you FULL two weeks to get ahead of it. Also, I kind of move in." Motioning around at the apartment, "This kind of serious now."

She's trying to joke.. it's very deadpan.

Her hand slips up to play with a few strands of purple hair near Bets temple, "Of course I am coming.. Is your birthday. You are wanting me to walk in with you? How I am missing it?" She shakes her head and grins all kinds of wide. Like a shark.

Psylocke has posed:
Betsy smiles wanly and shakes her head. She knew she was asking the same question twice, but she was asking it again anyway. Sometimes it was difficult to separate this new reality of her life from the other memories floating around in her head. She shakes her head, ridding herself of thos particular cobwebs.

"Good, I'm glad."

She looks around, "I suppose you have moved in. I'd worry about if being too fast if you didn't spend half of your time in another dimension. IF this is where you want to spend your Earth hours, that's entirely fine by me."

Magik has posed:
Illyana grins at the small bit of plight and slides her fingers back through the same purple hair she was playing with so that her arm wraps around Betsy's shoulder as well. Turning so that she's half facing the other woman, "You ask me any question you are wanting to as many times as you are wanting to. I do not mind. I have very many patience, especially for you." Pecking a kiss at the appex of the telepaths brow.

"Da, probably too fast, but everything for me is very fast. When I am taken to Limbo, I am six years old. I spend eight years fighting and killing demons." She explains, moving strands of Betsy's hair around as if she's purposefully doing something with them. "When I come back, it is only three minutes passed time. I do not see any reason I should be going slow if it is something good? If is good for you too? Can slow down I guess." She tilts her head so as to meet violet eyes. "But this is only place on Earth I am ever really wanting to be. I have very little things though. Small carbon footprinting."

A beat pause, "Plus I am knowing what a dash of salt is. This is very important information to have."

Psylocke has posed:
Betsy laughs at that, leaning back in the sofa and languidly stretching her arms to draw Illyana a little closer to her. She doesn't shy away from having her hair played with, simply letting the blonde do whatever it is that satisfies her and makes her feel at ease.

"There's nothing wrong with fast. I'm happy to go at whatever pace feels good for us. Just as long as you don't pull out any rings and start proposing, I think we'll be fine. I don't really think that either of us is the marrying kind, do you?"

Magik has posed:
"I am only legally fifteen." Illyana explains without looking away from playing with Betsy's hair, shifting it to either side of her brow with very precise motions of her hands, then immediately moving it back. She's just comes along a little closer against Betsy. Her leg slides over so she's straddling her, moving the popcorn out of the way first. She bends around and down to set it on the floor infront of the couch, then resumes playing with the telepaths hair.

"I am physically twenty though." As if this is an important thing to make apparent after that little bombshell. Her grey eyes follow strands, leaning back on her palms pressed on the other woman's bare knees to inspect her work. "Give me phone?" One hand up.

There's a question in there unanswered, "Even if I am legally allowed to marry, I think maybe I never do so. I do not need Queen consort of Limbo trying to usurp my authority. Even if she look very beautiful in regal purple robes of office. Just me and you, but.. I do have question."

Psylocke has posed:
Betsy fishes her phone from where it's fallen between the sofa cushions, unable to keep from checking it a moment before handing it over to Illyana as requested.

"And I don't need to be getting married. I almost did it once before - not that long ago, actually - and it didn't work out very well. I think I'm happy just to live in sin. Especially since you're the Devil, so it doesn't make much sense to live otherwise.

The phone handed over, she cants her head to one side: "What's the question?"

Magik has posed:
+here

Illyana turns the phone over in her hands and prattles around for a second until she's got the camera brought up. She leans back and takes a picture of Betsy, then turns it around so the other woman can see. "See? This look like face of Queen consort? Nyet. You too beautiful for Limbo." Then she turns and curls up a little, half on the telepath and half cramed between her with the arm of the chair.

"Marriage is silly old notion anyways. Statistically doomed from onset in my experience. Like trying to only eat one lays potato chip. Like old television commercial is saying." She wiggles a little and looks up at Betsy, phone held back out to her in her thumb and index finger.

"You my girlfriend?"

Psylocke has posed:
Betsy watches the phone wiggle in the air for a moment, considering the words in silence. She looks at the photo of herself smiling back at her, past it to the grinning face of Illyana and then simply plucks it from her fingers and tucks it back underneath her between thigh and the couch cushion.

"Da," she says in her halting, but servicable Russian, "Ty moya devushka."

Magik has posed:
Illyana stretches her arms straight back and lets them drap over the end of the couch, incidentally revealing her waist and abdomen. Content to stay like that, legs draped over Betsy's lap, occupying as much of the other woman's personal space as she's physically able. The tips of her toes slide into the cushions, digging in so that they're covered as if she's any concern for cold or the elements.

Then Betsy answers, which brings a big grin and her mouth opening to say something, until the servicable Russian continues. Her mouth snaps shut immediately and her head pops up from the cushioned arm of the couch, "You know what these words are meaning when you say them?" Blinking owlishly as if she's almost too unsure to ask for some innate fear that they'll be snatched back away from her.

Psylocke has posed:
Betsy screws up her face thoughtfully, as though trying to recollect some sparing lessons in Russian that she doesn't quite remember all that well. She tilts her head from side to side for a moment, dragging out the moment for an agonizingly long time.

"It means ... you are my good friend, right?" Betsy asks, immediately grinning before she pulls the blonde in for a quick kiss on the forehead and murmurs, "It means you're my girlfriend. I may not be Comrade Braddock, but I can take a couple lessons!"

Magik has posed:
Illyana was hooked, waiting with baited breath for what feels like days now that it's over, to every word that tumbles out of Betsy's mouth. Every syllabel drawing her closer, her eyes more narrowed, and her grin bigger. When the first answer is given... it's so obvious her heart sinks that it might as well be like she wrote it on a letter and glued it to her forehead Not what I wanted to hear, but it is immediately followed by a grin and a redress. Coupled with a kiss to her forehead!

Both Illy's small hands swat at the violet telepath playfully, "Why you are doing that to me! What if I am having... okay maybe not so good to joke about that.." Her head wiggles into a self-satisfied tilt, grin almost natural on her face if not for how otherworldly the whole picture actually is in comparison to the rest of her presence. The chilliness, the strange sounds.. She's not normal... but she could be right now!

"Da." She bobs her head in a clipped nod. "You are." leaning forward to press her forehead to Betsy's.

Psylocke has posed:
"Oh, hush you," Betsy says, waving a hand in the air and laughing as Illyana begins to swat at her, "I may be dating the Queen of Hell but I'm not about to start walking on eggshells around you! Besides, look, you took that joke just find. Nothing exploded. I didn't burst into flames. So far as I'm concerned, that's a rousing success and a good omen for things to come!"

She quite suddenly rises to her feet, stretching her arms over her head and brushing off a few stray pieces of popcorn that disappeared between them, "I think we need to celebrate, actually. Come on, koshka. I'm basically a celebrity. We can't be homebodies forever."

Magik has posed:
Illyana steps back off Betsy's lap as she starts rising to her feet and pats either side of the telepaths flanks, "As if I am so easily to be making lose control." She smiles up at the other showing she was only teasing. The small pieces of popcorn disappear... small black hands grab them from beneath the couch and pull them back with them into the gloom of shadows that resides there.

"We going out?" She asks with a perk, wiggling her hips a little as she walks just a step ahead of the Butterfly towards the bedroom. She doesn't have a -lot- of clothes, but anything is better than trying to be seen wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt right? "Good. Is about time you started showing off you are dating Queen ..." Said with a grin over her shoulder, the faintest twinkle in her pale blue eyes.

Psylocke has posed:
"Nobody will ever believe me," Betsy says wistfully, looking up to the ceiling and shaking her head with a sigh, "They'll just think you're my royal girlfriend who goes to another school in Canada. Besides, we've basically let the cat out of the bag ourselves so there's no need to keep it hidden anymore, right? We are ... um ... schastlivaya para, da?"

Magik has posed:
"Never know. I have big crown, armor of station." Both of those things are, technically, true, but Illyana would never wear either of them on Earth. Certainly not to prove a point, no matter how satisfying it might be to see the look on some reporters stupid face. "I am guessing now that you are very true." Bobbing her head in a couple slow nods, tugging off her shirt as she clears the bedroom door and starts for Betsy's closet as if ANYTHING int here is going to be her size. "Da.." Looking back, pulling the pins out of her bobs to let the long waving tendrils fall down about her head, framing her grinning face. "Ochen' schastlivaya para"