Owner	Pose
Shannon	The night was cold and damp, and fat, heavy flakes of snow fell to the ground with a decided lack of frosty finesse. In simpler language, it was a mess outside. Most students were either studying, sleeping, or making mischief.      But one of them was singing.      From the doorway of one dorm in the ladies' wing, soft, plaintive notes floated through the air, a silky alto voice accompanied by a simple acoustic guitar.... "My name is Francis Tolliver In Liverpool I dwell Each Christmas come since World War One I've learned it's lessons well That the ones who call the shots Won't be among the dead and lame And on each end of the rifle We're the same...."
Jax	The night, being cold and damp, is ideal for those who prefer to stay indoors. That fat, heavy flakes of snow are steadily falling to the ground makes the whole scene all the more beautiful when watched from a warm, dry room, and preferably enjoyed with a warm drink of some kind. Enter then the mobile smile, the maker of merry, the prince of positivity (and other related attributes) making his way over to a certain door. Tote bag in one hand, thermos flask and two mugs in the other.     There is a knocking on the door of Shannon's room as if an excited drummer urgently seeks access. It has rhythm. The rhythm has rhythm. It's exactly the kind of noise you'd expect if a cat managed to grow to about six feet, learn to stand upright and use its tail to knock.     Clearly, Jax is without.
Shannon	The notes of the song fall to silence, with the sound of an instrument being set down gently. Soft fabric whispers against fabric, and padded footsteps heading toward the door barely break the silence. A light creak might be heard as Shannon opens her door a little wider, peering out at her would-be visitor. She's in her pink satin two-piece pajamas, and those goofy, floofy, Old English Sheepdog slippers of hers.      But something is missing.      Regardless, she smiles, and pulls Jax in for a hug. "Hey there," she says. "C'mon in, I was just getting a little guitar practice in."
Jax	Something is missing indeed. But Jax returns the hug as best he can, laden down with his goodies, and then lets himself in. There's a good chance he knows, or has heard, or who knows what those ears might have picked up... but he doesn't show any surprise. Doesn't show anything but pure radiant joy, as if all is well with the world, or at least will be as soon as he gets around to fixing it. "Sounding good. Hear you're going to be a pop star soon."     Swinging one leg over the back of a chair, Jax sits down Riker-style and finds a spot for the thermos and both mugs. "Got some hot chocolate from the kitchen, figured you'd like some when it's this cold out." The mugs are even very clearly labeled... one is a Bills mug, the other showing the proud Patriots logo.     "And I got you your christmas present too. Would have gotten it to you sooner but I had to work on a little project over the break. You know how it is."
Shannon	Shannon just laughs, her cheeks turning a bit rosy. Her shoulders lift briefly in a shrug, lips quirking upwards in a wry half-smile. "Don't think I'd go so far as to say a pop star. Let's face it, I'm no Andrea or Dazzler. Besides," she adds, turning towards the shelves where all her fabric and sewing sundries lay, reaching for a package wrapped in holographic gold paper. "It's more of a country-pop type song."      As she turns back towards Jax where he sits, the significance of the logos on each cup isn't lost on her. She can't help a laugh, definitely a welcome sound. "Would that little project be the one that's splashed all over social media right about now?" she asks.
Jax	Unscrewing the top of the thermos, Jax pours some hot chocolate in both mugs, letting the scent of the delicious treat do as it wishes. "Eh. Social media, national media, bit of both." He looks at Shannon with that mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "More like a country-media thing."     And so he leans back, mug in hand, reaching down to hand over the tote bag. "For you. Merry Christmas. And Happy New Year. Fabulous Festivus. Happy Hannukah. May your Kwanzaa be... ehmm... Kwanzastic? That a thing?"
Shannon	"I think Greek mythology had it wrong," Shannon says, with a wide grin as she accepts the cup emblazoned with a Patriots logo. "Hot cocoa is the -real- ambrosia, and this is..." Her voice trails off, the offer of the tote bag finally dawning on her.      Hooking her fingers through the handle, she twists just enough to offer the gold-wrapped package to Jax in kind; it is of a decent size and weight, but soft and squishy. "Thank you so much, to all of those, and all the same to you!" Of necessity, she sets down her cocoa on her bedside table, the better to investigate the contents of the tote bag....
Jax	Likewise, Jax has to put down his mug to accept the package. Clearly equal sacrifices need to be made. Inside the bag is an official Patriots hoodie, with discrete zippers on the back to allow wings to protrude. He thought long and hard about presenting it, but it seems that in the end optimism has won out. It also means that while this is an officially licensed product, it's probably either a one off or a prototype of more mutant-friendly clothing. "Hope it fits..."     And as he starts to unpeel the wrapping from his own package, he can't help but add with a bit of a grin. "Check the pockets."
Shannon	Well, who could possibly remain in fowl spirits in the face of just such a gift? Shannon squeals and all but scoops Jax up in a giant hug, her strength not lost in the wake of her brush with the Cure. "Oh, that's awesome! Thank you!!!" She's dancing about with the season tickets in her hand, nuzzling her cheek against the shoulder of her new hoodie.      Inside Jax's package is a full-size quilt, in the pattern of a red-and-white chain on a navy blue background, with a simple red, white, and blue border.      The team colors of the Buffalo Bills.
Jax	By the time Jax has his package carefully unwrapped, he's being scooped up in a hug. "You're welcome." Of course, it comes out a bit muffled because he's also half buried under a large quilt, though it does give him a very close up view of the fabric. That's absolutely going to find its way onto his bed. An effort is made to fold it back up, but now it's kept on his lap rather than in the package on the table.     "Dad said that if you're going to watch your team lose, might as well do it while you're comfortable. I heard they do some pretty good food in the VIP boxes over there."
Shannon	Shannon bursts out laughing, just shaking her head. "Them's fightin' words!" Her voice is somewhat muffled as she is busy pulling on the hoodie over her head, her head popping out of the neckline in a few short moments. Winter hath wrought its wrath upon her golden tresses, however, with the snapping of static electricity and wisps of pale gold sticking out about her head like a halo.      The hoodie, however, is a success, as the garment fits to a T. The discreetly placed zippers are even perfectly perched upon her back.      "Ha. Just wait till it's the Super Bowl and our teams face off against each other. Then we'll see the fur fly!" Pause. "Ooof. Bad pun."
Jax	It is winter. It /is/ snowing. There's a lot of static in the air... honestly, Jax can't help it. With a purely innocent expression, he slowly reaches out a furry finger towards the hoodie, and the static charge starts to crawl down his hand, up his arm....     A few moments later, he's a literal floofball, with every bit of his exposed fur seemingly trying to escape from his body. And yet through it all, he manages a semi-offended expression. "Madam. Next you will say that my fur is not impeccably groomed."     Floof.
Shannon	It's like watching an odd science experiment in slow motion, with the floof floofing ever floofier as if it had taken on a life all its own. "Oh, it's purr-fectly groomed," Shannon says, completely deadpan. "It's just that Old Man Winter has a different sense of style, that's all."      Floof, indeed.
Jax	"Well then." Jax intones, equally deadpan, picking up his mug and taking a very complicated sip. How does he manage not to get fur into his mug?! Must not be his first rodeo floof...     "So, when's your EMT exam?"
Shannon	"If all goes well, I hope to be able to start studying for the state exam in a few more weeks. It takes about six months, which would put the exam itself right around the time of my eighteenth birthday. I can start studying early, as long as the exam's taken within a month of turning eighteen."      Jax might be going to great lengths to avoid the proverbial elephant in the room, but Shannon has no such compunctions. She just charges in, damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead! "I intend to do so well that even when I get my wings back--that's 'when', and not 'if'--and even if I get a bigoted asshole of a grader, that it'll be a big fat middle finger in the eye of prejudice."
Jax	Well, if Jax hadn't expected that reaction, he'd never have given the zippered hoodie, but it nevertheless gets him to smile. And touch the metal thermos, so that with a quick *crack* the static charge is transferred over and his fur goes back to normal. Yup, that hurt, but aside from a short 'eep' and the frantic waving of a hand, he barely lets it be known.     "Awesome. Want to join the campaign when you've got your wings back? We're only just getting started. I mean, I've barely had a hundred insulting calls and just about a dozen death threats." He says it with the smile of someone whose legal team really /is/ on the case.     "Incidentally, is 'up yours sideways with a blunt cactus' considered to be too harsh of a reply? I mean, from a legal perspective?"
Shannon	Shannon's pale blue eyes go wide and her jaw drops, as she squirms and writhes in sympathy for anyone hwo is doomed to suffer such a perfectly prickly posterior. "Owwwwwwww!! Yeeeeah, maybe just a tiny bit," she replies, eyes crossing in comical fashion. She bursts out giggling, shaking her head quickly to try and clear her head of such colorfully cacti-related mental imagery.      Some things, however, cannot be un-seen.      "Huh. Sounds like a great campaign. Besides being on camera for that kind of thing, how else could someone get involved if they wanted to?"
Jax	"Welllll..." and here Jax pokes around in a pocket, finding a small notebook. It's the kind of flip-cover thing that was popular in a previous age, easily concealed and just as easily disposed off in an emergency. It's telling that he has all the details in there, rather than on a tablet. He may act the fool, but he's no dummy.     "Let's see, got a musician willing to lend a song already. 'Be You', by Nick Drago. Got about a dozen, two dozen stars that want to record a segment. Offer from the MLB to host mutant centric training camps over the summer... same from the NFL, the NHL and the NBA. Interviews... talk shows... ehmmm... ooh, ah yeah, here it is..." And he nods, reading the entry. Or at least pretends to. "Says here... Be awesome. You got that covered. Aaaaaand, ah yeah..." he flips the book closed with a snap, looking at Shannon with a very serious expression. "Kicking the ass of the bastards who've been shooting this stuff into innocent mutants. It's underlined an' everything, so it's probably pretty important."
Shannon	"You know, that's the second time I've heard that name today... Nick." Shannon chuckles softly. "Ran into him volunteering at the New Hope shelter in Harlem last Christmas Eve. Turns out he was there again yesterday, too, by all accounts." She smiles widely, reaching for the Patriots cup and sipping the smooth, dark contents with all the care and ceremony that might be afforded to actual ambrosia. Just how would she know such things? A lady must have -some- secrets, after all!      Her smile turns into something of a smirk, the healer-in-training settling back with her cup of cocoa, blowing away a bit of the sweetly-scented steam. "I'm pretty sure miss Grey, Mr. Summers, and others are already working on that part. I'm just a little proud they even asked me along to help at that protest. Guess the best thing I can do on my end now is to see if Dr. McCoy needs help coming up with a cure for the Cure. That'd be the biggest middle finger of all in the eyes of those bastards, when their little toy doesn't have the bite it used to."
Jax	"Well, it's either that or growing cacti..." At which point Jax seems to get an idea, opens the notebook back up, flips to the right page, finds a pen and adds a few notes. "To bring: Cactus. Species, any. Blunt."     That done, he closes the book and puts it away. Probably safest for all involved. A sip of the hot chocolate follows as he leans back again. "If anyone can solve this, it's Doctor McCoy. I'd volunteer to help him, but that sounds like science, and the world is better off without Jax Miller doing science. Who knows what might happen? Anything. Absolutely anything. Patriots winning the Superbowl kinda crazy."