ArchivedLogs:Garden Paths

Garden Paths
Dramatis Personae Flicker, Jax, Rictor	2015-06-29 "We had some problems with time travel." Part of Future Past TP
Location <XS> Gardens
From indoor gardens to outdoor, though without the protective greenhouse glass the back gardens do not last all year round. Still, the gardens out here are well-tended and well-worth spending time in, as well. The paths wending through the beds of flowers and herbs and vegetables spread out through the school's back grounds, tended by students as a credit class. Benches offer seating and a small pond is home to koi and turtles, as well as a few frogs. At the far back edges of the garden, a droning buzzing marks a few stacked white boxes as beehives. In contrast to the rainy weekend that preceded it, today has been fairly idyllic. Not too not, sunny, pleasantly breezy. It's evening now, though still light out. Still /warm/ out. A quiet sleepy drone of bees off towards the back of the garden, a nearer thrum of the wings of a hummingbird dropping in to a very colourful feeder recently put up near one of the flower beds. Near the feeder is an equally colourful young man, perched in a crouch on the edge of a stone bench. Jax is in a strappy bright yellow tank top and purple capris, embroidered with silver hummingbirds that are shifting and flying as well, darting to and fro around the legs of his pants. His feet are bare, glittery purple toenails curled down against the edge of the bench. He has a sketchpad in his lap, though at the moment he's ignoring it in favour of watching the feeding bird. There are huge mirrored sunglasses over his eyes and the plethora of tattoos visible on his limbs are faintly glowing and, like the embroidery on his pants, also not quite sitting /still/, shifting and moving against his pale skin. Flicker is -- far less colourful. Plain cargo khakis, an equally plain blue short-sleeved polo shirt that leaves his mechanical right arm very much visible (it has been painted up, today, in a swirl of shimmering oilslick-sheen that makes no attempt to feign /organic/.) An olive-drab messenger bag slung across his chest. He stops a ways away from the bench before closing the distance in a few short blip-blip-blips of motion that just /bring/ him across the garden. Hello Jax now you have company. Plop. His eyes only kind of focus on the hummingbird. Kind of sneak-peek sidelong at the other man. He's -- very pale. Kind of thin. Dark shadows underneath his bright green eyes. A little slow, a little quiet, when he does speak. "... Been looking for you. You planning to stay out here forever?" If Jax is the poster child for bright colors and a daring sense of fashion, then Rictor is his polar opposite tonight, emerging from the mansion wearing dark tones in a conservative style. He's also far less pale than the other man, though that may not be directly noticeable right now. Hanging off one shoulder is a simple, black computer bag that he grips tightly, looking about to unsling it and set it on one of the patio tables before he catches sight of the two men in the garden. He pauses, then walks to meet them, making no effort to hide his footsteps along the way. "Hello," Rictor says on meeting Jax and Flicker. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything, but I'm pretty sure I've been looking to run into you for a while now." "Possibly." Jax's thick drawl is quiet, too. If he's startled by Flicker's jumpy arrival, it doesn't show; he just shifts slightly, perhaps to make room on the bench, perhaps just to be not so close -- there's a not-inconsiderable amount of heat radiating off of him. "Maybe not forever. Maybe only till the world ends. Maybe only till there ain't no more meetings t'be had. Maybe only till the Professor ain't lookin' for me no --" For an instant he breaks off, /now/ looking slightly startled as Rictor approaches. The faint luminescence of his tattoos brightens into a sharper glow. They settle into their normal motionless configuration, his head tipping up to regard Rictor, the other man reflected in the lenses of his sunglasses. "Hmwhatoh me? Him? Us? Have you? Ohgosh what'd we do?" Flicker winces, and lifts a hand, resting it -- heat or no heat -- on Jax's back. Briefly rubs between the photokinetic's shoulderblades. "Don't plan on waiting around for the world to end. Not my style." His fingers press just a touch firmer when Rictor approaches, but in greeting he only has a quick warm smile to offer. "Yeah? It's probably the cupcakes," he tells Jax. "Everyone's always looking to thank who makes 'em." Rictor coughs and takes a step back from the two men, realizing his approach, in the dark, even in this place, might be startling to some. The older man meets their apparent confusion with lidded eyes as he peers from Jax to Flicker and back again. Finally, he let's a quick, yet heavy, sigh. "My name is Julio," he tells the others, pausing a moment to spot any recognition if there is some. "I'm a new lecturer this term. I assumed the Professor would have notified you, though I suppose I could have asked for a meeting instead of sneaking up on you like this." "/Oh/ -- oh. Oh --" Jax flushes deeply, a bright red tint flooding his cheeks. "Oh, gosh, apologies, no, I -- no, there was. I mean, there was a email that gone around, I -- I knowed you was here, I jus', I -- 'pologies, forgive me, I been a bit -- my brain's been a bit -- I ain't quite been myself lately, I --" He shakes his head, spilling brightly dyed hair over the edges of his glasses and then unfolding from his crouch to set one foot on the ground, rock forward to offer one (overheated) hand out to Rictor. "I know you. I mean, not the email. I mean, not, like, /well/, but you was here when -- I had less metal in my face an' not so much ink an' I talked a lot less an' -- I should talk less." His pierced lips curl up into a sheepish crooked grin. "The talkin' less was prob'ly kinda a sellin' point. Um -- Jax. Right but if you was lookin' for me maybe you -- knowed that." Flicker hides his own grin behind a half-curled hand, amused and fond at the spill of words that rushes out when Jax speaks. He's quiet. Waits. "I don't teach here," he finally says, when Jax is done. "I'm out of that particular loop. New teammates, though, I do hear about." He leans forward, too. Offers a mechanical hand outward for shaking. "Flicker." His shoulder bumps lightly against Jax. "And I like you talking." Rictor offers a faint smile that does little to mask his more quizzical reaction to Jax's near-ramblings, which shows clear on his face. He grips Jax's heated hand and gives it a quick, firm shake. "Of course, I remembered your name when it was given to me. It's been a long time," he tells the colorful man, before turning to give Flicker a similar shake. "And it's nice to meet you, Flicker. Again, I'm sorry if I interrupted anything, but thought I'd seize the opportunity." "No, you wasn't -- interruptin', I was -- procrastinatin', I'm supposed to be -- at a meeting. That I don't want to --" Jax's nose wrinkles up. "You ain't interruptin' nothin'," he reiterates. "Has been a while. What brung you back?" He settles back onto the bench, closer to Flicker, this time, shoulder settling back in against the other man's. "... summertime's rough, though," he answers Flicker. "Feel like I /can't/ shut up. Wish I could turn m'brain /off/." Flicker's shoulder tenses slightly against Jax, though he leans back into the touch. "I don't," -- it's quiet, even. Oddly /firm/, though, "recommend turning your brain off." He pulls his legs up into a pretzel on the bench, one hand dropping to his knee. "Hard to avoid a telepath forever. /I'm/ talking to him, even if you won't. -- What do you teach?" he adds to Rictor, curious. "Professor Xavier asked and offered me work," Rictor tells Jax. "I just finished my studies and the timing worked out nicely, so I accepted." As he speaks, he eyes his two new colleagues intently, judging their relationship in way they interract and becoming aware of the fact that something is not entirely /right/ here, though he can't imagine what. "Computers mostly," he answers Flicker quickly, before changing the subject. "Is everything alright here?" He lets the question hang, doing his best not to give it too much weight. "-- Oh --" Jax's cheeks flush dark again, head tipping slightly to look up at Flicker as his brows pull inward. "Oh, no, oh, m' --" His hand lifts, fist circling against his heart as his head dips apologetically. "That was -- thoughtless, I didn't mean --" He digs teeth against his lower lip, hopping up to his feet to hug his untouched sketchbook against his chest, bounce restlessly on his toes. "Oh, gosh." This time his words come with a small laugh, a tiny flutter of glowing light around him. "Ain't that a question an' a half? Are things ever alright around here, I ain't quite sure. We had some problems with time travel. I ain't been real sure of myself since. I'll get over it. 'pologies. Summer always makes me a little scatterbrained anyhow. Solar-powered, y'know? Kinda always jus' feel like --" He glances back towards the hummingbird feeder, though the small rapid-moving bird has long since moved off, now. "Some problems." There's a small upward curl of Flicker's lips. "Might be an understatement. There was a small problem with the school exploding and the government committing genocide." Now he hesitates, looking back towards the mansion a long moment. "Doesn't have to play out that way, though." Rictor is silent for a good time, because the kind of talk he's hearing could be deadly serious or it could be a practical joke, some gentle ribbing of the new guy on the team. He licks his lips thoughtfully and nods. "I see," is all he says to start, perhaps searching for the right way to phrase his thoughts. "I know I'm new here and clearly not up to date with...current events, but I get the feeling I should be." His gaze flicks between the two men once again. "I'll talk to the Professor about organzing a meeting. I feel like there should be something organized." "It didn't /explode/." Jax's voice is sharp -- not /angry/ so much as upset, a brighter flare of light briefly glowing around him. "/I/ blew it up. An' of course it don't /gotta/ -- but I still hafta live knowin' it could. Don't mean I ain't gonna --" He presses his lips together tightly, curling an arm around his chest, his other hand raking through his hair. "... 'pologies," he mumbles to Rictor, head dipping. "This ain't hardly a welcome. I usually stick t'the cupcakes. I -- yeah. You should -- be briefed. Um. Is it current events still if it's -- maybe-future-events that might never happen? That makes my /head/ hurt." "Recently-past-potentially-future events." Flicker's head gives a small shake. "And a lot /could/ happen. We're kind of in the business of making sure it doesn't. This is no different than any of the other terrible we've fixed, alright?" He squeezes Jax's shoulder, gently. "A meeting'd be good. I -- kind of have a thought. But it's definitely going to need everyone on board. It'd affect us all in a big way." Rictor lifts a hand at Jax's apology, neutralizing it before any more posible-apologies follow. "It's fine," he tells Jax. "I just expected something a little different, but it's no fault of yours." Lowering his hand once again, he glances over at Flicker and raises a brow at his mention of a thought. "Well, I'm looking forward to hearing it after I'm briefed. Perhaps then I'll have a better handle on what we're dealing with." Rictor offers the two another slight, strained smile. "I'll let you two get back to things. I have to prepare some materials for class. It as nice to finally speak." The smile warms slightly before he turns to leave, back to mansion and out of sight.