ArchivedLogs:Gremlins

Gremlins
Dramatis Personae Mallory, Aloke	2014-01-26 Mallory and Aloke have a heart-to-heart following her first planned transformation
Location <XS> Aloke and Mallory's Room - FL3
This is a couple's suite at Xavier's. A little more expansive than the basic teacher's rooms, this suite includes a living room, a larger bedroom, and a decent-sized private bathroom, as well as a small study. The living room has been made into a fairly cozy entertaining space. Just inside the door is a small side table set by itself in a relatively prominent position in the room, where one could easily visit either on the way in, or out. A skilled, hand-painted, 8x10 image of Lakshmi sits on the table, leaning against the wall. Just in front of the painting is a shallow, silver bowl of water with white and yellow flower petals floating on the surface. The bowl is flanked a pair of white candles. The living room sports a large, soft L-bend couch in a dark gray color. A simple coffee table, often dotted with papers waiting to be graded, sits at just about knee hight in front of the couch. The couch presents comfortable seating facing a good-sized flat screen TV mounted to the wall. Flanking the TV, and then covering most of the walls not taken up with hanging art or /doorways/ are bookshelves filled with a huge collection of neatly arranged books. The collection is perhaps a bit over organized, sorted first by genre, then by author, and then series - it screams A Librarian Did This. Among the books, in the occasional empty spaces are little trinkets and knick-knacks that add a touch of personality to the otherwise obsessively organized shelves. At the back of the living room is a well-appointed kitchenette. It doesn't have an actual oven, but it does have a couple of stove top burners, a small refrigerator with a microwave mounted above it, and sink. A round, polished wood table with two open back chairs make for a cozy little dining area; an old, worn looking teapot sits in the center, a small African violet growing happily in it - one sprout has even ventured out the spout to bloom in cheery purple. The fridge is often adorned with some of Aloke's favorite student work, usually a printout from a digital photograph of the work. Occasionally, a particularly good essay or poem from one of Mallorys students is tacked to the door as well. The study is in an alcove at the other corner of the living room, opposite the kitchenette. It looks like it would be big enough to host a nice desk and chair, but is instead lined with more neatly arranged bookshelves, and a collection of nice quality easels and art supplies. The only seating in the study is a big, gray rubber yoga ball. Another door leads off to the sizable bedroom, neatly kept and decorated in dark neutral colors occasionally interrupted with a contrasting flash of brilliant color. Sturdy, simple furniture in a medium walnut tone make up the bedroom set, a pair of matching dressers and a king size bed flanked by two nightstands. Ashy gray satin sheets are topped with an extra fluffy, near-black comforter; a reversible duvet is folded at the foot of the bed, the visible side a cool silver-blue, the hidden side a myriad of brilliant colors in a paisley design. A variety of throw pillows in cheery colors break up the darkness of the bed set, some occasionally being tossed onto the cream colored fainting couch beneath the window. Soft gray curtains, which look thick enough to be black-out curtains, frame the window, though more often than not they are pulled back to let sunlight through the thin white sheers beneath. The morning sunlight is just beginning to stream through the windows into the little shared suite of rooms on a quiet Sunday morning. Or, it would be a quiet Sunday morning if it weren’t for the shuffle of hooves against flooring in an attempt to muffle the otherwise harsh sounds of Mallory moving around. The rumbling of her stomach has drawn her from her normally sound and stubborn sleeping habit, and the librarian now leans against the counter as she browses through the fridge, looking for something to eat. Not very picky or patient, it would seem, as she has a half eaten gingerbread cookie hanging from her mouth as she rummages for further supplies. Following the incident in the Danger Room, she has been eating nearly constantly in an attempt to regain the weight that was lost in the fire. She wears a fuzzy bright blue bathrobe styled like the TARDIS and a pair of thick Xavier’s logo sweatpants that don’t quite fit her legs properly; the outfit is intended to provide for some of the warmth she has not yet been able to generate herself, but just looks somewhat awkward. Mallory seems confounded by the contents of the fridge, having stopped her search and instead nibbling on the cookie while she stares pointlessly at the various ingredients that stubbornly refuse to cook themselves. Aloke enters the room by very quietly opening the door from the hallway, backing into the room with an armload of stuff from the mansion's kitchen by the looks of things. He eases the door shut again before he ever notices Mallory standing in the kitchenette. But when he does finally see her he nearly jumps out of his skin and drops what he's carrying. This would be a shame though, because he's got a dozen eggs, a box of pancake mix, a package of thick cut bacon, a jug of orange juice and another of milk. That's right, the hardcore vegetarian was set on cooking bacon for his lady-love. When he recovers from his shock at seeing her he says, "Jesus Christ! I didn't expect you to be up already." He takes another breath and carefully sets everything down on their little counter. "Are you sure you're ok to be up and around. I was gonna surprise you with breakfast in bed, but I can't do that if you're out here, can I?" He grins, kisses her on the cheek, and leans back against the counter. At the sound of the door opening, Mallory straightens up to watch Aloke enter the room, idly munching on her cookie as she quietly closing the fridge. When he jumps upon seeing her, she startles as well, hooves skittering against the slick tile flooring before she catches herself against the counter. << S’pologies… >> she starts, blinking silently at him, before clearing her throat and offering an amused smirk, “S’pologies, love. I didn’t realize my bed head was /that/ scary in the morning.” Her hair is rather badly rumpled, not even pulled back into the braid it often is, instead left to stick out at odd angles like the fur of a startled cat, a few strands caught around her horns haphazardly. The messy hair only seems to accentuate the gauntness in her features; her fine, angular cheekbones, typically rounded out by a layer of softness, are pronounced evidence that she is indeed Thomas’s sibling. She smiles happily at the kiss on her cheek, one arm reaching out to pull him close for a cooler-than-normal hug. The statements of his plans get a sheepish look down at the half eaten cookie, “Oh, I, uh, well, my stomach woke me up. I was trying to find something to nibble on, and I found a pack of biscuits first, so…” Her voice trails off as she eyes the bounty he had brought with him, catching her lower lip with pointed canines as her stomach growls rebelliously. “Bacon? Aloke, you don’t, I mean, I appreciate the gesture, but… you’re vegetarian,” she states the obvious, dimly smoldering eyes lingering on the pack of bacon on the counter, “You don’t have to cook bacon for me. It’ll make the room smell like meat; it’s okay, really. Besides, I… I’ve been trying to not eat as much meat.” Her stomach growls once again, voicing its objection to her turning down the delicious pork product. She wets her lips and offers a warm smile, “Though, if you really want to fix breakfast in bed for me, I can go back and pretend to be asleep. Or I can stay and help, if you’d like.” Shifting her weight from hoof to hoof, she waits for his response, leaning a hip against the counter. Aloke raises both eyebrows when she points out her hair, and he swallows back a 'wow' type of comment. "Uh, yeah, well. No, bed-head is… fine." He puts on a faux-concerned expression, teasing. "But I can deal with your hair. And the smell of bacon. What I can't deal with is you being out of bed." Mock sternness this time, but he nods at the bedroom door, whilst setting everything down on the counter. "Now, march back in there, and pretend to be surprised when I bring all this in." Any voiced protests will be met with lip-to-lip style argumentation, plus a light swat on the rump if Mallory actually heads for the bedroom. Mallory snorts and runs a hand through her hair, smoothing it into some semblance of order, eyeing Aloke with a bemused smirk. “Uh… huh,” the librarian says, drawing herself up to her full height, actually looming over Aloke just slightly, eyes glinting mischievously, “Gonna make me?” Chuckling, she relaxes her posture and leans forward to kiss him lightly, “Really, I feel fine. But I’ll go back to bed. All alone.” With an exaggerated pout, she turns to head back towards the bedroom, admittedly still a bit unsteady as she walks. She swishes her tail at the swat to her backside, snorting and laughing, “I’m going to get crumbs all on your side of the bed.” Another demonstrative bite of her cookie as she giggles, picking up the half eaten package of biscuits from the side table where she had left them, vanishing back into the bedroom as she was told. Aloke works quickly and efficiently, recalling his skills as a bachelor. He never made bacon on his own, but scrambled eggs and pancakes from a mix are dead easy. When it's all said and done, Mallory's plate looks like a double-portion linebacker's breakfast. Ten strips of bacon, half a dozen scrambled eggs, and three smallish pancakes on a white, oval shaped plate. He sets that on a wooden tray with a glass of orange juice, a cup of Earl Gray, silverware rolled into a cloth napkin that looks like it was rolled by a pro, and a tiny vase with a yellow flower he must have found in the greenhouse. Once he has the tray in both hands, he puts on a whole show of pretending Mallory is probably asleep. He balances the tray on one hand and taps lightly on the door, "Hey, hon, you awake?" He eases it open and smiles, fully committed to the charade because life is hard enough some days. "I made you some breakfast." In the time it takes for Aloke to prepare all the food, Mallory may just have fallen back asleep, the sleeve of cookies still in her clutches. She was at least kind enough to finish her cookie and /not/ get crumbs in the bed. As such, she has squirmed her way under the pile of covers and is face down in the pillow mostly on her side of the bed. The knock on the door earns a wide yawn as she pushes herself upright in bed, sleepily rubbing at her eyes, answering, “Hmm?” When Mallory sees the massive plate of food, her eyes widen, and she unconsciously wets her lips hungrily. “Oh my. /Thank you/, what a lovely surprise to wake up to,” she says with a pleased smile, her tone sincere, “You didn’t need to do this, but thank you.” She sits up further, stacking her pillows behind her to make a more comfortable seat for herself, covers still pulled up over her lap. Upon noticing the little details, she smiles happily at Aloke, “Goodness, flowers, and tea… and bacon? You really pulled out all the stops for this breakfast. Thank you, love.” "I didn't do it because I thought I /had/ too," Aloke says with warm smile. "I did it because I love you. You had a hard day. I wanted to let you rest, and then feed you like a champ." He unrolls the napkin with a flourish and lays it out for her. "Luckily, some of what I learned working at my parents' restaurant stuck in my head. You're getting Indian food for dinner though, sorry. After scrambled eggs it's kind of all I really know how to make." Aloke smiles and pulls up a comfy stuffed chair, and curls up in it next to the bed so as not to upset Mallory's tray. Mallory blushes and looks down as the tray is set in front of her, a small smile tugging up at the corner of her lips at the explanation. "Thank you," she says quietly, picking up the fork daintily once it is unrolled. It seems for a moment like Mallory might say more, but instead carefully scoops up a small forkfull of eggs into her mouth; she is obviously exercising some restraint to not just inhale the food all at once - that just wouldn't be proper. After the first bite, she grins and tilts her head to the side, "You worked in a restaurant? I didn't know that." Another bite of eggs, and a quiet chuckle once she's finished it, her voice joking as she speaks,"Oh, drat, Indian food again? Poor, poor me." She sticks her tongue out at him, the impish smirk fading into a warm smile, "Love, I would happily eat your cooking for dinner every night. Also breakfast. Excellent breakfast." As though to make a point of it, she takes a hearty bite of a pancake, happily chewing on the warm pastry. Aloke smiles and sits quietly while Mallory gets her first bite and then beams when she seems pleased. "Well, I'm glad you like it. But I only know a couple dishes. Might get boring after a while," he says, keeping a keen eye on whether she's eating or not. "Hey, I know you're hungry. You don't have to stand on ceremony to spare my delicate sensibilities. Eat up." Aloke twists around to fold his legs underneath him, and sit semi-sideways in the chair. "Huh, did I not tell you about the restaurant? Yeah, my family has had the same place in Queens since my grandparents opened it. It was fun, in the summers and stuff, working there. But I was only a busboy, and then a waiter. So I didn't pick up all the recipes." He grins and shrugs, "Much to dad and grandad's disappointment. The men in my family have been cooks since before they came to New York. I did learn a couple though. Hard to avoid it." His smile turns a little distant as he glances out the window wistfully, remembering good times that are longer ago than for everyone else. "Mmf," Mallory says around a mouthful of egg and bacon, washing down the remnants with a pull of orange juice, "Well then, I suppose we shall just have to learn more together. I have already dazzled you with my cooking expertise." She giggles, continuing to eat a bit more voraciously once given the go-ahead, though she seems a bit sheepish about it. Quick work is made of the pile of eggs and the bacon, before she tucks in to the pancakes as she listens to Aloke talk. "You might have mentioned it in passing, but I don't think I realized it was a family business," Mallory muses, pausing to polish off the last pancake,"Well, I am quite thankful for the ones you did learn, intentional or otherwise. I enjoy your cooking." As evidenced by the empty tray in front of her. When Aloke's look turns distant, Mallory reaches out to stroke his hair, unable to move too much due to being pinned in place by the tray. "Maybe they'd be willing to teach you some more recipes, when we visit them?" Mallory offers, somewhat hesitant in the statement, with an edge of determination to her voice, though. It's Aloke's turn to look down, a little embarrassed at the compliment. "I'm glad you like it. I have a lot to be grateful for with my family. I don't think either of my parents are mutants, but Grandad definitely was, and I'm pretty sure Gramma was. I swear she could hear any damn thing I was getting up to in the house." Aloke chuckles and shakes his head, eventually leaning it into Mallory's hand when she reaches for him, shifting in the chair to make it easier for her. He smiles at the head rub and the happy memories. "Grandad could turn… sort of invisible. You could see him, but it was like he was made of glass or plastic or something, you know? Even with just my eyes glowing, I was the first obvious mutant, but they never held that against me. They just… made sure I understood how to hide it when I could, because they knew how people would respond." His eyebrows go up at something Mallory says though, and he turns to face her more fully. "Um, /when/ we visit them? I like the sound of that. I mean, I know you're nervous about it, but they're really good people, I promise." Mallory sets aside the empty food tray to free herself to move, shifting out from beneath the covers to sit behind Aloke on the edge of the bed, her legs curled under her. “Oh, wow. I suppose it really does run in families,” she says with a small smile smile, leaning over his shoulder to kiss his cheek, the warmth of her lips beginning to approach normal after the big meal. "I was the first obvious mutant in my family, on either side. Would have ruined their reputation, had it gotten out that they’d produced such a freak,” she snorts lightly, arranging herself so she is stretched out on her stomach, propping her chin up on one hand while the other idly continues stroking Aloke’s hair. “Though, for all their faults, they did care for me, in their own stereotypically aloof British way. When I was little, they were able to hide the obvious bits with long ruffly skirts and annoying little boots they had made for me,” Mallory explains with a chuckle, “It’s how I appear in all of the family photos from when I was a child; I should show you those some time.” Mallory snickers at the memory, shaking her head, “You can see how Thomas and I looked when we were little, before all this happened. It’ll be worth a chuckle to see me in the godawful lace confections they put me in during the 80s.” At the initial question, Mallory looks nervous, smoothing out the comforter and glancing down. “Well, I mean, if… if you still want me there when you visit them?” she stutters, keeping her eyes focused on a particularly interesting point on the fabric, “I apologize that I am likely going to slow you down, and delay the trip, and I’d completely understand if you would rather not bring me.” The last part comes in a tumble as Mallory continues to look down at the bedspread, head bowed apologetically. Aloke leans in to the kiss on his cheek, and then gets up while Mallory talks, and moves her tray to the floor so he can flop onto the bed next to her, putting his head in easy reach for her. Apparently he likes head-scritches. He listens and nods sympathetically at how difficult it must have been for Mallory growing up, in comparison. However, when Mallory asks again about whether she should join him for the visit, he chuffs an annoyed breath, rolls over, and sits up cross-legged on the bed. His expression is stern, almost angry. "Goddamn it, Mallory. I wish you wouldn't talk like that." He runs his hand through his hair in frustration and looks out the window for a moment, before turning his suddenly bright gaze on her again. "As much as I love my family, and appreciate them, I love you /more/. /You/ are my life. My family. You come first. There's no trip that doesn't include my future wife-" Aloke stops himself, blinking, and purses his lips. "{I'm sorry,}" he says in French, for once, like she taught him. He rubs at the stubble on his chin, and reaches out to put a hand on Mallory's shoulder. "That's not how I wanted to bring this up, and I'm being a complete ass. I-" He checks himself, and then perhaps secure in the knowledge that both of them are free of the linguistic plague, he ventures a whisper, "I'm sorry, Mallory. This is a stupid thing to lose my temper over. I don't even know if marriage is something you've thought about." Mallory had just begun to rest her hand on Aloke’s head when he sits up, suddenly angry with her. She recoils as though burned, pulling her hand in to her chest and unable to look up at him while he chides her. Slowly, she lowers her head to rest her forehead against the bed, sniffling quietly, her eyes closed tightly while she listens. “{I’m sorry,}” she says finally, in the Hindi he had taught her, still face down on the bed, “I… gah,” she struggles with her words, which come out rather muffled, “Friends, more than friends, have left me because they saw me like that. Because they saw me lose control completely. I… love you. I was… am frightened that… that I’ve put you off of being with me, that you wouldn’t…” She snorts, ceasing her babbling but keeps her face buried in the comforter, “It’s an anxiety. Unnecessary, yes, most likely. But I have been burned before.” Because serious conversations are the ideal time to make puns like that. After a long moment, Mallory rolls onto her side, looking up at Aloke, briefly, blinking repeatedly as she processes the entirety of what he had said. She runs a hand through her hair, trying to smooth it into something of an orderly tangle, gathering her thoughts, her eyes still glinting with unfallen tears. “It… is. Yes. I mean, you said ‘long term’ back when we started. I assumed that was an implied potential outcome at some point in the nebulous future?” Color rises to her cheeks the more she speaks, her look becoming distant for a moment. She glances up to his face, chewing on her lower lip nervously, unsure of precisely what to say. Aloke covers his mouth and looks down when Mallory pulls away, shaking his head. He speaks low, and soft, as if praying that will undo the damage of his yelling, "Geez, Mal, you don't have anything to apologize for. You deserve better." He scrubs his face with his hand and takes a deep breath. "It's just… when you say you're not sure if I'll stick around, it makes me think 'what kind of guy do you think I am?'" Aloke leans forward and reaches out to rub Mallory's shoulder. He starts to say one thing and stops himself, eyes thoughtful as something occurs to him. "You know what's weird? I actually /want/ you to take me for granted. I want you to assume I'll always be here. Because what your mutation does has nothing to do with how much I love you. It's who you are because of it, and in spite of it." He turns and gestures at the nearest overstuffed bookcase. "You turn into /fire/, but you surround yourself with books because you still love them. Honestly, that's at the heart of what I love about you. You have this thing that makes parts of your life practically unbearable, but you just say, 'fuck off, life, I like books'. And you love me, for some… god-only-knows reason." Aloke stretches out on his side, facing Mallory, and reaches out to cup her cheek in his palm. "{I'm sorry}," he says, trying on his terrible French again. "I shouldn't have gone off like that, especially when it just pings your anxiety. But for what it's worth, I /see/ us as long term. Whatever that ends up being. I mean, I meant to bring it up in a calm, and not shouting way, but you know, lots of people in love /don't/ get married, and I wouldn't want to spring some elaborate plan on you if that's something you're just not into." He scooches forward to lightly kiss Mallory on the lips before rolling back onto his side, watching her with his glowing eyes. Mallory watches Aloke as he speaks, dark eyes flickering with their inner flame - she doesn’t move away from him when he reaches out to touch her shoulder, leaning her cheek against the back of his hand. Her eyes drift close, and she sighs quietly, “I don’t /want/ to take you for granted. I want to savor being with you, being around you. Every day with you.” She scoots closer to him, gently resting her forehead against his, “I think you are an absolutely amazing man. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you, but I’m thankful for whatever it was.” She leans in for a gentle kiss, cuddling close to him and draping an arm over his side, if he allows it. “I love you,” she says in a hushed voice. “I apologize, too,” Mallory says, nuzzling against Aloke’s shoulder, smiling at his awkward French, “Thank you for breakfast, love. I apologize for bringing the mood down after that.” She listens to his talk, and smiles softly against his shoulder. The kiss is met with a lingering press of lips and a soft sigh, “I suppose I am a bit traditional in that respect. How does the silly little rhyme go? First comes love, then comes marriage…” she trails off before completing the last line, chuckling quietly. “And what about you?” she asks quietly, content to stay cuddled against him, just enjoying him being there. With her. Aloke stays quiet, letting the bad vibes he stirred up have a moment to fade back into the ether. After the kissing he rolls onto his back with a contented sigh and smiles. "Yeah, well I guess I sort of tipped my cards there, but I'm fairly traditional as well. Not nearly as much as my parents wish I was, but they're over it. I can just picture their faces when I spoke with them about moving in with you. I called them when it was all settled." He chuckles softly and shakes his head. "I dunno… I guess it sounds crazy but honestly… my mental image is the two of us in a little house with a white picket fence and a pack of gremlins running around under foot." He laughs out loud then and adds, "So basically the fifties, minus the rampant racism, sexism and every other -ism back then. I just… like that image of us. Me bringing lemonade out to you while you mow the lawn. Also, my flying car is parked in the driveway." Snorting in amusement at the idea of failing parents in the sense of tradition, Mallory makes herself comfortable nestled next to Aloke. “Oh goodness, if my parents knew I had moved to America and shacked up with a handsome artist gentleman, they would have fits. And likely disown me again, if they could,” Mallory chuckles, a mischievous smirk on her lips, “Likely a good thing they never knew about my tattoos and piercings. I imagine that would have just been the cherry on top of it all, since they paid for them.” The statement may seem a bit odd, as Mallory /has/ no tattoos currently, nor any sign that she had them previous - even her earlobe piercings seem to be closed up now. The sharing of the thought for the future gets a bright laugh from Mallory and she glances up towards Aloke’s face, grinning, “A whole pack of them? Are you referring to children, or do we intend to start breeding Mogwai for fun and profit?” The rest of the idea, however gets a pleased smile, “I like the sound of that,” a brief pause, and an addendum, “We are hiring a lawn service, though. I don’t do yard work.”