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Post by Josh Dalton Worthington on Feb 13, 2007 7:18:51 GMT
September 16th, 2005
Engrossed in the tv, Josh is taking a well-deserved vacation from reality. It's about 10PM, and he'd been working on his telekinesis with Dr. Grey all day. Breaking his personal best for most weight lifted was gratifying... but tiring.
Bobby, Rogue, and John were off doing whatever it is they all did when they were together. Josh shakes his head, and makes the onscreen character leap from platform to platform. They were all good friends, but the three of them had something different. It wasn't that it was intentional, as far as he knew... but it was still there. Occasionally, it got a little lonely being the fourth point of a triangle.
Fortunately, things were usually fine. In fact, things had been great as of late. He had friends to hang out with, a great mentor in Jean, and his telekinetic powers were stronger than they'd ever been. I haven't been pushing my telepathy... but I can't be good at everything.
His internal musings prove to be his undoing, and Link drops into the pit with a shout. "Aw, damn."
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Post by Pyro on Feb 13, 2007 8:20:31 GMT
Short version of the litany of choice expletives and assorted curses racing through John’s head right now? Life sucks. Period. Do not pass go, do not collect £200, don’t set anything on fire (heaven forbid he should actually do anything with his gift, because it’s not *nice* or *convenient*) and definitely don’t get in the way of The Golden Couple (ick, gag etcetera..).
It’s been a long, long time since he seriously thought about running away (those first few months, learning exactly what *omnipotent headmaster* really meant, sort of killed the instinct…), but if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s all sorts of pathetic to let the fact his so-called best mates are pawing over each other (or, well, pointedly not pawing and subsisting on some bizarre sorts of eye-fucking, but that’s a whole other kettle of fish) get to him like this, then he’s not sure he’d still be stuck here at third wheel… or rather pointedly forced out of that position and reduced to skulking and scowling and generally blackening the mood of the mansion. Not that Bob and Rogue have been that blatant about it, of course… but the way John works that’s almost worse, the way they don’t just come out with a straight *we need some alone time* but just act as if he’s not there, or else like it’s some great sacrifice on their part, some altruistic gesture, deigning to accommodate him.
Well, fuck them. Logan’s still away *finding himself*, or whatever, and given that John had few qualms about raiding his stash while the Canuck was still around, without him there glowering it’s just begging for him to continue the habit (not that an excuse is ever necessary; he is the token ‘Bad Boy’, after all, and the ‘secret alcohol stash’ is one expectation thereof he’s more than happy to fulfil), to reclaim a bottle or two (well, it’s irresponsible, leaving it around where just anyone would stumble upon it…) and maybe head outside and *practice honing his gift*. Not that it’s a much less tragic image than leaving the Institute, or continuing to dog Bobby and Rogue, but at least it’s a sort of tragic that sits neatly with who he’s supposed to be.
He’s on his way back from the kitchen to… wherever, and already sort of dreading passing through the living room / den / place with sofas and tellies because there’s a good chance someone else has already displaced the channel-changing brat and settled down to some hardcore ‘not really watching’ as if it were the back row of a cinema (Ick. Is everyone coupled up now?), but thankfully there’s no one grafted on to Josh’s hip or sucking his face off (or looking longingly at him and tentatively holding gloved hands and pretending that constitutes a real relationship…), so John’s almost grunted ”Hey…” as he goes to head through comes out with far less venom out of some twisted gratitude for that, even if it’s not exactly a *greeting*.
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Post by Josh Dalton Worthington on Feb 13, 2007 9:37:07 GMT
To Josh’s immediate relief, Link still has hearts remaining and respawns at the entrance to the room. He proceeds to begin making the character hop across the room once again. Something about the room is vaguely familiar from the last playthrough… possibly a hidden item somewhere? Stupid magnifying lens. Invisible chests were overrated.
Josh yawns a little, oblivious to everything else. They should make a game about the X-Men… that would be pretty awesome. Too bad no one actually knows we exist, though.
He’s in the zone when a gruff “Hey…” drifts in from the entryway. “Huh? Oh, hey.” Josh pauses the game and looks over. Someday I’ll be good enough to do that casual omniscience thing that the Professor does so well. “What are you up to?”
Whatever it is, it put you in a bad mood. Even with his novice skills, he can sense the irritation radiating off of John’s mind, which is complemented by the sour look on his face. And… interesting. Alcohol? Judging from where he’d been previously, Josh had a fairly good idea what had set him off.
“Jeez, what happened? Did someone steal your Zippo again?” Josh had never been foolish enough to try it. The last kid who’d done so vanished every time John entered the same room as him. “Just kidding. It’s Bobby and Rogue, right?” He looks sympathetic.
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Post by Pyro on Feb 13, 2007 10:06:14 GMT
< What are you up to?
Josh’s first question is met with a withering deadpan almost-glare – Come on, what the fuck does it look like I’m up to? Josh is many things – fourth point of the triangle (no, it makes no sense and doesn’t work. Whatever), newbie, irritating kid brother – and has been a whole lot more (plenty of less flattering labels John has had to drop now that they actually sort of get along…) but stupid isn’t one of them, and John’s not really in the mood to be even his usual variety of semi-indulgent-patient when faced with that sort of well… duh moment.
< Did someone steal your Zippo again?
… yep, way to make him feel better, bringing that up, scowl. He’s still in the communal *bad books* over that one (though really, when is he out of them?) even though he hadn’t overreacted that much, surely? And it’s not like he was going to really hurt the thieving bastard fucktard kid, though that may have more to do with how he knew that with two psychics watching over the student body he’d never get to go through with it rather than the exercise of any conscious restraint. (And there’s a whole ‘nother tangent that comes up with the issue of Zippo-deprival, though no one, not even Josh who’s probably the closest anyone can be to The Trinity, is allowed to know about any of what he’s labelling ‘Last Christmas’ and refusing to think more about… yep, definitely not thinking, because he doesn’t need more reasons to hate that Bob and Rogue are still dating).
It’s almost as if the mention of it possibly being out of reach, even though he knows it isn’t, sparks up a need to reassert that no, it’s not stolen (though John being John it’s not like he needs an excuse to play with Sharky…), and he sets down the bottles and retrieves his talisman from a pocket and flicks it open with the *click* which has become his signature, the regular pulse punctuating the rest of the exchange.
< It’s Bobby and Rogue, right?
… that, at least, raises something other than a glower – or rather, something in conjunction with one, because the mention of The Golden Couple fixes the glare so the half-smile that glimmer of something like sympathy inspires augments rather than displaces it… Good to know someone else has picked up on how bloody irritating they are. Not that any *kindred spirit* bullshit is going to render his tone anything other than richly laced with the usual sarcastic bite. ”Shit, Teekboy. Anyone would think you were psychic…”
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Post by Josh Dalton Worthington on Feb 13, 2007 21:39:08 GMT
The glare is unsurprising, given John’s mood. In fact, it was a rare occurrence to catch John actually smiling, unless he was having fun at someone else’s expense. In public, anyway. He tended to be less façade-ish with close friends.
Josh’s smile wilts a little at the scowl accompanying his joke about the Zippo. God, lighten up. The addictive clicking of the lighter brings an amused look back to his face, though. Junkie.
The annoyed-sense emanating from John’s mind seems to lift slightly at his mention of Bobby and Rogue, but of course John isn’t one to actually verbalize it.
> ”Shit, Teekboy. Anyone would think you were psychic…”
He fixes John with an innocent stare. “I’m not psychic, John. I can just throw my voice really, really well.” See? Want to be my dummy? He walks over to the couch and flops down, grabbing a pillow. “They can get sort of sickening sometimes… my favorite is when they do that longing stare thing into each others’ eyes on the couch and forget about everyone else sitting with them.” The humor in Josh’s voice softens. “It can’t be easy to be in a relationship where you can’t touch each other, though… you know?”
“Anyway, I hope I’m not that sappy someday when I’m in a relationship.” He focuses on the liquor bottles, and holds out a hand for one. It floats across the couch to his hand. “Jack Daniels, huh? Where did you find that in this house? All we usually have is wine…” Josh arches an eyebrow, and the bottle spins a lazy arc back across the gap to John.
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Post by Pyro on Feb 16, 2007 7:12:24 GMT
< I can just throw my voice really, really well
”Apologies, Ventriloquist Boy…” Smirking, his tone of course anything but apologetic, John’s attention flicks momentarily from the flame over to Josh, stays long enough for an eyebrow quirk and exaggerated eye roll, and is all set to head back… before Josh sticks in his little joke about dummies, which makes him bristle for a second, firstly because he’ll never get used to words just appearing in his head without his actually hearing them, and secondly because … fuck, he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Right? That’s fucked up. Maybe he should be getting used to the idea of Josh’s powers by now, same way he should be used to all the other weird shit that passes for normal around here, but it doesn’t work like that, regardless of the obvious inherent paradox.
< my favorite is when they do that longing stare thing into each others’ eyes on the couch and forget about everyone else sitting with them
… and then the conversation is back on Bobby and Rogue, though this time Josh’s observations raise a genuine, if short lived smile, and there’s a lighter edge to the bitterness as he counters ”Beaten hands down by the *ahem* we need the bedroom. Seriously, what the fuck? It’s not like they’re going to…”
< It can’t be easy to be in a relationship where you can’t touch each other, though
Josh cuts him short, and he scowls, and shrugs ”Exactly… whatever.”
Maybe he shouldn’t be this… this what? Brutal? Cold? Whatever. It’s not what he’s meant to be doing, given that they’re his two closest friends – almost his fucking family. But they’re idiots for thinking this’ll ever work out; Bob’ll destroy himself trying to fix the unfixable, or Rogue’ll go insane trapped with someone so goddam fucking proper who’ll never dare just chance it, or… Yeah, they’re doomed. And as a friend he’s perfectly within his rights to be pissed off by that…
< Jack Daniels, huh? Where did you find that in this house?
… and Josh cuts off the ranting again. Like he’s psychic or something (… okay, that joke’s getting old. Whatever). Semi-serious note; the newbie’s fallen fairly naturally into Rogue’s old role as the negotiator (and he really should stop calling him newbie, because he’s been here longer than Rogue… it’s just his bad luck to have fallen in with The Holy Trinity, where he’s never really going to be on an equal footing), and lord knows they need one.
”Secondary mutation, Joshy. Jack-o-location. Or.. something.” John shrugs, lazily stopping the bottle mid-arc and heading over to drop into a chair opposite Josh… because this looks like it might be turning into a conversation some time soon, and really, babysitting someone more superfluous to requirements than him is marginally less pathetic than lapsing into the tragic-loner-drunk stereotype again. ”Totally fucking irresponsible of Logan to leave it somewhere that bloody obvious while he’s finding himself. Public service, protecting the young and impressionable from Jack’s all-corrupting influence” He peels off the plastic collar, twists open the bottle, and downs a mouthful, raising the bottle in a mock-salute before drinking.
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