Dime a dozen bargain (open)

[Pyro]

< Beats me, Sparky
John snickers at that, his expression wide-eyed and amused - Sparky? Seriously? - and it's almost like this is a normal conversation, rather that what passes for normal between them, like they're almost skirting into playful banter rather than awkward stabs at each other.

< How many kinds are there?
"About, eh... 10 more now than when we started this conversation?" he grins (yeah, grins... that shouldn't feel like such an exciting development as far as conversing with Bob goes, should it?) "You keep inventing new ones, asshole. It's fucking impossible to keep count."

< John… has anyone ever told you you’re really good at this whole advice-giving thing?
"Amazingly enough, no. Can't think why."

< Because, if anybody did, they were really amazingly off-base about that
John laughs (and that, like everything else, shouldn't feel anywhere near as weird). "You're only just figuring that out? Fuck, Drake, I thought you were meant to be the brains of the outfit."

[Bobby Drake]

Bobby isn’t sure when the last time he heard John laugh is. It works out to over a year, when he thinks it through in his mind – or, well, over twenty, but it’s impossible to think about it that way – but somehow that doesn’t seem possible.

Nor is any of this in the least bit funny. He’s surrounded by death and destruction and the wreck of the dreams of a generation of mutants and the Professor’s legacy and it really, really isn’t funny.

Except he can’t help but laugh in return.

> " You're only just figuring that out? Fuck, Drake, I thought you were meant to be the brains of the outfit. "

"Nah. Storm’s the brains of the outfit, she just keeps me around ‘cuz I look good in leather. Strictly decorative, that’s me."

[Pyro]

< Strictly decorative, that’s me
"Yeah..." John regards Bob sidelong, biting his lip as if struggling with how to tell him something slightly awkward (though it's clearly all in jest) - "Well, best hope she's not planning on seeing an Optometrist any day soon..." - before smirking. It's a lame line, sure, but it fits the tone of the conversation, and he can always blame being out of practice with not being a grade A asshole to Bob for how unpolished the banter is.

(And in the odd score he's half-heartedly keeping, you can be damn sure he's awarding himself a few points for not stumbling into saying anything stupid on the subject of Bob's 'decorative' qualities when clad in leather).

He sighs again, and runs a hand along his jawline, making a mental note to add razors to the list of things to source here in bizarro-future-world.

[Bobby Drake]

> " Yeah... "

Bobby winces at the expression on John’s face, wondering if he’s crossed the line with the “decorative” comment; wondering if that’s a bad thing. "Hey, look," he starts out awkwardly, "I didn’t mean anything – "

> " Well, best hope she's not planning on seeing an Optometrist any day soon."

I am such an idiot, he thinks ruefully. Thought I’d stopped falling for that trick when I was a sophomore. "Yeah… right." He tries to laugh it off, but his heart isn’t in it. "Truth is, I don’t know what the hell I’m good for, anymore. Back home, I mean… I’m sure not good for anything here. Hell, you should’ve seen Toni – future-Toni, I mean – lay into me just for going outside the other day. But I mean, when we get back. If we get back."

He shrugs embarrassedly, feeling even more pathetic with every passing moment.
"What about you, John? Are you… I mean, why do you stay?"

[Pyro]

[glow=red,2,300]900th Post.[/glow]

< What about you, John? Are you… I mean, why do you stay?
If John was the cynical type (heh), then somewhere between the comment on uniforms and that last bit he'd have come to the conclusion that this was all some elaborate trap on Bob's part, trying to get him to say something incriminating on the subject of their definitely-not-a-relationship. But the truth is he's enjoying having a conversation which doesn't involve all sorts of wild twists and culdesacs, just old-school banter, and so fuck giving that up now.

He shrugs "Fucked if I know, Drake... erm... the beds are big, food ain't too bad, and Storm hasn't asked me to sleep with her in exchange for either. That ever happens I'll find someone who's squeeze can't kill me with his brain"

[Bobby Drake]

> " Fucked if I know, Drake... erm... the beds are big, food ain't too bad, and Storm hasn't asked me to sleep with her in exchange for either. That ever happens I'll find someone who's squeeze can't kill me with his brain "

Bobby blinks at that, trying not to let the image that’s desperately trying to form in his mind form. "I bet Rogue could take Jake, if it came to a throwdown among jealous lovers," he replies, instantly regretting it and following up with "but you’re right, probably best to avoid the situation to start with. Not really what I meant, though."

The thing is, he’s not entirely sure what exactly he had meant. His own reasons for staying at the Institute have been fairly clear to him for a long time, though he’d never really said them out loud until he’d started his sessions with Sean – Primer, he reminds himself. Professor Xavier had become a substitute father-figure for him; he’d set his sights on carrying on the man’s work after he died. And the Institute is where that work was being done… at least, that’s what he’d thought at the time.

But he knew perfectly well John didn’t think that way. And he’d more or less gotten over the stupid idea he’d had that it had ever really been about him, about them. But it occurs to him that he’s never really understood, given that, what it was about.

"So what happens after you graduate? I mean, I know what happened," he adds hastily, "I don’t mean that, I mean… well, I don’t know. Is that what you’re looking for, then? Someplace comfortable, something easy?" The question is sincere, though he’s aware it sounds more judging than he’d actually meant it. The truth is, comfortable and easy sounds pretty good to him right now, also.