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ax_mainJay starts to come out of his shell at Shinobi's party. He and Terry make beautiful music together.
Terry's cheeks were still flushed from the barrage of compliments she'd just received from Warren and Shinobi after singing one of her favourite Adele songs, Set Fire to the Rain. She escaped to reach the drinks table, and helped herself to some whiskey from one of the unlabeled bottles. She was already pleasantly buzzed, or she wasn't sure she would have pulled that off with as much grace, but more alcohol wouldn't hurt.
It never did, when you knew how to drink.
Jay was already at least one too many in. He hadn't had a drop to drink since the day he went to the psych ward, but his fight with Jeb had changed things.
Something else had changed tonight, too. Someone had just reminded him that there was still music in the world. He pushed through the crowd and edged his gangly way over to the girl who had just left the stage. She was just putting the cap back on some very cheap whiskey when he held out his cup, silently asking her to slosh some in for him before she finished closing it up. "Miss," he greeted her, all polite like he would have tipped his hat if he'd had one. "I think I'm drunk enough to just say right up front, you sing like a fucking angel."
Terry beamed when she saw who it was. Jeb's brother! With the red wings! She'd kept meaning to go and talk to him. She of course poured some whiskey into his glass, then laughed at his last words. "That sounds like the perfect level of drunk. You're - Jay, aren't you?"
"Jay Guthrie, pleased t' meet ya. Hope nobody's been tellin' tales on me." He offered one of his delicately boned hands to shake.
Terry was still not used to the handshakes, but at least she wasn't surprised by them anymore. She shook his hand with a small smile. "Ah, your brother. He said you played the guitar, and sang?"
"I do, at that. 'Course I'm required by my Kentucky upbringing to humbly tell you I'm only passable at it." He took a drink of the sharp-tasting whiskey and grimaced. "You an' me, we should jam sometime."
"That would be fierce," Terry agreed with another bright smile. "I don't play anything, though, I only sing."
"With a voice like that, I don't think you need anything else." He smiled right back at her, enjoying this alcohol fueled looseness that was letting him live in just this moment. "You have me at a disadvantage, though. I don't believe I caught your name.
"Oh, sorry!" Terry giggled at herself. "Terry, Terry Cassidy. It's nice to meet you, Jay. Are you going to karaoke tonight?"
"It's a bit of a big audience," he hedged. "I've been thinkin' about it. Dunno if anyone wants to follow your act, though." He finished his whiskey and looked contemplatively at the bottles. "Maybe you wanna do a duet?"
"It's like you read my mind," Terry confirmed enthusiastically. "I'm not keen on big audiences myself, but I'd promised Warren and Shinobi. And it isn't awful, once you've had enough to drink."
"I think I've nearly had enough to drink." He gave her an impish grin. "My plan is to have too much to drink, though. That's what all the big rock stars do, right?"
"I'm way ahead of you," Terry assured him with a laugh. "Are you sure you're not secretly Irish?" Between his colouring and love for alcohol, and singing, he could've fooled her - apart from that American drawl, of course, although it was less strong than Jeb's, she thought. Or maybe she was getting used to it.
"I wish. The accent's t' die for. Yours is lovely. I've gotta work hard just to not sound like a redneck all th' time. 'Country music twang' isn't really what I'm goin' for."
"I've never listened to much country music," Terry admitted, "so it's good to know you won't want that kind of duet. Did you have anything in mind?"
He scratched behind his ear thoughtfully. "Do you know 'Say Something'? With Christina Aguilera, I think... It's a little sad, though. The song. But it's pretty."
"It is pretty," Terry agreed, but she didn't look convinced. "But the beat's a little too... We need something with more punch. How about Just A Fool, if we want to stick with Christina? Do you know that one?"
"I think I've heard it. She sings the first verse, right? I'll catch on." He grinned. "Blake Shelton does the other part. Guess my twang will come in handy, after all."
"Oh!" She was an idiot for not thinking about that, and he'd said he didn't like the twang. "We can sing something else. There's plenty of duets."
"Nah, let's go for it. At least my twang is authentic."
"If you're certain," Terry agreed after a beat. "We might not even find it. Let's go and see, and sign up!"
"Follow me." Jay, who was taller and frankly wider due to his wings, forged a path through the other partygoers and up to the edge of the karaoke setup. He fanned through the pages of the songbook, and triumphantly pointed out the listing for Just a Fool. He looked a little goofy, smiling just a bit too big. His whole self felt warm and loose from his two-too-many drinks.
"Savage!" Terry exclaimed with a smile, and picked up a pen to write their names, and the song, on the sign-up sheet. "We're fourth in line." She looked up at Jay with a smile, then took another sip from her drink.
"I should've refilled before we came up," he said, noticing her cup. "Or maybe not. You prob'ly need me t' be able t' say words, huh?" But now that they were standing together, waiting, something subtly shifted in him. He was still smiling, he still exuded friendliness, but there was a sense of shyness that crept up on him unexpectedly. Because it dawned on him: he was drunk, at a party, talking alone with a pretty girl.
"We've got plenty of time for a refill," Terry pointed out, and laughed. "Unless another one really would make you slur your way through the song."
"Glad you're here to keep me responsible. Let's toast to our duet." If nothing else, it would give him something to do with his nervous hands. "You're a pretty fun girl, if you don't mind my sayin'. Don't mean anything creepy by it. Just seems like people up north are a little stiff, mostly."
As if to prove how stiff she wasn't (but really simply because she felt like it), Terry hooked her hand on his arm as they headed back towards the drinks table. "Irish people are about the opposite of stiff, as a rule. And even the ones who are tend to loosen up after a whiskey or three."
Jay was glad he was already flushed from drink, because he felt his cheeks burning. "Sounds like a Kentucky boy would be right at home. Ireland looks so pretty in photos. Maybe someday I'll get t' go see it." He hesitated at the table, knowing he had to pour himself a drink--after all, that's why they had come over here--but wanting to put off the moment when she let go of his arm. He had been so alone for what felt like so long that he hadn't realized how good a little bit of light flirting would feel.
Terry didn't think anything of it, and let go of him so he could pour himself a drink - and top off her own while he was at it, if he went for whiskey again. Otherwise she'd do it herself. "Well, now you're in a school with teleporters and an Irish girl. The future's ripe with opportunities!"
"I never thought about that. Here ya are, miss," he said, and topped her drink off before pouring his own. "Are there really people here who can teleport all the way t' Europe? That's insane."
"In the best way possible," Terry confirmed with a grin. "I'm sure Clarice could be convinced." Terry had seen one of her beaches; it made sense for her to show some of Ireland to Clarice in exchange!
"You'll have to introduce me. I haven't met many people yet, to tell you the truth. It's all been a little overwhelming."
"I'm glad there weren't that many of us when I arrived," Terry stated sympathetically. "I'll introduce you, but you can't miss her. She's purple?"
"Head to toe?" Jay felt bad for her, if so. It was so hard being unmistakably different. Especially after everything that had happened, Jay envied mutants who could hide their powers.
"You haven't seen her?" Terry asked, surprised. Clarice was very hard to miss. "Bright green eyes, too. So beautiful."
"To be honest, I had a fight with my brother pretty soon after we got here." Oh, yes. He'd definitely had enough to drink if he was just going to talk about all this to a stranger. "I've been more or less brooding ever since. Very manly brooding."
"He mentioned," Terry stated with a nod, eyes soft with sympathy. "About the X-Men?"
"Yeah." Jay recognized the first twinges of overwhelming sadness. He decided to combat it by downing his whiskey in one go. "I don't want him anywhere near it."
"I don't have much in the way of family," Terry told him after a beat, hesitatingly. "But... it sounds like he's made up his mind. Are you going to let that come between you?" It didn't sound like what Guthries did, from what Jeb had told her of their family.
He sighed down at his empty cup. "It's complicated. I dunno what Jeb's told you 'bout us. There's been too much death already."
"He hasn't..." Terry shook her head. "He hasn't said anything about that. But I think... the idea is to prevent more deaths." Among other things.
"I wanna prevent more deaths," Jay said. His accent was coming back in force now, melodically southern. "Startin' with Jeb's."
"At the cost of losing him?" Terry prodded gently. She raised her hands in a gesture of harmlessness, slightly awkwardly with a drink in one of them. "I don't know your relationship, and it's none of my business. I only know he's hurting that you don't support him." Probably a lot more than he'd let on, even, for him to open up to someone he'd just met about it.
Jay turned slightly away from her and leaned his hip against the table's edge, trying to look casual and hide his face at the same time. "Not so long ago, my girlfriend got killed for datin' a mutant. I'da drowned, too, if it weren't for my regeneration. An' that was all done by a couple a' redneck kids. Jeb knows how I'd feel havin' t' watch someone else I love jus' run right into th' same situation. Givin' me a heart attack jus' thinkin' about it."
Terry looked horrified by the revelation. "I'm so sorry, Jay," she blurted out, reaching out for his arm with her free hand.
Jay felt nauseous, and it wasn't from the whiskey. He shrugged, ruffling his feathers with a whispering sound. "It'll be ok someday."
"I'm not sure something like that is ever okay," Terry said quietly, too drunk to think about not saying so out loud. "You just learn to live with it, don't you?" She bit on her bottom lip, then offered, "Would you like a hug?"
He sniffled, and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. This wasn't a very cool first impression. "Yeah," he said, haltingly, not trusting his voice. "Yeah, I really would."
Terry could feel tears of sympathy prickling at the back of her eyes as she moved in to hug him, one arm around his shoulders, above the wings, and the other one, holding her drink, below them. "I'm so sorry, Jay," she repeated honestly.
He was just tall enough to lay his cheek against her hair, and he squeezed her back. "Thank you. I hate thinkin' about it, but sometimes it just comes out. I'm sorry I turned out t' be such a downer."
"Don't apologise," Terry told him, still hugging him. "I can't imagine how difficult that must be. Any time you want to talk." And she was convinced that she would have made the same offer even if she hadn't been drunk.
"You're so sweet. Thank you." He didn't want to let go, but he loosened his grip so she could step back easily if she wanted to. "The place I've been ever since Julia...people said things like that, but really we were all jus' too caught up in our own problems to actually help each other."
"Well, I mean it," Terry told him, squeezed him one last time, then leaned back, but she kept a hand on his arm. "Any time, all right?"
He wiped at his eyes with this thumbs. They were a bit red, and a bit wet, but he was laughing just a little. "I dunno. I'm much less cool than this when I'm sober. Might chicken out of goin' to see a pretty girl.
Terry smiled at him, squeezed his arm, then dropped her hand. "Then it'll be on this pretty girl to go over till I talk to you."
"I gotta say, I feel pretty lucky meetin' you like this. Glad I dragged myself outta my room."
"I'm glad you did, too," Terry told him in earnest. She smiled again, encouragingly. "Come on. Singing'll help, I'm sure we're on soon."
"You're right." He pushed his curly hair back from his face, but instead of looking more tidy it just stood up on top of his head.
"Of course I am," Terry smiled. "Music heals everything."
"Couldn't a' said it better. I think this is us." The last singer had finished taking her bow and vacating the mic. "Ladies first."
Terry smiled at him, knocked back her cup, then put it down as she headed for the mics. Not that she'd need one.
Terry's cheeks were still flushed from the barrage of compliments she'd just received from Warren and Shinobi after singing one of her favourite Adele songs, Set Fire to the Rain. She escaped to reach the drinks table, and helped herself to some whiskey from one of the unlabeled bottles. She was already pleasantly buzzed, or she wasn't sure she would have pulled that off with as much grace, but more alcohol wouldn't hurt.
It never did, when you knew how to drink.
Jay was already at least one too many in. He hadn't had a drop to drink since the day he went to the psych ward, but his fight with Jeb had changed things.
Something else had changed tonight, too. Someone had just reminded him that there was still music in the world. He pushed through the crowd and edged his gangly way over to the girl who had just left the stage. She was just putting the cap back on some very cheap whiskey when he held out his cup, silently asking her to slosh some in for him before she finished closing it up. "Miss," he greeted her, all polite like he would have tipped his hat if he'd had one. "I think I'm drunk enough to just say right up front, you sing like a fucking angel."
Terry beamed when she saw who it was. Jeb's brother! With the red wings! She'd kept meaning to go and talk to him. She of course poured some whiskey into his glass, then laughed at his last words. "That sounds like the perfect level of drunk. You're - Jay, aren't you?"
"Jay Guthrie, pleased t' meet ya. Hope nobody's been tellin' tales on me." He offered one of his delicately boned hands to shake.
Terry was still not used to the handshakes, but at least she wasn't surprised by them anymore. She shook his hand with a small smile. "Ah, your brother. He said you played the guitar, and sang?"
"I do, at that. 'Course I'm required by my Kentucky upbringing to humbly tell you I'm only passable at it." He took a drink of the sharp-tasting whiskey and grimaced. "You an' me, we should jam sometime."
"That would be fierce," Terry agreed with another bright smile. "I don't play anything, though, I only sing."
"With a voice like that, I don't think you need anything else." He smiled right back at her, enjoying this alcohol fueled looseness that was letting him live in just this moment. "You have me at a disadvantage, though. I don't believe I caught your name.
"Oh, sorry!" Terry giggled at herself. "Terry, Terry Cassidy. It's nice to meet you, Jay. Are you going to karaoke tonight?"
"It's a bit of a big audience," he hedged. "I've been thinkin' about it. Dunno if anyone wants to follow your act, though." He finished his whiskey and looked contemplatively at the bottles. "Maybe you wanna do a duet?"
"It's like you read my mind," Terry confirmed enthusiastically. "I'm not keen on big audiences myself, but I'd promised Warren and Shinobi. And it isn't awful, once you've had enough to drink."
"I think I've nearly had enough to drink." He gave her an impish grin. "My plan is to have too much to drink, though. That's what all the big rock stars do, right?"
"I'm way ahead of you," Terry assured him with a laugh. "Are you sure you're not secretly Irish?" Between his colouring and love for alcohol, and singing, he could've fooled her - apart from that American drawl, of course, although it was less strong than Jeb's, she thought. Or maybe she was getting used to it.
"I wish. The accent's t' die for. Yours is lovely. I've gotta work hard just to not sound like a redneck all th' time. 'Country music twang' isn't really what I'm goin' for."
"I've never listened to much country music," Terry admitted, "so it's good to know you won't want that kind of duet. Did you have anything in mind?"
He scratched behind his ear thoughtfully. "Do you know 'Say Something'? With Christina Aguilera, I think... It's a little sad, though. The song. But it's pretty."
"It is pretty," Terry agreed, but she didn't look convinced. "But the beat's a little too... We need something with more punch. How about Just A Fool, if we want to stick with Christina? Do you know that one?"
"I think I've heard it. She sings the first verse, right? I'll catch on." He grinned. "Blake Shelton does the other part. Guess my twang will come in handy, after all."
"Oh!" She was an idiot for not thinking about that, and he'd said he didn't like the twang. "We can sing something else. There's plenty of duets."
"Nah, let's go for it. At least my twang is authentic."
"If you're certain," Terry agreed after a beat. "We might not even find it. Let's go and see, and sign up!"
"Follow me." Jay, who was taller and frankly wider due to his wings, forged a path through the other partygoers and up to the edge of the karaoke setup. He fanned through the pages of the songbook, and triumphantly pointed out the listing for Just a Fool. He looked a little goofy, smiling just a bit too big. His whole self felt warm and loose from his two-too-many drinks.
"Savage!" Terry exclaimed with a smile, and picked up a pen to write their names, and the song, on the sign-up sheet. "We're fourth in line." She looked up at Jay with a smile, then took another sip from her drink.
"I should've refilled before we came up," he said, noticing her cup. "Or maybe not. You prob'ly need me t' be able t' say words, huh?" But now that they were standing together, waiting, something subtly shifted in him. He was still smiling, he still exuded friendliness, but there was a sense of shyness that crept up on him unexpectedly. Because it dawned on him: he was drunk, at a party, talking alone with a pretty girl.
"We've got plenty of time for a refill," Terry pointed out, and laughed. "Unless another one really would make you slur your way through the song."
"Glad you're here to keep me responsible. Let's toast to our duet." If nothing else, it would give him something to do with his nervous hands. "You're a pretty fun girl, if you don't mind my sayin'. Don't mean anything creepy by it. Just seems like people up north are a little stiff, mostly."
As if to prove how stiff she wasn't (but really simply because she felt like it), Terry hooked her hand on his arm as they headed back towards the drinks table. "Irish people are about the opposite of stiff, as a rule. And even the ones who are tend to loosen up after a whiskey or three."
Jay was glad he was already flushed from drink, because he felt his cheeks burning. "Sounds like a Kentucky boy would be right at home. Ireland looks so pretty in photos. Maybe someday I'll get t' go see it." He hesitated at the table, knowing he had to pour himself a drink--after all, that's why they had come over here--but wanting to put off the moment when she let go of his arm. He had been so alone for what felt like so long that he hadn't realized how good a little bit of light flirting would feel.
Terry didn't think anything of it, and let go of him so he could pour himself a drink - and top off her own while he was at it, if he went for whiskey again. Otherwise she'd do it herself. "Well, now you're in a school with teleporters and an Irish girl. The future's ripe with opportunities!"
"I never thought about that. Here ya are, miss," he said, and topped her drink off before pouring his own. "Are there really people here who can teleport all the way t' Europe? That's insane."
"In the best way possible," Terry confirmed with a grin. "I'm sure Clarice could be convinced." Terry had seen one of her beaches; it made sense for her to show some of Ireland to Clarice in exchange!
"You'll have to introduce me. I haven't met many people yet, to tell you the truth. It's all been a little overwhelming."
"I'm glad there weren't that many of us when I arrived," Terry stated sympathetically. "I'll introduce you, but you can't miss her. She's purple?"
"Head to toe?" Jay felt bad for her, if so. It was so hard being unmistakably different. Especially after everything that had happened, Jay envied mutants who could hide their powers.
"You haven't seen her?" Terry asked, surprised. Clarice was very hard to miss. "Bright green eyes, too. So beautiful."
"To be honest, I had a fight with my brother pretty soon after we got here." Oh, yes. He'd definitely had enough to drink if he was just going to talk about all this to a stranger. "I've been more or less brooding ever since. Very manly brooding."
"He mentioned," Terry stated with a nod, eyes soft with sympathy. "About the X-Men?"
"Yeah." Jay recognized the first twinges of overwhelming sadness. He decided to combat it by downing his whiskey in one go. "I don't want him anywhere near it."
"I don't have much in the way of family," Terry told him after a beat, hesitatingly. "But... it sounds like he's made up his mind. Are you going to let that come between you?" It didn't sound like what Guthries did, from what Jeb had told her of their family.
He sighed down at his empty cup. "It's complicated. I dunno what Jeb's told you 'bout us. There's been too much death already."
"He hasn't..." Terry shook her head. "He hasn't said anything about that. But I think... the idea is to prevent more deaths." Among other things.
"I wanna prevent more deaths," Jay said. His accent was coming back in force now, melodically southern. "Startin' with Jeb's."
"At the cost of losing him?" Terry prodded gently. She raised her hands in a gesture of harmlessness, slightly awkwardly with a drink in one of them. "I don't know your relationship, and it's none of my business. I only know he's hurting that you don't support him." Probably a lot more than he'd let on, even, for him to open up to someone he'd just met about it.
Jay turned slightly away from her and leaned his hip against the table's edge, trying to look casual and hide his face at the same time. "Not so long ago, my girlfriend got killed for datin' a mutant. I'da drowned, too, if it weren't for my regeneration. An' that was all done by a couple a' redneck kids. Jeb knows how I'd feel havin' t' watch someone else I love jus' run right into th' same situation. Givin' me a heart attack jus' thinkin' about it."
Terry looked horrified by the revelation. "I'm so sorry, Jay," she blurted out, reaching out for his arm with her free hand.
Jay felt nauseous, and it wasn't from the whiskey. He shrugged, ruffling his feathers with a whispering sound. "It'll be ok someday."
"I'm not sure something like that is ever okay," Terry said quietly, too drunk to think about not saying so out loud. "You just learn to live with it, don't you?" She bit on her bottom lip, then offered, "Would you like a hug?"
He sniffled, and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. This wasn't a very cool first impression. "Yeah," he said, haltingly, not trusting his voice. "Yeah, I really would."
Terry could feel tears of sympathy prickling at the back of her eyes as she moved in to hug him, one arm around his shoulders, above the wings, and the other one, holding her drink, below them. "I'm so sorry, Jay," she repeated honestly.
He was just tall enough to lay his cheek against her hair, and he squeezed her back. "Thank you. I hate thinkin' about it, but sometimes it just comes out. I'm sorry I turned out t' be such a downer."
"Don't apologise," Terry told him, still hugging him. "I can't imagine how difficult that must be. Any time you want to talk." And she was convinced that she would have made the same offer even if she hadn't been drunk.
"You're so sweet. Thank you." He didn't want to let go, but he loosened his grip so she could step back easily if she wanted to. "The place I've been ever since Julia...people said things like that, but really we were all jus' too caught up in our own problems to actually help each other."
"Well, I mean it," Terry told him, squeezed him one last time, then leaned back, but she kept a hand on his arm. "Any time, all right?"
He wiped at his eyes with this thumbs. They were a bit red, and a bit wet, but he was laughing just a little. "I dunno. I'm much less cool than this when I'm sober. Might chicken out of goin' to see a pretty girl.
Terry smiled at him, squeezed his arm, then dropped her hand. "Then it'll be on this pretty girl to go over till I talk to you."
"I gotta say, I feel pretty lucky meetin' you like this. Glad I dragged myself outta my room."
"I'm glad you did, too," Terry told him in earnest. She smiled again, encouragingly. "Come on. Singing'll help, I'm sure we're on soon."
"You're right." He pushed his curly hair back from his face, but instead of looking more tidy it just stood up on top of his head.
"Of course I am," Terry smiled. "Music heals everything."
"Couldn't a' said it better. I think this is us." The last singer had finished taking her bow and vacating the mic. "Ladies first."
Terry smiled at him, knocked back her cup, then put it down as she headed for the mics. Not that she'd need one.
