Warren and Terry

[ax_siryn]

Warren comes across Terry singing. Before you know it, they're making plans to throw a real party.
(Wherein 'real' means 'with booze'.)


Hair whipping around his ears, Warren plummeted toward the treetops in a nosedive. Every needle and leaf on every tree was clear, the crook of every branch, even the underbrush on the ground below. His heart raced, his blood sang--

And then he caught something on the wind, the sound of actual singing. At the last minute, Warren pulled up, bare feet clipping the trees as he righted himself and hovered, treading air. For a second he wondered if he was losing it, but... nope. Definitely a girl's voice, sweet, coming from below. He looked around for an opening in the canopy big enough for his wings, then dropped to the ground gently. Gingerly, to protect his bare feet (not to mention bare torso), he made his way toward the sound.

Terry had made a habit of going out to the lake to sing, when no one was around. She could really let go out here, letting her voice swell - within reasonable limits, of course - always perfectly on key. Today, she was in a summer dress, sitting on the edge, bare feet dangling in the water. No green animal had made his way out of the water so far, so she figured she really was alone this time, as she went through an Adele song, pouring a healthy dose of her own feelings into it.

"When the pain cuts you deep, when the night keeps you from sleeping, just look and you will see that I will be your remedy... When the world seems so cruel, and your heart makes you feel like a fool, I promise you will see that I will be, I will be your remedy... "

Holy shit, whoever that was was rocking some Adele. And not just mimicking, either, but singing like--well. Like an angel. Warren stepped out of the trees and the lake opened up in front of him. And there, like some kind of wild fairy story, was a red-headed girl in a pretty little dress, singing her heart out like there was no tomorrow. He couldn't see her face, but Warren was willing to bet that with a voice like that, he'd think she was pretty even if she looked like an alligator.

Which, around here, felt like a distinct possibility.

It felt a little creepy to just stand there and watch, though, so Warren snapped himself out of his trance and started toward her, the grass much nicer to his bare feet than the wooded area had been. He didn't notice he'd picked up a leaf here and there--some in his wings, part of one in his hair.

Terry caught movement out of the corner of her eye and let her voice trail off as she turned towards it. And then she gaped, no other word for it. Of course she'd seen him around. He was impossible to miss, cute as he was.

But he was also fit, she could now see. And bare-chested like this, with windblown hair and a couple of artfully placed leaves on his hair and wing, he looked like he'd stepped right out of some fashion photoshoot.

Terry abruptly remembered to close her mouth - and blush, at the same time. She could feel the heat on her face and hated her pale complexion all over again. "Hi," she said tentatively, glad to find her voice still worked. She pulled her feet out of the water to stand up.

"Am I still at Xavier's?" Warren wondered with a grin. She was cute, and he had a weakness for redheads. "Or did I wander into a fairy tale? Look, if you're going to try and lure me into the lake with that gorgeous voice of yours--I've read enough mythology to know better."

Well, her blush didn't feel like it was going away any time soon, and no surprise, with him complimenting her like that. "No luring," she promised, Irish accent obvious. "And - you're the one with the wings."

Though he looked more like an angel than a siren.

"I'm not trying to carry you off anywhere, if that's what you're worried about." He chuckled and winked. "I'm Warren. Nice to meet you."

Terry hadn't known, until that moment, that it was possible to pull off a wink unless you were an American actor or someone of the sort. "Terry." He hasn't offered his hand, so she didn't either. She did smile at him, though. "Not a siren, but it's nice to meet you too."

He took a few steps closer and held out a hand, still smiling. "Irish, right?"

"Very much so," Terry confirmed, reaching out to shake his hand. He had such a nice, firm-but-not-crushing grip. She bet hers was terrible by comparison. Far too weak. "American?" she replied, aiming for playful.

Warren feigned disappointment as he squeezed her hand. Hers were tiny, compared to his. Cute. "What gave me away?"

If she had been drinking, Terry would've felt confident enough to say, Your million dollar good looks, for a start, or something just as cheesy. As it was, she only thought it, and was glad not to feel herself blushing for it. "I'm going to go with 'your accent'," she replied, hinting that there might have been other answers.

Warren's grin was huge and warm. Now that was promising. He let her hand go but with open reluctance. "Welcome to the US, then. First time?"

She wasn't imagining the way he seemed sorry to let go of her hand, was she? Now she wished she had more experience hanging out with boys, even the wingless, less fit kind - or she'd had a drink or two, so she would be more relaxed. Still, Terry couldn't help but smile, when faced with that grin. "I've been here a few months," she answered, smoothing her hands down the skirt of her dress, "but I'd never been before. Are you from around here?"

What a smile, too. Yep, redheads were a definite weakness. "The City, though I don't do much living there lately. What about you? Dublin--or no, maybe a more natural setting? Somewhere you can wander and sing, right?"

Terry put a hand to her face, wincing in embarrassment. "I feel like a walking cliché now. Em, near Westport."

"That was definitely not my intention." Warren grinned--good god, he hadn't even known they made them like this anymore. "I've never been, if it makes you feel better. My west coast adventures have been limited to Galway. Good night life. Great music."

"We have got the best of those two things," Terry agreed with a smile, dropping her hand and jumping on the change of topic. "Well, compared to America, anyway." For one thing, you only had to smile prettily at most bartenders to be served alcohol in Ireland. Infinitely better night life right there. "What were you doing in Galway?"

"Vacation," Warren said. "Almost two years ago. We stayed in a castle and did the Cliffs and all that tourist stuff, and I'd sneak out at night to the pubs to listen to music... and grab a pint, not gonna lie." Yes, at fifteen, Warren had been served in Ireland. What a country. "And by 'we' I mean my father was on business in Dublin, so me and his PA got to see the sights."

Terry's smile stretched briefly at the mention of the pint. "Sounds like a good holiday, if you don't mind not seeing much of your father."

Warren ruffled his feathers inadvertently and scratched at the back of his neck. "Well, between you and me, it definitely makes a holiday more fun. For one thing, I think he would've been annoyed about the pint." And for another he's a self-absorbed jerk, but hey.

"Was it really just a single pint?" Terry had to ask, eyes bright with amusement.

"Maaaaaybe I had a Jameson and ginger or two before the pint..." Warren scrunched up one eye and his nose in a sort of faux-embarrassed mug.

Terry giggled at the face he was pulling. "Such a bad boy." She'd relaxed enough to tease the shirtless angel top model, yes.

Oh yes, giggling, teasing red-heads, even better. Warren grinned. "Who me? Nah. Angelic, remember?" He shook out his wings. A leaf fell from it. He noticed and frowned. "Wait, don't tell me. I'm covered in leaves. Jesus." He facepalmed. Idiot.

"Not covered in them," Terry assured him, smile growing softer as she reached up to pluck one from his hair. "But you've got a few on you."

Warren ducked a little to let her get it easier, then sighed. "I was trying so hard to be smooth, too. Nature is cruel, man. Thanks."

"They haven't damaged your smoothness at all," Terry assured him, plucking another one from his wing. "At all." She smiled at him, glad to find that she could totally flirt sober. And not even blush too much; she barely felt any heat in her cheeks.

"That's a relief." Warren shook out his wings again, hoping that was the last of them. She was way too nice, obviously, but he wasn't complaining. Opposite, actually. "I'd hate to give American guys a bad name.

"So, what are you doing out here, anyhow? I mean, apart from singing? Beautifully?"

Well, now she could feel a little more heat in her cheeks, but she ignored it. "The singing isn't enough?" She shrugged, glancing at the lake. "I can really let go here. No windows to shatter. The singing is part of my mutation," she explained. So was shattering glass.

"Gotcha. I have a smaller version of that problem when I try to stretch my wings indoors." His smile went a little lopsided. "I don't think I've met anyone with a voice mutation yet. That's pretty awesome--so that's no study, just... natural?" If he looked impressed, well, he was.

"I sang in the choir at my school," Terry hastened to assure him. "Not that kind of song, though," she added with a bit of a smile. And it wasn't as if she'd learned technique; she'd never really had to, even before she had properly manifested.

"Just the sad ones, right? That's an Irish thing, isn't it? You guys and your sad stories." That, or songs and stories about someone being drunk. Not that the two were mutually exclusive. Not that Warren was going to bring that up.

"We've got jolly songs as well!" Terry protested. Then admitted, "Mostly drinking songs."

"Really good ones, too." Warren smiled. Now she'd brought it up, hey, it wasn't like he was calling them a nation of drunks. Right? Right. "Explains why pretty much everyone I met there was in such a good mood in spite of the weather.

"Seriously, though, you should go pro. That's talent." Of course, whatever measure of it came from her mutation might cause some issues, but the more popular mutants out there, the better.

"People keep saying that," Terry stated with a brief grimace. "I don't know that I have what it takes, besides supernaturally good singing chops."

"I'm pretty sure everything else is mostly fabricated anyhow," Warren said with an almost apologetic look. Then he allowed himself to check her out a little, as politely as possible, just sort of looking down... then up. "But you've got more than just the voice, so you'd have a head start.

"Not that I'd blame anyone who wasn't interested in fame. It's probably obnoxious." Money sometimes was, so he could only assume fame--the real kind, not the 'oh there's that rich Upper East Side kid' kind--was too.

There came the extra heat in her cheeks again, but Terry couldn't say that the compliment didn't please her. On the contrary. "Yeah, I'm not sure that it's for me. Being that much of a public persona sounds... exhausting."

"So you sing to the lake and the trees," Warren said with a very real smile. Was it sick of him to enjoy making very sweet, very pretty girls flush a little? Probably. He was sorry he wasn't sorry at all. "I think you've made the smart choice. Though maybe there's a happy medium. Does this place have a talent show?" He gestured toward the house.

The thought made Terry laugh. "Now that would be quite something. A mutant talent show."

"We used to have one at my last school." Warren chuckled and stuck his hands into his pockets, stretching out the waist of his jeans. "But it was all boys, so it usually just devolved into sketches that got us detention and the occasional decent guitar player. And that one time a bunch of us dressed up like cheerleaders--like, with the skirts and all, not the male cheerleaders.

"That was fun, but mutants could make it way more fun."

"I'm sorry, I'm stuck with a very amusing mental picture just now," Terry admitted, chuckling as she spoke.

"I'll have you know that I look amazing in a pleated skirt," Warren told her, one hand on his popped out hip. He laughed. "Sadly that's about my only talent. Apart from paying for stuff. Hey, you arrange a fall talent show and I'll fund it."

So he was fit, funny, rich and generous? Although fit didn't begin to cover it, did it. Still, Warren seemed to be perfect in every way. "I might see if there's interest." It would be nice, if only so they could all have a sense of what each of them could do.

"Keep me in the loop?" He pulled his phone out of his back pocket. "What's your number? Or email--email's fine. Asking for your number sounds a little..." He gestured as if to say 'so-so'. "Totally didn't mean to be weird."

Terry was smiling as he backtracked, and chuckled with a shake of her head. "It's fine. I'll give you my number, weirdness-free." She rattled it off once he'd pulled up a new contact. "Text me so I've got yours?"

This is Warren and he added a little angel emoji. He hit send and grinned.

"I've left my phone at the house," she said with a slightly self-conscious smile, glancing in the direction of the mansion. She wasn't as hooked to it as most teenagers she knew, yes, but mostly? She didn't have much of anyone to ring, or text. Hopefully this would change for the better, now.

Warren looked impressed. Girl really took the whole nature sprite thing to another level. He slipped his phone back into his pocket. "Good for you, man. I really should do that more, especially when I'm flying. I mean, when I'm up there I really don't need the Wall Street Journal updating me on the economy, do I?"

Terry wrinkled her nose, eyes glinting playfully. "To be fair, I'm not sure why you'd ever need it to." That sort of thing was so far over her head, she might as well take the piss out of herself for it.

"You are not wrong to wonder, my friend," Warren said with a chuckle. "I'm not even sure how I don't find it boring, honestly. Indoctrination I guess."

"I'll take Irish drinking songs over the Wall Street Journal any day," Terry stated, glad that he wasn't taking it the wrong way.

"Yeah, okay, when you put it that way." Still chuckling, he put his hands into his pockets, shrugging to stretch his shoulders. They got a little tight after hard flights. That and his lower back. Ouch. Where was Jean-Paul when you needed him? "And sadly, that's about the most exciting thing that happens on my phone, most days. News alerts. We need more parties around here."

"Maybe there'll be more of us once school starts, and there will be more going on?" Terry stated hopefully. "Or we don't wait and see and just make more parties happen." Maybe there had been parties happening that she didn't know about? That would be the worst.

"See, that, I would be even happier to fund than a talent show." Warren considered, all thoughtful. "Wonder how strict their policies are around here. Like, if we get busted with, say, beer, are we expelled? Can they expell misfits from the Island of Misfit Toys." That's what Scott had called it, and Warren really thought it suited.

Terry frowned curiously. "Are we the toys in that image?"

"Yeah--it's a thing my roommate says. He's... kind of a cynical dick," Warren said almost fondly, expression apologetic. "I just thought it was cute."

"It is," Terry agreed. "Is it a reference to something?" It sounded like it might be, but then it would be one that hadn't made it across the pond, or at least not to her.

"Oh! Shit, yeah sorry." Warren winced and ran a hand through his hair. "There's this movie about Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer that shows every Christmas. There's this whole island of unwanted toys, and they get Rudolph to ask Santa to find them homes and... okay, actually this sounds really depressing but it's cute, I swear."

"Probably cuter when you're not making a comparison with us," Terry chuckled. But it was depressing, really. "Anyway!" Moving straight on from thoughts of how they were all unwanted. "I think if they were going to crack down on alcohol, it would've happened already. I mean, the headmaster's a telepath..."

Warren smiled apologetically--leave it to Scott to bring down the mood even when he wasn't here, heh. "I mean, that's assuming anyone's tried it. The place has only been open a few months. Not that we can't party without booze..." But he made a face.

Terry laughed at his face. "It's not a real party without booze," she wholeheartedly agreed. "I've drunk on the grounds, and nothing's happened."

"Bad girl!" He reached out a fist for a bump, echoing her earlier sentiments about him. "Well, then what are we waiting for. Pizza parties aren't the only way to get to know our fellow mutants. We need a back to school party."

She bumped his fist, grinning. "This should take precedence over the talent show. Though..." She trailed off for a few seconds, doubtful. "It might be he'll let a couple of students drink together. A school-wide party with alcohol might be too much, though?"

"I mean, you're not wrong... but I don't know. It's a little early to start getting cliquey. And then someone feels left out, then there's this stupid social structure..." Warren ought to know. He was pretty much always on top of it... but he wanted things to be different, here. He was different. "I mean if it's you and me and like we each bring one person, okay. Otherwise I say we do the party and just keep the liqueur low key. Vodka in tiny juice bottles, not rub it in anyone's face, that kind of thing."

"Make it vodka or whiskey," Terry suggested with a small smile, "and I'm your girl." She wouldn't turn down vodka, but if she had options? Definitely whiskey.

Warren refrained from another Irish comment, grinning. "Harder to hide without a mixer. Jameson and ginger--I can hide. That work?"

Terry's smile widened. "Deal."

"You plan the music, I'll do the drinks?"

"Sure," Terry agreed with a smile, although the thought of having to make a playlist for all of them was a bit frightening. What if they thought her music was shite? Maybe she'd do a collaborative playlist. That would work nicely. "Where do you think we should have it?" Because if the answer was outside - she hoped it would be - then she'd have to plan how to get the music out there, too.

"Far enough from the house to get away with some shit..." Warren considered. "By the lake, maybe? We'll need food too. I might know a guy." He wasn't sure Jean-Paul would be pleased to be drafted into that, but Warren was confident he could convince him. He had his ways.

"A guy?" Terry echoed curiously. She was thinking some professional type of guy right then.

"Jean-Paul. Dude's a serious foodie and knows his way around a kitchen. I can at least get some advice, and maybe delegate." Warren made a thoughtful face. "I'm more of a delegator."

Not so professional, then. Terry tried not to smile at Warren's conclusion, and only mostly managed. "We can post on the boards and get lots of help, I'm sure."

"Good idea," Warren seemed extremely pleased both with himself and her. "Let's do it. Tonight, maybe? Get the ball rolling? And to give us time we can have the party for a week or two after classes start, as a kind of break from the whole 'new school new people' tension."

"That sounds like a plan," Terry nodded. She frowned in thought. "Do you think we'll get many more students with the beginning of the school year?" It would make sense. Not everyone's parents would have let them spend the summer here.

"Probably, now you mention it. Nothing like a little mixer, with everyone's favorite social lubricants involved. We're doing a public service, really."

Terry giggled at that. "Definitely. Public service. That'll be our defense if we're caught."

"I'll email the Prof about the party in general. For the rest, yeah. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission on some things." Warren winked again.

Terry's smile made it clear how well Warren's charm was working on her - that was, very. Honestly, winks. Pulling off winks. Besides, they'd made great plans. "This is going to be grand."