Brigitte and Scott | June 2nd
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ax_mainA drunk Brigitte talks about Serious Topics with a sober Scott at the end-of-the-year party.
Scott surveyed the party as he drank his root beer. He was leaning against the wall, watching people drink and thrash to music. Or dance, whichever. Some of them made it not look ridiculous, which to him seemed like some kind of mutant power.
Some didn't have that particular gift, and were flailing around kind of like muppets. But he wasn't throwing stones, there was a reason he was against the wall after all.
Brigitte stumbled towards the wall, cursing as the ground tried to trip her. She was on her way to a good leaning place. "What more do you want from me?" She hissed downwards, not noticing Scott leaning a foot away from where she'd landed.
Scott quirked an eyebrow. "Are you asking me, specifically, or are you looking for an answer from the ground?" He asked.
Brigitte jerked her head up, and woah. Spinny. She squinted, trying to figure out who was talking to her. "Oh, Lazerface? What am I asking?"
Lazerface? Well, he guessed he'd been called worse. He watched her semi-amused and semi-annoyed. "You were asking what more the ground wanted from you," he reminded her helpfully.
"Huh, was I?" Brigitte looked at the ground suspiciously. "It probably wants my blood. Or my corpse, slowly decomposing to feed the trees."
"Or you are drunk and you tripped?" Scott offered.
Brigitte considered that. "Is this what being drunk is like?"
"If I had to guess," he said dryly, nodding. "Have you been drinking?"
"Duh," Brigitte said deadpan. "It makes people less scary." She'd said that to... someone, earlier, and had liked the explanation.
He frowned slightly. As someone who had experimented with a lot of coping mechanisms in his life, legal and not alike (before he'd manifested, anyway, when it had become too dangerous to experiment with anything at all), he couldn't judge, even if he didn't exactly think it was a great life plan. "Does it make people less scary?" He asked. "Or just make the ground more demanding?"
Jeeze. What was with the hard questions? "I dunno, both? Alcohol contains mult, um, multitudes."
"Clearly. So are you having fun?" He asked.
She looked at him a little suspiciously for a second before deciding that he was too goody-goody for anything sinister in the question. "Yup. Everyone's all friendly and shit, and it isn't even freaking me out right now."
He snickered, just a little at that. "Ah, I see. The liquor was to make the unbelievable outgoingness of some of our classmates more palatable for you."
"You all are like," Brigitte gestured expansively, eyes wide. "You talk so much, and smile, and talk, and I don't even think you're making fun of us most of the time? No one is normal here."
"Of course we aren't, we live on the Island of Misfit Toys," Scott snorted.
"But that should make you bitter!" Brigitte complained. "The whole, societal isolation thing."
Scott shrugged. "Some of us are, deep down, I'm sure." Himself included, sometimes. No one got through what some of the kids there had without a fair number of mental and emotional scars that made bitterness seem more than warranted.
Brigitte sighed and collapsed more fully against the wall. "I wish you'd show it more."
Scott leaned against the wall, tucking his hands in his pockets as he watched her with a mixture of wariness and idle curiosity. "Me personally, or just the students here in general?"
Brigitte looked at him with slightly more intensity - which wasn't a lot, considering her inebriation. But she hadn't really though that he was including himself in the wounded group. "General," she said, after she remembered what his question was. "Just. Maybe it would make me and Ginger feel less like the freaks among the freaks." Hm, she wasn't sure she'd wanted to say that. She averted her gaze, looking out into the crowd.
He looked at her seriously, though the wariness didn't leave his posture. Scott was quiet for a moment, before he pointed out. "They do. You're just looking in the wrong place."
Scott glanced over where people were still milling around, before explaining, "It's all just different kinds of armor. People hide behind smiles and perkiness. Or behind being a complete and utter dick. Or behind leaning in and pretending like you don't give a shit," which seemed to be her and her sister's MO. Somehow, Scott suspected it was easier for Ginger than for Brigitte. "They're all just different forms of the same thing. Different colors of paint on walls."
Brigitte stayed silent for a while. She was pretty sure that was all bullshit, but she wasn't 100% sure, which annoyed her. Building up her sarcastic armor - and screw him for making her think of that phrase - she eventually said, "Mutantkind is probably fucked if we're all total headcases, deep down."
He shrugged. "Maybe. But I'd say regular people are frequently headcases deep down, too."
Brigitte smirked at that. "True."
"So we'll probably break even with the rest of humanity," he said.
"Don't tell the Brotherhood," Brigitte responded with a tiny snort.
Scott raised his eyebrows. "See, annoying them is just one more reason to point it out to them. Loudly," he disagreed.
"Riiight," she replied. "The school isn't playing nice with them anymore."
"To be fair, I was always a jackass to them." Scott said, shrugging.
"I was sort of hoping Ginger and Wanda would be friends, once they put the rulers away," Brigitte said wistfully. "Dunno, maybe it can still work out." The news made the Brotherhood seem like some murder happy brigade, but she was trying to reserve judgement until she and Ginger actually talked to them again.
"Why do you want it to?" Scott asked curiously.
Brigitte considered that question for a few minutes, chewing on her bottom lip. "Everyone needs a place to belong. If she decides she doesn't belong here, then maybe we can find a place there."
He looked at her thoughtfully. "Would you go with her? Or stay here?"
"My place is with her." She looked at him like he was an idiot.
"It doesn't matter what you want?" He asked. The two of them got more concerning by the day.
"I want to be with her." Brigitte was seriously doubting his mental capabilities at this point. It seemed pretty simple to her.
"Got it." Yeah, there was a super healthy relationship. Messed up as he and Alex were, and Scott knew they were messed up, this seemed next level dysfunctional.
Brigitte just nodded, pleased he understood. That made sense, though. She was pretty sure he had a brother. "Oh hey, don't you have a brother in the Brotherhood?" She twisted up her face after she said that, then snorted. Brother in the Brotherhood. Ha.
"He's here now, somewhere," Scott said, gesturing towards the party. "Used to be over there though, yeah."
"Are you happy that he's close by, now?" Despite what she'd just told Scott, Brigitte did have moments when she wanted to be far away from Ginger - mostly when Ginger pissed her off and then refused to admit she was in the wrong. But then she remembered how much they had always needed each other to survive. Still, she knew not all siblings were like them. And part of her wanted to know if being part of the Brotherhood was a pardonable offense; if she might still be able to keep her friends here if she left.
Scott nodded a little, albeit slowly. He didn't know Brigette well, and certainly not well enough to get into the complicated nature of his and Alex's relationship. And he was glad, truly, that his brother was there. He decided to keep it true, but limited to public information. "Yeah, I'm glad he's here now. We lived apart for a really long time, so it's a nice change."
"Good, that's good." Brigitte didn't know why that info made her so happy, but it did. She even found herself smiling, so much she was almost showing her teeth. Fuck, now she wanted to go find Ginger. She wasn't even sure what they had been fighting about anymore. Or maybe she would find Lil? Either would be good, but it suddenly felt very urgent. "Gotta go do stuff," she said, abruptly pushing herself off the wall. She only stumbled a little and took that as proof of her triumph over the ground.
Man, alcohol was a hell of a drug. Was Brigitte grinning? "Make good choices," Scott said dryly.
"Always do," Brigitte said with chemically enhanced bravado, and made her way into the crowd.
Scott surveyed the party as he drank his root beer. He was leaning against the wall, watching people drink and thrash to music. Or dance, whichever. Some of them made it not look ridiculous, which to him seemed like some kind of mutant power.
Some didn't have that particular gift, and were flailing around kind of like muppets. But he wasn't throwing stones, there was a reason he was against the wall after all.
Brigitte stumbled towards the wall, cursing as the ground tried to trip her. She was on her way to a good leaning place. "What more do you want from me?" She hissed downwards, not noticing Scott leaning a foot away from where she'd landed.
Scott quirked an eyebrow. "Are you asking me, specifically, or are you looking for an answer from the ground?" He asked.
Brigitte jerked her head up, and woah. Spinny. She squinted, trying to figure out who was talking to her. "Oh, Lazerface? What am I asking?"
Lazerface? Well, he guessed he'd been called worse. He watched her semi-amused and semi-annoyed. "You were asking what more the ground wanted from you," he reminded her helpfully.
"Huh, was I?" Brigitte looked at the ground suspiciously. "It probably wants my blood. Or my corpse, slowly decomposing to feed the trees."
"Or you are drunk and you tripped?" Scott offered.
Brigitte considered that. "Is this what being drunk is like?"
"If I had to guess," he said dryly, nodding. "Have you been drinking?"
"Duh," Brigitte said deadpan. "It makes people less scary." She'd said that to... someone, earlier, and had liked the explanation.
He frowned slightly. As someone who had experimented with a lot of coping mechanisms in his life, legal and not alike (before he'd manifested, anyway, when it had become too dangerous to experiment with anything at all), he couldn't judge, even if he didn't exactly think it was a great life plan. "Does it make people less scary?" He asked. "Or just make the ground more demanding?"
Jeeze. What was with the hard questions? "I dunno, both? Alcohol contains mult, um, multitudes."
"Clearly. So are you having fun?" He asked.
She looked at him a little suspiciously for a second before deciding that he was too goody-goody for anything sinister in the question. "Yup. Everyone's all friendly and shit, and it isn't even freaking me out right now."
He snickered, just a little at that. "Ah, I see. The liquor was to make the unbelievable outgoingness of some of our classmates more palatable for you."
"You all are like," Brigitte gestured expansively, eyes wide. "You talk so much, and smile, and talk, and I don't even think you're making fun of us most of the time? No one is normal here."
"Of course we aren't, we live on the Island of Misfit Toys," Scott snorted.
"But that should make you bitter!" Brigitte complained. "The whole, societal isolation thing."
Scott shrugged. "Some of us are, deep down, I'm sure." Himself included, sometimes. No one got through what some of the kids there had without a fair number of mental and emotional scars that made bitterness seem more than warranted.
Brigitte sighed and collapsed more fully against the wall. "I wish you'd show it more."
Scott leaned against the wall, tucking his hands in his pockets as he watched her with a mixture of wariness and idle curiosity. "Me personally, or just the students here in general?"
Brigitte looked at him with slightly more intensity - which wasn't a lot, considering her inebriation. But she hadn't really though that he was including himself in the wounded group. "General," she said, after she remembered what his question was. "Just. Maybe it would make me and Ginger feel less like the freaks among the freaks." Hm, she wasn't sure she'd wanted to say that. She averted her gaze, looking out into the crowd.
He looked at her seriously, though the wariness didn't leave his posture. Scott was quiet for a moment, before he pointed out. "They do. You're just looking in the wrong place."
Scott glanced over where people were still milling around, before explaining, "It's all just different kinds of armor. People hide behind smiles and perkiness. Or behind being a complete and utter dick. Or behind leaning in and pretending like you don't give a shit," which seemed to be her and her sister's MO. Somehow, Scott suspected it was easier for Ginger than for Brigitte. "They're all just different forms of the same thing. Different colors of paint on walls."
Brigitte stayed silent for a while. She was pretty sure that was all bullshit, but she wasn't 100% sure, which annoyed her. Building up her sarcastic armor - and screw him for making her think of that phrase - she eventually said, "Mutantkind is probably fucked if we're all total headcases, deep down."
He shrugged. "Maybe. But I'd say regular people are frequently headcases deep down, too."
Brigitte smirked at that. "True."
"So we'll probably break even with the rest of humanity," he said.
"Don't tell the Brotherhood," Brigitte responded with a tiny snort.
Scott raised his eyebrows. "See, annoying them is just one more reason to point it out to them. Loudly," he disagreed.
"Riiight," she replied. "The school isn't playing nice with them anymore."
"To be fair, I was always a jackass to them." Scott said, shrugging.
"I was sort of hoping Ginger and Wanda would be friends, once they put the rulers away," Brigitte said wistfully. "Dunno, maybe it can still work out." The news made the Brotherhood seem like some murder happy brigade, but she was trying to reserve judgement until she and Ginger actually talked to them again.
"Why do you want it to?" Scott asked curiously.
Brigitte considered that question for a few minutes, chewing on her bottom lip. "Everyone needs a place to belong. If she decides she doesn't belong here, then maybe we can find a place there."
He looked at her thoughtfully. "Would you go with her? Or stay here?"
"My place is with her." She looked at him like he was an idiot.
"It doesn't matter what you want?" He asked. The two of them got more concerning by the day.
"I want to be with her." Brigitte was seriously doubting his mental capabilities at this point. It seemed pretty simple to her.
"Got it." Yeah, there was a super healthy relationship. Messed up as he and Alex were, and Scott knew they were messed up, this seemed next level dysfunctional.
Brigitte just nodded, pleased he understood. That made sense, though. She was pretty sure he had a brother. "Oh hey, don't you have a brother in the Brotherhood?" She twisted up her face after she said that, then snorted. Brother in the Brotherhood. Ha.
"He's here now, somewhere," Scott said, gesturing towards the party. "Used to be over there though, yeah."
"Are you happy that he's close by, now?" Despite what she'd just told Scott, Brigitte did have moments when she wanted to be far away from Ginger - mostly when Ginger pissed her off and then refused to admit she was in the wrong. But then she remembered how much they had always needed each other to survive. Still, she knew not all siblings were like them. And part of her wanted to know if being part of the Brotherhood was a pardonable offense; if she might still be able to keep her friends here if she left.
Scott nodded a little, albeit slowly. He didn't know Brigette well, and certainly not well enough to get into the complicated nature of his and Alex's relationship. And he was glad, truly, that his brother was there. He decided to keep it true, but limited to public information. "Yeah, I'm glad he's here now. We lived apart for a really long time, so it's a nice change."
"Good, that's good." Brigitte didn't know why that info made her so happy, but it did. She even found herself smiling, so much she was almost showing her teeth. Fuck, now she wanted to go find Ginger. She wasn't even sure what they had been fighting about anymore. Or maybe she would find Lil? Either would be good, but it suddenly felt very urgent. "Gotta go do stuff," she said, abruptly pushing herself off the wall. She only stumbled a little and took that as proof of her triumph over the ground.
Man, alcohol was a hell of a drug. Was Brigitte grinning? "Make good choices," Scott said dryly.
"Always do," Brigitte said with chemically enhanced bravado, and made her way into the crowd.
