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ax_mainThe morning after the Right takedown, Pete and Betsy have breakfast, catch up, and make some plans for the future. Nooooo, we didn't lose it for a few months. Really!
Betsy slid into the coffee shop booth gracefully, tucking one leg beneath the other to make herself comfortable. Not that Wisdom was the biggest talker, but now that they had been at the school for awhile, she knew without asking that he'd have plenty to say. "Been here before?" She asked him as she glanced over a menu.
"Coupla times," he admitted as he plopped into the seat across from her and sort of sprawled, taking up far more space than his skinny form should be capable of. "You? Seems more your kind of place than mine."
"Never sat down, but took coffee out," she admitted. "Anything Else good here?"
"Never tried anything." He made a face. "Not exactly my kind of breakfast menu. If you want something, go for it."
"Of course not, you subsist on black coffee and cigarettes," she teased. Betsy signaled a passing waitress and asked for earl grey and a croissant.
Pete snorted. "Not hardly. Gotta keep a healthy level of cholesterol in my caffeine system. Not bloody likely it's gonna happen here, though."
"Don't those hipsters sell that coffee with butter in it?" Betsy asked, masking most (but not all) of her disgust at the very idea.
"Just goes to show Americans can't even make decent coffee," Pete replied, shuddering. "I'll take my cholesterol on the side, thanks." He took a healthy gulp of his fortunately unadulterated coffee, then set it down. "So, what do you think so far?" he asked without further preamble, cutting to the heart of things.
Betsy primly mixed some sugar and cream into her tea, sipped it to see if it made the grade, and then gently set it down. "I think it's not what it seems. What's your take, then?"
"School's a front for the whole vigilante thing," Pete responded promptly, scowling. "Not sure what the head's agenda is long term, but I doubt it has a damn thing to do with providing an education.
"Because that's so different from what we were already doing?" Betsy asked innocently.
"Wasn't like Orpington-Thorpe sold us on an education," he pointed out. "Just a chance to do a job worth doing."
Betsy sipped her tea as she thought. "To hear Xavier tell it, the school came first and the ops came later by necessity. So the real question is how much of it is shite."
Pete rolled his eyes. "All of it, most likely."
"Bit green though, aren't they?" Betsy observed. Which might lend credence to Xavier's story or might suggest a failure in the system resulting from his subterfuge.
"So either they haven't been at it long, or they've got wankers for instructors." Pete gulped down another mouthful of coffee, then set down the cup. "Question is, what do we do about it all?"
"What can we do?" She asked, turning it back on him. She wanted to hear his thoughts before voicing her own.
"Well, we can kick back and watch the bloody idjits self-destruct," Pete pointed out. In some ways, it was a tempting option, though he doubted Bets would be in favor. He wasn't altogether sure he was, himself. "Or we can sign up. See if we can keep them from self-destructing." His tone probably told her exactly what he thought of that idea. Unfortunately, it was the only way he could think to make sure they didn't go up with the rest.
"Decisions, decisions," she murmured. Betsy took a slow sip of her drink. "I'll admit, I'm not overly excited to join Xavier's boy band. I've little confidence in it. But if we can't go home, and we're stuck here? I don't know that we can just...watch."
They'd both likely go insane if they tried.
"Yeah. That's the problem, isn't it? We sit back with the popcorn, there's a good chance they'll blow themselves to bits. And maybe take us with them as collateral damage" Pete scowled. "Makes me almost miss Orpington-Smythe. 'Least we signed up with STRIKE by choice, not because it was the best of a bad set of options."
Betsy wasn't sure that rosy picture of their recruitments was entirely accurate, but for the moment she let that sleeping dog lie. "We can try to...assist them." She could already imagine how well the tall slender lad who looked perpetually like he was about to scold a school child would take their advice. "And reassess if it still is going completely sideways."
Pete nodded and took another drink from his cup, which he figured was enough on the subject. Best they could do with a bad situation, anyway, and at least they were on the same page. "Hear from your brother?"
"Told him I was in the States. Somehow forgot to explain why," which was to say, she'd decided that it would only worry him and wasn't all that important for him to know. He would assume it was for her job, which was at least partially true. "He sends his regards."
Pete barked out a laugh. "Yeah? How'd he word that this time? 'Tell the bloody lower class git to keep his hands to himself?' Or did he threaten to rip my head off again?" Okay, granted, he might've had that one coming, but still. How Bets could have as much class as she did when her brother was a well-dressed Neanderthal was something he'd never figured out.
"Nothing so vulgar," Betsy joked with a feigned aristocratic sniff. She loved her brother, but he and Pete mixed like oil and water.
Pete smirked. "Right. Same story, different language?"
She waved the accusation off. "Anyone know you're here?"
"I texted Romany." He rolled his eyes. "Said she already knew. Suppose she saw it in the cards or the tea leaves or whatever she's using this week." That's what came of having a sister who'd proclaimed herself a witch and who'd set up practice in a New Age shop as soon as she'd finished school. He wasn't even entirely sure if he believed her or not.
"Chicken auguries, like the Roman emperors?" She offered helpfully.
"Doubt it, she went vegetarian back in high school. 'Course, she could sacrifice them and just not eat them," Pete mused.
"We've seen odder," she said, shrugging. "Met anyone new worth meeting?"
"Not hardly." Possibly because he hadn't met much of anyone, but he doubted meeting people would change much in the long run. He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "You?"
"Hmm," she said noncomittally. "A few. They've someone who can control the weather who was quite nice. A bloke who clearly has his own issues, but seems...worth the effort. Though," she smirked, only a hint bitterly, "the body-hopping murderess part of my backstory seems to have thrown him a bit."
"Fuck 'im, then." Pete glowered as he took another drink of his coffee. "What'd he suppose you should've done instead?"
"Don't think he got that far in the process," Betsy said, shrugging before taking a sip of her tea. "But apparently not that."
"Not like he was bloody well there to judge," Pete pointed out, still glaring at the idea of him having done so anyway.
"True," she agreed. "Still, the whole saga can be a bit much for people."
"Yeah well, he didn't live it. You did. He's got no business taking issue," he grumbled.
Betsy chuckled softly. "As though we've never judged others life choices," she teased.
"Yeah, but that's different, innit?" Pete pointed out, relenting enough to give her a lopsided smirk. "That's us doing the judging."
"Good point," she agreed, nodding primly before smirking back.
Betsy slid into the coffee shop booth gracefully, tucking one leg beneath the other to make herself comfortable. Not that Wisdom was the biggest talker, but now that they had been at the school for awhile, she knew without asking that he'd have plenty to say. "Been here before?" She asked him as she glanced over a menu.
"Coupla times," he admitted as he plopped into the seat across from her and sort of sprawled, taking up far more space than his skinny form should be capable of. "You? Seems more your kind of place than mine."
"Never sat down, but took coffee out," she admitted. "Anything Else good here?"
"Never tried anything." He made a face. "Not exactly my kind of breakfast menu. If you want something, go for it."
"Of course not, you subsist on black coffee and cigarettes," she teased. Betsy signaled a passing waitress and asked for earl grey and a croissant.
Pete snorted. "Not hardly. Gotta keep a healthy level of cholesterol in my caffeine system. Not bloody likely it's gonna happen here, though."
"Don't those hipsters sell that coffee with butter in it?" Betsy asked, masking most (but not all) of her disgust at the very idea.
"Just goes to show Americans can't even make decent coffee," Pete replied, shuddering. "I'll take my cholesterol on the side, thanks." He took a healthy gulp of his fortunately unadulterated coffee, then set it down. "So, what do you think so far?" he asked without further preamble, cutting to the heart of things.
Betsy primly mixed some sugar and cream into her tea, sipped it to see if it made the grade, and then gently set it down. "I think it's not what it seems. What's your take, then?"
"School's a front for the whole vigilante thing," Pete responded promptly, scowling. "Not sure what the head's agenda is long term, but I doubt it has a damn thing to do with providing an education.
"Because that's so different from what we were already doing?" Betsy asked innocently.
"Wasn't like Orpington-Thorpe sold us on an education," he pointed out. "Just a chance to do a job worth doing."
Betsy sipped her tea as she thought. "To hear Xavier tell it, the school came first and the ops came later by necessity. So the real question is how much of it is shite."
Pete rolled his eyes. "All of it, most likely."
"Bit green though, aren't they?" Betsy observed. Which might lend credence to Xavier's story or might suggest a failure in the system resulting from his subterfuge.
"So either they haven't been at it long, or they've got wankers for instructors." Pete gulped down another mouthful of coffee, then set down the cup. "Question is, what do we do about it all?"
"What can we do?" She asked, turning it back on him. She wanted to hear his thoughts before voicing her own.
"Well, we can kick back and watch the bloody idjits self-destruct," Pete pointed out. In some ways, it was a tempting option, though he doubted Bets would be in favor. He wasn't altogether sure he was, himself. "Or we can sign up. See if we can keep them from self-destructing." His tone probably told her exactly what he thought of that idea. Unfortunately, it was the only way he could think to make sure they didn't go up with the rest.
"Decisions, decisions," she murmured. Betsy took a slow sip of her drink. "I'll admit, I'm not overly excited to join Xavier's boy band. I've little confidence in it. But if we can't go home, and we're stuck here? I don't know that we can just...watch."
They'd both likely go insane if they tried.
"Yeah. That's the problem, isn't it? We sit back with the popcorn, there's a good chance they'll blow themselves to bits. And maybe take us with them as collateral damage" Pete scowled. "Makes me almost miss Orpington-Smythe. 'Least we signed up with STRIKE by choice, not because it was the best of a bad set of options."
Betsy wasn't sure that rosy picture of their recruitments was entirely accurate, but for the moment she let that sleeping dog lie. "We can try to...assist them." She could already imagine how well the tall slender lad who looked perpetually like he was about to scold a school child would take their advice. "And reassess if it still is going completely sideways."
Pete nodded and took another drink from his cup, which he figured was enough on the subject. Best they could do with a bad situation, anyway, and at least they were on the same page. "Hear from your brother?"
"Told him I was in the States. Somehow forgot to explain why," which was to say, she'd decided that it would only worry him and wasn't all that important for him to know. He would assume it was for her job, which was at least partially true. "He sends his regards."
Pete barked out a laugh. "Yeah? How'd he word that this time? 'Tell the bloody lower class git to keep his hands to himself?' Or did he threaten to rip my head off again?" Okay, granted, he might've had that one coming, but still. How Bets could have as much class as she did when her brother was a well-dressed Neanderthal was something he'd never figured out.
"Nothing so vulgar," Betsy joked with a feigned aristocratic sniff. She loved her brother, but he and Pete mixed like oil and water.
Pete smirked. "Right. Same story, different language?"
She waved the accusation off. "Anyone know you're here?"
"I texted Romany." He rolled his eyes. "Said she already knew. Suppose she saw it in the cards or the tea leaves or whatever she's using this week." That's what came of having a sister who'd proclaimed herself a witch and who'd set up practice in a New Age shop as soon as she'd finished school. He wasn't even entirely sure if he believed her or not.
"Chicken auguries, like the Roman emperors?" She offered helpfully.
"Doubt it, she went vegetarian back in high school. 'Course, she could sacrifice them and just not eat them," Pete mused.
"We've seen odder," she said, shrugging. "Met anyone new worth meeting?"
"Not hardly." Possibly because he hadn't met much of anyone, but he doubted meeting people would change much in the long run. He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "You?"
"Hmm," she said noncomittally. "A few. They've someone who can control the weather who was quite nice. A bloke who clearly has his own issues, but seems...worth the effort. Though," she smirked, only a hint bitterly, "the body-hopping murderess part of my backstory seems to have thrown him a bit."
"Fuck 'im, then." Pete glowered as he took another drink of his coffee. "What'd he suppose you should've done instead?"
"Don't think he got that far in the process," Betsy said, shrugging before taking a sip of her tea. "But apparently not that."
"Not like he was bloody well there to judge," Pete pointed out, still glaring at the idea of him having done so anyway.
"True," she agreed. "Still, the whole saga can be a bit much for people."
"Yeah well, he didn't live it. You did. He's got no business taking issue," he grumbled.
Betsy chuckled softly. "As though we've never judged others life choices," she teased.
"Yeah, but that's different, innit?" Pete pointed out, relenting enough to give her a lopsided smirk. "That's us doing the judging."
"Good point," she agreed, nodding primly before smirking back.
