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Bobby and Warren | Backdated to 6/24
Warren and Bobby get to know each other, and exchange...cartoon and video game references?
more incentive to come to Xavier's, but the promise of a wide, open sky where he could fly--without a mask--to his heart's content would've had him signing on in an instant if he had. As much as he would've loved to fly free over Central Park, well, he'd worn the mask as the Avenging Angel for his parents' sake. Why... Warren wasn't entirely sure, and wasn't prepared to examine.
All he cared about in this moment, the wind in his hair, racing over his shirtless torso and through his ruffling feathers, was that he was free. He beat his wings vigorously, lifting himself onto a current and then stretching them to glide. He'd read and watched everything he could find on bird flight once he'd realized his wings were more than a cosmetic inconvenience. And he meant to use the extensive Xavier's grounds to test out every single theory he'd developed about how that applied to him.
After a couple of days of keeping his powers pretty much under wraps (with, granted, a few tiny demonstrations), Bobby had come outside to find a better venue to cut loose. After all, he was here at a school for mutants and could do that, right?
He was still trying to convince himself that he could and didn't need to feel guilty about it when a shadow passed overhead. A very unusually shaped shadow, which caused Bobby to look up, raising his hand to shade his eyes.
There was a guy up there. Flying. Bobby's eyebrows rose, and he grinned before shouting out, "It's a bird. No, it's a plane. No, it's a frog. A frog? It's UNDERDOG!!!"
Warren snorted out a laugh when that pronouncement reached him, then looked down to see a boy on the ground. Grinning, Warren dove, full speed, in the direction of the boy.
Aaaand Underdog was divebombing him! Bobby hit the dirt, then rolled over and called out "I said Underdog, not Angry Birds!"
Warren pulled up at the last minute, shooting his wings out against the pull of gravity. That part went fine. The part that didn't was the touchdown, when Warren's bare feet stumbled on the grass and he fell forward and had to duck into a roll. He wound up on his wings, splayed, looking up at the blue sky, and laughing. "Shit. That did not go as planned. Angry Birds is right."
"Pretty sure even they land more gracefully," Bobby protested, shooting the guy an indignant look before getting to his feet, laughing. Honestly, he couldn't not. He brushed himself out, then held out a hand to help the other guy to his feet. "I take it you're not an Underdog fan?"
Warren accepted the hand up and hopped to his feet, then shook out his wings and stretched them back and up. Nothing hurt, but still, nice to have a stretch after a flight. "Underdog is great. I just thought since you were being a smart-ass, I'd be a smart-ass. Guess I'm not as smart as I thought." He held out his hand again. "Warren Worthington."
"Bobby Drake. And I'm a professional smart ass - it really shouldn't be attempted by amateurs." He grinned. "Especially ones who took landing lessons from Woodstock."
"Ha!" Warren took his hand back and brushed off his jeans. They'd cost him almost a thousand bucks, but he had several more pairs on the way from home already. What was a little grass stain? His grin was huge; this guy was funny. "I'll keep it in mind next time I need a practice target for dive bombing."
Bobby had to give the guy credit - he not only knew how to take a joke, he knew how to give it back. "I'm sorry, I'm only a practice target on - what day is today?" Bobby pretended to consider it, then grinned and shrugged. "It's a very part time job."
"Shame." With another chuckle, Warren finished his dusting off and stood straight. "So what is it you do full time? Apart from the smart-assery?"
"Well, the smart-assery is pretty much a full time gig," Bobby admitted. "It just doesn't pay all that well yet. I'm working on it, but I need to put together a marketing plan, get backers." He sighed dramatically. "It'll take time. In the meantime, I'm posing as a mild mannered student to get free food and lodging. Don't give me away?"
"Your secret's safe. If for no other reason than I'm always looking for Young Entrepreneurs to back. Let me know when you get a presentation together." Warren chuckled. "Sorry, boardroom humor. It's not even funny in the boardroom. I'll stick to my day job."
"Which is? I mean, I'm guessing the whole Underdog thing is just a hobby," Bobby said straightfaced. "You don't even have a cape."
Warren chuckled again. "Student, same as you. Used to be at St.--Doesn't matter, it's up north, boy's school, not very exciting." He ruffled his wings slightly as he shrugged. "I dabbled in superheroing, but I think the lack of a cape was holding me back, now you mention it."
"All the best superheroes have capes." Bobby waited a moment and grinned. "Also shirts. I'm pretty sure shirts are a prerequisite. Even for Avenging Angels." Because yeeaah, he was from New York. He'd heard the stories, and now that Warren had mentioned it, it didn't take a genius to put two and two together.
"Pffffft." Warren made a dismissive gesture, but he was practically glowing with pride. His school rescue had been hushed up by the administration, obviously, and the Central Park stories were largely dismissed... but people knew. (And Bobby must've been from New York. Nice.) "I bet if I ran around like this, they would've actually put me on TV instead of pretending I was an urban legend."
And then Warren's parents would've blown a gasket and kept him in a fucking tower like Rapunzel, but hey.
"That or they'd have arrested you for public indecency while flying or something," Bobby observed. "But I'm guessing someone would've taken pictures, at least."
"I'd be offended if they didn't." Warren snorted, but rolled his eyes at himself. "But enough about me naked superheroing. Where you from, Drake?"
"Up in Suffolk," Bobby replied, shrugging. Port Jefferson itself wasn't worth mentioning to anyone from New York, anyway. He eyed Warren speculatively, then guessed. "Manhattan?"
Warren grimaced for comic effect. "I've been told I give off that Upper East Side scent, yeah. It's not like Gossip Girl, I swear. Well, much."
"Uh huuuuuh, likely story." Bobby smirked. "At least you had all those high rises to circle."
Okay, so it was sometimes a little like Gossip Girl, but Warren... well, being sent to boarding school had advantages. Like not getting caught up in too much of that. Instead, he'd had to deal with the much smaller world of scandal, isolated... which in retrospect wasn't that great either, but whatever. He still thought it was funny. "Only in a mask. I notice you don't have a cape either, though. What's your deal?" He grinned.
"Me? Oh, I'm not wearing a cape." Bobby shook his head dramatically. "You know that laundry list Edna rattled off in the Incredibles? No way I want to get sucked into a jet turbine."
Still chuckling--he might never stop at this rate--Warren asked, "Are you still just being funny, or are you hiding the fact that you don't want to tell me what your mutation does with humor? Asking for a friend."
Bobby grinned. "A little from Column A, a little from Column B? Seriously, though..." He formed a snowball in his hand and tossed it up in the air, then re-caught it. "Next time? Target practice goes both ways."
Warren cocked an eyebrow. "Did you... did you seriously just make a snowball. In June? Holy shit, that's awesome."
"Says the guy with the wings who can fly." Bobby rolled his eyes, but grinned. Honestly, he didn't see the big deal, but he was honestly enjoying everyone's reactions. It beat the hell out of hiding it. Or, y'know, Judy's screaming.
"Eh, I sprouted a new body part," Warren said, though his smile betrayed his pride. "You have a forever advantage in snowball fights. That's something."
"Truuuuue," Bobby admitted. It was something, at least - a not insignificant something, now that he didn't have to hide it. He pretended to eye Warren curiously. "Now, the question is? Did you lose any other body parts when you sprouted one? Because that could be awkward."
"You gotta buy me dinner if you wanna find that out." Warren said with a smirk.
"Dude, you're the one from Manhattan. If anyone's buying dinner, it's you." Bobby smirked back.
"Hey, that's not how this..." Warren sighed then chuckled again. "Okay, that's how it works, fair point.
"So--target practice?" He gestured to Bobby's snowball and stretched out his wings lazily. They rose up and back, unfolding gracefully.
"When you least expect it, Underdog," Bobby promised.
Warren blurted out another laugh. "I don't doubt it--but I meant now. As in are you interested?" He raised his eyebrows. "Or is it only fun if your target's unaware?"
In response, Bobby threw the snowball in his hand at Warren, then took off running. Some things were definitely more fun when the target was unaware.
The burst of cold against Warren's bare chest made him suck in air, then let it out in a squeak. "Oh, it's on now!" Warren took off running after Bobby. See how he liked having his feet off the ground... if Warren could catch him.
more incentive to come to Xavier's, but the promise of a wide, open sky where he could fly--without a mask--to his heart's content would've had him signing on in an instant if he had. As much as he would've loved to fly free over Central Park, well, he'd worn the mask as the Avenging Angel for his parents' sake. Why... Warren wasn't entirely sure, and wasn't prepared to examine.
All he cared about in this moment, the wind in his hair, racing over his shirtless torso and through his ruffling feathers, was that he was free. He beat his wings vigorously, lifting himself onto a current and then stretching them to glide. He'd read and watched everything he could find on bird flight once he'd realized his wings were more than a cosmetic inconvenience. And he meant to use the extensive Xavier's grounds to test out every single theory he'd developed about how that applied to him.
After a couple of days of keeping his powers pretty much under wraps (with, granted, a few tiny demonstrations), Bobby had come outside to find a better venue to cut loose. After all, he was here at a school for mutants and could do that, right?
He was still trying to convince himself that he could and didn't need to feel guilty about it when a shadow passed overhead. A very unusually shaped shadow, which caused Bobby to look up, raising his hand to shade his eyes.
There was a guy up there. Flying. Bobby's eyebrows rose, and he grinned before shouting out, "It's a bird. No, it's a plane. No, it's a frog. A frog? It's UNDERDOG!!!"
Warren snorted out a laugh when that pronouncement reached him, then looked down to see a boy on the ground. Grinning, Warren dove, full speed, in the direction of the boy.
Aaaand Underdog was divebombing him! Bobby hit the dirt, then rolled over and called out "I said Underdog, not Angry Birds!"
Warren pulled up at the last minute, shooting his wings out against the pull of gravity. That part went fine. The part that didn't was the touchdown, when Warren's bare feet stumbled on the grass and he fell forward and had to duck into a roll. He wound up on his wings, splayed, looking up at the blue sky, and laughing. "Shit. That did not go as planned. Angry Birds is right."
"Pretty sure even they land more gracefully," Bobby protested, shooting the guy an indignant look before getting to his feet, laughing. Honestly, he couldn't not. He brushed himself out, then held out a hand to help the other guy to his feet. "I take it you're not an Underdog fan?"
Warren accepted the hand up and hopped to his feet, then shook out his wings and stretched them back and up. Nothing hurt, but still, nice to have a stretch after a flight. "Underdog is great. I just thought since you were being a smart-ass, I'd be a smart-ass. Guess I'm not as smart as I thought." He held out his hand again. "Warren Worthington."
"Bobby Drake. And I'm a professional smart ass - it really shouldn't be attempted by amateurs." He grinned. "Especially ones who took landing lessons from Woodstock."
"Ha!" Warren took his hand back and brushed off his jeans. They'd cost him almost a thousand bucks, but he had several more pairs on the way from home already. What was a little grass stain? His grin was huge; this guy was funny. "I'll keep it in mind next time I need a practice target for dive bombing."
Bobby had to give the guy credit - he not only knew how to take a joke, he knew how to give it back. "I'm sorry, I'm only a practice target on - what day is today?" Bobby pretended to consider it, then grinned and shrugged. "It's a very part time job."
"Shame." With another chuckle, Warren finished his dusting off and stood straight. "So what is it you do full time? Apart from the smart-assery?"
"Well, the smart-assery is pretty much a full time gig," Bobby admitted. "It just doesn't pay all that well yet. I'm working on it, but I need to put together a marketing plan, get backers." He sighed dramatically. "It'll take time. In the meantime, I'm posing as a mild mannered student to get free food and lodging. Don't give me away?"
"Your secret's safe. If for no other reason than I'm always looking for Young Entrepreneurs to back. Let me know when you get a presentation together." Warren chuckled. "Sorry, boardroom humor. It's not even funny in the boardroom. I'll stick to my day job."
"Which is? I mean, I'm guessing the whole Underdog thing is just a hobby," Bobby said straightfaced. "You don't even have a cape."
Warren chuckled again. "Student, same as you. Used to be at St.--Doesn't matter, it's up north, boy's school, not very exciting." He ruffled his wings slightly as he shrugged. "I dabbled in superheroing, but I think the lack of a cape was holding me back, now you mention it."
"All the best superheroes have capes." Bobby waited a moment and grinned. "Also shirts. I'm pretty sure shirts are a prerequisite. Even for Avenging Angels." Because yeeaah, he was from New York. He'd heard the stories, and now that Warren had mentioned it, it didn't take a genius to put two and two together.
"Pffffft." Warren made a dismissive gesture, but he was practically glowing with pride. His school rescue had been hushed up by the administration, obviously, and the Central Park stories were largely dismissed... but people knew. (And Bobby must've been from New York. Nice.) "I bet if I ran around like this, they would've actually put me on TV instead of pretending I was an urban legend."
And then Warren's parents would've blown a gasket and kept him in a fucking tower like Rapunzel, but hey.
"That or they'd have arrested you for public indecency while flying or something," Bobby observed. "But I'm guessing someone would've taken pictures, at least."
"I'd be offended if they didn't." Warren snorted, but rolled his eyes at himself. "But enough about me naked superheroing. Where you from, Drake?"
"Up in Suffolk," Bobby replied, shrugging. Port Jefferson itself wasn't worth mentioning to anyone from New York, anyway. He eyed Warren speculatively, then guessed. "Manhattan?"
Warren grimaced for comic effect. "I've been told I give off that Upper East Side scent, yeah. It's not like Gossip Girl, I swear. Well, much."
"Uh huuuuuh, likely story." Bobby smirked. "At least you had all those high rises to circle."
Okay, so it was sometimes a little like Gossip Girl, but Warren... well, being sent to boarding school had advantages. Like not getting caught up in too much of that. Instead, he'd had to deal with the much smaller world of scandal, isolated... which in retrospect wasn't that great either, but whatever. He still thought it was funny. "Only in a mask. I notice you don't have a cape either, though. What's your deal?" He grinned.
"Me? Oh, I'm not wearing a cape." Bobby shook his head dramatically. "You know that laundry list Edna rattled off in the Incredibles? No way I want to get sucked into a jet turbine."
Still chuckling--he might never stop at this rate--Warren asked, "Are you still just being funny, or are you hiding the fact that you don't want to tell me what your mutation does with humor? Asking for a friend."
Bobby grinned. "A little from Column A, a little from Column B? Seriously, though..." He formed a snowball in his hand and tossed it up in the air, then re-caught it. "Next time? Target practice goes both ways."
Warren cocked an eyebrow. "Did you... did you seriously just make a snowball. In June? Holy shit, that's awesome."
"Says the guy with the wings who can fly." Bobby rolled his eyes, but grinned. Honestly, he didn't see the big deal, but he was honestly enjoying everyone's reactions. It beat the hell out of hiding it. Or, y'know, Judy's screaming.
"Eh, I sprouted a new body part," Warren said, though his smile betrayed his pride. "You have a forever advantage in snowball fights. That's something."
"Truuuuue," Bobby admitted. It was something, at least - a not insignificant something, now that he didn't have to hide it. He pretended to eye Warren curiously. "Now, the question is? Did you lose any other body parts when you sprouted one? Because that could be awkward."
"You gotta buy me dinner if you wanna find that out." Warren said with a smirk.
"Dude, you're the one from Manhattan. If anyone's buying dinner, it's you." Bobby smirked back.
"Hey, that's not how this..." Warren sighed then chuckled again. "Okay, that's how it works, fair point.
"So--target practice?" He gestured to Bobby's snowball and stretched out his wings lazily. They rose up and back, unfolding gracefully.
"When you least expect it, Underdog," Bobby promised.
Warren blurted out another laugh. "I don't doubt it--but I meant now. As in are you interested?" He raised his eyebrows. "Or is it only fun if your target's unaware?"
In response, Bobby threw the snowball in his hand at Warren, then took off running. Some things were definitely more fun when the target was unaware.
The burst of cold against Warren's bare chest made him suck in air, then let it out in a squeak. "Oh, it's on now!" Warren took off running after Bobby. See how he liked having his feet off the ground... if Warren could catch him.