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ax_main2017-10-14 09:10 pm
ax_nanashi) wrote in ax_main2017-10-14 09:10 pm
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Trowa and Eileen - The Brotherhood Party
Trowa and Eileen feel each other out at the party. Trowa plays his part well.
trying--not to be her usual, abrasive, overbearing self for the sake of the party. Really, she was. And she'd overlooked any number of small infractions, so far, that would have ordinarily warranted a severe cramping of the lower intestinal tract, on the part of both her teammates and their guests. But there was one set of harmonies that was making that job frankly impossible. The kid wasn't drinking. He wasn't dancing. He wasn't participating in any of the inane party games Pietro had come up with. He was just ... flitting around the periphery. Not obviously watching, which was a point in his favor, but what the hell else could he have been doing? Nobody came to a party and spent the whole night doing nothing, in particular.
Well. She hoped not, at least. That would just be sad.
Face screwing up into the irritable mask most members of the Brotherhood would recognize immediately, she drifted toward the self-designated Odd Mutant Out. "Here," she said, holding out one of the two bottles she'd brought with her. "At least drink some of our crappy beer so we can pretend you came to have a good time."
"Sorry," Trowa said quietly, not bothering to soften his accent. "I've never been to one of these before." He wasn't, of course, but it certainly helped his cover. He obediently twisted the top off the bottle and took a sip. He could taste the alcohol, but barely. He couldn't help but think the old captain would have compared it, unfavorably, to a soft drink. He darted a glance at the glowing decorations covering the warehouse. "It's... overwhelming."
"Yeah, Pietro likes to go all-out. It's like a friggin' fever dream in here, or something," Eileen snorted. But not in a bad way, really. Actually, busy as it all was, it had started to grow on her. "I'm Eileen, by the way. Thanks for comin' out, and sorry your first party experience turned out so Day-Glo."
"I guess I shouldn't sound like I'm complaining. The last time I was in a building like this, it was less... Day-Glo?... but we were being shot at." He held out his hand, as if suddenly remembering manners. "I'm Trowa."
She took the proffered hand and shook it firmly. This Trowa guy seemed pretty straightforward, and that was something Eileen could definitely get on board with. "Given the fact you're standing here tonight, I'm gonna assume you were shooting back, and were better at it," she suggested. "Though given we're all mutants here, I guess it's just as likely you've got superspeed, or a ghost form, or are just plain bulletproof. Sorry if that sounds like a badly-veiled question about your gifts; I always want to hear about 'em, but I get that some people prefer to keep that kinda thing personal."
"I have good balance. And I talk to animals, but they do not have to listen to me." He punctuated the statement with a slight "there you are" shrug. No mention of his enhanced hearing or senses, naturally. "So it is probably best that I know how to handle a gun."
Nodding, Eileen took another pull from her beer. "I don't like guns much, personally; they're loud and their harmonies are kinda dull. But bein' able to protect yourself is pretty crucial, with nutjobs like the FoH and the Right out there. Me, I like to overload the nervous system--it's quick, painful, and totally non-lethal." Though she supposed, if she pushed it, she could do something pretty catastrophic. She hadn't really reached that point yet, though.
Trowa cocked his head to one side. "I don't understand. 'Harmonies?' Like music?" He'd picked up a few snatches of conversation from the girl as she'd moved around the warehouse, but why waste the chance to gather more intel?
"Sorta. Kinda." Eileen hovered in the air for a moment thoughtfully, then shrugged. "It's the best way I can think of to describe it. For me, the world is sight, sound, touch, and the interactions of electromagnetic fields. It's a whole additional sense that I can't really describe to somebody who doesn't have it, too. But music is the best comparison I've been able to come up with. And I can change up the song, with some effort."
Trowa nodded, considering. "That sounds like it could be lethal, with the right application. But, as you said, it is a quick way to incapacitate an enemy regardless. Can you focus on more than one target at a time?"
"Dude," she said, "I could probably knock out most of this party, if I weren't being picky about who was affected. And, you know, wanted to do something like that. Which I don't. I'm not sure what my absolute range is, yet, but it's pretty wide. I mean, I can feel harmonies on practically the other side of the city. Haven't ever tried affecting anything that far away, but ... maybe one day."
"I imagine you've been tempted to try more than once. It seems like the anti-mutant fringe is getting bolder by the day."
"Tempted, sure," she admitted. "But there's some things I'm still working out. And you can't un-aneurysm somebody, once it's done." Eileen gave him a speculative look. "If you noticed them getting bolder, I guess you've got your own plan for dealing with 'em, when they inevitably come calling."
"My stock of non-lethal options is somewhat limited against greater numbers," Trowa admitted.
"We definitely won't win the numbers game if we keep pullin' our punches," Eileen said. "And in an 'us-vs.-them' kinda scenario, I know which I would choose." She shrugged. "I don't think we're there, though." Yet.
"Hopefully not any time soon," Trowa agreed. He nodded toward the rest of the party, where the two groups of mutant teens were socializing to varying degrees. "At least not until we have time to prepare, in our own ways. Though I suspect yours will be more effective."
Eileen blinked, the violent light of her eyes dimming for an instant. Well. That was kind of a surprise. Not that she didn't believe exactly that ... she just hadn't expected any of the school kids to echo the sentiment. "If that's the case, then why are you hangin' with the Xavier crowd? Don't get me wrong, most of 'em seem pretty okay, but the Brotherhood is usually open to new recruits. Once they get the boss' okay, I mean," she added quickly.
"I have people I want to protect." Trowa was half-surprised to find that was more than just a probable cover. Two other students did count as "people". "For now, I can do that more effectively by keeping them close and utilizing Xavier's resources."
The blond nodded, expression thoughtful. "Yeah, see, now that's reasoning I can get behind--makes a lot more sense than some of the other stuff I'm hearing." She shrugged. "And I can't really argue with it. Just keep in mind there're other options out there, I guess."
Her look grew intent. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't really seem like the party type," said Eileen suddenly. If he wasn't interested in joining, it kind of made her wonder why he'd bothered to come out that night. Though she could make an educated guess.
If her increased scrutiny made him uncomfortable at all, it didn't show.
"I'm the broken type," he said, his voice maintaining the same calm neutrality as before. "Socializing is supposed to help me acclimate. But I didn't get instructions to go along with the good intentions."
Guilt was not a thing Eileen typically felt, but she experienced a stab of it then. Really, now that she thought about it, this aloof watchfulness of his seemed more habitual than calculated. And she knew a thing or two about a busted-up past--even if Trowa's seemed, even with only a cursory familiarity, to have been several orders of magnitude more traumatic.
"Sorry," she said. "Didn't mean to pry, or anything. So, they just flung you right into the deep end, huh?" Seemed like the way to end up more damaged to her, not less. But she wasn't exactly a shrink, either, so what the hell did she know?
Trowa shrugged. "I could have stayed behind. But we were going to meet sooner or later." He nodded to the others again. "You. Me. All of them. Why not on neutral ground?"
"Speaking from experience, it definitely beats running into strange mutants in an abandoned genetic research facility," Eileen agreed philosophically, choosing to omit the part where she'd accidentally-on-purpose overloaded the muscular system of one of their speedsters. That kind of thing really didn't paint her in a very favorable light. "Even if the interior design isn't exactly a huge step up."
"That was how you met the mutants from our school?" Trowa finished his beer in one long swallow.
"Not the best way to make a good first impression, right?" asked Eileen rhetorically with a grimace. "By comparison, you're practically Mr. Congeniality. So you've got that going for you, having cleared that really, really low bar I set for meeting new mutants."
"One thing for, approximately one hundred against. But I get the impression you're familiar with how that works."
"I'm no stranger to long odds." She shrugged and added philosophically, "But like the man once said, 'Life sucks, get a helmet.'"
Trowa laughed, a quiet, momentary unevenness of breath. "The company commander used to say 'Get to work or catch a bullet.' Maybe not too different."
"Sounds like a paraphrase to me," Eileen nodded. "And I'm guessin' the fact you had a 'company commander' had something to do with you getting shot at in that warehouse before?" Wanda sometimes complained about her dad trying to turn the Brotherhood into soldiers before, and she'd only half-taken it seriously. It sounded like their counterparts had recruited at least one actual soldier. And she really wasn't sure whether that was a point in their favor, or something that should make her suspicious.
"Mm." He nodded. "I don't talk about that much." He glanced out toward the others again. "I suspect it wouldn't go over well, even among people used to the unusual." Another soft not-laugh. "And think I have failed at this socializing business already. Sorry." His gaze flicked back toward the dance floor. "Can you show me how to do that?" It wouldn't hurt to get a better vantage point, and dancing was good cover.
"I think that if at least one of us is enjoying the interaction, then it's not technically a failure," she speculated, then shrugged. "I'm not exactly an expert, though."
Eileen followed his look toward the clusters of dancing kids, and slowly lowered her feet until they were in contact with the ground again. "Not really an expert at that, either, but I guess I can show you the basics. Lucky for us, at this kinda party, nobody really expects the extra-polished choreography to come out." She offered him a hand. "C'mon, then."
trying--not to be her usual, abrasive, overbearing self for the sake of the party. Really, she was. And she'd overlooked any number of small infractions, so far, that would have ordinarily warranted a severe cramping of the lower intestinal tract, on the part of both her teammates and their guests. But there was one set of harmonies that was making that job frankly impossible. The kid wasn't drinking. He wasn't dancing. He wasn't participating in any of the inane party games Pietro had come up with. He was just ... flitting around the periphery. Not obviously watching, which was a point in his favor, but what the hell else could he have been doing? Nobody came to a party and spent the whole night doing nothing, in particular.
Well. She hoped not, at least. That would just be sad.
Face screwing up into the irritable mask most members of the Brotherhood would recognize immediately, she drifted toward the self-designated Odd Mutant Out. "Here," she said, holding out one of the two bottles she'd brought with her. "At least drink some of our crappy beer so we can pretend you came to have a good time."
"Sorry," Trowa said quietly, not bothering to soften his accent. "I've never been to one of these before." He wasn't, of course, but it certainly helped his cover. He obediently twisted the top off the bottle and took a sip. He could taste the alcohol, but barely. He couldn't help but think the old captain would have compared it, unfavorably, to a soft drink. He darted a glance at the glowing decorations covering the warehouse. "It's... overwhelming."
"Yeah, Pietro likes to go all-out. It's like a friggin' fever dream in here, or something," Eileen snorted. But not in a bad way, really. Actually, busy as it all was, it had started to grow on her. "I'm Eileen, by the way. Thanks for comin' out, and sorry your first party experience turned out so Day-Glo."
"I guess I shouldn't sound like I'm complaining. The last time I was in a building like this, it was less... Day-Glo?... but we were being shot at." He held out his hand, as if suddenly remembering manners. "I'm Trowa."
She took the proffered hand and shook it firmly. This Trowa guy seemed pretty straightforward, and that was something Eileen could definitely get on board with. "Given the fact you're standing here tonight, I'm gonna assume you were shooting back, and were better at it," she suggested. "Though given we're all mutants here, I guess it's just as likely you've got superspeed, or a ghost form, or are just plain bulletproof. Sorry if that sounds like a badly-veiled question about your gifts; I always want to hear about 'em, but I get that some people prefer to keep that kinda thing personal."
"I have good balance. And I talk to animals, but they do not have to listen to me." He punctuated the statement with a slight "there you are" shrug. No mention of his enhanced hearing or senses, naturally. "So it is probably best that I know how to handle a gun."
Nodding, Eileen took another pull from her beer. "I don't like guns much, personally; they're loud and their harmonies are kinda dull. But bein' able to protect yourself is pretty crucial, with nutjobs like the FoH and the Right out there. Me, I like to overload the nervous system--it's quick, painful, and totally non-lethal." Though she supposed, if she pushed it, she could do something pretty catastrophic. She hadn't really reached that point yet, though.
Trowa cocked his head to one side. "I don't understand. 'Harmonies?' Like music?" He'd picked up a few snatches of conversation from the girl as she'd moved around the warehouse, but why waste the chance to gather more intel?
"Sorta. Kinda." Eileen hovered in the air for a moment thoughtfully, then shrugged. "It's the best way I can think of to describe it. For me, the world is sight, sound, touch, and the interactions of electromagnetic fields. It's a whole additional sense that I can't really describe to somebody who doesn't have it, too. But music is the best comparison I've been able to come up with. And I can change up the song, with some effort."
Trowa nodded, considering. "That sounds like it could be lethal, with the right application. But, as you said, it is a quick way to incapacitate an enemy regardless. Can you focus on more than one target at a time?"
"Dude," she said, "I could probably knock out most of this party, if I weren't being picky about who was affected. And, you know, wanted to do something like that. Which I don't. I'm not sure what my absolute range is, yet, but it's pretty wide. I mean, I can feel harmonies on practically the other side of the city. Haven't ever tried affecting anything that far away, but ... maybe one day."
"I imagine you've been tempted to try more than once. It seems like the anti-mutant fringe is getting bolder by the day."
"Tempted, sure," she admitted. "But there's some things I'm still working out. And you can't un-aneurysm somebody, once it's done." Eileen gave him a speculative look. "If you noticed them getting bolder, I guess you've got your own plan for dealing with 'em, when they inevitably come calling."
"My stock of non-lethal options is somewhat limited against greater numbers," Trowa admitted.
"We definitely won't win the numbers game if we keep pullin' our punches," Eileen said. "And in an 'us-vs.-them' kinda scenario, I know which I would choose." She shrugged. "I don't think we're there, though." Yet.
"Hopefully not any time soon," Trowa agreed. He nodded toward the rest of the party, where the two groups of mutant teens were socializing to varying degrees. "At least not until we have time to prepare, in our own ways. Though I suspect yours will be more effective."
Eileen blinked, the violent light of her eyes dimming for an instant. Well. That was kind of a surprise. Not that she didn't believe exactly that ... she just hadn't expected any of the school kids to echo the sentiment. "If that's the case, then why are you hangin' with the Xavier crowd? Don't get me wrong, most of 'em seem pretty okay, but the Brotherhood is usually open to new recruits. Once they get the boss' okay, I mean," she added quickly.
"I have people I want to protect." Trowa was half-surprised to find that was more than just a probable cover. Two other students did count as "people". "For now, I can do that more effectively by keeping them close and utilizing Xavier's resources."
The blond nodded, expression thoughtful. "Yeah, see, now that's reasoning I can get behind--makes a lot more sense than some of the other stuff I'm hearing." She shrugged. "And I can't really argue with it. Just keep in mind there're other options out there, I guess."
Her look grew intent. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't really seem like the party type," said Eileen suddenly. If he wasn't interested in joining, it kind of made her wonder why he'd bothered to come out that night. Though she could make an educated guess.
If her increased scrutiny made him uncomfortable at all, it didn't show.
"I'm the broken type," he said, his voice maintaining the same calm neutrality as before. "Socializing is supposed to help me acclimate. But I didn't get instructions to go along with the good intentions."
Guilt was not a thing Eileen typically felt, but she experienced a stab of it then. Really, now that she thought about it, this aloof watchfulness of his seemed more habitual than calculated. And she knew a thing or two about a busted-up past--even if Trowa's seemed, even with only a cursory familiarity, to have been several orders of magnitude more traumatic.
"Sorry," she said. "Didn't mean to pry, or anything. So, they just flung you right into the deep end, huh?" Seemed like the way to end up more damaged to her, not less. But she wasn't exactly a shrink, either, so what the hell did she know?
Trowa shrugged. "I could have stayed behind. But we were going to meet sooner or later." He nodded to the others again. "You. Me. All of them. Why not on neutral ground?"
"Speaking from experience, it definitely beats running into strange mutants in an abandoned genetic research facility," Eileen agreed philosophically, choosing to omit the part where she'd accidentally-on-purpose overloaded the muscular system of one of their speedsters. That kind of thing really didn't paint her in a very favorable light. "Even if the interior design isn't exactly a huge step up."
"That was how you met the mutants from our school?" Trowa finished his beer in one long swallow.
"Not the best way to make a good first impression, right?" asked Eileen rhetorically with a grimace. "By comparison, you're practically Mr. Congeniality. So you've got that going for you, having cleared that really, really low bar I set for meeting new mutants."
"One thing for, approximately one hundred against. But I get the impression you're familiar with how that works."
"I'm no stranger to long odds." She shrugged and added philosophically, "But like the man once said, 'Life sucks, get a helmet.'"
Trowa laughed, a quiet, momentary unevenness of breath. "The company commander used to say 'Get to work or catch a bullet.' Maybe not too different."
"Sounds like a paraphrase to me," Eileen nodded. "And I'm guessin' the fact you had a 'company commander' had something to do with you getting shot at in that warehouse before?" Wanda sometimes complained about her dad trying to turn the Brotherhood into soldiers before, and she'd only half-taken it seriously. It sounded like their counterparts had recruited at least one actual soldier. And she really wasn't sure whether that was a point in their favor, or something that should make her suspicious.
"Mm." He nodded. "I don't talk about that much." He glanced out toward the others again. "I suspect it wouldn't go over well, even among people used to the unusual." Another soft not-laugh. "And think I have failed at this socializing business already. Sorry." His gaze flicked back toward the dance floor. "Can you show me how to do that?" It wouldn't hurt to get a better vantage point, and dancing was good cover.
"I think that if at least one of us is enjoying the interaction, then it's not technically a failure," she speculated, then shrugged. "I'm not exactly an expert, though."
Eileen followed his look toward the clusters of dancing kids, and slowly lowered her feet until they were in contact with the ground again. "Not really an expert at that, either, but I guess I can show you the basics. Lucky for us, at this kinda party, nobody really expects the extra-polished choreography to come out." She offered him a hand. "C'mon, then."
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