milliways_bar | (no subject)

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This time, Raven marches into the Bar, sans her brother.

A napkin appears to greet her moments later.

"Really?" Beat. "Sure I will."

Specials
Mai Tai
Manhattan
Margarita

(And then a little further down - )

Blue Colada

It is her favorite color, after all.

[ tiny tags: charles xavier, raven darkholme ]

[ ooc: Tag in, tag each other! ST/LT welcome and appreciated. ~~Open for tags until this reads otherwise.~~ Closed to new tags. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"No."

X's response is prompt.

"But I have cats. And fish. And a cactus."

Beat.

"Cities are not good for farm animals."

"So you like pets, just not chickens as pets."

Raven pauses.

"How do the cats and fish get along?"

'Cause that seems like a relationship full of conflict. And potential eating.

"The squirt bottle was useful," X offers.

"For training them. The cats."

She pauses.

"A strong lid for the aquarium is important, too."

"I thought about getting a cat once," Raven muses out loud.

They don't like her very much.

It's probably because they can sense when she has someone else's face on.

"You like them? Cats."

X looks cautiously pleased.

"I am allowed to ask why you did not get one?"

"I like them. They don't like me."

It's complicated.

Or maybe she just hasn't met the right cat.

"Oh."

X's voice is a little quiet.

"I am sorry."

Beat.

"Why?"

Her own voice drops low, and she glances down into the bottom of her bowl. The ice cream is half-soup now.

"Because of what - because of who I am. I think they sense it, and it just - gives them the wiggins."

X frowns a little, head tilting very slightly.

"You are a canid?"

It is entirely possible. There are several werewolves here.

Though she does not smell like one.

Beat.

"If I am allowed to ask."

"You mean like a - ?" She wracks her brain for the word. Charles has read so many Latin terms to put her to sleep that it takes a minute for her to draw on the connection.

"No, not that. I'm a mutant."

There's a rush of relief that follows, relief and a small pang of fear at finally admitting it out loud, to someone else, without her brother's presence at the back of her mind.

"I don't - normally look like this."

"Oh," X says, nostrils flaring as she catches the faint pang of fear. She relaxes the tension in her shoulders deliberately, moreso than she normally would. Just in case that helps the fear go away. That, and -- "I am a mutant, too."

She says it very matter-of-factly.

"I heal."

Plus, you know. Claws. But that is a topic for later. Probably.

"I am allowed to ask what you do?"

"You are?"

It's more encouraging than not - and given that she and Charles have met more mutants here than they've ever encountered back home, it leaves her wondering about what the future holds. And yet she doesn't shift here. She knows about X, but she doesn't know about the other people in this bar. Doesn't know how they'll react, how they'll look at her.

"I can become anyone else, if I want to. Right down to the sound of their voice."

She blinks, and her eyes are yellow in that moment between before they go back to their former (normal) brown.

"I am," X confirms, nodding once.

"My brother is, too. And my nephew."

She does not appear taken aback by the suddenly-yellow eyes. Largely because her teammates and close friends range from a girl with purple skin and pixie wings, to a girl made of mercury, to a lizard-man, to a giant hunk of rock. And the giant hunk of rock is not even very nice to her all the time.

"Shapeshifting is useful. And -- you like it? As a power."

"They are?"

She calls Charles her brother, but it's only because he's the only real family she's ever known; the two who raised her turned her out as soon as her abilities manifested, labeling her a devil child before she even had an explanation for what she could do.

"I - it helped, before. When I didn't want to draw attention to myself. When I just wanted to be normal."

She's never heard anyone call it useful before. That flutter in her gut eases into a warmth.

"Yes," X says. "My brother comes here. Sometimes. Logan."

Beat.

"He is cranky."

This pause is a little bit longer, as X looks for the right words for what she wants to say. It is not her best skill.

"Being like other people is okay, if it is what you want. Or if it is useful."

She offers a shrug, one-shouldered and quick.

"But being a mutant is normal, too. For me. And you. People here do not mind."

X knows this for fact, because --

"They are not afraid of me." (Except for Haymitch.)

Edited 2012-04-09 15:50 (UTC)

"Maybe here," she replies, looking down at her hands. She always has to hold a modicum of control over her abilities, always has to ensure she isn't going to slip and show them her true face.

"People don't understand out there."

It's easier to hide. It always has been.

This is what she knows how to do. This is what her ability lets her do.

"No," X says. Carefully.

"Some of them do not."

Some of them want to kill mutants, or take away their powers, or --

Some people are very afraid.

"But some of them do. My landlord. And my neighbors. In San Francisco"

Beat.

"We live there. My team. And me. We do not have to hide. Not even Santo."

"Must be nice," Raven says, not even attempting to hide her envy.

Maybe there'll be a day where she doesn't feel as though she has to hide.

Right now, that day isn't going to be today.

"Who's Santo?"

"People still want to kill us."

That is the way of the Marvelverse.

"But I like having a home."

Beat.

"Santo is my former teammate. He is made of rock. And he makes stupid jokes."

He was also largely responsible for the Avengers Assemble! post-it note on X's fish tank. (Her fish are named Logan, Widow, Cap, Tony, and Carol for a reason.)

"Some things never do change," she says, with a tiny sigh.

She's torn between a smile and something of an incredulous look at the mention, though.

"Are those two things related at all?"

X considers that question.

A dubious expression settles in on her face.

"I think his jokes would still be stupid even if his power was different."

Unfortunately.

She has a really good pun lined up, and she's tempted to use it, but she curbs the urge.

"Yeah, that usually doesn't make much of a difference."

X looks cautiously intrigued. (Or: curious.)

"You know people like that, too?"

Whether she means the kind with dumb jokes or the kind make of rock is anybody's guess.

"Well, a sense of humor can't usually be helped."

Charles, for example, thinks he's clever - and he is, in the traditional sense.

His jokes, on the other hand, usually leave her groaning more than laughing.

"I think it is good to have one," X says.

She used to be without, but time and exposure (thanks, Duo) have given her one.

It may not be as terrible as Santo's, but it's pretty close.

"Even if it is stupid."