Trying to be less wordy today.
It's been one day since my last entry.
Thought I'd add the above part since y'know, some chronology is important outside the res. Weird people.
Started today off with another early morning lesson with Rogue. I managed to get Betsy to sit in on this one. Today's lesson was rather simple. Just needed a few props to help things along: a candle and a lighter. No more trying to light matches off my jeans zipper. Things still quiver in fear from the last time. Anyway, I figure concentration might be a good key to help simmer Rogue down, so I did a simple exercise that my grandfather once taught me. Well, it's simple if your mind in constantly churning on something. Rogue was supposed to look at the flame from the candle for a bit, close her eyes and hold the image of the flame on the inside of her eyelids as long as she could before her conscious mind cried for attention. Betsy was there to see if Rogue managed to contain the image for any duration. After an hour, I let Betsy go. After two hours, I gave up and let Rogue go on and check up on Joseph. If her mind is like this for too long, I think I may just shoot myself in the foot and hobble around the mansion.
After the bad lesson, I went into the worse territory of the current finances of these X-People. I guess it's a small miracle that Angel and Betsy are willing to chip in a little bit, but that still leaves the brunt on me. I hope Chuckles isn't gone for too long. My bank account may not be able to take it. I think we could cut more corners if McCoy didn't use a bottle of shampoo a day. He goes through a case of it a month! By my calculations. Let's not even get into the conditioner so his fur is less frizzy.
Checked disks for Skrull and Kree stuff. Fell asleep after the first two paragraphs. Somebody needs to inform Chuckles that the opening report written by Mr. Summers needs some fixing. It's so riveting my eyes wouldn't open back up. Which is why I had a paper-clip forehead when I woke Rogue up.
On a structural front, house-breaking Yankton is a chore. Yet, you don't know how fast the X-Men scramble when they hear the sound of fresh piss hitting the recently-laid linoleum. If Yankton survives house-breaking, I'll be surprised.
Was up in the attic today. Not Storm's place but across from it. Formerly used for storage from the schematics I got. I wonder if the X-men would mind too terribly if I moved up there. Better than the tiny room I have right next to Chuckles' old one. Of course, I'd have to get this past Storm first. Convince her I'm not a peeping tom or anything.
There was a little hubbub between Angel and Dr. Reyes. Or so I heard. I have a little birdy that likes to flutter around the mansion. Apparently, Mr. Worthington is not taking too well to the restriction of staying earth-bound in his wheelchair. He got caught this morning flapping around outside. Considering Reyes ordered him to stay in his wheelchair to let his legs heal, she weren't too happy. I heard she duct taped him to his wheelchair this evening. That's gotta be havoc on his shorts when he's got to go to the bathroom.
I've noticed Marrow is hanging around in the back more often. Not around me of course. I still think every time she looks at me, she's figuring 15 ways to flay my skin off in less than 10 seconds. She's hanging around more in the background when Angel is out from his room on a break from his brooding. Who knew hawkboy could brood so well? I think she's the one who cut Angel out of the duct tape while Betsy had some serious words with Reyes. I don't think Storm's too happy about the prospect of Marrow lurking around. Ms. Munro frowns more often than I think she ought to.
Which brings me right to Maggott. He's apparently striking out left and right. I guess after these ladies have lived with the likes of Angel, Nightcrawler, Longshot, and . . . Gambit, who I still have trouble remembering his name, that the flirty mode doesn't work that well. I think he'd better luck with Reyes if his "gals" hadn't eaten her medical books. Of course, I may be blind but he would have some competition with our resident bouncing, blue simian-like man.
Speaking of Beast, his best buddy is apparently taking the downtime to get himself in trouble. Iceman is playing some rather amusing practical jokes. Too bad his targets don't have the sense of humor to appreciate it nor the cunning to get back in kind at Mr. Drake. While Logan was out tinkering with something on the roof, Drake snuck into Logan's room, cut the legs off of Logan's bed, replaced the legs with a beer bottles his shortness had left in the fridge, and quickly vacated the room after making sure the bed spread draped low enough to cover up the beer bottle legs. I don't know why Logan didn't think something was up when he smelled Drake had been in his room. I think he might have been too tired to care since he didn't get back to his room until later tonight. When Logan flopped down on his bed, the crash that followed made my teeth rattle. The bellow for Drake's blood that followed that shook the mansion's foundations, I swear. I didn't want to get involved with it, so I slid into my room and locked the door behind me. I can still hear Storm and Rogue trying to talk Logan out of killing Bobby for wasting the beer.
I think I'd better go out there and side with Logan. Good beer is such a horrible thing to waste.
-D
Thought I'd add the above part since y'know, some chronology is important outside the res. Weird people.
Started today off with another early morning lesson with Rogue. I managed to get Betsy to sit in on this one. Today's lesson was rather simple. Just needed a few props to help things along: a candle and a lighter. No more trying to light matches off my jeans zipper. Things still quiver in fear from the last time. Anyway, I figure concentration might be a good key to help simmer Rogue down, so I did a simple exercise that my grandfather once taught me. Well, it's simple if your mind in constantly churning on something. Rogue was supposed to look at the flame from the candle for a bit, close her eyes and hold the image of the flame on the inside of her eyelids as long as she could before her conscious mind cried for attention. Betsy was there to see if Rogue managed to contain the image for any duration. After an hour, I let Betsy go. After two hours, I gave up and let Rogue go on and check up on Joseph. If her mind is like this for too long, I think I may just shoot myself in the foot and hobble around the mansion.
After the bad lesson, I went into the worse territory of the current finances of these X-People. I guess it's a small miracle that Angel and Betsy are willing to chip in a little bit, but that still leaves the brunt on me. I hope Chuckles isn't gone for too long. My bank account may not be able to take it. I think we could cut more corners if McCoy didn't use a bottle of shampoo a day. He goes through a case of it a month! By my calculations. Let's not even get into the conditioner so his fur is less frizzy.
Checked disks for Skrull and Kree stuff. Fell asleep after the first two paragraphs. Somebody needs to inform Chuckles that the opening report written by Mr. Summers needs some fixing. It's so riveting my eyes wouldn't open back up. Which is why I had a paper-clip forehead when I woke Rogue up.
On a structural front, house-breaking Yankton is a chore. Yet, you don't know how fast the X-Men scramble when they hear the sound of fresh piss hitting the recently-laid linoleum. If Yankton survives house-breaking, I'll be surprised.
Was up in the attic today. Not Storm's place but across from it. Formerly used for storage from the schematics I got. I wonder if the X-men would mind too terribly if I moved up there. Better than the tiny room I have right next to Chuckles' old one. Of course, I'd have to get this past Storm first. Convince her I'm not a peeping tom or anything.
There was a little hubbub between Angel and Dr. Reyes. Or so I heard. I have a little birdy that likes to flutter around the mansion. Apparently, Mr. Worthington is not taking too well to the restriction of staying earth-bound in his wheelchair. He got caught this morning flapping around outside. Considering Reyes ordered him to stay in his wheelchair to let his legs heal, she weren't too happy. I heard she duct taped him to his wheelchair this evening. That's gotta be havoc on his shorts when he's got to go to the bathroom.
I've noticed Marrow is hanging around in the back more often. Not around me of course. I still think every time she looks at me, she's figuring 15 ways to flay my skin off in less than 10 seconds. She's hanging around more in the background when Angel is out from his room on a break from his brooding. Who knew hawkboy could brood so well? I think she's the one who cut Angel out of the duct tape while Betsy had some serious words with Reyes. I don't think Storm's too happy about the prospect of Marrow lurking around. Ms. Munro frowns more often than I think she ought to.
Which brings me right to Maggott. He's apparently striking out left and right. I guess after these ladies have lived with the likes of Angel, Nightcrawler, Longshot, and . . . Gambit, who I still have trouble remembering his name, that the flirty mode doesn't work that well. I think he'd better luck with Reyes if his "gals" hadn't eaten her medical books. Of course, I may be blind but he would have some competition with our resident bouncing, blue simian-like man.
Speaking of Beast, his best buddy is apparently taking the downtime to get himself in trouble. Iceman is playing some rather amusing practical jokes. Too bad his targets don't have the sense of humor to appreciate it nor the cunning to get back in kind at Mr. Drake. While Logan was out tinkering with something on the roof, Drake snuck into Logan's room, cut the legs off of Logan's bed, replaced the legs with a beer bottles his shortness had left in the fridge, and quickly vacated the room after making sure the bed spread draped low enough to cover up the beer bottle legs. I don't know why Logan didn't think something was up when he smelled Drake had been in his room. I think he might have been too tired to care since he didn't get back to his room until later tonight. When Logan flopped down on his bed, the crash that followed made my teeth rattle. The bellow for Drake's blood that followed that shook the mansion's foundations, I swear. I didn't want to get involved with it, so I slid into my room and locked the door behind me. I can still hear Storm and Rogue trying to talk Logan out of killing Bobby for wasting the beer.
I think I'd better go out there and side with Logan. Good beer is such a horrible thing to waste.
-D