Alyssa, Bahir, Elliott, Jean, Mark, Natalie, Piotr, Rogers
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=NYC= Central Park South - Manhattan
Deviating from the slightly more.../lonely/ feel of the northern sections of the park, Central Park South is no less appealing to the eye, regardless. In the distance through the thick treelines of maple and oak looms the skyline of New York. Smaller bodies of water than the Reservoir dot the green, as do bronze statues placed seemingly at random. The Shakespeare Garden, Tavern on the Green, Strawberry Fields, and the like of more popular 'hotspots' of the park flank to all sides.
Here is the lowdown. A local band has been set up with an impromptu stage and a slightly less impromptu sound system, sponsored by a large local radio station and playing requests with that rock 'n' roll edge -- but the real central feature of the party is the fire. It has blazed up high to the sky, ringed by stones from the four corners of the park. Hot dogs, marshmallows and skewers are available in large quantities and a lot of dancing has broken out in the wide open spaces of grass surrounding the leaping orange-bright flames.
It is loud, crowded, and full of life! And it's just getting started. Woo, doggies.
Natalie is already happy and relaxed, perhaps even giggling (totally dignified!) a little as flip-flopped feet carry her toward that giant fire that throws up almost as much light as the nearby streetlamps. She clings to Bahir's arm, her own looped firmly through his, and notes seriously, "This is probably a very bad idea."
It is really going to be well-past one Nate Grey-Summers' bedtime by the time his parents pry him loose from the marshmallows and take him back to Westchester, but there are times when a celebration just has to be attended. The dress code is much easier here, and there is less of a sea of cameras and microphones every place decent and some that aren't. Thus, here is one Jean Grey, arriving alone and ahead of her ex and their son, who have opted to hang back and park the car together. The fire draws her like a tall and jeans-clad moth, thumbs through her belt loops and her hair up in a butterfly clip. She is not so much incognito as unannounced.
Head and shoulders above the crowd, Piotr Rasputin is sure to stand out to some small degree. Perhaps there was some kind of an Xavier's train of cars. Whatever the reason, he has decided that celebrations are vastly superior to mourning, and so here he is. He drifts toward the gathering of people and fire, probably somewhere in Jean's vicinity.
"Bad idea? Can't imagine why." A soft mellowness gentles Bahir's rough manner, and his voice is warm with suppressed laughter. He holds Natalie's hand in the crook of his arm, turning to slide between two separate knots of people in their winding track fire-wards. The typically quite guarded gleam of telepathy that marks his mind is relaxed into a broader glow; shields remain in place, but they are somewhat fuzzy and vague. "It's not as though we are going to /play/ with the fire. It's awful big."
"Gosh," Natalie says mournfully (and she is not in mourning, just celebration!). "Really? We can't? Because we really don't get very many of these in New York, and I'm really tempted to go poke at at it with a stick..."
Following the heralding sounds of a gathering, Mark strides into central park south with a slow stride. He gazes up at the bonfire, then down as several youngsters run past, giggling and laughing happily. His hand slides inside a pants' pocket, one of his own, while he moves ever forward.
"Now /that/ seems pretty-fucking-much like a bad idea." Bahir curses reflexively, teasingly, without any heat or venom. "Besides, we get lots of fires in New York. They are just, usually, you know--." He gestures, broadly, nearly hitting someone in the back of the head. "--buildings."
Trucking along in Piotr's wake, head and shoulders shorter: Alyssa Carter, with glossy brown hair bound up into twin pigtails and holes in the knees of her jeans. With the Russian running interferance, she doesn't have to watch where she's going. Which is good, because she appears to be terribly interested in her own feet.
The promise of marshmallows and bonfires is more than enough to draw Elliott out of her apartment (though 'days that end in Y' do much the same). She meanders towards the cheerful glow of the fire, taking a somewhat circuitous route so as to avoid the small knots of friends, neighbours, or generally genial people.
It is loud, and it is bright, and it is disorienting. As much as Steve Rogers was advised to interact with the contemporary crowd, he cannot help but feel absolutely alienated as he shoves his hands into his pockets and slowly strides through the crowd; contenting himself with observing the party with an almost child-like curiosity.
Natalie winces slightly, despite the pleasant haze afforded by her recent birthday gift, and urges Bahir, "/Shhhh/! We're not talking about burning buildings. We've had /enough/ burning buildings." There's a moment's silence, and then she offers wistfully, "It's too bad Norah couldn't come." It's a naturally progressing train of thought.
Piotr peers over his shoulder to make sure that the little Alyssa-duckling following in his wake has not been lost to the crowd as they near the epicenter of the celebration. "Are you making it through the crowd back there?" he asks her, chuckling as he finds an opening to linger in for the moment, which is not already occupied with people who are happy not to be smashed by an asteroid.
Jean likes fire. Jean's brain likes sugar. Combine these two and a few volunteers ready with roasting sticks and bags of puffy white Diabetes-inna-bag, and you get Dr. Grey making a quiet inquiry after some, looking quietly sheepish at an exclamation of recognition, and shuffling to get herself a place before a fire more suited to burning than toasting just yet. Studying her target, she is alone, and thus quite approachable. Mingling will happen post-refueling!
"/Shhh/," agrees Bahir, exaggerated in repetition. He squeezes Natalie's arm, tugging her past the weave of a wandering solo drunkard. Piotr, being so tall and manlee, draws the eye; Alyssa, trailing along behind, is a secondary discovery. He lifts his hand, flapping it in her direction. To Natalie, he points and says, "Threesome girl!"
Natalie chokes in a gasp, rather unsubtle, and stares across the distance at Alyssa. "/No/!" she disbelieves. And stares. Openly. Hi Alyssa!
Alyssa is, fortunately, paying attention to her feet still. NO HI TO BAHIR AND NATALIE. (ack.) "Yeah, I'm okay," she answers Piotr, looking up long enough to flash him a warm if wavery smile. When he stops to linger, she goes into orbit around him, invading his personal space with hunched shoulders and hands driven into her pockets.
Piotr is tall and certianly manly enough for Alyssa to orbit about without much of an issue. He has a moon. It is only natural for him to look around, his blue eyes sweeping over the nearby crowd. This makes for meeting Natalie and Bahir's gazes in their direction. It takes a moment, but he recognizes Natalie and his cheeks pinken before he looks down to Alyssa once again.
Mark walks along slowly, moving closer to the people who, like him, are drawn to the fire. He also takes note of Piotr, and Alyssa, though doesn't pay much attention to either. His focus eventually settles on Natalie, and her arm candy, but doesn't linger long on either. "This music sucks," he observes. "Then again, it has a nice edge to it," he concludes, mostly under his breath.
Wandering aimlessly, some would say haphazardly, through the crowd, Steve finds himself walled off by a rude young man who saw fit to dye his hair green and pierce things. Many things. Steve frowns mildly despite himself and turns to the nearest fire, pulling his hands out to warm them as he glances towards the woman roasting marshmallows he seemed to stumble beside. "Say, that looks like a pretty good idea." He remarks warmly, rubbing his hands together and glancing towards Jean with a polite nod.
Alas for Alyssa, Bahir continues to wave in her direction. When she fails to notice, this obviously means he has to wave bigger, harder, and louder: "Alyssa! Hey! You! With big, tall and -- big." His wit is astonishing. He tugs Natalie along, putt-putting over toward the other pair.
"I admit I'm a fan," agrees Jean, looking over at Steve and looking Steve over in the same dual-purpose glance. (She's talented, y'know.) Telepathy is veiled in a crowd of this size and ebullience, but even so, there's a brief flicker of thought that sweeps over him as he stumbles into her range, automatic checkpoint raised almost without notice. "Of course," she admits with a gesture of her roasting stick, "It will take a couple hours for something this size to get down to proper coals."
Natalie is tugged, and follow she does, like a little caboose to Bahir's train. "Whoa, hey!" she objects. "Slower! My balance--" Is not the best. For no particular reason, mind. Just the crowd!
Elliott eventually gets within marshmallow-acquiring distance. This, judging by her sunny smile as she snags both skewer and toxic-sugar-shock-inducing treat is a Very Good Thing. She finds herself a spot near enough the flames to roast (or char, perhaps) the candy before turning her attention towards peering over the crowd. It is curiousity more than hope of spying anyone familiar. It is a /big/ city and a /big/ crowd.
Alyssa makes some sort of ack-ack-ack noise as she catches her name over the rumble of the crowd, hunching into the toweringly protective presence that is Piotr for a moment before turning, patently fake I'm-okay-really smile on her face for whoever she is being greeted by. Spotting Bahir, however, has her expression shifting into one of genuine pleasure, and she pulls one hand out of its pocket to wave back. "Bahir," she greets back, grinning. Fortunately, she still does not know how she was identified. lala.
"Alyssa." Bahir said that already. His tugging and yanking comes to an abrupt halt as heels click with placement. He is a trifle more sure on his feet than Natalie, and stands ready to support her, arm crooked! After a moment, he adds, "Hi," as if only recalling to do so.
A pearly smile flares with Steve's laughter as he nods along with Jean. "They're best when they're way too burned on the outside..." He starts, trailing off as he glances about with concern and a dire frown. "...there isn't a chocolate bar or graham cracker in sight. That's just criminal." He says with a quick shake of his head, squinting a little more thoughtfully at the woman's face. Familiar.
Piotr settles his hands into his pockets as Bahir and Natalie approach, a gentle smile lingering on his face as he watches Alyssa greet them. "Friends of yours, I am assuming?" he asks with a warm chuckle. There is maybe a lot of waving going on to give it away.
Natalie comes to a halt with a bit of a stumble and a broad grin that lights up her face. She slides her arm not through Bahir's, but around his waist, leaning happily. "Hi!" she greets chipperly. "You're the threesome girl - what's your name again?" Nevermind that Bahir just said it. A brief glance flickers up to Piotr, momentarily appreciative, and she flashes him a smile as well. "He is!" she shares. "Not me." And then back to Alyssa, "Hi!"
Mark follows the marshmellow crowd, hands tucked into his pockets, before he makes use of a stick and the fluffy little soon-to-be cremated sugar puff, which is promptly stuffed onto the end of the stick. Moments after he moves to the fire. "Doctor Grey," he says calmly to Jean while tapping the stick, marshmellow attached, to his shoulder. He also looks over Elliott and Steve, but only briefly.
Jean is familiar indeed, with the mingling of weary triumph and private grief of the news footage still shading the corners of her eyes. She is just that little bit restrained in her smile to Steve, if no less friendly because of it. "I suppose they were worried about riots if they ran out," she offers, mock-solemn. "I know how -I- can get if I'm promised chocolate and then denied it... oh, hullo there, Mark," she greets, with moment's surprise. "I didn't figure bonfires for your style."
Alyssa's face falls rather comically. "Yeah," she breathes out, her hand dropping back into her pocket and her shoulders hunching again. She twists to look up at Piotr, not back at Bahir and Natalie, her expression still stricken. "They are," she trips over, "he is, at least--" turning back to look at the (HIGH AND MEAN) pair, she looks near about to cry. Or bolt. Or something else equally undignified. "Alyssa," she finally repeats for the third time tonight.
The fall of Alyssa's expression prompts dismay from Bahir: he reaches out to touch her lightly on the arm, all /concerned/. What could possibly be wrong! "Hey, you okay?" he asks, and then gives Piotr a suspicious look. "Is he being mean?"
Even a year and some months removed, Piotr is good with faces. With an awkward chuckle and a light blush remaining upon his cheeks, he raises a hand in greeting, "Hello, ah - Natalie, was it?" He also extends a nod toward Bahir, as well. His look toward Alyssa finds her expression and concern immediately materalizes on his face. Bahir's question kind of catches him off-guard. Poor Piotr has no idea how to respond to that, other than looking lost.
Marshmallow, marshmallow marsh...oh, hey! Elliott does recognize someone! She lifts a hand to wave cheerfully in Jean's direction before turning her attention back to the all-important task of marshmallow roasting. She settles her bit of candy near the flames, letting it turn a slow and remarkably even golden-brown.
"Me, I'm Natalie," Natalie approves, just before catching Alyssa's stricken expression, and she turns to look at Bahir with wide eyes. "Does she usually do this?" she hisses a touch loud before turning back to Alyssa to offer another "Hi!", this one excessively chipper.
Doctor Grey. Steve feels like an idiot as he looks towards Elliott then Mark, before his lips part into a genuine, proud smile and he extends a hand for a genuine congratulatory shake. "Doctor Jean Grey? You and your friends are true heroes. Please, we can't thank you all enough." He asks with excitement. After all, it isn't every day Steve gets to meet someone who saves his life.
"/Threesome girl/," is, perhaps, excessively loud given the situation. "She called me-- you /told/ he-- IT WAS A MISTAKE OKAY IT TOTALLY WASN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN IT WAS A REALLY BAD IDEA." Aly is getting progressively louder, because hey. Why not have a meltdown in the middle of a party. She doesn't shake off Bahir's arm, but does turn back to Piotr, expression vaguely desperate, vaguely petulant. "Piotr," she adresses, "I want to go /home/, this party /sucks/."
"The glorious upcoming book readings or whatever will just have to wait, I suppose," Mark says, dipping his little albino candy-mush into the fire. It instantly catches on fire, at which point Mark pulls out a cigarette, using the candy thing to light it, and bows out the flame on the end of his stick. "Yes, cheers to the saviors of Earth," he salutes happily afterwards. Then, looking down, he contemplates how to eat the 'mellow.
"Shhhhhh." Hiss matched with hiss, Bahir then breaks off as Alyssa bursts into rapid and then loud speech. He blinks.
"Oooh," Natalie says, quite close to Alyssa on Bahir's other side, with her arm still tucked around her waist. She peers around the massive form of this particular brother al Razi to blink solemnly at the girl. "Wow," she thinks to add, and then, confidentially to Bahir, "Gosh. She's a little--" A lift and wave of her free hand indicates what Alyssa is, silently.
"Er," says Jean, and looks at the offered hand, and then at her own hands, filled with marshmallow accoutrements. "Um," she says further, as Mark joins in, a faintly embarassed pink deepening the fire-raised flush already touching her face. "Well, I was glad to be able to be a part of this. It was an honour, and a--" Cue Alyssa shouting, and Jean's head whipping around to track the sound. As it returns, there is a visible wince. (There is also a belated wave to Elliott, beckoning over another example of familiar face.)
Piotr's frown is really a prodigious thing in this situation. He offers a hand out toward Alyssa as she gets quite clearly upset. "If you want to go home, I will take you home," he announces. He looks between Bahir and Natalie, his disapproval of the pair of them soaring along with the protective vibe over Aly.
Bahir looks up, up at Piotr, matching frown with a puzzled expression. "I'm not ... sure...." He trails off, falling into silence, and then reaches up to scratch a hand through his hair, ruffling tousled waves. "Huh. Uh. Uhm. Nice seeing you, Alyssa."
Alyssa flails a hand at Bahir, and then buries her face against Piotr. If she stands still enough, and doesn't look, maybe it will ALL GO AWAY. She also says something, but it is TERRIBLY MUFFLED by Piotr's manlee chest. Abdomen. Uh, wherever Aly's head comes up to. Possibly it is something about pie.
"Er," Natalie says, and blinks first at Alyssa, then at Bahir. Thankfully, she still has enough self control not to say something that might /really/ make the situation bad ('I see why she caused so much trouble', for example), and instead she tugs on Bahir's waist a little. "Maybe we should--"
Elliott blinks in the direction of the shouting. Huh. She catches Jean's beckoning wave out of the corner of her eye, and turns to skirt around the fire to say hello in person. There is a faint look of apprehension in her eyes. Hallmark does not make a card for 'Congratulations on saving the world, and I'm sorry about your loss.' Unkind of Hallmark, really.
With Aly pressing up against him, Piotr does the easiest thing that he can do to end the meltdown and confrontation. He turns his broad back to Bahir and Natalie, effectively cutting them off from the smaller figure trying to use him for cover. "Come on, Alyssa. We can leave."
"Wh-" Steve saves Jean any possible trouble of figuring how to shake his hand. Well. Alyssa does. His head whips towards the growing scene with everybody else, immediately walking in that direction. "Excuse me, Doctor Grey..." He murmurs under his breath as he snakes towards the very, very large Russian and other, smaller people.
Bahir stares after Piotr blankly, as if attempting to stare through him toward Alyssa. "Did she say something about pie? Do you think it is PMS?"
Mark surveys the little /mallow/ for a few seconds, then just flicks its gooey hide into the fire. He puffs out a plume of smoke, pointedly not looking towards Aly, Piotr, Bahir, and Natalie. As Steve moves off, Mark focuses on Jean. "Ever notice how the things we enjoy always seem to take precedence over what's being offered?"
Alyssa curls her hands into Piotr's shirt, and nods mutely against him. Yes, please. She doesn't start moving yet, however.
Jean spares a last look for Aly, or perhaps for Piotr, for her expression goes vage, and a somewhat-pleading little murmur of << Please look after her? >> whispers itself to the big Russian's mind before she returns her attention to Mark with a terribly mannerly "Er... what?" and a blink, as her mind whirls and roils, recovering itself from the overspill of surrounding thoughts that the brief mental aside gifted her. An apology comes a moment later, in the form of "I'm sorry... I was a bit distracted for a moment... Elliott!" Greeting! Greeting is good. "Elliott, I'd like to introduce you to one of my employees at Gradient. Mark, this is Marieta Elliott."
Natalie rocks back on her heels slightly, turning her face up to Bahir in clear bafflement. "I have absolutely no idea," she intones seriously, and then adds, "But I kinda see--"
"ShhhHHHHHhhhhh." Finger to his lips, Bahir makes a frantic suppressing gesture at Natalie. A clumsy thread of telepathy pokes in Alyssa's direction; lacking Bahir's usual crispness, mental shoelaces drag as his mind scuffs after hers, tinged with baffled, sheepish concern. << Alyssa? Are you okay? >> It can't possibly be anything they did! "Maybe we should just go poke at the fire with sticks."
"'Evening, Dr. Grey," Elliott chirps, once she has come into chirping range. "Looks like half the city's turned out..." She manages to only sound a /little/ awkward. A brief shuffling of marshmallow-related-accessories frees one small, scarred hand, and she offers it in Mark's direction. "Hi there. It's nice to meet you."
Piotr nudges at Alyssa gently, the towering Russian being very delicate in trying to herd her away from Natalie and Bahir. << I am trying. I have no idea what these people have against her, >> he returns toward Jean, though with a clumsy telepath nearby, his directed thoughts might be catching. "Come on, Alyssa. We can find somewhere to celebrate without... such people." His disapproval is not exactly subtle, even if it is worded gently.
Aly's mind is bright, too-bright against the scuff of Bahir's mental touch; what she projects is a shaky, over-intense << I'm fine, really, I'm sorry, I just can't deal with this-- >> while underneath the pervading, overriding thought is a tight-looped spiral of << jubileeisdeadjubileeisdeadjubileeisdead >> BUT THE WORLD IS SAVED SO IT IS REALLY (still not) OKAY. Even while she's thinking at Bahir, she's nodding to Piotr, finally finding her voice with a nearly too-soft, "Please," followed by "I'm sorry--"
Mark turns and smiles somewhat towards Elliott. "'Evening, nice to meet you too," he replies, giving her hand one gentle shake. Afterwards he blows some smoke out of the way, adjusts his stick so that it isn't in his way, and lets the two friends talk while inhaling another drag.
Lacking the mental discipline to compose appropriate words, Bahir releases a puff of empathy in light wash over Alyssa's mind, conveying sympathy quit fine on its own. With the mental equivalent of a rubbed pat on the shoulder, he says to Natalie in an unquiet low voice, "I think her friend died. Or else a pet. Jubilee was that one who--?" His thumb jerks up.
"Elliott's done some activist work before," Jean supplies, idly removing her marshmallow from where it's caught fire, and blowing the flames out. "Given what we were talking about earlier, Mark, she could be a good person to compare notes with, if you ever decide to share some of those ideas you mentioned to... me?" There is a somewhat weak finish from Jean, as the Alyssa-broadcast smacks into a mind still sensitized from the emptiness of space. Jean wavers slightly on her feet.
"Oh," Natalie breathes, abruptly stricken as she stares after Alyssa and Piotr, and leans just a touch more heavily into Bahir. "/Oh/."
Elliott notes Jean's wavering, a slight frown of concern displacing her sunny smile. "...Are you okay?" she asks, peering up at the good doctor.
Piotr begins working on leading Alyssa away from the party, being the knight in (not literally right now) shining armor. His concern for his friend is overriding pretty much everything else as he tries to corral her away from the people working so hard at upsetting her. The big Russian is impressively unhappy.
"Oh." P, Q, R, S, T, "You know. I don't know. Fire?" asks Bahir, leaning toward Natalie in turn and sort of shoving their duet around to face the flames once again.
"I was about to ask the same thing," Mark says calmly, releasing another puff. "You should probably sit down." Before badgering Elliott with questions, he moves off to an empty chair, grabs it, and sets it down for Jean. "There you go," he says simply.
What the hell was that? Steve quietly watches the scene from the crowd, deciding the outburst is tapering off on its own well enough that shoving his nose in at this point would cause more harm than good. As he shoves his way back towards the flame, as politely as he can manage, he finally caves and grabs a skewer and a few marshmallows, loading the stick up and holding it out over the flickering fire enthusiastically. "Are you all right, Miss Grey?"
Shoved Natalie is, turned and spun and facing the group nearer the fire, and then her eyes widen abruptly as her gaze settles on Mark, and she sidesteps backwards to half-hide behind Bahir. "/No/," she hisses. "No fire. Let's go-- the other way."
It's a testament to the spin of Jean's head that she actually sits down without begging off, one hand lifting to rub at her temple, as its cargo of marshmallows has slipped and hit the ground at some earlier, forgotten point. Poor marshmallows. "Thank you," she murmurs, then repeats it loud enough to actually carry to Elliott and Mark over the sounds of the bonfire and the music and the crowds. "I'm just... not used to New York any more. Space is much more quiet."
Alyssa is not hard to corral; she allows herself to be herded away, away from Bahir and Natalie, away from the fire, away from the crowd. Rather than just following along in Piotr's wake, this time, she still has one hand wrapped in his shirt, and nearly stumbles over herself as she tries her hardest to stay as close to him as possible. (If she were actually able to crawl inside his skin at this point, she likely would. CREEPY.)
"I'll bet," Elliott murmurs, as sympathetic as one who has absolutely nothing even approaching telepathic awareness can be. "Can we get you anything?" Proximity draws her attention toward Steve, and she flashes a quick, friendly smile. It is instinct - there is a person, time to be pleasant.
Mark continues to puff out smoke, but eventually decides the flick the remainder into the leaping flames. "Try eating your marshmallow," he offers simply. "Not the best thing for you, but it might help." Looking back over at Steve, then Elliott, he watches them both quietly afterward.
Polite is good. Polite is uncommon. Steve returns Elliott's kindness with a smile of his own, studying the woman before glancing back towards Jean and Mark then finally to his mallows; suddenly feeling very much as if he's prying. In all politeness, he reaches forward and picks the blackened skin off of one as if it were a ripe scab and gives them some privacy in this already invasive environment. "I still can't believe we've been in space." He says thoughtfully to himself, shaking his head as he tosses the husk in his mouth and chews it down.
"Actually quite a good thing," Jean explains, with a sigh and a look at the blackened horror that is her marshmallow. "Although I think this is the sort of marshmallow that appeals more to my son. But it's Telepathy 101 that glucose often helps with the worst of a psi-headache... and here I am nattering on about it to you two -and- a complete stranger," she decides, putting off her date with blackened marshmallow just a little longer by nodding to Steve. "I know you caught my name, but I think you've got the advantage of me, sir."
"The other way?" Bahir looks back over his shoulder, the 'other way' being, you know, away: away from people, away from marshmallows, away from -- "Hey, I think that guy over there is selling Popsicles!" And look how close the path to him is to Jean's little knot, Mark included. Bahir starts that way, pulling his tugboat along.
"I think I have some Werthers candies in my bag," Elliott offers, peering pityingly at Jean's poor, blackened marshmallow. Whether the pity's for the marshmallow or the woman is not entirely clear. Perhaps it is both! "If those'd help."
Natalie is tugged, toot-tooting behind her companion, but she moans as she goes, "Noooo, the /other/ other way!"
Should Bahir tugboat still closer, there are waves of telepathic ow-ow-goddamnit-ow that are rising from one Jean Grey like heat from a summer sidewalk. Or bonfire. Mixed in with them is the vague and highly-Grey concern about how to mingle getting the hell away from the City with not being -rude-. "They probably would, actually," she notes to Elliott, before eyeing the other woman's perfectly golden marshmallows with mild, pained, envy.
"I can't even -imagine- what that must be like." Steve says, licking at his fingertips thoughtfully as he really does attempt to imagine what reading a mind must be like. Uncomfortable, likely. "Steve Rogers. Really sorry about not saying that sooner." He answers with a sheepish smile as his eyes drift towards the candy. "If they have any pop around here I could get you one of those."
"I want a Popsicle," Bahir says obnoxiously, drawing Natalie on. As they near, telepathy responds to the familiarity of Jean's mind with an overloud and overbright mental wave. Hi, hi, hi!
"Noooo," Natalie hisses, drawing the word out as she ducks her head around Bahir's shoulder to peer at the group once more. Confirmation. Mark. /Excellent/.
After a brief bit of rummaging, Elliott unearths a crinkling, half-full bag of candies, which she offers promptly in Jean's direction. "Help yourself." She notes the envious eyeing of her own suspiciously-uncharred marshmallows, and flashes a quick, chagrined smile. One shoulder hitches in a faint shrug. Yes, she may have cheated a bit.
Mark watches Jean and the gathering with increasing boredom, and so he turns. Upon turning, he peers over the queer figure trying to hide behind Bahir, who he probably recognizes easily. What with her trademark glasses and hair. "What the hell are you doing?" he asks Natalie, his expression somewhat amused, and still somewhat bored.
OW! says Jean's mind to Bahir's. OW. GRR. SNARL. OW-- << Are you high? >> Jean groans audibly, glowers over in the vague direction of where Bahir's brain seems to be coming from and offers her hovering attendants a wan look. "Thanks," is offered to both. "And mostly my experience with mind reading is that I'd rather not. So I don't. But there's... spill. Like overhearing snippets of talk at a party."
"/What/?" Bahir says at Natalie, turning to walk the last few steps backwards until that leads quickly to stumbling and he has to grab Natalie to stay upright. Jean's response prompts a guilty freeze of his thoughts. Uhm, uhm. It is very hard to lie mind-to-mind, so he says, instead, with an ill-controlled strength and volume, << Hi. >>
Natalie sways (crashes?) into Bahir and windmills her free arm a bit before catching at his opposite shoulder. They cling, they balance, and then Natalie turns just slightly to send a stricken and guilty look toward Mark. She forces a smile, wavery, and says, "Hi." And then, "Hey, Doctor Grey."
"Why not live somewhere less crowded than New York? Nebraska's nice." Steve suggests, scrunching his brow together with confusion as Bahir and Natalie stumble towards them. Drunk? Probably. What else could it possibly be?
Elliott peers bemusedly at the two stumbling, wavering people, then glances warily at the big fire near at hand. Please do not be a disaster in the making, Mr. Bonfire? Pretty please? She maintains quiet, picking a marshmallow off of her skewer to nibble at.
"'Evening," Mark replies, after Natalie stumbles around and catches her feet. Afterwards he shoots an aloof expression her way, adding, "Marshmallow?" He prepares to load another onto his stick.
Jean gives one last envious look at Elliott's perfected marshmallows, before eating her own, grimacing, and then opting for one of the donated Wethers' instead. There's another wince, unexplained to non-psychic passerby, at Bahir's greeting. Studious candy-sucking ensues, along with a few meditative exercises, and Jean's mind slowly centers itself. Bahir might note the aiding effect of something unsettling and familiar putting a mental thumb on the scales. But then he might -also- note the half-flippant, half-resigned query of << So. Got any left? >> before Dr. Grey turns to spoken word again, and a small smile for Steve. "New York is where I'm needed... and could I beg some of your marshmallow skills, Elliott?"
Bahir answers Jean's silent question in likewise silent fashion: the jerk of his thumb toward Natalie at the level of his waist, coupled with a twinged smile. Unease shivers over thinned shields at scale balancing, and he sobers at the memory of /other/ places that same touch has been -- but sobering unease is at least preferable to a spiral down toward paranoia, right? He clears his throat. "Uh." He has completely lost track of all conversation.
"Sure," Elliott agrees cheerily to Jean's request. She slides two more marshmallows onto the skewer and turns back to the fire, though only mostly, still maintaining some attention on the conversations going on around her. "Are you from Nebraska, then?" she asks of Steve, all mild curiousity. It /could/ have been picked out of a hat, after all.
Natalie has as well, and she glances down at Bahir's jerking thumb with a frown before looking over to Mark and his offer. "Er," she answers. "No. Thanks."
A sound of small scampering feet turns Jean into one of those horrible people who request marshmallows, and then -leave others to eat them-, the nerve! Nate Grey-Summers has appeared on the far edge of the fire, with Scott a watchful distance behind. Jean, in a remarkable display of focus and composure for someone so recently woozy, makes a few quiet little nods, and then takes her leave of the chair. A small boy requires instruction in the art of marshmallow roasting.
"No?" Bahir's attention jerks back to Natalie sharply as he straightens with a blink. He looks between her and Mark and then looks back to Natalie again. "No, what?"
"Brooklyn." Steve replies with a smile, looking towards Elliott with a resigned shrug. "I always heard it was relaxing compared to city life." It was out of a hat. He opens his mouth to ask something, but is immediately interrupted by a loud ringing from his pocket that startles him into staring at it angrily for a moment. He is an old man with a cell phone. "How do you-" He complains in a low voice before figuring out how to answer with a handful of 'Yes, Sir' and a some 'No, sir' for variety. "Seems I have to go. I hope you all enjoy the rest of the party." He says with a smile before setting his skewer aside and wandering away.
Mark dunks his marshmallow into the flames and lets them lick and crust up his treat. A few seconds later he takes it out of the fire and says, "You sure? This one's on me," and offers it partially to Natalie. Mmm. Gooey and a bit crispy.
"Mark," Natalie mutters in explanation to Bahir. Or Bahir's shoulder, maybe. She's kind of clingy, really. She narrows her eyes at Mark, glasses glinting in the firelight, and adds, "No. Thank you." Nevermind the serious urge to munch.
"Take care," says Elliott in parting, flashing another friendly smile. She remains long enough to finish her marshmallows before meandering to another spot around the fire, leaving the peculiarly-disjointed chatters to their...peculiarly disjointed chatter.
Mark smiles politely and tilts the stick back over his way. "Suit yourself," he replies. A second later he exagerates a glorious first bite, and then a second, with peels the rest of the ooey-gooey off and turns to leave. He walks away calmly, and tosses his stick into the fire.
Bahir looks around the suddenly quieter area and then yanks on Natalie's elbow with a return to earlier goal: "Popsicles?"
"Yes please," Natalie answers in a rush, and heads off after Bahir. Toot toot!
=NYC= Central Park South - Manhattan
Deviating from the slightly more.../lonely/ feel of the northern sections of the park, Central Park South is no less appealing to the eye, regardless. In the distance through the thick treelines of maple and oak looms the skyline of New York. Smaller bodies of water than the Reservoir dot the green, as do bronze statues placed seemingly at random. The Shakespeare Garden, Tavern on the Green, Strawberry Fields, and the like of more popular 'hotspots' of the park flank to all sides.
Here is the lowdown. A local band has been set up with an impromptu stage and a slightly less impromptu sound system, sponsored by a large local radio station and playing requests with that rock 'n' roll edge -- but the real central feature of the party is the fire. It has blazed up high to the sky, ringed by stones from the four corners of the park. Hot dogs, marshmallows and skewers are available in large quantities and a lot of dancing has broken out in the wide open spaces of grass surrounding the leaping orange-bright flames.
It is loud, crowded, and full of life! And it's just getting started. Woo, doggies.
Natalie is already happy and relaxed, perhaps even giggling (totally dignified!) a little as flip-flopped feet carry her toward that giant fire that throws up almost as much light as the nearby streetlamps. She clings to Bahir's arm, her own looped firmly through his, and notes seriously, "This is probably a very bad idea."
It is really going to be well-past one Nate Grey-Summers' bedtime by the time his parents pry him loose from the marshmallows and take him back to Westchester, but there are times when a celebration just has to be attended. The dress code is much easier here, and there is less of a sea of cameras and microphones every place decent and some that aren't. Thus, here is one Jean Grey, arriving alone and ahead of her ex and their son, who have opted to hang back and park the car together. The fire draws her like a tall and jeans-clad moth, thumbs through her belt loops and her hair up in a butterfly clip. She is not so much incognito as unannounced.
Head and shoulders above the crowd, Piotr Rasputin is sure to stand out to some small degree. Perhaps there was some kind of an Xavier's train of cars. Whatever the reason, he has decided that celebrations are vastly superior to mourning, and so here he is. He drifts toward the gathering of people and fire, probably somewhere in Jean's vicinity.
"Bad idea? Can't imagine why." A soft mellowness gentles Bahir's rough manner, and his voice is warm with suppressed laughter. He holds Natalie's hand in the crook of his arm, turning to slide between two separate knots of people in their winding track fire-wards. The typically quite guarded gleam of telepathy that marks his mind is relaxed into a broader glow; shields remain in place, but they are somewhat fuzzy and vague. "It's not as though we are going to /play/ with the fire. It's awful big."
"Gosh," Natalie says mournfully (and she is not in mourning, just celebration!). "Really? We can't? Because we really don't get very many of these in New York, and I'm really tempted to go poke at at it with a stick..."
Following the heralding sounds of a gathering, Mark strides into central park south with a slow stride. He gazes up at the bonfire, then down as several youngsters run past, giggling and laughing happily. His hand slides inside a pants' pocket, one of his own, while he moves ever forward.
"Now /that/ seems pretty-fucking-much like a bad idea." Bahir curses reflexively, teasingly, without any heat or venom. "Besides, we get lots of fires in New York. They are just, usually, you know--." He gestures, broadly, nearly hitting someone in the back of the head. "--buildings."
Trucking along in Piotr's wake, head and shoulders shorter: Alyssa Carter, with glossy brown hair bound up into twin pigtails and holes in the knees of her jeans. With the Russian running interferance, she doesn't have to watch where she's going. Which is good, because she appears to be terribly interested in her own feet.
The promise of marshmallows and bonfires is more than enough to draw Elliott out of her apartment (though 'days that end in Y' do much the same). She meanders towards the cheerful glow of the fire, taking a somewhat circuitous route so as to avoid the small knots of friends, neighbours, or generally genial people.
It is loud, and it is bright, and it is disorienting. As much as Steve Rogers was advised to interact with the contemporary crowd, he cannot help but feel absolutely alienated as he shoves his hands into his pockets and slowly strides through the crowd; contenting himself with observing the party with an almost child-like curiosity.
Natalie winces slightly, despite the pleasant haze afforded by her recent birthday gift, and urges Bahir, "/Shhhh/! We're not talking about burning buildings. We've had /enough/ burning buildings." There's a moment's silence, and then she offers wistfully, "It's too bad Norah couldn't come." It's a naturally progressing train of thought.
Piotr peers over his shoulder to make sure that the little Alyssa-duckling following in his wake has not been lost to the crowd as they near the epicenter of the celebration. "Are you making it through the crowd back there?" he asks her, chuckling as he finds an opening to linger in for the moment, which is not already occupied with people who are happy not to be smashed by an asteroid.
Jean likes fire. Jean's brain likes sugar. Combine these two and a few volunteers ready with roasting sticks and bags of puffy white Diabetes-inna-bag, and you get Dr. Grey making a quiet inquiry after some, looking quietly sheepish at an exclamation of recognition, and shuffling to get herself a place before a fire more suited to burning than toasting just yet. Studying her target, she is alone, and thus quite approachable. Mingling will happen post-refueling!
"/Shhh/," agrees Bahir, exaggerated in repetition. He squeezes Natalie's arm, tugging her past the weave of a wandering solo drunkard. Piotr, being so tall and manlee, draws the eye; Alyssa, trailing along behind, is a secondary discovery. He lifts his hand, flapping it in her direction. To Natalie, he points and says, "Threesome girl!"
Natalie chokes in a gasp, rather unsubtle, and stares across the distance at Alyssa. "/No/!" she disbelieves. And stares. Openly. Hi Alyssa!
Alyssa is, fortunately, paying attention to her feet still. NO HI TO BAHIR AND NATALIE. (ack.) "Yeah, I'm okay," she answers Piotr, looking up long enough to flash him a warm if wavery smile. When he stops to linger, she goes into orbit around him, invading his personal space with hunched shoulders and hands driven into her pockets.
Piotr is tall and certianly manly enough for Alyssa to orbit about without much of an issue. He has a moon. It is only natural for him to look around, his blue eyes sweeping over the nearby crowd. This makes for meeting Natalie and Bahir's gazes in their direction. It takes a moment, but he recognizes Natalie and his cheeks pinken before he looks down to Alyssa once again.
Mark walks along slowly, moving closer to the people who, like him, are drawn to the fire. He also takes note of Piotr, and Alyssa, though doesn't pay much attention to either. His focus eventually settles on Natalie, and her arm candy, but doesn't linger long on either. "This music sucks," he observes. "Then again, it has a nice edge to it," he concludes, mostly under his breath.
Wandering aimlessly, some would say haphazardly, through the crowd, Steve finds himself walled off by a rude young man who saw fit to dye his hair green and pierce things. Many things. Steve frowns mildly despite himself and turns to the nearest fire, pulling his hands out to warm them as he glances towards the woman roasting marshmallows he seemed to stumble beside. "Say, that looks like a pretty good idea." He remarks warmly, rubbing his hands together and glancing towards Jean with a polite nod.
Alas for Alyssa, Bahir continues to wave in her direction. When she fails to notice, this obviously means he has to wave bigger, harder, and louder: "Alyssa! Hey! You! With big, tall and -- big." His wit is astonishing. He tugs Natalie along, putt-putting over toward the other pair.
"I admit I'm a fan," agrees Jean, looking over at Steve and looking Steve over in the same dual-purpose glance. (She's talented, y'know.) Telepathy is veiled in a crowd of this size and ebullience, but even so, there's a brief flicker of thought that sweeps over him as he stumbles into her range, automatic checkpoint raised almost without notice. "Of course," she admits with a gesture of her roasting stick, "It will take a couple hours for something this size to get down to proper coals."
Natalie is tugged, and follow she does, like a little caboose to Bahir's train. "Whoa, hey!" she objects. "Slower! My balance--" Is not the best. For no particular reason, mind. Just the crowd!
Elliott eventually gets within marshmallow-acquiring distance. This, judging by her sunny smile as she snags both skewer and toxic-sugar-shock-inducing treat is a Very Good Thing. She finds herself a spot near enough the flames to roast (or char, perhaps) the candy before turning her attention towards peering over the crowd. It is curiousity more than hope of spying anyone familiar. It is a /big/ city and a /big/ crowd.
Alyssa makes some sort of ack-ack-ack noise as she catches her name over the rumble of the crowd, hunching into the toweringly protective presence that is Piotr for a moment before turning, patently fake I'm-okay-really smile on her face for whoever she is being greeted by. Spotting Bahir, however, has her expression shifting into one of genuine pleasure, and she pulls one hand out of its pocket to wave back. "Bahir," she greets back, grinning. Fortunately, she still does not know how she was identified. lala.
"Alyssa." Bahir said that already. His tugging and yanking comes to an abrupt halt as heels click with placement. He is a trifle more sure on his feet than Natalie, and stands ready to support her, arm crooked! After a moment, he adds, "Hi," as if only recalling to do so.
A pearly smile flares with Steve's laughter as he nods along with Jean. "They're best when they're way too burned on the outside..." He starts, trailing off as he glances about with concern and a dire frown. "...there isn't a chocolate bar or graham cracker in sight. That's just criminal." He says with a quick shake of his head, squinting a little more thoughtfully at the woman's face. Familiar.
Piotr settles his hands into his pockets as Bahir and Natalie approach, a gentle smile lingering on his face as he watches Alyssa greet them. "Friends of yours, I am assuming?" he asks with a warm chuckle. There is maybe a lot of waving going on to give it away.
Natalie comes to a halt with a bit of a stumble and a broad grin that lights up her face. She slides her arm not through Bahir's, but around his waist, leaning happily. "Hi!" she greets chipperly. "You're the threesome girl - what's your name again?" Nevermind that Bahir just said it. A brief glance flickers up to Piotr, momentarily appreciative, and she flashes him a smile as well. "He is!" she shares. "Not me." And then back to Alyssa, "Hi!"
Mark follows the marshmellow crowd, hands tucked into his pockets, before he makes use of a stick and the fluffy little soon-to-be cremated sugar puff, which is promptly stuffed onto the end of the stick. Moments after he moves to the fire. "Doctor Grey," he says calmly to Jean while tapping the stick, marshmellow attached, to his shoulder. He also looks over Elliott and Steve, but only briefly.
Jean is familiar indeed, with the mingling of weary triumph and private grief of the news footage still shading the corners of her eyes. She is just that little bit restrained in her smile to Steve, if no less friendly because of it. "I suppose they were worried about riots if they ran out," she offers, mock-solemn. "I know how -I- can get if I'm promised chocolate and then denied it... oh, hullo there, Mark," she greets, with moment's surprise. "I didn't figure bonfires for your style."
Alyssa's face falls rather comically. "Yeah," she breathes out, her hand dropping back into her pocket and her shoulders hunching again. She twists to look up at Piotr, not back at Bahir and Natalie, her expression still stricken. "They are," she trips over, "he is, at least--" turning back to look at the (HIGH AND MEAN) pair, she looks near about to cry. Or bolt. Or something else equally undignified. "Alyssa," she finally repeats for the third time tonight.
The fall of Alyssa's expression prompts dismay from Bahir: he reaches out to touch her lightly on the arm, all /concerned/. What could possibly be wrong! "Hey, you okay?" he asks, and then gives Piotr a suspicious look. "Is he being mean?"
Even a year and some months removed, Piotr is good with faces. With an awkward chuckle and a light blush remaining upon his cheeks, he raises a hand in greeting, "Hello, ah - Natalie, was it?" He also extends a nod toward Bahir, as well. His look toward Alyssa finds her expression and concern immediately materalizes on his face. Bahir's question kind of catches him off-guard. Poor Piotr has no idea how to respond to that, other than looking lost.
Marshmallow, marshmallow marsh...oh, hey! Elliott does recognize someone! She lifts a hand to wave cheerfully in Jean's direction before turning her attention back to the all-important task of marshmallow roasting. She settles her bit of candy near the flames, letting it turn a slow and remarkably even golden-brown.
"Me, I'm Natalie," Natalie approves, just before catching Alyssa's stricken expression, and she turns to look at Bahir with wide eyes. "Does she usually do this?" she hisses a touch loud before turning back to Alyssa to offer another "Hi!", this one excessively chipper.
Doctor Grey. Steve feels like an idiot as he looks towards Elliott then Mark, before his lips part into a genuine, proud smile and he extends a hand for a genuine congratulatory shake. "Doctor Jean Grey? You and your friends are true heroes. Please, we can't thank you all enough." He asks with excitement. After all, it isn't every day Steve gets to meet someone who saves his life.
"/Threesome girl/," is, perhaps, excessively loud given the situation. "She called me-- you /told/ he-- IT WAS A MISTAKE OKAY IT TOTALLY WASN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN IT WAS A REALLY BAD IDEA." Aly is getting progressively louder, because hey. Why not have a meltdown in the middle of a party. She doesn't shake off Bahir's arm, but does turn back to Piotr, expression vaguely desperate, vaguely petulant. "Piotr," she adresses, "I want to go /home/, this party /sucks/."
"The glorious upcoming book readings or whatever will just have to wait, I suppose," Mark says, dipping his little albino candy-mush into the fire. It instantly catches on fire, at which point Mark pulls out a cigarette, using the candy thing to light it, and bows out the flame on the end of his stick. "Yes, cheers to the saviors of Earth," he salutes happily afterwards. Then, looking down, he contemplates how to eat the 'mellow.
"Shhhhhh." Hiss matched with hiss, Bahir then breaks off as Alyssa bursts into rapid and then loud speech. He blinks.
"Oooh," Natalie says, quite close to Alyssa on Bahir's other side, with her arm still tucked around her waist. She peers around the massive form of this particular brother al Razi to blink solemnly at the girl. "Wow," she thinks to add, and then, confidentially to Bahir, "Gosh. She's a little--" A lift and wave of her free hand indicates what Alyssa is, silently.
"Er," says Jean, and looks at the offered hand, and then at her own hands, filled with marshmallow accoutrements. "Um," she says further, as Mark joins in, a faintly embarassed pink deepening the fire-raised flush already touching her face. "Well, I was glad to be able to be a part of this. It was an honour, and a--" Cue Alyssa shouting, and Jean's head whipping around to track the sound. As it returns, there is a visible wince. (There is also a belated wave to Elliott, beckoning over another example of familiar face.)
Piotr's frown is really a prodigious thing in this situation. He offers a hand out toward Alyssa as she gets quite clearly upset. "If you want to go home, I will take you home," he announces. He looks between Bahir and Natalie, his disapproval of the pair of them soaring along with the protective vibe over Aly.
Bahir looks up, up at Piotr, matching frown with a puzzled expression. "I'm not ... sure...." He trails off, falling into silence, and then reaches up to scratch a hand through his hair, ruffling tousled waves. "Huh. Uh. Uhm. Nice seeing you, Alyssa."
Alyssa flails a hand at Bahir, and then buries her face against Piotr. If she stands still enough, and doesn't look, maybe it will ALL GO AWAY. She also says something, but it is TERRIBLY MUFFLED by Piotr's manlee chest. Abdomen. Uh, wherever Aly's head comes up to. Possibly it is something about pie.
"Er," Natalie says, and blinks first at Alyssa, then at Bahir. Thankfully, she still has enough self control not to say something that might /really/ make the situation bad ('I see why she caused so much trouble', for example), and instead she tugs on Bahir's waist a little. "Maybe we should--"
Elliott blinks in the direction of the shouting. Huh. She catches Jean's beckoning wave out of the corner of her eye, and turns to skirt around the fire to say hello in person. There is a faint look of apprehension in her eyes. Hallmark does not make a card for 'Congratulations on saving the world, and I'm sorry about your loss.' Unkind of Hallmark, really.
With Aly pressing up against him, Piotr does the easiest thing that he can do to end the meltdown and confrontation. He turns his broad back to Bahir and Natalie, effectively cutting them off from the smaller figure trying to use him for cover. "Come on, Alyssa. We can leave."
"Wh-" Steve saves Jean any possible trouble of figuring how to shake his hand. Well. Alyssa does. His head whips towards the growing scene with everybody else, immediately walking in that direction. "Excuse me, Doctor Grey..." He murmurs under his breath as he snakes towards the very, very large Russian and other, smaller people.
Bahir stares after Piotr blankly, as if attempting to stare through him toward Alyssa. "Did she say something about pie? Do you think it is PMS?"
Mark surveys the little /mallow/ for a few seconds, then just flicks its gooey hide into the fire. He puffs out a plume of smoke, pointedly not looking towards Aly, Piotr, Bahir, and Natalie. As Steve moves off, Mark focuses on Jean. "Ever notice how the things we enjoy always seem to take precedence over what's being offered?"
Alyssa curls her hands into Piotr's shirt, and nods mutely against him. Yes, please. She doesn't start moving yet, however.
Jean spares a last look for Aly, or perhaps for Piotr, for her expression goes vage, and a somewhat-pleading little murmur of << Please look after her? >> whispers itself to the big Russian's mind before she returns her attention to Mark with a terribly mannerly "Er... what?" and a blink, as her mind whirls and roils, recovering itself from the overspill of surrounding thoughts that the brief mental aside gifted her. An apology comes a moment later, in the form of "I'm sorry... I was a bit distracted for a moment... Elliott!" Greeting! Greeting is good. "Elliott, I'd like to introduce you to one of my employees at Gradient. Mark, this is Marieta Elliott."
Natalie rocks back on her heels slightly, turning her face up to Bahir in clear bafflement. "I have absolutely no idea," she intones seriously, and then adds, "But I kinda see--"
"ShhhHHHHHhhhhh." Finger to his lips, Bahir makes a frantic suppressing gesture at Natalie. A clumsy thread of telepathy pokes in Alyssa's direction; lacking Bahir's usual crispness, mental shoelaces drag as his mind scuffs after hers, tinged with baffled, sheepish concern. << Alyssa? Are you okay? >> It can't possibly be anything they did! "Maybe we should just go poke at the fire with sticks."
"'Evening, Dr. Grey," Elliott chirps, once she has come into chirping range. "Looks like half the city's turned out..." She manages to only sound a /little/ awkward. A brief shuffling of marshmallow-related-accessories frees one small, scarred hand, and she offers it in Mark's direction. "Hi there. It's nice to meet you."
Piotr nudges at Alyssa gently, the towering Russian being very delicate in trying to herd her away from Natalie and Bahir. << I am trying. I have no idea what these people have against her, >> he returns toward Jean, though with a clumsy telepath nearby, his directed thoughts might be catching. "Come on, Alyssa. We can find somewhere to celebrate without... such people." His disapproval is not exactly subtle, even if it is worded gently.
Aly's mind is bright, too-bright against the scuff of Bahir's mental touch; what she projects is a shaky, over-intense << I'm fine, really, I'm sorry, I just can't deal with this-- >> while underneath the pervading, overriding thought is a tight-looped spiral of << jubileeisdeadjubileeisdeadjubileeisdead >> BUT THE WORLD IS SAVED SO IT IS REALLY (still not) OKAY. Even while she's thinking at Bahir, she's nodding to Piotr, finally finding her voice with a nearly too-soft, "Please," followed by "I'm sorry--"
Mark turns and smiles somewhat towards Elliott. "'Evening, nice to meet you too," he replies, giving her hand one gentle shake. Afterwards he blows some smoke out of the way, adjusts his stick so that it isn't in his way, and lets the two friends talk while inhaling another drag.
Lacking the mental discipline to compose appropriate words, Bahir releases a puff of empathy in light wash over Alyssa's mind, conveying sympathy quit fine on its own. With the mental equivalent of a rubbed pat on the shoulder, he says to Natalie in an unquiet low voice, "I think her friend died. Or else a pet. Jubilee was that one who--?" His thumb jerks up.
"Elliott's done some activist work before," Jean supplies, idly removing her marshmallow from where it's caught fire, and blowing the flames out. "Given what we were talking about earlier, Mark, she could be a good person to compare notes with, if you ever decide to share some of those ideas you mentioned to... me?" There is a somewhat weak finish from Jean, as the Alyssa-broadcast smacks into a mind still sensitized from the emptiness of space. Jean wavers slightly on her feet.
"Oh," Natalie breathes, abruptly stricken as she stares after Alyssa and Piotr, and leans just a touch more heavily into Bahir. "/Oh/."
Elliott notes Jean's wavering, a slight frown of concern displacing her sunny smile. "...Are you okay?" she asks, peering up at the good doctor.
Piotr begins working on leading Alyssa away from the party, being the knight in (not literally right now) shining armor. His concern for his friend is overriding pretty much everything else as he tries to corral her away from the people working so hard at upsetting her. The big Russian is impressively unhappy.
"Oh." P, Q, R, S, T, "You know. I don't know. Fire?" asks Bahir, leaning toward Natalie in turn and sort of shoving their duet around to face the flames once again.
"I was about to ask the same thing," Mark says calmly, releasing another puff. "You should probably sit down." Before badgering Elliott with questions, he moves off to an empty chair, grabs it, and sets it down for Jean. "There you go," he says simply.
What the hell was that? Steve quietly watches the scene from the crowd, deciding the outburst is tapering off on its own well enough that shoving his nose in at this point would cause more harm than good. As he shoves his way back towards the flame, as politely as he can manage, he finally caves and grabs a skewer and a few marshmallows, loading the stick up and holding it out over the flickering fire enthusiastically. "Are you all right, Miss Grey?"
Shoved Natalie is, turned and spun and facing the group nearer the fire, and then her eyes widen abruptly as her gaze settles on Mark, and she sidesteps backwards to half-hide behind Bahir. "/No/," she hisses. "No fire. Let's go-- the other way."
It's a testament to the spin of Jean's head that she actually sits down without begging off, one hand lifting to rub at her temple, as its cargo of marshmallows has slipped and hit the ground at some earlier, forgotten point. Poor marshmallows. "Thank you," she murmurs, then repeats it loud enough to actually carry to Elliott and Mark over the sounds of the bonfire and the music and the crowds. "I'm just... not used to New York any more. Space is much more quiet."
Alyssa is not hard to corral; she allows herself to be herded away, away from Bahir and Natalie, away from the fire, away from the crowd. Rather than just following along in Piotr's wake, this time, she still has one hand wrapped in his shirt, and nearly stumbles over herself as she tries her hardest to stay as close to him as possible. (If she were actually able to crawl inside his skin at this point, she likely would. CREEPY.)
"I'll bet," Elliott murmurs, as sympathetic as one who has absolutely nothing even approaching telepathic awareness can be. "Can we get you anything?" Proximity draws her attention toward Steve, and she flashes a quick, friendly smile. It is instinct - there is a person, time to be pleasant.
Mark continues to puff out smoke, but eventually decides the flick the remainder into the leaping flames. "Try eating your marshmallow," he offers simply. "Not the best thing for you, but it might help." Looking back over at Steve, then Elliott, he watches them both quietly afterward.
Polite is good. Polite is uncommon. Steve returns Elliott's kindness with a smile of his own, studying the woman before glancing back towards Jean and Mark then finally to his mallows; suddenly feeling very much as if he's prying. In all politeness, he reaches forward and picks the blackened skin off of one as if it were a ripe scab and gives them some privacy in this already invasive environment. "I still can't believe we've been in space." He says thoughtfully to himself, shaking his head as he tosses the husk in his mouth and chews it down.
"Actually quite a good thing," Jean explains, with a sigh and a look at the blackened horror that is her marshmallow. "Although I think this is the sort of marshmallow that appeals more to my son. But it's Telepathy 101 that glucose often helps with the worst of a psi-headache... and here I am nattering on about it to you two -and- a complete stranger," she decides, putting off her date with blackened marshmallow just a little longer by nodding to Steve. "I know you caught my name, but I think you've got the advantage of me, sir."
"The other way?" Bahir looks back over his shoulder, the 'other way' being, you know, away: away from people, away from marshmallows, away from -- "Hey, I think that guy over there is selling Popsicles!" And look how close the path to him is to Jean's little knot, Mark included. Bahir starts that way, pulling his tugboat along.
"I think I have some Werthers candies in my bag," Elliott offers, peering pityingly at Jean's poor, blackened marshmallow. Whether the pity's for the marshmallow or the woman is not entirely clear. Perhaps it is both! "If those'd help."
Natalie is tugged, toot-tooting behind her companion, but she moans as she goes, "Noooo, the /other/ other way!"
Should Bahir tugboat still closer, there are waves of telepathic ow-ow-goddamnit-ow that are rising from one Jean Grey like heat from a summer sidewalk. Or bonfire. Mixed in with them is the vague and highly-Grey concern about how to mingle getting the hell away from the City with not being -rude-. "They probably would, actually," she notes to Elliott, before eyeing the other woman's perfectly golden marshmallows with mild, pained, envy.
"I can't even -imagine- what that must be like." Steve says, licking at his fingertips thoughtfully as he really does attempt to imagine what reading a mind must be like. Uncomfortable, likely. "Steve Rogers. Really sorry about not saying that sooner." He answers with a sheepish smile as his eyes drift towards the candy. "If they have any pop around here I could get you one of those."
"I want a Popsicle," Bahir says obnoxiously, drawing Natalie on. As they near, telepathy responds to the familiarity of Jean's mind with an overloud and overbright mental wave. Hi, hi, hi!
"Noooo," Natalie hisses, drawing the word out as she ducks her head around Bahir's shoulder to peer at the group once more. Confirmation. Mark. /Excellent/.
After a brief bit of rummaging, Elliott unearths a crinkling, half-full bag of candies, which she offers promptly in Jean's direction. "Help yourself." She notes the envious eyeing of her own suspiciously-uncharred marshmallows, and flashes a quick, chagrined smile. One shoulder hitches in a faint shrug. Yes, she may have cheated a bit.
Mark watches Jean and the gathering with increasing boredom, and so he turns. Upon turning, he peers over the queer figure trying to hide behind Bahir, who he probably recognizes easily. What with her trademark glasses and hair. "What the hell are you doing?" he asks Natalie, his expression somewhat amused, and still somewhat bored.
OW! says Jean's mind to Bahir's. OW. GRR. SNARL. OW-- << Are you high? >> Jean groans audibly, glowers over in the vague direction of where Bahir's brain seems to be coming from and offers her hovering attendants a wan look. "Thanks," is offered to both. "And mostly my experience with mind reading is that I'd rather not. So I don't. But there's... spill. Like overhearing snippets of talk at a party."
"/What/?" Bahir says at Natalie, turning to walk the last few steps backwards until that leads quickly to stumbling and he has to grab Natalie to stay upright. Jean's response prompts a guilty freeze of his thoughts. Uhm, uhm. It is very hard to lie mind-to-mind, so he says, instead, with an ill-controlled strength and volume, << Hi. >>
Natalie sways (crashes?) into Bahir and windmills her free arm a bit before catching at his opposite shoulder. They cling, they balance, and then Natalie turns just slightly to send a stricken and guilty look toward Mark. She forces a smile, wavery, and says, "Hi." And then, "Hey, Doctor Grey."
"Why not live somewhere less crowded than New York? Nebraska's nice." Steve suggests, scrunching his brow together with confusion as Bahir and Natalie stumble towards them. Drunk? Probably. What else could it possibly be?
Elliott peers bemusedly at the two stumbling, wavering people, then glances warily at the big fire near at hand. Please do not be a disaster in the making, Mr. Bonfire? Pretty please? She maintains quiet, picking a marshmallow off of her skewer to nibble at.
"'Evening," Mark replies, after Natalie stumbles around and catches her feet. Afterwards he shoots an aloof expression her way, adding, "Marshmallow?" He prepares to load another onto his stick.
Jean gives one last envious look at Elliott's perfected marshmallows, before eating her own, grimacing, and then opting for one of the donated Wethers' instead. There's another wince, unexplained to non-psychic passerby, at Bahir's greeting. Studious candy-sucking ensues, along with a few meditative exercises, and Jean's mind slowly centers itself. Bahir might note the aiding effect of something unsettling and familiar putting a mental thumb on the scales. But then he might -also- note the half-flippant, half-resigned query of << So. Got any left? >> before Dr. Grey turns to spoken word again, and a small smile for Steve. "New York is where I'm needed... and could I beg some of your marshmallow skills, Elliott?"
Bahir answers Jean's silent question in likewise silent fashion: the jerk of his thumb toward Natalie at the level of his waist, coupled with a twinged smile. Unease shivers over thinned shields at scale balancing, and he sobers at the memory of /other/ places that same touch has been -- but sobering unease is at least preferable to a spiral down toward paranoia, right? He clears his throat. "Uh." He has completely lost track of all conversation.
"Sure," Elliott agrees cheerily to Jean's request. She slides two more marshmallows onto the skewer and turns back to the fire, though only mostly, still maintaining some attention on the conversations going on around her. "Are you from Nebraska, then?" she asks of Steve, all mild curiousity. It /could/ have been picked out of a hat, after all.
Natalie has as well, and she glances down at Bahir's jerking thumb with a frown before looking over to Mark and his offer. "Er," she answers. "No. Thanks."
A sound of small scampering feet turns Jean into one of those horrible people who request marshmallows, and then -leave others to eat them-, the nerve! Nate Grey-Summers has appeared on the far edge of the fire, with Scott a watchful distance behind. Jean, in a remarkable display of focus and composure for someone so recently woozy, makes a few quiet little nods, and then takes her leave of the chair. A small boy requires instruction in the art of marshmallow roasting.
"No?" Bahir's attention jerks back to Natalie sharply as he straightens with a blink. He looks between her and Mark and then looks back to Natalie again. "No, what?"
"Brooklyn." Steve replies with a smile, looking towards Elliott with a resigned shrug. "I always heard it was relaxing compared to city life." It was out of a hat. He opens his mouth to ask something, but is immediately interrupted by a loud ringing from his pocket that startles him into staring at it angrily for a moment. He is an old man with a cell phone. "How do you-" He complains in a low voice before figuring out how to answer with a handful of 'Yes, Sir' and a some 'No, sir' for variety. "Seems I have to go. I hope you all enjoy the rest of the party." He says with a smile before setting his skewer aside and wandering away.
Mark dunks his marshmallow into the flames and lets them lick and crust up his treat. A few seconds later he takes it out of the fire and says, "You sure? This one's on me," and offers it partially to Natalie. Mmm. Gooey and a bit crispy.
"Mark," Natalie mutters in explanation to Bahir. Or Bahir's shoulder, maybe. She's kind of clingy, really. She narrows her eyes at Mark, glasses glinting in the firelight, and adds, "No. Thank you." Nevermind the serious urge to munch.
"Take care," says Elliott in parting, flashing another friendly smile. She remains long enough to finish her marshmallows before meandering to another spot around the fire, leaving the peculiarly-disjointed chatters to their...peculiarly disjointed chatter.
Mark smiles politely and tilts the stick back over his way. "Suit yourself," he replies. A second later he exagerates a glorious first bite, and then a second, with peels the rest of the ooey-gooey off and turns to leave. He walks away calmly, and tosses his stick into the fire.
Bahir looks around the suddenly quieter area and then yanks on Natalie's elbow with a return to earlier goal: "Popsicles?"
"Yes please," Natalie answers in a rush, and heads off after Bahir. Toot toot!