(no subject)
It's a Monday evening. The small television is blaring, there's a half-eaten pizza at his side, and Pyro is conked out on the couch, oblivious to the happenings whatever show has come on since he dozed off.
The slender brunette woman who appears at Pyro's door is young - mid twenties at most - and unconcerned with such things as locks. She lets herself into the apartment in silence and latches the door behind her before turning to face the living room proper. There's a moment of further silence, blinking, as she considers the lounging form of Pyro with a growing frown.
Well, it's likely to continue to grow, as Pyro sleeps on, be it the television masking any noise or the deepness of slumber. There's no snoring, despite the uncomfortable sprawl, but there are scattered murmured words, indistinguishable.
"Pyro." The single word is snapped sharply as Mystique strides across the room to flip the television off.
That gets his attention, and Pyro's eyes shoot open, taking a moment to focus on the other occupant. "Who are you?" he asks, hand slowly snaking behind his back for his jacket pocket, hanging over the back of the couch.
"Do not make me hurt you." Mystique doesn't bother to halt his rearch for his pocket, although she watches him with clear irritation before she shifts fluidly back to familiar blue.
Pyro relaxes at that, his hand returning to the front, lighter tossed onto the coffee table in front of them. "I know, I know. Anyone else, and I'd be dead. Can't believe I didn't hear anything."
Mystique's eyes narrow on Pyro in slow study. "Are you ill?"
"Of course not," Pyro protests immediately. "I'm just tired. Really tired," he adds a moment later.
"You requested I visit," Mystique reminds with a judgemental arch of red brows. She remains hovering over Pyro, natural height made more obvious by her looming.
"I did?" Pyro asks, scrubbing at his eyes with a fist. A moment's thought, and it is recalled. "Oh. That. Cain has this guy. Thinks he might be someone checking out. Our side. Figured I'd check up on him, then test him out a bit. Seemed...more important when I left the message."
Mystique drops swiftly to rest on the edge of an armchair. "Do you think you might be bothered to speak in complete sentences?" she requests.
Pyro's gaze travels with her as she takes a seat. "I'm...sorry." He leans his head back against the couch a moment, before looking back to her. "Cain knows this guy he thinks should join us. He didn't want to mention it to you or M..Magneto unless he checked out." He pauses a moment, then back to the conversation. "I can check him out, see if he could cut it. Let you know what I think. If that's not stepping over the line."
Mystique's gaze narrows weighingly on Pyro, and she's silent for a long moment.
"Sorry, it seemed...more important when I called," Pyro apologizes again, rubbing a knuckle at the spot between his eyebrows.
"Are you ill?" Mystique questions again, gaze hard and intent on Pyro.
Pyro hesitates, then finally drops his head back on the couch again. "Maybe a little."
Irritation marks the tones of Mystique's voice. "In the future, kindly refrain from lying to me when I ask a question."
"It's just a little bug," Pyro says, sounding much more tired now that he's not trying to pretend. "Be fine in a day or so."
"Of course. In the meantime, give me the information for this boy you have marked?"
"His name is..." Pyro trails off, looking up at the ceiling again. "Sam? Brand? I have a phone number. It's...on the refrigerator. I think." On closer examination, though, the only phone number the refrigerator will reveal is said pizza delivery.
"I see. Well. If you would like to feel him out, then you may. Have you taken any medication?"
"Medication?" Pyro repeats. He thinks a moment. "No, nothing like that. Just...sleeping."
"No medication." There is an excess of exagerated patience in the sound of Mystique's voice.
"Didn't you just ask that?" Pyro squints at her.
Mystique rises, exasperation clear in the jerk of her stand upward. "Sleep. I will bring you some medication. And in the future, please /avoid/ illness."
Pyro nods, letting his eyes close as he leans back. "Can you get the kind that tastes like bubble gum?" he mumbles. "I had that once when I was a kid."
Mystique stares down at Pyro for a long, silent moment. Eventually there is some slightl softening of her expression, although her voice remains tight as she allows, "We will see."
Pyro murmers something like thanks, but it's clear he's already falling back into the sleep that he was before her arrival.
=BH= Pyro's Room - Recruit Dorms - Abandoned Mining Facility
Sunday. January 21. A day before the deadline, even, and Pyro's found himself back at the Brotherhood compound, and that, only by the graces of fellow recruit willing to drive while Pyro slept. And slept some more, after trudging his way to his room and collapsing there for another 12 hours, bringing a mind working its way back to consciousness mid afternoon.
Working it's way back to consciousness too slowly, if the pounding on his door is any indication. Masia beats the door for the third time, then steps back and blows her bangs out of her eyes in exasperation before stepping close again to try the door. It opens, and she groans at herself. "Yo. Burn boy. You better be dead or gone in there..." She swings the door in and steps inside.
Pyro manages to sit upright on the bed, and lucid eyes finally find The Interrupter of Sleep. "Can't be dead. No dead body has any right to feel like this," he says, his voice raspy from disuse.
Masia startles and jumps to face him. "/Fuck/. You sc-- Hey... you look like crap," she says cheerfully, sauntering closer to him. "What's the matter, Barbecue? You get the sniffles on one of your stake outs?"
"More like the bloody bubonic plague," Pyro says, attempting a chuckle that earns him a fit of coughing. He grabs a pillow, propping it between him and the wall. He gives the room a once over. "Barely remember getting here. How long have I...come to think of it, what's today?"
Masia hits the edge of the bed and leans over to slap a hand on his forehead. "Sunday. 20 something, I think. Hnh. You got a fever, feels like. How long you been sick?"
"Sunday? Dayaam," Pyro says, drawing the word out. "Dunno. Last thing I remember was...Monday, I think. Lost a whole bloody week. You know, I think Mystique came by at some point. Then again, there was an elephant at one point too." He touches the back of his hand to his forehead, then the back of his neck. "I think I /did/ but that feels warmer. No chills at least."
Masia eyes him suspiciously and straightens, folding her arms in front of her. "Un-huh. Let me guess. He was pink? Maybe had a tutu on? Was there a chorus line of them?"
"No, just put a big hole in my wall," Pyro shrugs, too wiped out to care if she believes him or not. "Man, I am starving."
Masia looks around at the walls. "Um. Ok." With a visible shake of her head to clear it of the images of wrecking ball tutu'd pink elephants, she looks down at him and almost smirks. "No way you're getting to the kitchen, though I'd like to see you try. It's be fun to stand and laugh at you doing an inch-worm impression."
"Shows how little you know," Pyro shoots back, tossing the blanket aside. Sleeping fully clothed. A sure sign of fevered state. He slides off the bed, stopping as the room begins to spin. It will clear, it will clear. When it doesn't, he collapses back to sit on the edge.
"You missed the floor," she points out, ever so helpfully.
"Oh, shuddup."
Masia smiles and shrugs and moves for the door.
"You don't have to go," Pyro interrupts. "Just...don't talk."
She stops and turns around, eyebrows raised high, and the smirk firmly in place.
"Man, here I almost /died/ and /still/ no sympathy."
Masia shifts her weight to one hip.
"So did you come over /just/ to make fun of the sick guy, then?" Pyro asks, sliding back to the wall and letting it support his weight.
Masia grins and nods.
"I can burn you from here," Pyro warns, leaning to the end of the bed to grab the jacket thrown carelessly over a chair.
Masia purses her lips and rolls her eyes before settling into a challenging expression.
Pyro scoops the lighter from the pocket, wielding it threateningly for a moment, before crawling back up the bed to flop across it.
Masia snorts and turns to go.
"So you really did wake me up from a nice sleep just for the hell of it," Pyro's response is muffled by the pillow, but still deceipherable.
"I don't know. I forgot why I came to see you," she says over her shoulder as she pass through the doorway and leans back to grab the handle, one bright brown eye peering back at him curiously.
"Least I have an excuse for forgetting the past week," Pyro says, rolling over to his side with a half-grin. "And I remember the past 10 minutes perfectly well."
"Then I hope you remember this long enough to get to the showers, 'cause you sure haven't remembered during the past week. You stink," she informs him quite blithely, scrunching her nose up in a face before pulling the door shut behind her.
Ok, so in about ten minutes or so, a sandwich appears.