9/9/06 - Xavier party
<< Rogue, it's a -party-. First of the month's not for another 3 weeks anyways. >> Landladies are even more terrifying when telepathic? Jean's mental tone is bracing and cheerful, however, and then it is gone, replaced by Jean herself, now in conversational range of Jubilee, at least. "Oh?" says she, one eyebrow Spocking, unseen, behind her mask of Dread Piratehood. "Which one? Is the 400 pound man on the 10th floor still watching porn around the clock?"
Cassy doesn't give Nisa a funny look, that is reserved solely for Walter. Who gets a raised eyebrow. "Uhm, Just what kinda weird things does he make you talk about Nisa hon?" Then with a wave towards Bobby she shouts "Glad you could make it!"
Late arrival. Into the noise and the party comes a new figure, out of place among children and the clean cut of faculty. Tie loosened around the open collar, dark grey suit jacket opened over a pale blue shirt, Det. Chris Rossi ambles out onto the patio with hands in pockets, black hair tousled from the touch of an earlier breeze. Pale eyes flick their glance around the group, lighting with recognition on a few faces before he pauses to reconsider.
After some consideration and flipping, Honor selects a CD and slips it in. She uses the knob to do most of the volume, and then adjust the individual parts herself so that the fast beat is clear but the melody line still remains. "So are you going to do the speech at any point?" she asks Mira. "I already did my bit."
Carefully, Jackson pulls the page he's been working on from his sketchpad, and crosses to Cassy, extending the picture to her. "Happy birthday -- this will have to do until we get you all prepared and knowledgeable about piercings." On the page he offers her, the partygoers all interact, each rendered, cartoon-like, as versions of the characters they chose to impersonate. The dread princess Villeneuve, of course, is presiding over the scene, holding court in a stately-looking ballroom.
<< ... >> Jubilee's nose wrinkles, and her hand clamps like a vise around Rogue's arm. "Ew. No... This one is... Er. I don't think I ever got his name. But he knew you. Number 1200. I met him in the elevator cause Rogue sleeps like the dead."
Walter gets up, and wanders over towards Cassy, inspecting the gift that he 'suggested' to Nisa. His face looses it's color as his jaw drops. Panic accompanies his stammering, "I-I-She didn't-- /Not/ my idea!" he cries, blushing horribly.
Bobby places the box down next to Cassy, standing up to it's tallest height so that he can steady it with his finger tips. Lacking in paper as it is, it's easily identified as one of those shooting range things- cans and all. "Wouldn't have missed it," he assures her brightly, "So Happy Birthday!" He looks funny with a mask; his grin is still decidedly Bobby-ish, however.
"Maybe if I run into the six-fingered man," Mira replies with a smile. She leans against the table with the stereo on it, completely secure in the knowledge that at least she and Honor could have a normal conversation despite loud music. It's an audiokinetic thing. "So, what'd you get for Cassy?"
Rogue bites on her bottom lip, avoid eye contact with Jean or Jubilee as she's stopped short by the grip. "Ah do /not/, it's just--" No time to finish. Soon Rogue is right up against Jubilee, nudging her almost violently. "Look! /Look/!" She insists, leaning around just slightly with wide eyes right on Rossi. Her free hand zips up, pressing into her temple as a very Rossi-like voice echoes in her mind. "Crap, who invited /him/?"
Bouncing with delight Cassy uses telekinesis to unwrap the shooting range, while her hands accept the delightful picture and start to work on Piotrs gift. "Awh thanks!" Then, with a gleeful wave at Rossi she adds "Come join the party, there is cake and stuff."
"1200... 1200... oh," says Jean, in a tone of voice that's more guarded than thrilled. "That would be Percy Talhurst. I think he could be a good man, if he tried--" But, faced with a suddenly-jittery Rogue, the Dread Pirate Grey's head whips around, alert for any danger and finding instead "Detective Rossi? What's wrong with him showing up?"
"Happy Birthday Cassy," Nisa says with a grin and walks back to her plate of food between Walter and Jackson, munching quietly in the corner.
Blame Cassy. Rossi's shoulders, already stiff from discomfort, tighten further at the greeting. His chin lifts in salutation -- Brooklyn's mute 'yo!' -- as he stirs into movement to strike a path towards the birthday girl. "Christ," he jags, baritone thinned through amusement and chagrin. "What're you hopped up on, kid? Happy Birthday, Cassy."
"Who? Oh. It's Gimpy. Hi!" Jubilee waves brightly, ducking around Rogue and giving a grin that looks just a little bit creepy on the face of Miracle Max's wife. "Rogue doesn't like him cause she got some pretty messed up mental pictures off him one time," Jubilee explains as an aside to Jean.
Honor pulls out the previously repocketed present. "Just jewelry." She opens the box, displaying a earrings and necklace set of black beads and silver-colored metal. Not tacky, but hardly expensive either. "I'm not sure now though. You think I should pretend to have forgotten it and find something better?" Her eyes stray to Rossi. "Who is he?" she asks Mira.
Jackson looks down, lips quirking in amusement, at the magazine subscription that is the cause of Walter's embarassment. His attention is distracted by Rogue's comment, Rossi's entrance. He nods at the detective, smiling a hello. "You don't have a costume," he points out, grinning.
Piotr adds his own "Happy birthday," to the chorus, before settling back to watch the party, a cheerful smile on his face in place of his usual sternness. There is plenty to smile about.
"Don't!" Rogue hisses, hiking up her arms as she twists to watch where Jubilee is ducking to. She aims a helpless look to Jean. "He's not fun to have in mah head." Rogue mutters as she attempts to clamp her arms around Jubilee. "Cut it out! Don't go where Ah can't see you. Don't trust you s'far as Ah can throw yah."
That done with, Bobby actually looks about the party, those gathered and the food available. "Pete," he greets one of the few not already engaged in conversation with a mirrored smile.
"You've had Logan in there," Jean points out in a wry murmur and doesn't mention Magneto. "How much worse can a homicide detective be?" Humourlessly, she smiles, crooked and thin, before squeezing Rogue's shoulder lightly and allowing that "I'm going to head over and say 'hi'. Some time, when you're comfortable, try getting to know the man for more than his memories. He's almost dating Storm, after all." That suggestion made, gentle and soft, Jean melts back into the crowd. Or tries to. Over by Pest's cage, the three year old Vizzini is busy trying to coax a reluctant ROUS into eating a carrot stick.
Walter reaches for his own gift. It's a gift certificate to Chaotic Alignment Comics, in the amount of 40 dollars. He hands it to the girl, offering a sheepish, "Here, I figured you could get more comics." A brief mental image of her /taste/ in comics flashes through his mind, followed quickly by an <> He blushes furiously throughout.
There is only the slightest of winces for Jubilee's greeting. "Hey, Sparky. --I'm in costume." Rossi glances down at himself, hand dragging out of its pocket with a small, slightly crushed package wrapped in the bachelor's special: the Sunday comics, with a shredded ribbon. "I'm pretending to be a civilian. Got no idea what kids your age like," he admits to Cassy, apology dipping his baritone into deeper registers. "So I figured I'd get you something practical."
Putting her presents in a neat little pile Cassy giggles with glee. "Thanks Walter! There's this one with these really cute guys in," she says sincerely. Then with a grin at Rossi she adds "And it's the thought that counts Sir, so long as that's not a gun or something!"
"Bobby, hallo!" replies Piotr, his smile stretching to a grin in greeting as he turns to look at his former classmate. "It is good to see everyone back together again for the party. In fact..." thought creases his brow, and he looks over at Bobby apologetically, "it must be your birthday soon, yes? Always soon after classes stared again, I remember."
"No way. She'll go crazy over that. You're fine," she assures Honor. Mira's chocolate-brown eyes narrow as she picks Rossi out of the crowd. It's not as hard as she thought. "Huh. He looks familiar."
Jubilee squirms in Rogue's arms, hopping up and down once in an effort to throw her off. At least until the comment about spelial relations between the pair. "Dating Storm? /Really/?" She squeals, physically dragging Rogue with her as she creeps closer, fully aware of the detectives disregard for her and reveling in it.
"Yeah," says Rossi, mouth crooking into an incomplete grin. "No. You don't get a gun until you're eighteen. And someone takes you off the caffeine drip you're on. And maybe gets you in to see a shrink. Or Prozac. Prozac'll work. Knock yourself out," he adds, dropping his present onto the nearby table with a small clink that speaks of metal inside. Green eyes lift, attention diverted by Jubilee's voice. And Jubilee's comment. "What?" And then, of course, "Shit."
Rossi and Cassy in the same place represents an excellent conjunction of goals, and Honor drifts their way accordingly. "Cassy seems to know him. I'm gonna go see who it is," she tells Mira over her shoulder, pausing as she says it to see if the other girl will follow.
Walter continues to blush. Oh well, at least she likes the present. He looks up to Rossi, considering him before recognition dawns. "Hello, sir," he greets, "Getting around better?" he asks, trying to strike up a conversation, hoping that the Detective is also in a better mood.
Rogue is determined not to let go. She grunts, attempting to answer Jean despite having a sugared up Jubilee in her arms. "Logan is different," Rogue says firmly, shaking her head. "Storm? There is /no/ way. Storm likes m-- /Jubilee/!" She presses herself close to Jubilee, keeping the sparkplug between herself and Rossi.
"-Not- dating, that I know of," corrects a Jean reemerging from the crowd with a sulking Nate tucked under one arm like a pouting, arm-crossed sack of potatoes. He would -not- have let Pest out. Honestly. Mothers. "Although they -ought- to be. Hullo, Rossi. Staying in one piece?"
Mira just shakes her head at Honor, content to stay near the music for now. She eyes Rossi critically, though. Trying to figure out where she might know him from. And definitely not to worry about the fact that she didn't get Cassy a present.
Gift delivered, Jackson extracts himself from the crowd, drifting towards Piotr and Bobby. "Hey," he greets the pair cheerfully. His costume rearranges itself as he approaches; priest's garb traded for Westley's black clothing, eyemask traded for bishop's mitar. "How're you?" with a nod to Piotr, and "S'been a while," for Bobby.
Well, that's different. "Oh. Should as in meddling auntie matchmaking way, or they are and they don't know it, or what?" Jubilee asks, swinging the clinging Rogue around. "Because Storm came on ta Rogue couple weeks ago. Or so she says." Please, please let that last bit /not/ have been as loud as it sounded.
Curiously Cassy begins unwrapping Rossi's present. "I wonder what it could be..." she muses thoughtfully. Then with an innocent smile she shouts "Oh Jubilee, Rogue, what tattoo's did you guys get? Can we see?"
Rossi has a New Yorker's familiarity to crowds and a cop's arrogance to buoy a shattered peace of mind. Jean, Nate (and a Xavier, sight unseen somewhere in the crowd) are the fortunate recipients of his discomfort, hidden behind the opaque expression. "Hey," he greets in general salute to the voices around him, a tip of head answering Walter before he turns a wary eye at the approaching Jubilee. "Can't complain," he tells both Walter and Jean. "Things've been a lot worse. Hey, Nate." The toddler, at least, gets the benefit of sincere pleasure.
"Fifth," Bobby corrects Piotr, "But it always seemed a better--" he trails off, turning to eye Rossi at Jubilee's squeal and remotely watch the gossip unfold with a poorly concealed grin, hanging back from the piling onto the detective. Jackson distracts him from it again, "Hey," it takes a second, "yeah! How've you been?" Another second and Bobby's eyes are on the bruises, "Okay?"
Storm and Rogue did /what/ now? Walter gives a small nod to Rossi, and he /stares/ over towards the Miracle couple
"Oh. Mah. Gawd. JUBILATION!" Yeah, that was at the top of her lungs. Despite having been swung around in front, Rogue lashes behind her with a fist probably harder than she intends. She's just staring at Rossi, the tattoo comment being the last straw. "It's on her ass! THERE IS A TIGGER ON HER ASS!" There, maybe the attention isn't on her anymore.
Cassy finds the packet contains an emergency whistle, a small key chain squirter of pepper spray, and a pair of handcuffs. There is a pause before she loudly declares "OH that is /so/ cool." Followed a moment later with a loud click as she cuffs her hands together. "Oh, wait there /is/ a key right?"
The toddler in question wriggles in an emphatic way that sacks of potatos don't, and succeeds in being returned to his own two feet. The gold braid edging his costume is beginning to look decidedly bedraggled now, but young master Grey-Summers marches over to Rossi and offers him a manful (SO very manful) handshake all the same. "Hi guy," says he. "Cassy's gotta -rat-. Named -Pest-."
Clearly, Rogue shrieking is such a normal part of life that Nate's programmed to ignore it.
Walter proves that young men have visual imaginations. Shame on him.
Jean , however, has no such tolerance. She pinches the bridge of her nose, informs Rossi that "Charles has a bottle of scotch hiding somewhere," and beats a hasty retreat back into the kitchen.
Rossi sighs. Key. "Somewhere in there," he admits to Cassy before stooping to offer Mr. Grey-Summers a very dignified handshake. "How you doing, Nate? --Sweet Mary on a cracker, Sparky. What kind of smack are you /on/?"
Piotr also carefully ignores the rucus in the direction of the miracle couple. "Oh, then, happy birthday to you also, Bobby!" Piotr replies with a smile tinged with apology. "I am sorry I forgot. And Jackson, I am well, thank you." Apparently, the small bruise high on his own cheekbone is a minor concern. "But, ah, are you?"
"Sugar smacks!" Nate knows the answer to this one, and shares it, burstingly.
Bobby snorts, a near silent laugh sweeping his attention reluctantly from the tattoo artist's injuries to his victims. "Jubes?" True? Snigger-- only wary.
Honor , listening ahead to what parts of the conversation around Cassy might not be otherwise audible at her distance, with so much interfering noise, freezes, and tries generally to take it all in. Her eyes go a little wide as ass-tattoos and such pile up.
The shrieking distracts Jackson for a moment from Bobby and Piotr; he turns, grinning, to call helpfully back to the rest of the party, "It's true about the tigger! -- I put it there /myself/." Then, back to his companions, "I'm alright." Reflexively, his hand rises to the bruise on his face. "'N happy birthday, Bobby."
"OW!" Jubilee howls and stumbles forward a few steps before spinning on her roommate. "/What/?!" she exclaims with all the righteous indignity only the truly wicked can feign. "It's /not/ on my /ass/!" she states huffily and flips her wig-hair over her shoulder to sniff in disdain at the Detective.
Cassy giggles furiously. "You guys are /so/ funny," she declares while hunting for the keys. With a mischievous wink she adds "So you won't mind showing us it then eh Jubilee?" Then with a wave she beckons Honor over. "Glad you could make it!"
Walter shoots a look over at Jackson. He not so neatly shoves any mental imagery involving Disney trademarks and Jubilee's hindquarters away. He searches the box for the keys to Cassy's handcuffs. There, that's not sexual, not at all.
Suddenly, so much is explained. Rossi straightens, eyes Jubilee and Rogue -- "We're not dating. /Don't/ show us your ass. I'm pretty sure I could find a law you'd be breaking. Hey, Southern Comfort." He refocuses on the latter girl, quirks a brow at her, and twitches his mouth into a rueful slant of line. That's pity.
And just like that, Bobby's back to Jackson, quieter, "You-- woah." Delayed, he either thinks about it or doesn't-- really hard, "And thanks, both."
"Lies! It's right on her ass so it bounces whenever Wes--" No, that's too far. Rogue backs away, attempting to back away enough to be out of Jubilee-fist range. And who does she hide behind? Rossi. The lesser of two evils.
"You shouldn't say that," Nate opines gravely, tipping his chin up, up, up in order to look Rossi in something approximating the eye. "That's a grownup word."
Piotr is getting good at ignoring chaos, especially with concern there to ground him. He lowers his head to speak to Jackson with quiet discretion. "Are you certain?" he asks, stern concern written on his face and in his voice. "Those bruises do not look so 'alright'."
"Which one?" Rossi asks of young Master Nate, offering the toddler an arm's invitation up to his greater height. And then there are Rogues hiding behind him, and Jubilees in front of him. The detective looks harassed. "Maybe I should just shoot someone."
Jubilee eyes widen in horrified and total comprehension. "You... You!! You!!" she sputters and launches herself at Rogue, heedless of harrassed detectives. The tousled white wig flies off.
Honor looks close to twitching, but she goes over and stands near Cassy, slightly shocked attention now firmly on Jubilee and Rogue rather than Rossi. "Crazy people," she mutters. The chaotic noise of the group lowers by a just-noticable couple decibles. Especially the noise created by Rogue and Jubilee.
Nate accepts this invitation with a bright beam and a trusting, open hug. "Jub'lee an' Rogue are -wierd-," he feels the need to share, having appointed himself Rossi's native guide for the evening, since his mother has fled the scene and can be felt somewhere near the regfrigerator, laughing convulsively. "Mum says Cassy an' Mira are just like them."
"It's /awesome/ isn't it?" Cassy says with absolute delight. "I'm /so/ asking Wesley if he's seen the tattoo."
Walter shakes his head to Nate, "Cassy and Mira haven't learned TMI cannon yet." He goes back to looking for the key, trying to distract himself from /far/ too much knowledge about Jubilee's sex life.
Mira, who had politely not let on that she was listening very intently to the squabble, suddenly balks. "What? We are not! She does *not*!" she suddenly says toward Nate, cupping a hand around her mouth.
"He has a gun!" Rogue observes rather stupidly as she steps hastily away from him, only to be bowled into by Jubilee. Rogue squeaks, stumbling back and likely smacking into the whoever is in back of her. She goes to bear hug the only stable thing around her which is Jubilee, falling on her back with a grunt. "What the...?" She yelps at Jubilation.
And now there are Jubilees /on/ him. Rossi sweeps up Nate in an arm and automatically sidesteps, a convenient and not insignificant barrier between the two girls. There's a moment's flared coat, the taut line of holster straps and jut of gun dark against the pale shirt, and then an armful of feisty sparkplug. "Just like them?" he demands, brow lowering. "How is that even physically possible? Isn't there some sort of cosmic imbalance thing that'll destroy the world?"
Bobby is so torn between the goings on. "Yeah, you--" Jubilee about to inflict still more bruises is more demanding. "Sec," he excuses himself from the other two and gets quickly over there, only intervening looks a bit too dangerous right now.
Jubilee yelps as her charge and grip on Rogue is intercepted by a strong arm. She takes to kicking and flailing and dropping her weight. "LET ME AT HER! I'M GONNA KILL HER!!"
"Dunno," says Nate, such notions as quantum doubles and other strange cosmic theories far beyond his interest levels at the moment. He goggles down at Jubilee and Rogue, and burrows somewhat more firmly into Rossi's shoulder, eyes gone wide again.
Rossi exhales, teetering as he redistributes his weight to hold fast. "What happens if I drop her in the pool?" he demands of the world at large. "She's all electric. Does she short out, or what?"
Rogue cringes on the ground, the flop hat getting strewn in the debris of the wig. She bats it off her head, attempting to crab walk backwards away from Jubilee and Rossi. "No! Do it! Just get her away from me!"
Jackson's eyes drop, smile faltering; but only for an instant before it returns, bright as before. "This," he tells Piotr lightly, "is a party." His bishop's mitar remains in place, but Westley's mask returns, obscuring, partially, the bruising. "One I should probably get going from soon. I've got work later." Thoughts of leaving are eclipsed by the surrounding chaos, though, and Jackson's eyebrows raise as he laughs, watching the interactions around them.
Amid so great a dispersion of chaos, serenity seems left to perhaps only one. A small black form of four legs insinuates itself without a care into the surroundings. Circe stalls near the table of cakes long enough to stare and produce an evaluation much the same as Nate, if more expansive: humans are weird. With no capacity to solve this mystery, she hunkers toward the ground and springs to the table. There, she picks her way across, finally settling by the chocolate cake. See no evil, hear no evil, and with that mindset, Circe ignores the humans to instead, with impeccable delicacy, begin consuming the brown frosting.
"I wish I had a video camera," Cassy says with a sigh. "This is like /comedy gold/." Finally the keys have been found and with great amusement she un-cuffs herself.
"Loud gold," Honor says, wincing at the shouting, which accordingly softens another couple notches.
Walter shakes his head, "Horror movie." Cassy now free, he tries to find some other distraction. "Where's Rogue's tattoo?" he asks loudly, wincing immediately.
Piotr's lips purse humourlessly, but he does not press the matter. "It is a shame you cannot stay for the evening," he says with a tilt of his head, the words sincere as he allows his grim mood to dissipate. "I have not seen a lot of the people here for far too long, it would be nice for us all to a talk and see how things are going."
Jubilee screaches and squirms, turning her attention, momentarily, away from Rogue and to her impending doom. Unfortunately, this doesn't seem to calm her much. A flailing heel finds Rossi's shin.
Nate clings to Rossi, and Nate continues to goggle at the tableau surrounding him. "Too much sugar," he muses, intoniation suggesting a direct quote from his mother. "They're gonna -crash- soon."
Jackson chews his lip ring thoughtfully, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket to check the time. "Well..." he hesitates, calculating, before smiling widely at Piotr. "It /would/ be nice to hang around longer. I don't see all of you near enough. I suppose I have a little while yet." His eyes roam the chaos once more; with a quirk of his lips, he adds, wryly, "I would say, 'we should do this more often,' but..."
Pain bites across Rossi's face -- "Shi--" he begins, hiccuping a step askance -- and he sets a long, limping stride towards the pool, Jubilee a screeching Tasmanian Devil in one arm. "You tell your mother that a /responsible/ teacher would be putting Prozac in the water," he tells Nate, taking a moment to settle the boy more securely against his hip before swinging his other arm wide. Jubilee, meet pool. Pool, meet Jubilee. Make friends. Bond. Enjoy.
Rogue slowly picks herself up, brushing her now hat hair down as she doesn't bother to pick up the wig. She's engaged. Staring, really, with the largest smile most have ever seen on the Southern Belle. "You... you didn't..." She hop skips up to the pool, still grinning like an idiot. "Ooh, Bobby. Freeze it! Jube-cicles!"
Cassy claps her approval as Jubilee is thrown pool-wards. "You're /so/ getting invited to my next birthday Detective Rossi!" she declares.
Jubilee manages to get once long vowel sound out before the splash drowns her. A minute later she bobs up, sputtering and saying more words that Nate would disapprove of.
Walter facepalms. "Um... I... should proably go get a teacher, or something."
Suddenly Cassy points at the chocolate cake. "Like /dude/ an alien is eating the cake!" she shouts with delight.
And Nate disapproves, right on schedule. A shocked, "-Jub'lee!- That's -bad-!" gusts out of him as little hands clench and knot against the fabric of Rossi's jacket. "I'm telling -mum-. Put me down please, guy," he requests of Rossi, polite in his piping.
Not far distant, Circe continues to ignore and be ignored by the world of the big folk, much like a hobbit. Sated after consuming a large corner worth of frosting, the black beast of Xavier's drops to her side and lolls, mistress of all she surveys.
Bobby stands by the water's edge, unable to resist trying to catch Jubilee's eyes. There's no freezing, though his gaze playfully hints she should explain why it should remain that way. It's a party, after all.
Piotr's expression eases to a smile, a chuckle even, and he nods over the chaos. "We should all meet, at some point. A reunion. We should try not to drown anyone." Speaking of which, he raises his voice of reason above the crowd. "Jubilee? Do you need any help?"
Rossi politely lowers Nate to the ground, his attention wary on the girl splashing in the pool. Making sure, this is. "She can swim, right?" he asks the body next to him, hands shoving back into pockets.
Rogue looks peaceful enough, grinning ear to ear at her friend. "Bobby can help her!" She decides, grabbing a fist full of Bobby's costume and shoving him towards the water.
Because "If you touch that water, I will murder you in your sleep Bobby Drake!" Jubilee kicks off sodden shoes and slowly paddles for the side of the pool, hampered by the extra clothing in her costume.
From one side of the party, a camera flashes, perfectly catching Rossi next to the pool and Jubilee flailing like a drowning rat. Mira lowers her camera and smiles.
Walter looks around at the chaos, frankly a little overwhelmed. Jubilee, and now Bobby, in the pool. Pete, just now noticing the chaos it seems, and the Robot Cat... thing, eating cake. Walter's mind boggles.
The Mummy returns! Or, rather, arrives. Late. Jono is, as always, a picture of disgruntled mutant badassery in black leather. Which makes the image of him carrying the most girly-looking gift bag in the world all the more hilarious. It has /maribou trim/. The first person to make fun of him gets punched in the head. Inside said bag is a small collection of bass guitar accessories, and gift certificates to a music store. He looks decidedly uncomfortable around this many people. << Er. Hey Cassy. Where should I put this? >> the offending gift bag is hung by its handles on one long, calloused finger.
"OH! Heya Jono," Cassy greets cheerfully, using a nudge of telekinesis to send Bobby over the edge. Finishing the job Rogue started. "Thanks for coming! You missed all the talk about Jubilee's ass."
Bobby's lived here long enough to know when to brace himself; when somebody grabs your back near the pool- that's one of those times where you don't resist and risk falling on the patio instead, you take a breath. Bobby, presumably, will be murdered in his sleep, for he touches the water as forbidden by the sparky with a flailing splash. Soggy Zorro. As he surfaces, there's a single cough before he turns in the water to Jubilee. "Rogue."
"Oh!" Jackson, suddenly, remembers something, turning to Piotr with a grin. "Cassy says I get to do your makeup." There is admittedly more glee in this statement than there should be.
Jubilee manages to make it to a side ladder just as Bobby is toppled into the pool. She sniffs and keeps on climbing, crawling over the side and dragging her sodden mess of clothes with her.
Honor retreats from being anywhere near the pool. "Cassy," she says, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder, trying, perhaps futilely, to grab a corner of her attention before something /else/ happens.
Rogue makes a show of brushing her hands off. "Let it be known that /Ah/ am still in charge o'these goons. See?" She happily grazes her eyes over the crowd, crossing her arms over the heavy raggy clothing of her costumes.
"Think I'm done," Rossi decides, mouth crooking at one side in approximation of a smile before he turns away in pursuit of Nate. "Happy Birthday, Cassy. Nice seeing you, Southern. Sparky." A hand flips lazy, backhanded farewell to the rest of the gathering before he wanders away, beating a prudent retreat.
[Log ends]
Rossi drops by Cassy's party and makes a splash.