Jean slid into the mess hall. She was trying to keep a low profile, but it was proving difficult. After her run in with Martini (who was going to get the teeth of her wrath, once things settled down a little) and everything after, Jean wasn't feeling too safe. Her walls were up and she was watching her back a little more closely now.
Even with her walls up, she heard Victor's broadcasting. Her eyes rolled. God, she hated him. He'd been fun, but now he was the biggest pain in her ass in the camp. She poured herself some coffee, then went and sat in the corner, pulling her knees up to her chest and watching people go by.
And he kept projecting.
My fucking God, you pussy bitch, shut the fuck up.
His gaze had latched onto Jean the second she'd walked into the room. The hatred she felt for him was mutual; he couldn't forgive the way she'd tricked Logan, and he just couldn't get over the fact that Logan had managed to rut with her, even though Victor had Emma. He wasn't used to his brother getting first pick on their women, and he never would. A low growl came from his throat as she 'spoke' to him, his eyes narrowing, anger mingling with the bitter feeling of self-pity he'd been nurturing all morning.
You don't wanna hear it, you prissy little slut, then get the fuck outta my head.
You're the one projecting like a fucking fog horn, you stupid fucking cocksucker. Keep it to yourself. Or hasn't little blonde bitch taught you how yet? Tsk tsk. Sloppy.
She glared at him from her spot in the corner, sipping her coffee slowly. If it wouldn't draw the attention of Emma, she'd drop him right then and there. Then again, an unprovoked attack might damage her credibility with Logan.
Logan was a good project. Then again, he'd truly comforted her while she was a wreck, and she was pissed off about it. She was going to screw everything up for him, too. It was just a matter of time.
Time that Victor was trying to take away.
Just go hang yourself if life hurts so bad, you cunt.
Fuck you, bitch. He glared at her as he sent out the words, her mere presence an irritation to him. If they weren't somewhere so public, he'd take her on there and then, claw open her chest and try and tear out her throat. Don't you fuckin' dare talk about Emma like that.
But it wasn't just about Emma, and Jean would've known that. He hated people knowing about his past, and he didn't tend to dwell on it too often; trust the redhead to come along and start reading his memories as if they were an open book. Sneering, he tried to push the bad thoughts to the back of his mind, because if there was one thing he refused to be, it was weak. Well, that and gay.
How 'bout you, huh? Don't you have anythin' better to do? Or is Jimmy washin' his hair?
Exploring the building, Mortimer found himself in the mess hall. He would have walked right past it if he hadn't noticed who was in the room.
Mort considered not bothering at all. He had heard too much about this guy from Fred alone. But Victor looked as though he were in a bad mood, and that sadistic streak in Mort wanted to come out and bother the old dog.
Victor scowled over at the sickly-looking mutant, still not having warmed to the guy yet. He couldn't have known that Fred had already told Mortimer a lot about him, but he certainly wasn't doing much to improve the new arrival's opinion of him. The hand wielding the knife paused, and he eyed Mortimer warily.
"And a Happy Fuckin' New Year."
It was clear that Victor was very much not in a festive mood.
(ooc: damn, accidentally put fred in the tags and can't remove it)
"We didn't chat too much when we met," Mortimer said as he proceeded to place his hands on the wall and climb up to the ceiling on all fours. He then knelt on the ceiling surface was though sitting on his haunches on a floor.
"Toad's the name. Least the one everyone uses. Can't figure why though." He smirked at his own sarcasm.
She'd been pretty content for the most part, she didn't mind the holidays, she'd had a few without Raven and Irene, and writing to them was fine for this time of year.
Naturally, she wanted hot chocolate to toast the season. Instead, she walked into the mess to find Victor sitting, glaring at whatever he glared at.
"Would it kill ya t' pretend y' weren't a downer?"
His mood had been dour to start with, and after his run-ins with Jean and Mortimer, he was now feeling even worse. Jean had left him feeling angry at himself, and frustrated, whereas Mortimer just seemed to rub him up the wrong way on purpose. He wondered sometimes whether the green mutant was deliberately baiting him.
And now Rictor's little fuck-buddy, or sister, or secret lover - or whatever she was - had decided to come and bother him, too. Great.
Rictor was being friendly with Victor though. And Victor seemed to lay off with the threats to Rictor. So, Rogue thought, why not try. "Not a fan o' the holidays?"
Sure, some people weren't. A hundred plus years of 'celebrating' could do that. She took a seat across from him, careful of her proximity, just in case.
Victor and Ric might be getting along, but that didn't mean he was 'nice' all of a sudden. "Jus' ignore it then."
He just looked at her for a moment, making eye contact but not saying anything, before going back to picking at his nails with the knife. Rogue was right, of course. He could have tried to ignore everyone else if he'd wanted, found a place outside where no-one was likely to come and bother him; not that he was going to admit that, of course. Nor would he admit to the fact that it was his memories putting him in such a depressed mood, rather than any holiday greetings.
"Easier said than done when we've got Wade on the team," he growled under his breath, giving a snarl of irritation as his hand slipped, slicing open his thumb; but he ignored it, and carried on. "An' Rictor."
Nicky came into the Mess Hall looking around curiously. He headed over toward his dad sitting down next to him. He pushed a rolled up napkin toward him without saying anything. His dad didn't look happy but Nicky hoped that he could do a little something nice for him even if it wasn't as good as he could have done.
There were few people whom Victor wouldn't yell at on sight if he were in a foul mood, and Nicky was one of them. Despite his melancholy, he glanced over at the boy - not quite managing a smile, but not glaring at him, either - and put his knife down to take the napkin that had been offered.
"What's this, Cublet? You save some food for me?"
He didn't mean that to be rude, of course. For Victor, leftovers were fair game for meals just as much as any prepared meal; he and Logan hadn't survived as long as they had without surviving on what other people didn't want.
"No it's dessert. Really good dessert,"Nicky smiled not caring that his father didn't like the holiday. The napkin was rolled around a Russian tea cake one of many Hope had brought back for him.
He'd never admit it, but he was touched. Victor wasn't exactly the kind of guy who received a lot of presents, and to have his son give him something - even something as small as a teacake - it actually meant a lot. He grinned as he opened up the napkin, already smelling the food, before turning his smile to Nicky.
Comments 46
Even with her walls up, she heard Victor's broadcasting. Her eyes rolled. God, she hated him. He'd been fun, but now he was the biggest pain in her ass in the camp. She poured herself some coffee, then went and sat in the corner, pulling her knees up to her chest and watching people go by.
And he kept projecting.
My fucking God, you pussy bitch, shut the fuck up.
Reply
You don't wanna hear it, you prissy little slut, then get the fuck outta my head.
Reply
She glared at him from her spot in the corner, sipping her coffee slowly. If it wouldn't draw the attention of Emma, she'd drop him right then and there. Then again, an unprovoked attack might damage her credibility with Logan.
Logan was a good project. Then again, he'd truly comforted her while she was a wreck, and she was pissed off about it. She was going to screw everything up for him, too. It was just a matter of time.
Time that Victor was trying to take away.
Just go hang yourself if life hurts so bad, you cunt.
Reply
But it wasn't just about Emma, and Jean would've known that. He hated people knowing about his past, and he didn't tend to dwell on it too often; trust the redhead to come along and start reading his memories as if they were an open book. Sneering, he tried to push the bad thoughts to the back of his mind, because if there was one thing he refused to be, it was weak. Well, that and gay.
How 'bout you, huh? Don't you have anythin' better to do? Or is Jimmy washin' his hair?
Reply
Mort considered not bothering at all. He had heard too much about this guy from Fred alone. But Victor looked as though he were in a bad mood, and that sadistic streak in Mort wanted to come out and bother the old dog.
"Happy Christmas, pussy-cat."
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"And a Happy Fuckin' New Year."
It was clear that Victor was very much not in a festive mood.
Reply
"We didn't chat too much when we met," Mortimer said as he proceeded to place his hands on the wall and climb up to the ceiling on all fours. He then knelt on the ceiling surface was though sitting on his haunches on a floor.
"Toad's the name. Least the one everyone uses. Can't figure why though." He smirked at his own sarcasm.
Reply
"Yeah, neither can I," Victor replied, his voice heavy with hostile sarcasm. "Never seen a fuckin' frog on the ceiling before."
((OOC: Sorted! :D ))
Reply
Naturally, she wanted hot chocolate to toast the season. Instead, she walked into the mess to find Victor sitting, glaring at whatever he glared at.
"Would it kill ya t' pretend y' weren't a downer?"
Reply
His mood had been dour to start with, and after his run-ins with Jean and Mortimer, he was now feeling even worse. Jean had left him feeling angry at himself, and frustrated, whereas Mortimer just seemed to rub him up the wrong way on purpose. He wondered sometimes whether the green mutant was deliberately baiting him.
And now Rictor's little fuck-buddy, or sister, or secret lover - or whatever she was - had decided to come and bother him, too. Great.
Reply
Sure, some people weren't. A hundred plus years of 'celebrating' could do that. She took a seat across from him, careful of her proximity, just in case.
Victor and Ric might be getting along, but that didn't mean he was 'nice' all of a sudden. "Jus' ignore it then."
Reply
"Easier said than done when we've got Wade on the team," he growled under his breath, giving a snarl of irritation as his hand slipped, slicing open his thumb; but he ignored it, and carried on. "An' Rictor."
Reply
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"What's this, Cublet? You save some food for me?"
He didn't mean that to be rude, of course. For Victor, leftovers were fair game for meals just as much as any prepared meal; he and Logan hadn't survived as long as they had without surviving on what other people didn't want.
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"Thanks, Cublet."
And Victor hardly ever thanked anyone.
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