With a cool arch of her eyebrow, Felicia turns towards the person who had just run into her. Being jostled about had been typical for the New York scene, but here it happens less routinely than it had been in the city. Come to mention it, this guy had been one who had run into her. All she had been doing was stand by the bar, waiting for her turn to get a drink. Or to drink someone else's.
With a sly smirk on her face, one hand still resting on the bar, she laughs quietly. "You're excused," she quips dryly. "How's that?"
He's gone from abrasive to startled in a record number of seconds, his eyes widening in alarm as he presses a hand to his temple as if anticipating the screaming pain that this woman can bring. It takes a moment to remember that she is likely akin to him and has no ability here.
Still, he cannot truly help his step back. "What are you doing here?" he demands, aware that he cannot exert any physical threat against her in such a public setting, but wary of what she might do.
She may without her mutation, but Felicia isn't any less dangerous. Her tricks (cheap and otherwise) have been absent for months. Now she's just a girl standing at a bar, fully capable of drop kicking someone onto their back in less than thirty, but that's besides the point.
Staring at him, wondering if this man is being stupid on purpose or if there something more to the story. In the end she just plays along, figuring that's the best way to score a little intel."I'm guessing it's the same as what you're doing." she tilts her head, curious as to what he might say. "Ordering myself a drink, what does it look like?"
There is a slightly wild look to Erik's eyes that he strains to control in a panic of desperation. She mustn't know that she has the upper hand, especially if she doesn't recall him. "It looks as though you've the misfortune of being everywhere that I am, Miss Frost," he notes coolly.
Coraline squeaked, reaching for the plate before it smashed on the floor and catching it barely with her fingertips. Coraline was not the smallest of girls, in fact she was one of the tallest on the island so for someone to actually not see her and run into her didn't actually happen that often.
"I knew baseball would come in handy. Thank you Danny," Coraline said smiling as she rebalanced the plates. Coraline turned, looking up at the man before smiling at him. "That's okay? I guess, I mean don't do it again or anything but it was an accident and look no plates broke. Unless you meant to do it and then I'm going to have to be very cross with you."
He sees the children and young adults around him and feels a sort of striking familiarity. After all, he's spent a good deal of time seeking them out and instinct tells him to approach things cautiously. "Very cross?" he repeats, trying to hide his bemusement at a child threatening him with words. He smiles, not even beginning to mention the things he's done when he was 'very cross'. "Well, good for us that we haven't dropped it, isn't it?"
"Yes," Coraline said seriously. Coraline was used to adults failing to contain their bemusement over her threats. They seemed to be under the illusion that because she was overly enthusiastic that she had no experience whatsoever when it came to villainous villains. But she did. More than they would probably like to know about. "Very cross. And then I'd have to have stern words with you."
Coraline looked at the man curiously and placed the plates behind the bar ready to be cleaned. "You're new? I mean, I've never met you before and I know everyone so you must be new."
He balks at the notion of being so new that he is put at a disadvantage, but it seems he may have to play such a role for the moment. Temporary, he convinces himself. This is all temporary. "What does it mean if I am?" he asks, glancing around him every once in a while, as though he might find a surprisingly familiar face if he looks often enough.
"No harm done," says Geoffrey, brushing himself off even though nothing even came close to spilling. Actually, he wasn't even carrying anything in the first place to spill, but habits are habits. "Are you coming or going?"
"Coming, I should think," Erik replies as he takes a careful step back and surveys his clothes -- the thing turtleneck and the straight-legged brown trousers -- for spills. There seem to be none, but the annoyance is difficult to shed from his expression. "I've yet to order a drink and the closest I've come is the one in your hands."
"And this one's just juice, so it'd probably piss you off even more," says Geoffrey. "A few more steps and you're home free. Just watch out for the blonde waitress, she's a little testy tonight."
Erik looks around the restaurant for the woman in question, slightly curious as to the ways that this world is different from his own. There could be any number of reasons for such a mood, but Erik wonders what could cause it in such a limited populace. "Has she had drinks spilled on her, too?" There's only a mild air of condescension and disdain behind the words, as a playful edge takes over.
"Jesus!" Rachel's far enough off her game lately that the bulky body almost knocks her over and it's only her honed-reflexes kicking in at the last minute that keep her from falling flat on her ass. Then instincts take over and her stance adjusts, resting on the balls of her feet, ready to throw a punch if the jerk looks at her wrong.
Because the nightmares are back. The ones that have her waking up, biting back screams as she listens to those of her family in her memories. So she hasn't slept well the last few nights and it really won't take much, she knows, to push her over the edge.
And part of her welcomes the potential fight.
Hound marks on her face, her expression is grim as she bites out, "Watch where you're going, bub."
"I'll watch where I'm going when I'm given a modicum of respect from those in my way," he replies easily enough, sharing a sharp glare with the girl who deigns to speak to him like that. He may not have his powers and he may be short of patience, but there are still tones that should never be taken with him. "If I've harmed you, I apologize, but I imagine you're going to live."
She's about to snap back some thing when instinct kicks in and she stops, eyes narrowing slightly as she looks... really looks at the guy who just knocked into her. Because he looks really familiar. Familiar in a way that makes her blood run a little cold as her mind tries to make the connection.
"I've never seen you before," he replies frankly, giving her a onceover to appraise whether he's correct (and whether she could pose a threat). He arches his brow and awaits further questioning, placing his hands at his sides. "Who are you? I'll tell you whether I know the name."
The best way she'd found to keep herself grounded, and less likely to let another personality slip into control as she slept, was to push herself physically during the day. Yoga was now part of a morning and evening ritual, meditation built in to her schedule the way showering and eating was- and eating had to be, or else she would forget to. Getting the team into fighting shape was a solid endeavor after so long off the field, and carefully going over the mental doors she had spent months, now, compartmentalizing was as vital as seeing and speaking to friends. They were necessary steps and they got her through the hours
( ... )
Erik takes the moment to look the woman over carefully, his gaze lingering on all the skin open to him. It reminds him of Shaw's telepath in a way, that Frost woman and the way she used her wiles as a secondary weapon, as though the mutation hadn't been enough. Here, though, he supposes it's not like that. Perhaps this woman dresses like this for the attention or maybe she's like Angel and it's all she's known and come to expect.
"And do you plan on giving me cause to soften my tone? You were in my way. Now you're out of it," he remarks, his smile tight. His posture straightens as he lifts himself to his full height. "Everything is working out for the best, you see."
She felt herself go pale, felt the bottom drop of out her stomach and her heart slam against her throat. He was younger than she'd ever seen him, even as a girl, but his voice, his face, there was no mistaking it. Her lips moved a little, the name Magneto all but spoken. No costumes, no panic, and he didn't... There was no recognition in his eyes. She couldn't be wrong, though, she knew she couldn't.
Unless she was heading right back for crazy square one.
He darkens at his name being spoken by a stranger and now he abandons what little restraint he's been holding in this public place as he grips at her wrist and bears in closer so that their words won't be overheard by those nearby. "How do you know my name?" he demands. "I've never seen you before in my life."
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With a sly smirk on her face, one hand still resting on the bar, she laughs quietly. "You're excused," she quips dryly. "How's that?"
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Still, he cannot truly help his step back. "What are you doing here?" he demands, aware that he cannot exert any physical threat against her in such a public setting, but wary of what she might do.
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Staring at him, wondering if this man is being stupid on purpose or if there something more to the story. In the end she just plays along, figuring that's the best way to score a little intel."I'm guessing it's the same as what you're doing." she tilts her head, curious as to what he might say. "Ordering myself a drink, what does it look like?"
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"I knew baseball would come in handy. Thank you Danny," Coraline said smiling as she rebalanced the plates. Coraline turned, looking up at the man before smiling at him. "That's okay? I guess, I mean don't do it again or anything but it was an accident and look no plates broke. Unless you meant to do it and then I'm going to have to be very cross with you."
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Coraline looked at the man curiously and placed the plates behind the bar ready to be cleaned. "You're new? I mean, I've never met you before and I know everyone so you must be new."
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Yet no one comes.
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Because the nightmares are back. The ones that have her waking up, biting back screams as she listens to those of her family in her memories. So she hasn't slept well the last few nights and it really won't take much, she knows, to push her over the edge.
And part of her welcomes the potential fight.
Hound marks on her face, her expression is grim as she bites out, "Watch where you're going, bub."
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"Have I met you?"
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"And do you plan on giving me cause to soften my tone? You were in my way. Now you're out of it," he remarks, his smile tight. His posture straightens as he lifts himself to his full height. "Everything is working out for the best, you see."
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Unless she was heading right back for crazy square one.
"...Erik?"
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