Guy Talk
Roleplaying Log: Guy Talk
IC Details

Drake is winding down with some math studying when he meets Doug. The two wile some time away talking about the important things: troubled pasts, life choices, and girls.

Other Characters Referenced: Supergirl, Psylocke, Magik
IC Date: May 04, 2019
IC Location: Xavier Institute's Kitchen
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 05 May 2019 04:27
Rating & Warnings:
Scene Soundtrack: [* ]
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

It's gotten somewhat late in the evening, and Drake has gotten rather restless. The past couple days have been about attempting to recapture some semblance of his old life - the parts he enjoyed, anyway. And each time has been met with some odd occurrence, or some other distraction that jarringly knocks him out of his nostalgia. So in the end? Drake's been feeling a little out of sorts tonight.

Thus, the kitchen area of the mansion has an occupant who's opted to do something productive instead of struggling to relax. A saucer holds half a sandwich on the island counter beside an open math book, and Drake sits perched upon a stool before it. An assignment while the semester still lasts.

The guy who shuffles into the kitchen looks… normal. Absolutely and utterly normal. Athletic, sure — stocky, average height, blond, attractive in a Good-Hair-Greg kind of way, but with blue eyes that look… keen. He has slippers on and a t-shirt that says 'Ceci n'est pas un lune' in cursive script, with a romantic looking Death Star peeking out from behind a cloud.

He opens the fridge, and then says, "Distraction-studying. I know it well. …Somebody drank all the milk again?"

"Wasn't meee," drawl-chimes Drake without yet looking up. But after a few moments, he raises his gaze to regard the other male. Oh yes. Nail on the head. Distraction-studying. "Been a heck of a week. What's your excuse?"

Despite the wording, he wears a wry, if lazy smile. The remainder of his sandwich is raised in hand in this moment of distraction-from-distraction to take another bite from it. Wheat, honey ham, baby swiss. Good stuff.

Doug murmurs, "I spent four years as the mind-controlled agent of a ruthless terrorist organization determined to rule the world." He stands up, with a bottle of water in his hand, and he goes to a cabinet and takes out a bag of powdered milk. He begins to absently mix some up, before he looks over to Drake, and then says, "Doug Ramsey. You may have seen me on the 'Gone But Not Forgotten' wall."

Drake Riley's eyebrows raise at the rather unexpected response. "Things just got dark in a hurry, huh?," he muses humorlessly. "I don't even have a good response for that. Gawd, dude." The sandwich is set back down, and the teen straightens his posture a bit more. "Drake Riley. Completely boring next next to an introduction like that." A smirk follows the introduction. Despite how very unfunny everything Doug said was, it's still an attempt at levity.

Doug grabs some Lucky Charms and pours himsself a bowl, and says, "…That's not even the darkest story around here. I go WAY back with a sorceress who rules her own Hell-dimension." He sticks a spoon in it and gives it a stir, brfore he offers a handshake. "Try not to get any of the grimdark on you though, it's a nightmare to get out."

"Ohhh, I know. I came in with a hardluck story, myself. But nothing approaching /that/," Drake notes, emphasizing with a bob of a single eyebrow. "I had crappy parents who didn't want me. I wouldn't have thought this was a competition, but what you're saying makes mine sound like basic cable. You got HBO crap going on."

The handshake is offered, and Drake purses his lips at it. His hand lifts, but without offering fingers. No, sir. It's a fist. He's been handshaking everyone the past few days, and he's sick of it. It feels like constant business. Blech.

Doug tilts his head, and then bumps fists with Drake. "…I'm really sorry to hear that. I can tell based on your language that you're a stand-up guy." He blows it up, and then quietly eats his cereal. "I am a mess, yeah."

Drake Riley finger-wiggles in like fashion, grinning. It's always amusing when people take that initiative, and it's so light a thing in contrast to the morbidity of their conversation. "You can tell that because I talk good?," asks Drake, complete with unironically bad grammar. "Settin' the bar for me from the start. No pressure." He clicks his tongue, pretending to be dismayed by the presented 'expectation'.

"Anyway, were. /Were/ a mess. These days, you're… here? Actually, what /are/ you up to around here?"

Doug takes another bite of his cereal. "No, because of the nuance in your body language, the lack of duplicity or evasiveness in the way you're talking to me." He takes another bite, thoughtfully, as he thinks about that statement for a good twenty-five seconds.

"…Being a mess." He says.

"Oh," says Drake, not entirely sure how to receive that compliment. It was a compliment, right? He's pleased by it, either way. But his grin dissipates quickly at Doug's continued response. "Come on, now," he chides. "For starters, you're in a /cherry/ of a mansion. That's gotta be a step up, right?"

Doug looks around, and then looks back to Drake. "It is nice, isn't it?" He says. "How many of the secret passages have you found?" He takes another bite of his cereal, "Did you know the pool opens up into an airplane hangar?" That must be a joke.

Drake Riley knows it isn't a joke. But he doesn't press it further. Why? Because Drake endeavors to be the greatest asset to the X-Men he can be, and a part of that means staying up to date on the rosters. Doug's name and image isn't one he recalls seeing on them, so he's not saying boo about any of it. Instead, he gives a wry smile and shrugs. "I haven't found too many secret passages. Are you talking about straight up Scooby-Doo tilting candlesticks and sliding bookshelves?"

Doug gives a little smirk. "Just telling you wouldn't be any FUN, would it man?" He grins, slightly. "You've got to find them on your own. Only Kitty Pryde knows all of them, I think. Maybe you could ask her." Then he says, "…In all seriousness, Drake, your parents might have rejected you, but there's a family waiting for you here, if you want it. This is where I found my tribe."

"Hey, I've been here almost a full year of my life. I know," muses Drake. Granted, he hasn't had much chance to get to meet or know too many other students, residents, or teammates. In fact, most of his work as an X-Man has been solo. "My parents were jerks. They're better off without me, and I'm /way/ better off without them."

Leaning back, Drake tilts his head to also survey the ornate surroundings. "Never thought I'd be living in something like this, though."

"Somehow I think the first part of that statement's not true." Doug says, his eyebrows going up, before he finishes his cereal and tips the bowl back, draining the milk.

"…I was part of the New Mutants class. I hung around with them a lot before I joined totally… and the place STILL mystifies me and surprises me. So you're not alone. All the years I was gone, I experienced this… existential longing I couldn't place. It was for this house, and the people in it."

"What, that I've been here a year? I know we just met, but I promise I'm not messin' with you!," Drake laughs. He's pretty sure what Doug actually meant was what he said a little later, but he's downplaying it a bit. He does think his parents are better off without him. His presence seemed to make their lives miserable. After all, he was unwanted.

"Now, hang on. New Mutants?"

"…The second wave of Mutant Kids that came in." Doug says. "I was in class with Dani Moonstar, Sam Guthrie, Bobby da Costa, Illyana—" He pauses, and then murmurs, "…Never graduated, though. Came down with a terminal case of 'dead'."

Some of the names, he recognizes - or thinks he does, at least. He did study, after all. But whatever he was thinking, Doug's final remark completely derails. "Wait, wait, wait. Do what now?," Drake asks. He turns a bit on the stool and props his elbow up on the counter, incredulous look cast at the other male.

"Died." Doug says, "I died. I tackled a classmate out of the way when somebody tried to shoot them, and got shot instead. I died. They buried me." His eyebrows go up. "Why I'm sitting here right now… I don't know. They've ruled out me being a clone, a robot, or from another universe. But I don't know *why* I'm not dead."

"Okay, so, how do you know you were dead? What if it was like a pufferfish zombie?" Drake pauyses a beat. "You know, like they do in Haiti? Use pufferfish smoke or whatever to make someone /seem/ dead?"

Doug sighs, and then turns. He lifts his t-shirt to show the ugly gunshot scar on his back on the right side, curving under his ribcage. "Got a rose tattoo memento of it." he says.

Drake Riley blinks awkwardly when the shirt is raised, then immediately cringes at the scar on display. "Aw, dude, put it away." He returns his gaze to the math textbook, lips twisting in consternation. "There are a few obvious, totally inappropriate questions that would normally follow that."

Doug lets his shirt drop. "Like what?" He asks, genuinely interested.

"Liiiike, how do /you/ know you were dead? Bright light? Angels? Grandma Mimi waving at you?," Drake lists. He twists on the stool again to face Doug more directly. "Got /anything/ going on between getting shot and cheating death?"

"Just the taste of blood and bile in my mouth, and then… nothing." Doug admits. "I don't like dwelling on it. I remember… being found by Hydra, four years ago, being taken in by them and indoctrinated. I don't like dwelling on *that*, either."

"So wait, /that's/ what happened? You got shot here, then picked up by Hydra?," Drake asks. "That's a heck of a then'n'now!" He suddenly blinks and shakes his head. "And you just said, twice, that you don't wanna dwell on it. Sorry. Totally good with changing the subject."

"There's three years in there I don't remember at all. They're blank." Doug says, "I have to have been doing something during that span of time, but I don't know what." He shrugs. "It's fine. I can't change the past, just go into the future." Then he grins at Drake. "You've been here a year. Got a girlfriend?"

"Ugh. Yeah, at least you're here now, totally in control, and steering your own path." Drake pauses a beat. "That sounded cheesy. But you know what I mean! You're making you-choices. Doug-choices. Doug-choices are best-choices."

Leaving that train of thought on a positive note.

Drake's eyes widen at the question, and he gives a sheepish laugh. A hand raises to draw through his hair, pulling his hanging bangs back from his right eye temporarily. As soon as they're left alone, they simply fall back into place.

"Nnnope. Can't say that I have! I met this /insanely/ pretty girl the other day - like, for real, wow. Stunning. Quirky, too, but in a way that's kind'a nice." He grins in self-deprecating mirth and cants his head. "And I'm sure her girlfriend, as it turns out, totally thinks the same way about'er."

Doug grins, a touch, amused by that. "If there's one thing I've learned, it's that all you can do is be you and put the hook out there. Eventually, you'll find a bite." He reaches out to give Drake a push. "And then it'll be a life of interminable *angst* as the two of you struggle to figure out the right things to say to one another." Blue eyes glitter with amusement.

Drake Riley teeters mildly at the push, but with a lighthearted laugh. "I probably set the target a /smidge/ too high, there. Superhero girl. Supergirl, actually," he specifies. "But hey, isn't that angsty awkwardness what everyone wants?"

He lifts the remainder of his sandwich to take another bite.

"…Psylocke." Doug says. "At sixteen years old, I fell in love with Psylocke. Still am, though I think these days it's in a 'just friends' sort of way. So believe me, I *understand*. Aim high, man. Reach for the stars… you just might grab one."

"Well, this one's taken, and I don't wanna be /that/ guy, y'know?," Drake posits. "Don't wanna be that dude who ruins relationships, or has this sort'a.. like.. 'homewrecker' taboo hanging over him. So while that blonde is ridiculously pretty and seems nice, I think the right thing for me to do is to just let'er be."

After a beat, Drake adds, "Psylocke, huh? Can't say I've talked to'er too much directly, but she /is/ pretty."

They've devolved into dude-talk, haven't they?

Doug gives Drake a sidelong look, and he says, "She's a wonderful person." He says, "And a great friend." He sits, his fingers clasped together under his chin, and he says, "…Really though, before I get back into the wide world of *dating*? Like I said… complete mess." His eyebrows shoot up, practically into his hairline. "Like I said man, you seem like a good sort!" He smirks.

"I don't know'er well enough to say that!," laughs Drake. "All I can go off of is what I've seen and what you tell me! So yeah, she's wonderful!" The laughter dims back to a snicker, and then rolls to an end when he re-establishes his status as a mess. "Bro. Come on. You've gotta stop talking about yourself like that. You know what a self-fulfilling prophesy is?"

"…Did I mention I used to hang around with a sorceress who rules her own hell-dimension?" Doug asks. "I *think* I know a thing or two about prophecies." Then he snorts, and actually breaks down into a fit of giggling.

"Yeah, but- But Doug. Doug."

Drake squints at the other male.

"Was she hot?"

He's joking, taking another shot at levity. The grin on his face should suggest as much.

Doug gives Drake a flat look.

Then he says, simply, "Stunning. But again, she likes girls." He shrugs his shoulders, once. "We actually bonded over being interested in the *same* girl…" He begins to tell Drake about the exploits of his youth, being part of the Mutant Breakfast Club.

"Something in the water around here?," Drake jokes before submitting with a shrug. "But hey, I'm sure that wasn't weird or anything! Not that I can even /begin/ to imagine what hanging out in.. like.. /Hell/, or whatever, would be like." He leans forward. "And you're meaning like actual Hell?"

"No, see, it's more like, hell-adjace. There was this sorcerer named Belasco…" Doug leans in, and begins to tell Drake some of the tales of the New Mutants. There's demons, and a space alien — the space alien is currently in residence in the house, and could be anything. "If the TV set starts smiling at you, it's just Warlock…"

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