On Pickups and Purple Hair
Roleplaying Log: On Pickups and Purple Hair
Participants
IC Details
Synopsis:

Logan tries to get his junker working again and meets Psylocke

Other Characters Referenced:
IC Date: July 16, 2019
IC Location: Xavier's Mansion - Garage
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 17 Jul 2019 13:53
Rating & Warnings:
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

* OOC Time: Tue Jul 16 21:26:27 2019 *

* * *

*THUD* *THUD* *CLANG* Heavy sounds made with heavy tools and a distinct thunder that lends with it the feeling of impatience and frustration that only a confounded mechanic can really convey. They're sounds that carry out of the large garage and draw attention from those that might be passing. And if one gets close enough they might hear them accompanied by scowling bitter invectives aimed at the old pickup that arrived just the other day.
Inside the garage the X-Man known as Logan is scowling, the old curved hood of the vehicle standing wide and yawning like the gaping maw of a metal dragon, its innards defying him.
"ing thing, you survived a thousand miles, you can survive a few more." The wrench in his hand clatters upon the table against the wall, even as he wipes his grimy hands with an old rag. In all this heat and with the sun heavy outside it's turned the garage into an oven, but the Canadian doesn't seem to mind. Or notice. Though his only concession to the temperature is his sleeveless t-shirt that at this point is soaked through and marred with dirt and grime and oil.

* * *

There isn't the sound of a vehicle, but then there is suddenly the sound of heeled sandals just outside the garage and heading in. Purple curls are barely windruffled, and there is a stylish tank styled top in icy pale purple, and pale capris.

There is a low, slightly husky laugh at heaving the cursing and gruff language. "Are you laying on of hands, hoping to rouse it from the dead?" The words are delivered with an undeniable British accent, as the supermodel will come into view. "Has it died and left you bereft?"

* * *

The glance aimed at her hovers on the edge of a glower, one eyebrow quirked as he continues to wipe away some of the grime from his hands and then almost disdainfully tosses the cloth onto the engine block and then grumpily slams the hood shut with a wham.
Turning away from the vehicle he affixes Elizabeth with a more stern gaze that might be enough to send any of the first years or a greenhorn to the team scurrying. But perhaps not the violet-haired woman, considering she might well sense no actual malice coming from the man despite his severe visage.
"Laugh it up," He says at first, voice a rumble of a growl. A glance to the side and a wave of one hand, "Don't exactly need it, more a matter of pride at this point." Then he gives her a once over, up and down, eyebrow cocking. Might well recognize her from what intel he's had access to, but then again if she's privy to the comings and goings of the X-Men she might be able to conjure the name of this man as well if not from memory then from his thoughts… and finally from his words.
"Logan," He offers, gesturing towards himself.

* * *

"I was more amused by the forthright language. I do love a man who doesn't hesitate to unleash a cascade of curse words." Betsy clearly isn't at all intimidated, but she so very rarely is, anymore. "I mean, if it's sentimental value, I can understand that."

A single fingertip will run along the edge of the hood as she steps closer. She's used to being looked over, it's her occupation, after all. She will take a couple steps back, not quite leaning against a garage workbench, but leaning against something.

She will look away from the truck to the man, brows lifting slightly. "Betsy. A pleasure to meet you. I've just popped in for some decompression time away from the city."

* * *

"Yeah?" He asks her when she broaches the topic of the city, his hazel eyes slipping away from her towards the large garage doors and coincidentally to the city unseen and beyond. He folds his arms over his chest and then leans against the vehicle, mirroring her posture in some ways. "What's the status of it?"
He's been back only a day and some, has gotten a bit of a rundown from Kitty, but there are still likely gaps in his knowledge. And barring that this Betsy's perspective might be good to get. "How've things been going?" He shifts his weight slightly to the other hip, crossing one ankle over the other.
"Pryde gave me her angle earlier, but haven't had time to talk with any of the others."

* * *

"Yeah. I've just been busy. Working on trying to find lost telepaths, doing some photo shoots here and there to keep my status in my line of work." There's a faint, soft smile.

"I don't know Pryde's angle, I haven't seen her in ages. Been splitting time between here and the city, working for work, working for mutants, helping people with protests…" There's a slight shrug.

* * *

There's a faint creak of metal as Logan pushes off of the hood of the old pickup and starts towards Elizabeth, stepping to the side after a few steps and then reaching past towards the jacket the over-shirt that hangs on one of the wooden pegs against the wall. "Yeah, Pryde's definitely got her own angle."
Whether that's praise or admonishment it's hard to tell, but whatever it is he takes up the shirt and pulls it on over his rough frame, starting to turn away. "So what's your deal?" He says as he moves then takes a few steps towards the garage door, nudging one open with his shoulder and holding it wide for her to follow him if she so chooses.
"Feathers hire you for your looks or are you useful?" There's a slight smirk at the corner of his mouth as he offers that jab, perhaps not so much out of malice and more… to see which way she'll jump.

* * *

Betsy doesn't know Kitty overly well, so she will neither confirm nor deny anything about Kitty having her own unique perspectives. She also doesn't flinch or shift as he comes closer, completely confident in her own skin and personal space.

"Warren? And does the former preclude the latter?" She looks mildly amused, eyes sparking with mischief. She will look at Logan, before she will look at his truck. He will hear a faint groan of metal as the truck shimmies as it is lifted into the air, before it lingers and is slowly lowered like it is thistledown. "I also speak several languages and some other tricks a lady just doesn't reveal right out of the gate."

* * *

"Ah," Logan says as that mystery is solved at the least. But his eyebrows did climb a touch, so she did make her mark. Then he nods a few times as he starts out the door and will continue to speak if she walks along with him back towards the mansion proper. "So another tele-person." As if that covered the entire mysteries of the mind.
He pushes a rough hand through his hair and grimaces as he looks towards the mansion, "Sounds like a good get then." Considering he's fairly harsh about teammates that might be a mountain of praise coming from him. He strides along the sidewalk and then pauses with one foot upon the lowest step leading to the front door.
"We should get in some training time then, if we're gonna be workin' together. Remind me next time we're both up at the base." He tilts his head slightly as if gesturing towards that distant stronghold of the X-Men.

* * *

"I'm.. a lot of things." There is a flare of purple light, and a psi-katana is in her hand, illuminating her features. "Telepath, telekinetic, and so much more." There's just a tiny twist of a smirk.

"Training is always good…I do enjoy learning how those around me move and fight, what their thought processes are. I look forward to it."

* * *

"Alright," Logan says as he reaches the door and pulls it open, eyeballing that katana and sparing a half-smirk for it, perhaps gauging the model by day anew. He gives a nod and says, "Remind me when we get the chance."
That said he steps into the foyer and over his shoulder he says, "As fer me, I'm gonna go get cleaned up." He wipes one of his hands on the leg of his pants and scowls at it before he tells her sidelong, "Seeya round, Bets." And with that he heads up the curve of those elaborate winding entryway stairs.


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