It's like paradise, spread out with a butter knife :: [OPEN]

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

Who: EVERYONE
What: Réjean has decided that more people ought to celebrate and help raise a bit of dosh for one of his favourite bars. See: flyer.
Where: The Apache.
When: Misdi night and into the wee hours of the morning.
Warnings: Discussion of Pickman's manky feet.

The Apache is much the same as it always is: dimly lit, with the jukebox playing in the background, and the bartender serving whatever's on tap. Tonight, the bar is packed with people from all across the city, different cantons and cohorts, all out to celebrate surviving the fungal plague. Patrons are encouraged to buy tickets for a door prize with the proceeds going to repair the damage tunnelling ants made to the cellar.

Comments

[cerebric.livejournal.com]

Charles was pleased to find a professorship with the university so soon, but he hasn't started work yet, let alone received a paycheck. That doesn't stop him from going to the party, especially with no cover charge. He talks to people easily, he's hoping to find someone generous enough to buy the newcomer a beer.

While alcohol may cost money, browsing is free. He finds the jukebox and begins flipping through the song selections, wearing a slight frown. He doesn't recognize any of the selections and while the song currently playing is catchy, it has a rhythm completely unlike what he is used to.

[rhinemaid]

Music is second nature to Ilde, and thrums through her like she's the instrument in question regardless of whether she's above water or below; it is the one thing where her ordinarily poor hearing just doesn't matter. Accordingly, she's been flitting back and forth from the jukebox since she arrived, and soon enough Charles has company in the form of a little fairy in high heels leaning over the jukebox itself.

"That's terrible," she says, pointing out a song. "I like this one better." It does not seem to occur to her to be concerned with whether or not he cares what she likes.

[cerebric.livejournal.com]

"I liked it," he points out, but Charles isn't too attached to the song and would rather take in the new experiences and people rather than stubbornly hang on to something trivial. He watches with both patience and curiosity as Ilde changes the song. Tilting his head as the song begins to play, Charles listens carefully.

"For such an upbeat tune, the words are a little sad. Is this song one you dance to?"

[rhinemaid]

"To this? Slower, but- sure." It's a quick break from too energetic, and the sweetly-creepy tone of the artists' work in general appeals to her.

[cerebric.livejournal.com]

This song is one Charles is more familiar with. He doesn't know it exactly of course, but the overall feel is something he's heard before. It's strange to think that his first inclination was to judge this as something before his time.

He holds out a hand, arm wide in both sweeping invitation and as a means to separate them should the young woman prefer her personal space. "I'm afraid I'm still a bit lost. Would you be so kind as to show me?"

[gotbottle]

There's a gentle bump to his shoulder from behind, the butt end of a pint of beer being tapped there to get his attention. "Sorry," announces the redhead holding it plus one more just like it in her other hand, "I got waylaid saying hello to someone I was-- oh."

She blinks, and then frowns slightly. "You're not-- hm. Where'd he--?" She scans the people surrounding them, craning her neck. "I wasn't gone that long, seriously, some people's impatient kids... Okay, screw it. If he can't stay in one place, he can't have a beer."

She holds out the pint she'd tapped him with, offering a warm smile to go along with. "Want a beer?"

[cerebric.livejournal.com]

Well now. He had hoped for alcohol but he wasn't quite expecting someone to run into him with an offer so soon. Especially not someone as attractive as Rachel.

"Oh, yes, thank you," he says as he accepts the glass. "Rachel, isn't it? Do forgive me if I'm speaking out of turn, but you are even more ravishing in person than you are through video."

[gotbottle]

"I am?" The color in her cheeks rises at once as she peers at him, trying to place the face now that she's seeing him properly.

"You're not-- I mean-- Charles, right? The professor. At the university, how's that going? Did you start? Do you like it? It must've been a relief to be able to find something that was like, so suitable, so quickly. So many people don't. Not that that's got anything to do with you. Sorry. I'm happy for you and I hope it all works out. So that's a celebratory beer you're now holding, see, it all worked out. Also thank you. For the-- that was nice of you to say. And not out of turn. At all. Um."

Sorry, Charles. Someone has a bad habit of just sort of running off at the mouth when she's flustered, and surprise compliments from charming men are flustering enough without them coming on top of a couple hours' drinks too.

"...Hi. It's nice to finally meet you in person."

[cerebric.livejournal.com]

"It's lovely to meet you as well, Rachel." His voice is even and pleasant, matching his smile. Thoughts move much more quickly than words, and Charles is so used to the former than information spoken at a rapid pace doesn't phase him.

"And to answer your questions, as best as I can at any rate: yes, I am Charles the professor. I was lucky enough to get hired on just before the start of term, so yes, I have started. I enjoy it very much and I would be more than pleased to celebrate with someone such as yourself."

"I think that about does it. Cheers?" He lifts his glass to her and does nothing to hide a cheeky grin.

[alan_shore]

It's chance--chance and a preoccupation with the weaponry lining the bar's walls--that brings Alan to the jukebox. Dancing's out of the question at the moment and he's content to allow the whims of his fellow party-goers to dictate the musical selection. It's instructive, in a way. It's certainly not dull.

He notes the man, notes the frown, and nods amiably at the assortment of knives dangling (all right, fine, they appear to be held firmly in place) from the walls. "Which do you suppose is the pizza slicer?"

[cerebric.livejournal.com]

It's good to draw conversation away from the immediate topic of music. Charles isn't overwhelmed exactly, but it's discomforting to be constantly reminded of how little he knows in not only this world but his own where people already seem to know him.

He looks up at the knives, pondering the question with thought, but not sincerity. "I would have to say the one with the concave blade and jagged edges. It looks like it was made to battle quite the slab of cheese."

[alan_shore]

Up close, the man's younger than Alan'd taken him for--not alarmingly so, but enough to necessitate a bit of mental adjustment. As for the knife, Alan takes a half-step forward and affects to study it.

"You think?" he asks, cocking his head to one side and turning the same gaze--assessing, mildly interested--on the stranger. "Myself, were I called upon to subdue a block of cheese, I'd favor something likely to make a cleaner cut. Alan Shore, by the way," he adds, with scarcely a pause, as if the shift from cheese combat to introductions is a perfectly natural one. He extends his hand.

[cerebric.livejournal.com]

There's a tilt of the head and Charles gives a nod, conceding Alan's hypothetical point. "This is my first foray into oversized cheese slicers. I'm afraid I might need to find the beginner's course."

Not at all taken aback by the sudden shift in topics, Charles accepts the offered hand and gives it a firm shake. "Charles Xavier. What is it that you do that makes you such a cutlery expert? Certainly not a chef, that would be cheating."

[defenestration]

Adrian's taste in music might be slightly more modern, but he's just as unfamiliar with the current selection playing. It's not unappealing really, it's just that it underscores the fact that he's in a strange place.

"Not finding anything you like?" he asks wryly, stopping near enough to the man to be heard without getting too much into his personal space.

[cerebric.livejournal.com]

"I'm studying," Charles replies as an answer. He doesn't like or dislike most of the selections, but he's not here to tune his ear for music.

After that reply he realizes that it must only make sense in his train of thought. "I seem to be a bit more... displaced than others within the city. I'd rather not be lacking in what's perceived as common knowledge."

[defenestration]

Adrian remains quiet in the face of that answer, until the man decides to offer more. Then he smiles reassuringly, gesturing with his drink toward the crowd.

"I wouldn't be too hard on yourself. You recognize a jukebox when you see one -- I've met a couple of people here who wouldn't be able to make that claim." He offers the hand not holding a glass. "Adrian Veidt. My own point of origin seems to be a little old-fashioned as well, considering, but if there's anything I can do to help, I hope you'll ask."

[cerebric.livejournal.com]

"Charles Xavier, it's a pleasure." He shakes the offered hand with a polite and easygoing smile. "You're not the only one to reassure me of the matter of time here, but it is enough of a factor to make me aware of certain things." Note that he says aware and that he's not necessarily worried.

"It's 1962 where I come from, might I ask of your own whereabouts?"

[warped-inside.livejournal.com]

"Charles!" Tosh is extremely happy to see a familiar face she knows for sure will recognize her, even if it's one she's only recently met. "How is the job hunting going?"

[cerebric.livejournal.com]

"Hello, Tosh," he says with equal excitement. "The job search is a search no longer, I've secured a professorship. Would you care to celebrate with me? Unfortunately I don't have the means to offer you a drink just yet, but if you dance..."

He nods toward the jukebox and flashes a smile that finishes his sentence for him.

[warped-inside.livejournal.com]

Tosh looks honestly a little surprised at the offer, but very pleased. "I'd like that, yes. And how about I buy you a drink to celebrate? That seems only fair."

[cerebric.livejournal.com]

"I can't say no to that offer." He opens both palms, one toward the bar and the other toward the jukebox. "Do you have a preference as which gets our magnificent presence first? Ladies' choice, of course."

[bangyoudead.livejournal.com]

It's getting on in the evening by the time Remy does anything besides briefly scope out Charles from afar; other dimensions are par for the course, where he's from, and knowing that Wanda found this Xavier to be inoffensive means he's confident this isn't Charles Xavier, Alternate Universe Supervillain, so that's nice.

He sidles up not far away and gives the younger (it's still weird) man a curious look. It may paint an odd picture, this rough-and-tumble looking man with red-on-black eyes sizing some dude up. Remy looks amused. God it's just weird, he's practically a kid.

[cerebric.livejournal.com]

Charles has been receiving more mental waves of mutants since arriving in this city than he ever had in all his years before. It's the faint pulse of something familiar and when he turns there is certainly no doubt that this man is a mutant as well.

He calmly moves away from the jukebox to approach the stranger. "Is there something I can do for you?" It's a perfectly cordial question and Charles has enough confidence to believe he can handle himself should this man wish him harm.

[bangyoudead.livejournal.com]

Hopefully that's just Charles' uncanny (zing) intuition and not actual mental waves - while skimming the sidelines of Remy's psychic space will ping back nothing but a void, actually trying to glean anything (much less get in) will result in painful psychic static.

He smiles. It's weird hearing that, without the shadow of decades of pain and horror. Without the weight. Anyone else's smile might turn a little sad at the thought, but not his - it's not how Gambit rolls.

"Not yet, looks like. No worries, homme. You manage to stay out of trouble so far?" He asks that like it might be a sign of the apocalypse, if so.

[cerebric.livejournal.com]

Charles never reads anyone's mind without their consent unless an extreme situation calls for it. He stays out of Remy's head, but it's not difficult to tell that he is a mutant.

The question and the smile make him feel a little more at ease and Charles returns a smile of his own. "If trouble comes in the form of a beautiful woman at a bar, then no, I can't say I am." And obviously he's been drinking with a few of them. "Not that I'm not a good conversationalist, but I should hope that trouble finds you as well."