multiversallogs | find us a trap door, find us a plane

Who: Magneeter and ~~Ponyboy~~ Pyro
What: manly Skyrail date
Where: ...the Skyrail, starting at Griss Fell station
When: about a million years ago at this point, we're slow
Notes: backdated the most
Warnings: possibly teenage cussin' /clutches pearls

Two o'clock on Thursday, he'd said, and as the university's great old tower bells across the river begin the traditional preludial peals, Erik looks in its direction. The pale-faced clock and its iron fixtures just visible between two buildings. His eyes follow the spire up into the belly of a cloud, and he wonders what his friend is doing—whether there's a lesson now, or more grading to be done, or what-else.

He has on a pair of sunglasses, and no hat, and his hands are in the pockets of his jacket. His trousers are scuffed at the knees and smeared with a bit of black grease and his feet inhabit a pair of heavy, dirty boots. As if on cue (but not on purpose), he turns his head with the final tolling of the hour and resumes watching people as they move past him down the stairs, or approach on their way to the Skyrail's platform, and looks for John.

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There is, perhaps, something a little strange about how John takes the news about Hank McCoy; he frowns slightly and nods, yet does not say yeah, I guess I could see that, it's just hard to tell because of all the fur because he does actually know that McCoy wasn't always like that. It was one of the few offhand exchanges he had with Mystique (and they've just about all been offhand, even when they were significant), something like 'it must have been hard for him growing up' and her response being 'he wasn't always like that', the end, no subtext whatsoever.

The momentary satisfaction in having words-words-wordsed some of the sad away is then deflated by his failure to recognize any of the names. Almost. John shakes his head to each but hesitates on the last.

"One of them is Scott Summers," he volunteers. "Codename Cyclops? Does these kinetic blast type things from his eyes?" He does not add his customary description of Scott, which is 'so he always has to wear special sunglasses like a totally cool guy'.

It's not exactly what he wanted to hear, no, but this does at least nudge his thoughts forward rather than back.

"That's interesting... Alex had a similar talent, although less focused. He would throw it, bodily. Had the potential to be devastating." He does not mention that it vaguely resembles hula hoops of death—but only because he's not in the mood, honestly. At this age, Erik would completely say something like that. "The two of them are related, I suppose."

After another pause, during which he eyeballs John for a moment longer—sorry, he's just thinking, and you happen to be right there—Erik goes on to ask, "What do you know about this Remy fellow?"

Edited 2011-12-12 02:01 (UTC)

Again, he wonders rather uneasily where Alex would be now. Perhaps it can all be chalked up to differences in universe, but it still makes him uncomfortable to know how many people are 'missing'. It's not something he's ready to question. Magneto would have told him if he needed to know, he believes that.

"Remy was loosely affiliated with a mutant group called the Morlocks, in my universe. Not one of them — not one of anyone, as far as I know, but he knew lots of people and had lots of connections. The thing is, a lot of the Morlocks got killed in a conflict with the government, and Remy disappeared on us for a while. So, ordinarily I'd say he's a little suspicious." John shrugs. "Here, though..." An awkward pause where he does not say he's dating your daughter. "He just seems concerned about mutants. Which is fair. And there's no denying he's useful. You know his mutation?"

"I do. Helpfully, he described it to me." Erik is trying not to seem overly suspicious, but yes, there is that whole dating part, which covers much of why he's so interested. That and the man's name kept popping up unsolicited. Since Erik likes to make a point of knowing what he can about influential people, influential mutants are not only a novelty but a priority.

The train begins a gentle northward turn, then, and Erik lifts his head to glimpse the passing landscape, mildly interested and for a moment seeming untroubled. The expression is brief... and as his attention leaves the window again, it seeks to lock into contact with that of his accomplice.

"So why exactly are you being so helpful, John?"

The clear blue of his eyes. His gaze is steady, serious, but not unkind.

That comes as a relief, as John hadn't wanted to furnish his highly technical explanation of Remy's powers. The explanation would have consisted of 'I don't know how it works, but he touches things and they explode'. The relief is short-lived, however, as seems to be a trend with Erik. The elephant in the room question flusters him just a little, that's pretty clear. Magneto had never asked. He's never had to articulate any reason for joining the Brotherhood, and he doesn't want to get all fanboy about it. So he does look away out of awkwardness, but immediately looks back, because he's not going to be hesitant or anything, that's not going to impress Erik.

"You're him... or the closest thing." John shrugs again, trying to act like it's not as important as it is to him, because he can't sort this out on the spot. "I'm not like, gonna follow you around if you don't want, that's fine, I'll just work with Remy and do my job at the newspaper or whatever. Maybe the Brotherhood isn't even necessary here, I don't know. It's just been my life for the past four years, so... whatever, I'm here if you need something set on fire." The self-deprecation there is a little grim.

Someone else may have chosen to show amusement in this moment, to widen the gap between perceived leader and follower. Erik only nods. "Fair enough."

He's not going to leave it at that, though. Now inspired to leave his seat, Erik rises to stand on one of the transparent glass portions of the carriage floor—not to fold his hands and gaze out the window, however, but to lean there, still facing John, now framed by open air and the scrolling cityscape. Nearly every movement of his comes with a leisurely grace; this, at least, is perhaps similar to any number of his counterparts.

"But don't sell yourself short. If I wanted to start a fire, I'd use a match. You've already proven yourself far more valuable than that."

Well. That's what he wanted to hear, but it doesn't quite shake the uneasiness. Why the parallel response doesn't comfort him, he's not sure. Maybe it's because he's older, and Magneto is younger. Maybe a million things. John relegates it to the ever growing category of let's not think about it right now, a category that conveniently renews itself in terms of 'right now'. He just shifts and straightens up, a sort of unconscious response to Erik getting up.

"Okay." That's a great reply, really, but he can't think of anything else. "... I probably won't have anything else to report for a while."

"Fine." This word alone does not sound even remotely petulant, despite that being its most common use anymore. "We can focus on conditioning in the meantime."

For emphasis, Erik pauses here, his arms folded loosely across his chest, and pushes his head forward in a kind of provocative little nod. His eyebrows hardly lift, and in the way his mouth plays at curving just so, again he manages to make the promise of a friendly look seem more like a threat. "If you feel you're up to it, of course."

find us a trap door, find us a plane

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