| Homecoming (Scott) |
[25 Feb 2008|01:06pm] |
With a thoughtful finger on her lip, she scanned the newspaper stand from left to right for what would already be the fourth time. The vendor, who had a mustardful hotdog sandwich breakfast left hanging, already had his hand on his waist while waiting for his customer to continue the sentence that she began with, 'I'll take........' and the ellipsis had gone on forever.
"You could take all of them y'know," The vendor suggested, tilting his head up to meet his customer's super model-esque height. Model or not, he was starving and needed his food, "Or you can make up your mind."
"The Times," Ororo Munroe decided and smiled apologetically with a please-don't-be-mean-at-me-mister-i-have-not-any-sleep-look, "I'll just settle with that." She took out her purse and looked for some change, "I've been gone for a while. I wanted to see what I've missed."
"You want back issues? Lemme check yesterday's..." He turned his back.
"Oh no thank you," Ororo shook her bandana-wrapped head and placed some coins on the counter, "I would if I have the time. But I'm going to need a plenty of it to catch up on my work..."
In the bus, she started reading. Ororo skipped the national headlines, they weren't the reasons why she purchased the paper. It was in the Metro section where she found what she was looking for: an article covering the protest on Cromwell High School. Then, she folded the paper back as she yawned and leaned back. She was starving and she didn't think she could spend any more time preparing food back in the mansion or waiting for someone else to do it. A take-out was in order.
So upon her arrival in the mansion, she had a large shoulder bag, a wheeled luggage and a take-out paper bag. She was sort of hoping there was a 'Welcome Back Leader' entourage at the front but she supposed she was expecting too much. It seemed more logical to snub her after missing out in the protest and a month long of work.
After baggages were left in her room, Ororo proceeded to doing something about her hunger problem. On her way, she was already reflecting about the mansion's current mood. She was not an empath, but still her powers had something to do with emotional states. There was that certain gloomy air that was weighing everyone down, kind of like the feeling of a rainy day Monday, a kid forced to be left behind in an exciting zoo trip because he was sick, and so on. This feeling was more prominent in the kitchen and Ororo realized why.
"That is a naaasty limp," She said by the doorway.
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[25 Feb 2008|09:10pm] |
Living in the city, Jamie didn't own a car. It didn't make sense, comparing the price of parking and insurance in Mutant Town with the simple two dollar price of a Metro Card. It was cheaper, not to mention faster, just to use the subway which crisscrossed the city. He could drive, but he only occasionally did. On days like this when he rented a car from a dealership just on the border of the Bronx and chose to drive straight up to Connecticut from there. It was a two and half hour drive, but he didn't mind it for days when he just couldn't take the train. He'd plug in his iPod and tap his hands on the steering wheel for two hours along in time with the music.
It was around noon when Jamie pulled into the driveway of the Brotherhood Mansion for the second time in four days. He'd stayed the weekend, left on Sunday, and now Monday afternoon he was back again. He'd done a bit of work that morning for the business, but it had been a slow week and it didn't look to be getting any more exciting. His time was better off spent in Connecticut. He hated the state as a rule, but the mood at the mansion was relatively cheery, given their win the week before.
Jamie hadn't been a part of it, but he celebrated anyway. The mood was relatively addictive and he'd succumbed. He closed the door of the Acura SUV he'd rented and walked further up the driveway so that he could enter through the back door. People didn't really need to see him, or anyone other than Erik for that matter, coming through the front.
"Hello," he called out in a normal voice, mostly speaking to himself as he walked through the door. He dropped his messenger bag with his laptop on the kitchen table and made a beeline for the refrigerator, hoping that this time he wouldn't run into something that was broken in the course of making his sandwich.
[Open to the BH]
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