Log: Cyclops and Skids Who: Sally Blevins and Scott Summers When: February 27, 2008; evening Where: the school’s garage What: Sally’s being all sneaky in an effort to bump into Scott because he’s dreamy. Only to find him about ready to leave for his FOH mission of D00M. Then he pulls the wool over her eyes to shut up her demanding to know where he’s going.
Everything was set with the X-Men. Scott had the tracker on his skin, making his neck itch (and it was all he could do not to scratch it), and everything was going to be just fine. He'd be picked up in a couple of days, hopefully not too worse for wear, and for once, he didn't seem worried about the Brotherhood meddling in it. They were working for a common goal, after all.
Scott had given his old bike to Logan (as a gesture of good will and ... maybe so he'd stop stealing it, god damn it) and he had a new one by now -- one that was still being upgraded to the level of Logan's, though he was lagging. There wasn't as much time to play in the garage right now. He'd already caught up with Logan, told him to go find his bike (if it wasn't destroyed) while the other X-Men were off rescuing him, so ... for now, he was set.
...Still, just in case the Friends of Humanity were unusually cruel when they found him, Scott was giving his motorcycle a lookover. If it was going to go down with him, it would go down fully functional and shining. ---Maybe that was weird, but his cars and his motorbike were the closest thing Scott would ever have to children. He took care of them.
Admittedly, Sally wasn’t the most wily person in the world. That still didn’t stop her from stopping by the garage in the hopes that Scott would be hanging around there. He did, after all, spend a lot of time doing… mechanic work. She wasn’t entirely sure what that entailed, and no one in their right mind would let her near breakable stuff anyway, but at least it gave her a clue about where to ‘accidentally’ bump into him.
She even had her car keys clutched in one hand to give her an excuse for being in the garage. Assuming that she found him there, Sally supposed that meant that she was going to have to actually go out after talking to him, but she figured she could make a run to get a cup of (decaf) coffee or something to kill the time of that outing. And then she’d get to see him again when she got back if he was still there.
Her anticipatory smile brightened when she saw that Scott was there and, entirely oblivious to his plans, said a bright, chirpy, “Hi!” Hopefully he wouldn’t act all embarrassed about his drunken escapades around her.
Scott, bent over his bike and reaching down to adjust something, looked up when he heard Sally's voice. Sally. ...Right. Sally who he'd gone out drinking with and---
Well, Scott liked to pretend he didn't remember much, but he could vaguely recall the background music to "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" and something about being an exotic dancer. In retrospect, he'd actually been pretty damn drunk, but his car had survived it all without being vandalised overnight, so it was okay.
"Hi."
She ventured a few steps closer --- brave for her, considering that she knew how accident prone she was and that even accidentally breaking Scott’s bike wasn’t going to win her any brownie points. “What’re you doing?” she said automatically. Which was an innocent enough question, at least since she didn’t realize what he really was doing.
He really hadn't mentioned being gone. People tended to assume that when Scott left, he was either shopping (which was when he'd ask for additions to the list) or that it was X-Men business, which he was less likely to announce. So it was no wonder she didn't know yet. "I'm about to leave," he supplied. "Just giving the bike a once over before I go. Why, what are you doing?"
“Uh…” Momentarily at a loss for words, which Sally usually wasn’t, it took her a second to remember her cover story and lift up her keys, giving them a little jangle. “Just for a drive.”
She tipped her head to the side questioningly. “Where are you going?” She didn’t expect a straight answer, but she was genuinely interested in knowing.
"X-Men business." It wasn't specific, but it was specific enough. Scott wasn't the type to lie or dance around the truth when someone asked him a question --- people just didn't usually ask him questions. They didn't feel comfortable talking to him, which worked well enough for everyone.
She shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat, giving his bike a once over and then looking back up to Scott. Maybe most people who shrug and take that as an answer and let it go, but… hell, she was trying to make conversation. “What kind of X-Men business?”
"Don't worry about it. We're just dealing with the Friends of Humanity; I should be back in a couple days." Not that he was biting at the bit to leave or anything -- which was why he seemed more receptive to the conversation than perturbed that she was encroaching upon his private time before the potential destruction of his motorcycle. They didn't agree on much, but Scott ... kind of liked Sally. He didn't dislike her, anyway, and she was nice enough --- in more than one way, but Scott was the type to rebound hard. He wasn't over Emma, even if he'd left her --- hell, he wasn't even over Jean --- so ... it would be a lie to say he wasn't looking.
---But all that was totally beside the point at the moment, it really was.
Sally blinked a few times, taking in that information. It probably didn’t take a genius to figure out that she wasn’t a fan of the Friends of Humanity. Considering she wasn’t a fan of regular humans, the members of the FOH ranked somewhere below cockroaches on her hierarchy of living organisms. All the same, she was very aware that they were dangerous. Very dangerous. They’d nearly burned Hank alive. Had managed to keep Bobby locked up for two weeks. Definitely not people to screw around with unless you knew what you were doing --- which was part of the reason why she always had her forcefield up whenever she left the school.
“You’re going to try to find information on them? Or…” She left the or hanging, especially since Scott was going out on his own. If he was planning on taking them out he should have reinforcements, right?
"Don't worry about it," he repeated, almost fondly. It really wasn't worth her time to worry; the X-Men had their plans, and Scott could protect himself.
Okay, that told Sally that she should worry about it. People only said ‘don’t worry about it’ without giving out more information when there was something to worry about. Pulling her hands out of her pockets and crossing her arms over her chest, she hmmphed. “That’s not an answer.”
"It's the one you're getting. I can take care of myself, I promise." Like he had to make excuses. Which he didn't. Scott lead the X-Men; the only one he answered to was Charles. But he still would have felt bad if he didn't at least try to assure Sally he wasn't going to die or something.
“If you’re going to have to take care of yourself, you’re going to do something dangerous,” Sally said with a frown. Okay, truth be told, she didn’t know Scott that well. She’d watched him from afar as a teen and, aside from that night out, she’d never actually hung out with him or anything. But still. Getting that face blown off would be a damn shame.
"I can look after myself, Sally." Just to make his point, Scott reached up and did something he never did anymore: he pulled his glasses down, looking over them at her. Even when he'd been using Pandora's Lock, he'd tended to wear his glasses around, and it had taken him a long time to walk around without them -- and then right after that his powers had come back again, so it hadn't last very long. His eyes, without the plasmic red glow, were a bright, vivid blue that Sally had never had the chance to see before. "Everything's under control."
That made Sally pause in her bitching. Honestly, crush or not, she’d never really thought about what color Scott’s eyes would be under his glasses… mostly because she knew that there was no way that he could take them off so it was a moot point to wonder. But she wasn’t sure what stunned her more: the color of his eyes or the fact that he’d taken his glasses off and hadn’t blasted her through the wall. Granted, her force field could probably bounce the blast back but, first, she’d never tried it to know and, second, it wasn’t up at the moment anyway.
“What the hell?” she said, sounding a little confused and almost blank. It was odd for her to say, considering that she rarely swore.
"Like I said," Scott repeated, pushing his glasses back up. "Everything is under control." And then, before better judgement slipped in. "Maybe when I get back, we can try to go out for another drink. Preferably without the karaoke."
Sally was blinking repeatedly, trying to figure out what in the world was going on. Pandora’s Lock? He’d taken it in the past, that must be why he could take off his glasses, but she still wasn’t sure what that had to do with dealing with the FOH. “That still doesn’t ---- wait, what?” Maybe it hadn’t been his intention, but if there had been a way to distract her from demanding to know what exactly was going on and what he was planning, it was to suggest going out for another drink. “Really? Yeah, okay. No karaoke. Swear.”
"Good. I don't think I'll be getting drunk enough to perform next time." Fixing whatever it is he'd reached down for, Scott reached for his keys, pressing the button for the garage door opener. As the door raised, he swung a leg over his bike. "I'll be back in a couple days. ---And this time, I'll pay."
Sally’s lips twitched. “Maybe this time you’ll be sober enough to remember where your wallet is.” By the time she remembered that she was supposed to be demanding answers from him, the garage door was already open and he was on his bike. Scott Summers was either brilliant or just really lucky. “Don’t get yourself killed or something.”
He'd been starting up his bike while she spoke, planning to drive off before she could start demanding answers again. "I won't," he promised, kicking up the stand while the motorcycle was idling. "I'll see you." And with that, the conversation was apparently over -- least of all because Scott was starting to ride off, the sound of the motorcycle's engine filling the cold air.