InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "There is no cult!"

🎵 𝄞 🎸 𝄫 🎷🎶 🎻 (jukejoint) wrote in rooms,
@ 2015-03-09 00:43:00

Entry tags:

!marvel comics, *journal, *log, dylan mckendrick, jack corvus, luke henry, max main, thomas brandon

Dylan M, Jack C, Thomas B, Luke H
[Locked to Dylan M]
Hello.

[Locked to Jack C]
Hello.

[Locked to Thomas B]
Hello.

[Locked to Luke H]
Hello.

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Re: Rink: Max & Dylan

jukejoint
2015-03-20 04:39 pm UTC (link)

[She wasn't as willing to vomit or kill to make a point as her older self. Alright. Not kill. He was possibly too not-disgusting-butterflies to kill. Maim. Somewhere not very important.]

What body part is least important? [Innocently, like she asking nothing of important.]

[She stopped just inside the door when he interrupted himself about customer service. She turned as the door swung closed, and she made a face at the prospect of orange fizzy drinks.] No. Very important. Ask if they have beer.

[At five am.

Inside, even the waitresses looked sleepy. It looked like an eggs and bacon crowed. Maybe a strong coffee. She pulled her beanie off, and she looked around.] Ask if they have beer.

[Repetition was important sometimes. She was willing to wait. If she was humming Hungry Eyes under her breath as she waited, well, she couldn't be held responsible. Being held responsible wasn't something she was embracing in her new, General-free life.]

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Re: Rink: Max & Dylan

jazzhands
2015-03-20 08:04 pm UTC (link)

[Oh, here we go. Watch as the miraculous Dylan goes ADD distracted with the prospect of listing unnecessary body parts.] Well, there's the third eyelid... difficult to shoot off on its own, although even if you took the entire eye, an eye patch is like a badge of automatic badassery. The high probability of the bullet going into the brain, though? Not a good option. [Side-eye.] And I doubt you know shit to do with a scalpel. Which also negates the tonsils, the nipples, wisdom teeth, and coccyx. Maybe the appendix? Gall bladder? Love handle? People get all kinds of stupid shit removed thinking because of evolution its no longer needed, but --

[He'd been talking over her repeated requests for beer for awhile now, and glanced down with annoyance.] You ask her if she has beer. [Max had never needed Dylan to ask for anything, unless they were in some fancy restaurant whose menu left her confused and uncomfortable.

Then, it kind of occurred to him, and Dylan slowly slid into a booth as the girl tugged the beanie away from her dark hair.] You're not Twenty-one, are you?

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Re: Rink: Max & Dylan

jukejoint
2015-03-20 08:29 pm UTC (link)

[She considered his options.] Pretty eyes. No eyepatch. [Rejected. The rest of his suggestions got an eyeroll. Useless.] Pinky. [Pause.] Toe. Pinky toe. [He might have trouble balancing, but he'd still look hot. She assumed that kind of thing was important to her Cougar self. She had to look out for her future self, alright? Out of her three future sex options, he was the best. The babydaddy was weird. Jack was emo.

Foot tap. Foot tap. Foot tap. And she waited for logic to catch up with him, and to inform him about why she couldn't ask about the beer herself. Foot tap. Bingo!

She slid into the booth with him, same side, and then she climbed over his lap to sit against the wall; better to hide possible underage beer consumption.] I'm not. But that doesn't matter on the base. Don't make me bat my eyelashes at you for a beer. It looks like I have something in my eyes when I do that.

[She reached for the menu.] Do I get to go home with you?

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Re: Rink: Max & Dylan

jazzhands
2015-03-23 08:21 am UTC (link)

Well, if its alright with you... [Dylan began with the menu tilting up in the palm of his hands, laminate flat in his grip where autumn eyes zoomed across words that all sounded greasy and similar. Dylan read amain, so fast that it was a thoughtless process. Something learned from days and nights pouring over code, over federal documents, over reddit feeds. He read faster than he processed, and even as his attention shifted across the typeface of offered early bird items, he planted his tongue into his cheek and continued the earlier sentiment.]

I'd rather not get shot tonight... this morning, whatever. [He blinked up from the menu with a bright smile that bordered on fake, head tilted toward her where she'd found her place against the wall. An unsmart position for a potential ambush, good idea to hide underage drinking. It was all dependent upon priorities.] We've done so well all these years, why fuck it up now?

[When the waitress approached, she was a grizzled woman who looked like the kind of zombie who'd started her red-eye shift sometime around 8 PM the night before. She was no smiles, and Dylan winced with hesitation when it came to asking about the beer.] Couple of coffees, and uh.. just give us a minute..

[The waitress wordlessly stalked off in her stained yellow apron to fetch chipped, ceramic mugs. Dylan glanced at Max anew when the next question arose.]

Don't you have a home? Like a Christopher Robin tree house or something?

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Re: Rink: Max & Dylan

jukejoint
2015-03-23 03:51 pm UTC (link)

[She rolled her eyes at his lack of daring.] Do I let you play it safe? [She was starting to understand that old her had a very dull life. Well, she wasn't having it. If she was here, she was going to live. No flower shop. No boring future. No small people that were her responsibility. NO ARMY. And if she went back to her life, she could at least ensure that her old and boring self got less boring.

She couldn't do anything about the old part.

He ordered coffee; she groaned.]

That waitress looks like she wishes her life would end. That someone would come in with a semiautomatic and free her. I don't want that to be my life. [It wasn't particularly confessional sounding, despite the fact that it was absolutely a confession.

Then, more casually.] Aren't you afraid caffeine will stunt my growth?

[She drank the coffee black when it came, no just doctoring because she was into rom-coms now. That, at least, was the same. He asked if she had a home, and her brown eyes regarded him with much unimpressed-ness. Not a word, but she decided it was a word now. She was a journalist. She could make up words.] Yes. I live in Central Park. With the squirrels.

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Re: Rink: Max & Dylan

jazzhands
2015-03-25 05:21 am UTC (link)

It kind of used to be my job, playing it safe. [He smiled up at the reflective panels in the ceiling, cheap replica chrome like the diner didn't even have the spirit to wish for gold. Dylan liked it. He liked greasy spoons, they used to make his grandmother cringe and he had vague memories of his mother praising their historical merits because of that very reason. He liked shitty, strong coffee. He liked the way she groaned when he ordered it.

He glanced after the waitress with the sagging apron that was beyond the help of bleach or hope.] Don't worry, you'll never work here. You'd blow the place up if they even mailed you an application.

[When the coffee came, Dylan shrugged at the idea of her being this slightly-less height forever. The difference didn't seem all that great to him, not enough to warrant not drinking coffee. Fuck that, Max's nutritional deficits were on her. He reached for the sugar, undeterred by the way she took hers bitter black. She could be short and stuck with shitty, plain coffee for her whole life, but Dylan was taking his sweet. Diabetes, here we come; he stirred in a lengthy pour of white with the water-spotted oval of his spoon.] You live off of shitty beer and pizza crust, some coffee is going to be the least of your problems.

[He sipped, making a slight face at the scald... and then an eyebrow raised when she said that she was living in the park with the wildlife(and hobos).] Really. [It wasn't a question, but more of a comment to showcase his suspended disbelief.] What about your sister?

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Re: Rink: Max & Dylan

jukejoint
2015-03-28 03:06 am UTC (link)

Booooooring. [Which she dragged out and exaggerated, and it still managed to be deadpan. She liked the diner, though, even though working there made her want to gouge her eyes out. The General didn't like places like this, but Max always had. No airs, no pretense, and she liked that. But she liked beer, too, and her newfound freedom from a life in the military should come with beer. But there was coffee instead.

His comment about blowing the diner up made her grin, and she looked like she would do it. BANG, and the whole place would go up in flames. She let herself think the anarchist thoughts for a bit, and then she shrugged at him and took a sip of the bitter black.] Sniper rifle's better. Leave the structure. Reuse it for our base of operations to take over the world. [Deadpan and sip.] At least I still have decent taste in food.

[She smiled at his display of disbelief, but the smile died when he mentioned Ella.] Why does everyone mention her. I hate her. She hates me. We share a mutual hate.

[She pushed her coffee aside, and she looked at him.] Alright. I have to go take care of things, handsome.

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