Who: Wild Child, DJ When: Monday, Week 8, 8PM Where: Rochester, NY What: Kyle has a run-in with Rating & Warnings: "PG"
Kyle had tried his best to keep low profile tonight. This last week had resulting in not one but two very bad and rather painful trips into town, so avoiding yet another fight was probably good for his health, not only because he was still in pain from the last trip, but because Jason would probably kill him if he came home bleeding again. He had his trench coat on tonight, the collar turned up to try and hide his pointed ears and fur tufts at his jaw. His long hair was loose around his face, his head down to allow it to hide more of his features. Once he was sure he was a good distance away from the store where he had lifted his current prize, he paused to pull the bottle of white wine from his trench pocket. It was just late enough in the evening for the lights to be turning on and the sky darkening, but it was still easy enough to spot the blond fur tufts and sharp claws holding that bottle as the rather... houndish feral examined it.
Mark, on the other hand, wasn't trying to hide, and refused to do so. He was dressed in all black. His clothes were incredibly...gaudy. His pants were lined with rhinestones down the seams, and his shirt had enough black sequins to blind incoming aircraft. Haute Couture was his passion. He even smelled fantastic, thanks to the gift that Emma Frost had brought him. He rounded a corner and came to a halt. He had a chaperon, somewhere near him. He had conned one of the TAs to being a chaperon. Probably what Head Honcho didn't want them to do, but he didn't say he couldn't...so Mark did...as he always did; what he wanted. What stopped him, however, was a figure in a trench coat, who looked awfully...out of place. Mark pulled down his diamond studded shades and gazed upon the man, who wasn't too shabby looking.
Kyle frowned as he looked at the blackened bottle. He thought it was white wine but it totally did not recognize the word on the label. He sighed again, shrugging as he stuffed the bottle back in the large trench pocket, only the very top of it sticking out. He stuffed his large, furry hands into those pockets and glanced up as some kind of light caught his eye. Blue, cat slitted eyes moved to the human lighthouse standing there. And... staring at him.... Kyle was almost immediately on guard, his shoulders squaring and head dropping a bit lower as his eyes narrowed slightly. It was not enough to be aggressive, just enough to warn the other that he had noticed he was being studied and did not approve.
Mark didn't notice these...subtlety. He focused hard, and then after some time, noticed that the man he was staring at wasn't exactly a man at all. He was a mutant, just like him. Mark smiled a frisky smile as he lowered his sunglasses and put his cellphone inside of his pocket, which made the pants even tighter. He continued to smile as he walked towards the mutant, in a friendly manner. He had no idea that this guy was actually considered...the 'enemy'.
Gibney watched him closely, hands still in his pockets, one hand guarding that bottle of wine. That was for someone special, that had to be guarded. He licked his lips, his teeth seen to be rather sharp as he did this, head cocking slightly to one side. This guy didn't smell aggressive, so he did not seem immediately dangerous even if he was... bright. "...Hey," he stated carefully as the other approached. Kyle himself had no idea that there was a rival faction to the Brotherhood, he quite blissfully ignorant about the rather twisted ideas that his group fought for.
Mark just smiled sweetly as he approached. He was definitely...bright for sure. "Hello." He said as he stood awfully close to Gibney. He looked him over carefully. "You're one too aren't you?" He said softly. It would be nice to meet someone who was a mutant outside of school. He wondered if he had gone to the school too. "Do you live in the city?" He asked curiously.
Kyle had very little concept of or respect for personal space, so Mark coming so close hardly seemed to bother him. He did lean in a small bit, nose shifting as he sniffed the other, nose suddenly wrinkling as the cologne the other had on hit his senses, the chemicals irritating his ever sensitive nose. That caused him to take a short step back, he looking slightly uneasy, but was still smiling. He gave a short, careful nod at that first question, not seeming to really want to draw attention to himself. "Nah, I live out in th' woods." he did look to be a rather wild creature, hair long, loose and windblown, he wearing a loose green T-shirt, jeans having several mud splotches and rips in them, feet stuffed into battered old tennis shoes. This mutant was hardly a fashion plate like Mark was.
Mark noticed the shoes. "You live in the woods?!" He whispered as he looked the figure over. "I'm Mark." He said as he put his hand out abruptly for a shake. "I live at a school." He said plainly with a smile. He noticed the bulge in his jacket. It was in the shape of a wine bottle. He did have a fake ID with him, he would need to pick up a bottle as well.
"Yeah, 's nice," he said easily, seeming to be relaxing a bit with how this conversation was going. "'m Kyle." It was a rather normal name, even if its owner was less than normal himself. He shook the offered hand, his own grip quite strong, palms rough though the fur on the back of his hands was rather soft. "'S nice t' meet ya."
Mark felt the hands, and knew for sure he was a mutant. "You are a mutant too. Aren't you?" He asked curiously with a grin as he withdrew his hand and placed them on his slender hips. His phone rang and he answered it. "Yes, I'm around the corner, and I'm not ready. Go back into the store or something. I'll call you when I'm ready to go." He said as he hung up the phone and looked back at Kyle. He was incredibly strong. Stronger than Mark had expected.
Kyle was neither tall not broad, in fact under the baggy clothing he had a good case of gangly teenage limbs, it seemed near impossible that someone with that build could lift nearly a thousand pounds. The feral flashed a quick, nervous smile, showing long canines as his eyes darted around. "Yeah... but uh... 'm not very popular 'round here so..." he trailed timidly off, the ache in hs back reminding him of why he was being so careful tonight. Yes, he was clearly a mutant, and one who had been around Wolverine and his rival might think the boy bore a striking resemblance to a certain mutant known as Sabretooth. It was all superficial, though. He listened to the other snap off into his cellphone, the tone was strange to Gibs, arrogant and snappy were two things Kyle was not.
He didn't mean to sound arrogant or snappy, but he knew he would have to leave soon, and he didn't want the TA to bother him while he talked to hopefully a new friend. "I know how that feels. We aren't very popular after what happened in Vancouver. Especially with the Canadian Government talking about revenge." He said timidly. The boy had a sort of cuteness about him. Mark hadn't come across Sabertooth so he didn't know to look for a similarity. Mark had an arrogance about him, but it was a playful arrogance backed with a killer smile, most of the time it came off as playful banter.
Gibs blinked, head canting to one side, confusion filling his eyes. "What?" He asked quickly, he suddenly tensing a good bit. True, Kyle was very mad at the government of both the US and Canada, but when it came to his home land, he still loved it. There was no place in the world like the Rockies and he was immediately concerned hearing something happened. Kyle had an oddly innocent look to him, despite the feral, untamed look he held. Yes he was very dangerous, a powerful and violent fighter, but generally he was happy, friendly and easy-going.
Mark smiled. "Yeah. I heard that the mounties were all getting on their horses and riding into the US with cork guns." He said with a laugh. He wasn't worried about Canada. Guns were illegal there. "Don't tell me you haven't heard about the attack on Vancouver?!" He asked in a hushed tone. "It's been all over the news!" He whispered even more excitedly. "Are you kidding me?!" He was in shock. How could he not know?
The youth suddenly reached out, one large, furry hand grabbing a hold of the others arm, brows knitted. "What happened? What happened t' Canada?" His heart was suddenly pounding quickly, an almost aggressive look of panic in his eyes. Kyle lived in the woods, occasionally in a tent, but both places were lacking in television. While most of the Brotherhood was well aware of the events, Gibs had managed to remain blissfully ignorant, chasing squirrels and drooling over an earring he wanted in town.
Mark took a hold of the man's arm underneath his coat and pulled him gently to a table and sat him down, and Mark then sat down. "I can't believe you haven't heard. I wish I wasn't the one who had to tell you this, but someone destroyed Vancouver. Someone destroyed the whole city. Mutants and Humans alike." He said with his eyes showing how much pain he felt for those people, even if his body didn't show it. His eyes were striking normally, now they had taken on a new form. They were now strikingly sad. Mark was a selfish person, very selfish, but even he was hurt by the destruction of Vancouver. He wasn't like that normally, and he quickly shrugged it off and pulled his facade back on as he appeared to be cool and relaxed.
Kyle sat uncomfortably on the chair, he not used to chairs really, shifting around a little as he tried to find a less awkward position. Those blue eyes were suddenly flooded with sadness at hearing this, he dropping his head, shaking his head slightly. "...damn," he whispered, licking his lips. "Who'd... who'd do somethin' like that...?" he muttered to himself, pressing his face into his hand. After another moment he looked up, concern flooding his eyes anew. "Did they get th' mountains?" He demanded it quickly, as if it were more important to him than the city itself.
Mark tried not to get upset. They had friends in Vancouver, or rather they used to. He shook his head. "I'm really not sure who would do something like that. The media says it was Magneto, but why Vancouver and why kill all the mutants there too? I think the government needs a scapegoat." He said quietly. Mark was confused as to why the mountains were so important. "I'm sure there are some people in the mountains left." He didn't understand that Kyle had meant exactly what he had said. He wanted to know if the mountains were still there, not the people who inhabited them.
Kyle suddenly snarled, actually flashing his fangs as he snapped very quickly, "Magneto would never do that!" Oh my, he was very sure about that for some reason. He gave a sigh, dropping his head, hair falling around his face with a troubled expression. He hoped his home was ok, he missed the mountains, the idea that they could just be gone... it was heartbreaking.
Mark jumped back in his chair. His reaction was startling. Mark didn't think that Magneto did it either, but such a fierce reaction. "Whoah! Calm down, big fella." He said as he looked scared. "We don't think he did it either." He said quietly. "Professor Xavier knows better than that." He said as he stared at the table. Those poor people...
Gibs gave a short grunt, shaking his head once, rather like a dog trying to shake water off his fur. "...sorry..." he muttered roughly, keeping his head down now, still looking troubled. His tone was sincere, he had not meant to snap like that, it was just too much, the idea of his home being hurt so badly, and his boss being blamed. "...'s jus'... 's my home." He offered a quiet explanation, raking his claws through his hair with a heavy sigh. "Shit..."
He sighed. He didn't know what he would do if his own home had been destroyed. "I'm sorry to hear that, I'm sure Professor Xavier would be more than happy to take you in for a while if you need a place to stay." Yeah, he couldn't promise things like that, but the Professor seemed to have a kind heart. "It's ok. I mean, your home..." He thought about his parents. He would call them that night. Mark pulled out his cell phone. "Were your parents in Vancouver at the time?" He asked glumly. He hoped they weren't and that they were waiting to hear from their son.
Gibs shrugged, pulling one knee up, placing the heel of one foot against the edge of the chair so he felt like he was half-crouching. "I dunno... haven' heard from 'em in a long time. Doesn' matter." He stated if flatly, coldly, there was clearly no love lost in his voice, and a sneer even seemed to touch his features for just a moment. Then again, not all parents of mutants were accepting or understanding, and those who had physical mutations often met with less understanding. "'M fine, though..." he muttered, turning down the offer of help. "I've gotta talk t' Jason anyway..." His mind was swimming with concern, he half numb to the news.
"I haven't heard from mine in a while either. They run oil companies and stuff, so they are pretty busy all the time. Maybe you should call them. I'm sure they must miss you." He said with a polite smile. Truth was, Mark was still naive about these things. Just because his own parents approved of him, wouldn't mean that all parents would approve of their child's mutancy. "You don't look fine. Do you want a coffee?" He asked as he pulled out his debit card. "Maybe a muffin or something?" No he wasn't asking him on a date, but he just wanted to let this stranger know that he did care, at least a little. "Who is Jason?" Mark asked curiously as he flagged down a street vendor.
He crinkled his nose, a look of disgust touching his features at the mention of his parents. "They c'n burn in hell." There was a deep bitterness in his voice, no room for questioning or even pain. Just cold, simple hatred. He shook his head and slouched deeper into the chair, one heel still on the chair. "No... n' thanks... 'm fine..." He said with a sigh. he did not like coffee or most of the drinks people around here generally drank. He had no appetite after the news, to boot. "Jason's m' friend," he announced simply, shaking his head. "He's a good guy."
Mark still wanted a coffee and he ordered and paid for it quickly. "I'm sorry to hear that. Perhaps one day they will come around?" He asked optimistically as he sipped his coffee. He felt bad that he had something hot to drink, and eventually after a moment decided that he didn't want to drink it if his new friend wasn't going to have anything. He slid the coffee away from himself. He wouldn't drink it until later. "It's nice to have friends. Y'know." He said with a smile. "One good friend is all we really need to make things in the world seem better." He said with a smile, although in the back of his mind he wondered who he would be able to tell anything to. He really didn't have any real friends, or rather any real friends who would actually listen to him without wanting a piece of ass first. Not that he didn't love a piece now and then, more often now than then. He sighed.
Gibs only shrugged. He had no desire to see his parents, he could not even remember their faces now. So far as he was concerned they had died years ago, the same night he was run out of his home. He fidgeted slightly in his chair, making sure his collar was turned up to keep his ears hidden, keeping his fingers lightly stroking the bottle of wine in his pocket, comforted by knowing it was safe. "....yeah," the youth suddenly whispered, a smile touching his lips at the comment about one good friend. He relaxed a good bit, nodding his head again. "Yeah... he does make everythin' better." There was a clear fondness, a blind loyalty in his voice, he finally clearing his head enough to look his new companion over. "Y' got one?" he asked bluntly.
"Yeah. I have loads of friends." He lied skillfully. "Yeah, my roommate and I are really close." Another lie. He invented the suffering in silence routine. Probably why he drank so much really. He coughed. He started to say something, but stopped and smiled. His cellphone was vibrating and he opened it with a flick and listened for a moment. "No no no. I'm in a store." If Kyle was observant he would notice that the lie he just told the person on the phone and the statement about friends both sounded the same. If he paid attention he would know that Mark had lied. He had lied, not to be deceitful, but more to preserve his own sense of pride. "Yes, I'll hurry." He said with a sigh as he hung up the phone.
Kyle did not need to listen in on his phone call to pick up on the lie. He had instinct on his side. His brows knitted slightly as he watched the other, muttering softly, "I didn' have a friend in th' world fer a long time," He said softly. It wasn't chiding or mean. It was sympathetic and honest. "I hope y' find one." Kyle was incredibly tender hearted and really did ache for the other.
Mark blushed. "I have friends." He said gently and a little defensively. "I do have friends." He said softly to himself, mostly to convince himself that he did. He smiled as he stood up and grabbed his now lukewarm coffee. "I've gotta go now. My faculty chaperon is waiting for me to go back so we can get back to campus." He said with a smile. "I hope to see you sometime in the future." He said with a genuine smile as he turned to walk back to the car they came in.
Gibs blinked as he watched the other go, feeling rather guilty for embarrassing him. He was also confused, not really used to having places to go in certain time restrains. "I... err... yeah... bye...' he called after him, giving a rather sheepish smile, wriggling clawed fingers in good bye as he watched the other go, just saying sitting for now.
Mark turned his head around and smiled and waved at the guy. He did hope that they would meet again in the future. He sighed as he gulped down the rest of his coffee. Tonight would be an 'out' night even if it meant expulsion. He walked back to the car where his 'chaperon' was waiting. "Yeah yeah, I know. I took too long. Just take me back now, ok?" He said as he got into the car, put his seat belt on, and stared out of the window and gazed at nothing at all.