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capeandcowl2013-01-30 02:23 pm
ex_engineers208) wrote in capeandcowl2013-01-30 02:23 pm
Entry tags:
eight □ video. joint.
[ The video opens on a sub-basement laboratory of the Xavier Institute. There stands who else but...Sydney Greenstreet? He gives the audience a small, knowing smile as he stands there in his rotundity in a black suit, holding a cigar. ]
Mm hmm hmm. I distrust a man whose trust for other men is determined more by his trusts than his distrusts. There is no trust without discretion, and in that scrutiny we develop the distrusts that determine our interactions with the world at large. I do like a man who tells you upfront that he distrusts you, saves the time of founding a trust that only disguises the true distrust present.
[ Once he's done he gives his audience a very stern look that holds for all of five seconds before it starts to crack, erupting into a hearty laugh. When he continues, his voice is different, now a rich, purring baritone that may sound familiar. ]
I'd like to present to you the X-Club's latest invention, a new take on an old classic... [ He fusses with something on his wrist, and his black suit turns with with a small red fez on his head that's more Casablanca than Maltese Falcon, until finally the illusion dissipates to reveal the slightly hunched form of Hank McCoy. ] ...the image inducer!
[ Hank straightens himself to his proper height, and the camera pans out to accommodate, now including Madison Jeffries in the picture to his left. ] This baby brings back memories. It works by projecting a hologram over its wearer, allowing them to appear however they like, and voice modulation to complete the disguise. Back in the day, those of us whose mutations were more visibly apparent used to use these to facilitate our free movement through society. These days, it doesn't really come up as often.
[ Madison cuts in, fiddling with something behind his back -- his hair looking a little off, pulled away from his face. ]
We still reckon it’s a highly utilitarian tool that might come in handy for imPortkind, if we iron out the kinks. Uh. We got a handful of secondary and tertiary projects bein’ worked on; most a’ them are distraction-like. "Distraction-like" only in that we have other primary projects, but they all have their applications. No matter how seemingly frivolous.
Actually! [ Hank nudges Madison with his elbow with an excited grin. ] Why don't we show them that other one we finished yesterday?
Aaah. [ For a second, Madison looks rather uncomfortable -- mortified, mostly. ] We don’t gotta show them everythin’. [ Hank spreads his arms, his smile growing wider. ] Ohhh, none of that now! There's no need to be shy.
[ Madison throws him a mildly despairing look, then reaches behind his head to pull off what appears to be a rubber band; his hair falling down in a rather luxurious, white-streaked wave. Hank beams. ]
He’s buyin’ me a haircut later. Entirely worth it. [ Madison sighs, blowing a loose strand away from his face. Vaguely, with a wave: ] It’s a, uh. Hair thing. T’sall. Enzymatic overdrive a’ follicular cells, yadda yadda. Whatever. Guaranteed to give you hair like Ka-Zar overnight! [ Hank says it with a wink. ]
Anyhoo, we’re on the tail end a’ publishin’ the results a’ the headline project, but if y’wanna donate a hint a’ tissue for the sciences... it’d be much obliged, yeah? There were some concerns last time it came up that I wasn't... [ In the mood to deal with. ] ...available to answer, that we'd like to be more upfront with now. What we're looking for for is proof of physiological connections between imPorts that are absent in the native populace, so obviously we'll need a reasonably sized sampling pool of imPort volunteers.
So, y’know, with that lil’ hint a’ clarity -- please? We got cash, alright?
[ They both give big, slightly desperate smiles for the camera before the feed cuts. ]
red is madison, blue is hank
Mm hmm hmm. I distrust a man whose trust for other men is determined more by his trusts than his distrusts. There is no trust without discretion, and in that scrutiny we develop the distrusts that determine our interactions with the world at large. I do like a man who tells you upfront that he distrusts you, saves the time of founding a trust that only disguises the true distrust present.
[ Once he's done he gives his audience a very stern look that holds for all of five seconds before it starts to crack, erupting into a hearty laugh. When he continues, his voice is different, now a rich, purring baritone that may sound familiar. ]
I'd like to present to you the X-Club's latest invention, a new take on an old classic... [ He fusses with something on his wrist, and his black suit turns with with a small red fez on his head that's more Casablanca than Maltese Falcon, until finally the illusion dissipates to reveal the slightly hunched form of Hank McCoy. ] ...the image inducer!
[ Hank straightens himself to his proper height, and the camera pans out to accommodate, now including Madison Jeffries in the picture to his left. ] This baby brings back memories. It works by projecting a hologram over its wearer, allowing them to appear however they like, and voice modulation to complete the disguise. Back in the day, those of us whose mutations were more visibly apparent used to use these to facilitate our free movement through society. These days, it doesn't really come up as often.
[ Madison cuts in, fiddling with something behind his back -- his hair looking a little off, pulled away from his face. ]
We still reckon it’s a highly utilitarian tool that might come in handy for imPortkind, if we iron out the kinks. Uh. We got a handful of secondary and tertiary projects bein’ worked on; most a’ them are distraction-like. "Distraction-like" only in that we have other primary projects, but they all have their applications. No matter how seemingly frivolous.
Actually! [ Hank nudges Madison with his elbow with an excited grin. ] Why don't we show them that other one we finished yesterday?
Aaah. [ For a second, Madison looks rather uncomfortable -- mortified, mostly. ] We don’t gotta show them everythin’. [ Hank spreads his arms, his smile growing wider. ] Ohhh, none of that now! There's no need to be shy.
[ Madison throws him a mildly despairing look, then reaches behind his head to pull off what appears to be a rubber band; his hair falling down in a rather luxurious, white-streaked wave. Hank beams. ]
He’s buyin’ me a haircut later. Entirely worth it. [ Madison sighs, blowing a loose strand away from his face. Vaguely, with a wave: ] It’s a, uh. Hair thing. T’sall. Enzymatic overdrive a’ follicular cells, yadda yadda. Whatever. Guaranteed to give you hair like Ka-Zar overnight! [ Hank says it with a wink. ]
Anyhoo, we’re on the tail end a’ publishin’ the results a’ the headline project, but if y’wanna donate a hint a’ tissue for the sciences... it’d be much obliged, yeah? There were some concerns last time it came up that I wasn't... [ In the mood to deal with. ] ...available to answer, that we'd like to be more upfront with now. What we're looking for for is proof of physiological connections between imPorts that are absent in the native populace, so obviously we'll need a reasonably sized sampling pool of imPort volunteers.
So, y’know, with that lil’ hint a’ clarity -- please? We got cash, alright?
[ They both give big, slightly desperate smiles for the camera before the feed cuts. ]
red is madison, blue is hank
no subject
If that were true, if you really believed that, then you wouldn't care that she's with Cross now.
[He tosses up his hands and turns back to the desk, resting his elbows on it and kneading his forehead. Somehow, he'd never imagined it coming to this when he formed X-Club, everything seemed to work so much smoother. At least everyone but him, but he thought the circumstances were the main problem there. Maybe he was wrong.
Something was missing here, and maybe it was Kavita's levelheadedness or Nemesis' demands for all attention distracting from any potential personal issues. Either way, right now they're a broken formula, too many ingredients missing, and who else is there to fix them?]
no subject
[ watching how hank reacts (he looks tired; did he do that? must have), he feels a little embarrassed. childish, even, to say any of these things aloud and not in his head or along the mental link; his posture slumps, and his gaze casts down to his feet. ]
And I think, after all this crap. I reckon I deserve t'be happy.
[ his lips flatten. ]
I'm not happy.
no subject
But what would make you happy? With all of this going on, what do you really expect from either of them?
no subject
[ he sighs, shrugs his shoulders up to his ears. meets hank's gaze, then looks away again. ]
I might be a little happy if that goddamn backstabber wasn't. Y'know we usedta be friends, right?
no subject
No, actually. I didn't know that.
no subject
And I told him t'leave Lil alone, and. And. I shoulda known he was usin' me.
[ racking his head, madison closes his eyes. ]
God, I'm useless.
no subject
I make no claim that he isn't a lecher, but I'd be surprised if he got close to you only as a route to her.
no subject
[ really, he shouldn't be talking. he should hold it in.
keeping track of all the bad memories is hard, but ― he can't help but laugh a little, sardonically, at one. ]
He asked me for my blessin' t'sleep with her over a text. Who even does that?
no subject
Someone with bizarre ideas about etiquette.
no subject
[ he falls quiet, for a moment ― mouth slightly ajar, struggling to find something to say.
it doesn't take too long. ]
Y'know, McCoy? Most a' things in my life end t'horror and sheer sufferin'. I reckon now it ain't so bad t'end things the hard way early rather'n see the awful finale a' them. Sorta learned that lesson over'n over again.
no subject
But there was one thing certainly left to ask.]
And which way's the hard one this time?
no subject
That's enough.
[ finally, he looks back at hank's face. this isn't what he wanted; this isn't support, just an unbearable wall of democratic neutrality. it's not right. it's not fair, it's not okay.
it hurts to swallow. ]
I just. I want him ― away. That's what I really want.
no subject
Then avoid him. It shouldn't be hard, he tiptoes around you as it is.
no subject
[ god, he misses everyone. ]
If you're all high and mighty about your friggin' compassion, Hank. Why don't y'lend me any?
no subject
What do you want me to do, Madison? Should I just take your side, fire him and shun her, pretend that you being with Danger didn't play any kind of factor into how this concluded?
How can I fix this in a way that wraps a nice happy bow on everything?!
no subject
I wasn't even with Danger at any point a' our marriage. Even here, a-and... I ain't at fault for anythin'. O-or. Not that.
Why are y'defendin' that sucker? Did y'ever care about any a' X-Club?
no subject
[Of course, he'd also been unavailable for pretty long stretches throughout last summer.]
no subject
[ he blinks, blearily. tired. ]
I dunno. I. What was I supposedta do, run t'you? Have y'solve my problems for me?
no subject
Either way, I can't know how I'm expected to respond without knowing what's going on. We are friends, aren't we? [Are they? Or is their relationship really just this, strictly professional? Hank doesn't know anymore.]
no subject
[ he doesn't know, either. ]
I told her everythin'. [ his palms fan out. ] She knew more'n me, even. Wasn't happy, but she just stepped back.
I ― whaddya want me t'say, McCoy? About all a' this?
no subject
Were any of you really happy?
Was Lil happy?
no subject
No, 'course. We never were happy.
[ a pause. ]
And it's 'cuz a' that I tried t'leave her on Utopia, but the damn gal wouldn't stay away.
no subject
Then maybe it's better for you both that it turned out this way.