Psychos and Jerks | |
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Participants | Julian, Laura |
Synopsis | Laundry day turns into all out war. |
Location | Laundry Room - Xavier's School - Westchester |
Time | January 2, 2016 |
Posted By | Julian |
It's late and she's done her best to avoid people today. She skulked around the school, careful to listen for people down hallways and such. The school's little pet misanthrope has just not been in the mood to deal with anyone. So now she finds herself heading into the laundry room under a false sense of security. She's not paying attention, as her mood has lifted ever so slightly, and she's not actively trying to figure out if anyone is down in the basement, either in the laundry room or potentially following her to the laundry — purposely or otherwise. She enters, carrying a small laundry basket full of a load of her clothing with a bit of a bored expression on her face.
But guess who's here to liven up her day? That's right, the boy she's madly in love with, only she doesn't know it yet. Julian has decided it would be a grand adventure to try out this whole 'laundry' thing. Or at least he decided that after learning the school doesn't provide such a service, and he's not yet found a place that'll take it in. A large army-style bag sits on the floor at his feet, as the boy leans forward over the machine, peering at the knobs and buttons. "Why the hell don't they just write 'go' on it?" Straightening back up, he looks annoyed for a moment, a little touchier than usual, in a bit of a mood.
Laura hears his voice just about two seconds too late. She stops dead in her tracks just inside the door — only, it's too late to back out unnoticed. So… not wanting to let him think that he has had so much of an effect on her, she proceeds into the room without a word, only rolling her eyes at his comment about the machine. Instead, she picks a washer at the opposite end of his. Her basket is dropped unceremoniously at her own feet, punches a couple of the buttons and the water starts pouring into the basin. She grabs some soap from the shelf nearby and dumps in the measured amount and then her clothes. After she ensures that everything looks about right, she pulls the lid closed with a brief look down the aisle at him — see? Not so hard. She almost looks smug. "Problems?"
Julian glances over as she enters, and there's an uncharacteristic pause as he figures how to play this. But then she just gets the same grin as always, the last fight more or less forgotten, as he has bigger fish to fry now. So to speak. Losing interest in his actual laundering, he swings around so that he's leaning back against the machine, propped up by his elbows. But the casual move seems to cause him a bit of pain and he has to readjust, standing up a little straighter. "Oh, you know, nothing I can't handle. Of course, if you're offering…" He will totally let her do his laundry, if she wants.
He's given a derisive snort. "Well, I'm not offering," Laura says abruptly, barely giving him the opportunity to finish the statement. She picks up her basket and sets it upside down on top of her machine and replaces the soap on the shelf. "There is no maid service and even if there was, I'm no maid," she replies with an eyeroll. She hates this… does she stay… does she go and bugger off for a bit and risk someone messing with her unmentionables? After a brief mental deliberation, she sighs and moves across the room to a table and hops up onto it, sitting cross-legged, facing the machines. She grabs a random magazine and leafs through it, occasionally glancing up to see if he manages to figure out the machine. It seems that while he's forgotten their quarrel, she has not.
"Yeah, practically third world," Julian agrees, his darker mood starting to creep back in as she refuses to play along with the 'everything is fine' game here. He stares at her for a few moments as she oh-so-casually reads her magazine, mainly because he figures that will irk her. Then turning back towards the machine, he stares at it, poking rather absently at the various buttons, cranking a few of the knobs. "You know what? Forget it. I'll find someone else." He's not about to stay here and either make a fool of himself or admit there's something he can't do.
So. He's not so perfect. And there's something he can't do… and isn't going to pretend to know how to do. As he goes off about finding someone else, Laura sighs, slaps the magazine down and hops off the table. Crossing the room, she practically growls in a commanding tone, "Oh, for fucksakes, Julian. It's not that hard. Pay attention because I'm not going to show you how to do this again." And, whether or not he pays attention, she punches the appropriate sequence of buttons and the water suddenly starts filling the basin. "There. That's all you do. Then, after a minute, put in the amount of soap needed… usually the second line on the measuring cup. Then after it bubbles a bit, toss in your clothes, close the lid. Machine does the rest." Stepping back, she crosses her arms over her chest and asks a little more calmly, "Got it?"
Julian steps back a bit as Laura comes grumbling up to step in. Does he seem a little victorious as she punches in those buttons? Well, perhaps. "Thanks doll," he replies, though he still seems a little skeptical at the idea. A whole lot easier just to take it in town and find some place that will do same-day service. But then, this does now involve chatting up Laura, so he decides to see it through for now. "So wait, how much soap?" he asks, offering her a grin. He reaches for the bottle, and then offers it out to her, seeing if she will continue this most informative demonstration.
Keeping her arms crossed over her chest, Laura looks as though she could say in a perfect British accent, 'We are NOT amused!' But she doesn't. Instead, she looks at the bottle, then back up at him, saying, "You can read, can't you?" With that, she turns around and starts to head back to her perch on the table, unless he stops her, muttering to herself. Then, almost as an after thought, she adds, "And if you call me doll one more time, I promise you that every expensive piece of clothing you have will end up with their very own venting system." She's not explaining how that will happen. She hasn't shown him her claws yet. "And trust me… that won't be very fashionable."
"No," Julian replies with a fake little pout. "But don't tell anyone. I never learned how." He's not even trying to lie well, as he turns this into an After-School Special. "Geez, relax, would you? I'm just trying to get my clothes clean here. No need for all this kinky sex talk." He sets the bottle down, having lost interest in the laundry again if she won't help him. The basin can just fill and fill with water, such a waste.
"Oh, can it, Julian," Laura mutters as he goes on about not being able to read. The water continues to fill up his machine as she hops up onto the table again, cross-legged. With a look of utter disgust, she scrunches up her nose and says, "Kinky sex talk? Talk about one track minded, Julian… I was talking about destroying your property and you turn it into that. Nice." She picks up another magazine again, flipping through it without actually focusing on it. "Don't you ever -stop-?" she questions, sounding truly tired all of a sudden. "I mean… don't you hear yourself and realize you're being a complete and utter -ass-?" She's not focusing on him at this point, but down at the magazine.
"Wow, such sympathy as I'm bearing my soul here," Julian replies, feigning shock, with a hand over his wounded heart. "Hey, you're the one talking about destroying all my clothes. Forcing me to go around naked. I mean, really, I'm sure your headmaster would frown upon that sort of thing, but if it's what you want, babe…" No more doll, fine. Babe it is. His eyebrows go up as she calls him an ass. "But a devilishly handsome and ridiculously talented ass, and that's what really counts. You ever listen to yourself and hear what a bitch you are to guys who are just trying to talk to you?"
She lets him go on for the time being. Perhaps the 'babe' thing is noticed. Perhaps not. Either way, she looks over at him from the magazine with an arched eyebrow. "I hear what a bitch I am to guys who are pompous, self-absorbed asses. I'm a bitch to idiots. I'm a bitch to people who play mind games and who waste my time and who just don't get the hint that the world doesn't revolve around them." She flashes him a brief smile, but it fades fast. "Get it through your thick skull, Julian. I think you're an asshole." Short and sweet. "You swagger around like you own the place, like you're better than everyone else and that everything is yours… it's just a matter of time or money. Did it ever occur to you that people just don't -like- that kind of egomaniac bullshit? Because that is what it is, Julian. Bullshit. And -I- don't like bullshit. So that is why I am a bitch to you, because even when you're trying to behave… it still comes off as bullshit. I am not for sale. My friendship is not for sale. And I'm not going to like you so long as you keep acting like it is. If you think I'm mean, then too bad. Life's hard. Get a fucking helmet."
"Oh my God, the money thing again?" Julian replies, somewhere between annoyed and genuinely surprised. "Listen, doll. You are the one who clearly has a problem with me being rich. I never even said a word about money. And I'm not going to apologize because my parents have a lot of it. Just like I don't give a shit if your parents don't. When the hell have I ever tried to buy you, or anyone here? I didn't even get you a Christmas gift." He sets the bottle of detergent down with an echoing thump on the next washer. "So you want to call bullshit, why don't you call it on yourself. And then you figure out what the hell trauma you have about rich people and let me know when the fuck you get over it, because I'm not going to pretend to be something I'm not, just because it gets your panties in a bunch."
"This isn't about money," Laura replies. "It's about your -attitude-." She says that with considerable emphasis, though she doesn't shout. She doesn't shout even after he thumps the detergent down. "You don't seem to get it. It's not about your money. But it's about the attitude your money has given you or your parents have given you or the fucking Cracker Jack box you got it out of. You seriously have no idea how you come off, do you?" Setting the magazine down beside her, she folds her hands in her lap and says, "You come off as pompous. Spoiled. Full of yourself. You seem to view women as though they are nothing but pieces of meat." She pauses, then asks, "Can you honestly tell me that when you walked into the foyer on your first day and saw me that your first thoughts were of friendship? Or were they of how 'hot' I was and how you could maybe talk me into getting into bed with you? Do you not see why I might have a problem with this attitude of yours and why, frankly, I have no use for it?" Sighing in frustration, she finally lets out an angry noise, her emotions finally getting the better of her as she adds, "You're bloody hopeless and a jerk, Julian. Can anyone -truly- be as shallow as you come off? You refuse to think for a second that you are part of the problem because you're apparently so bloody perfect in your own eyes. And the worst part is that you don't ever stop talking about yourself long enough to realize that it's going to get you into trouble and one day, you're going to get hurt." She then pops off the table in an antsy gesture, as though debating her decision to stick around.
Julian just stares at her as she goes off on him, his expression growing ever darker as she just keeps going, and going, and going. "You know what? Why don't you save your breath, doll. Why don't you write up this laundry list of faults and slide it under my door, so I can properly decide how I'm going to change myself to suit the whims of some chick who has been all over my ass since the second I walked in the door." He pauses, and then his voice getting a little harder edged, "What the hell gives you the right to judge me? I just came down to do my laundry. And I am getting really tired of getting blamed for all your hang ups. Why don't you look me up when you get over your fear of sex?" With that, he's ready to just storm on out.
Now she's pissed. So even as Julian seems ready to storm on out, she moves into the doorway, eyebrows lowered over narrowed eyes. "So… by saying you're not going to change, which is -fine-, as I'm not asking anyone to change… but you're admitting to me that you really are a self-centred prick who gets his feathers ruffled because a girl out there might not want him? Well, that tells me a lot about who you really are then: exactly what I pegged you to be." She's practically growling by the end and if he wants her to move, he's going to have to go through her. "And for the record… this -chick- doesn't like being called doll or babe or chick or anything but her name: Laura. Yet you keep ignoring repeated requests to not call me by those names… you've been disrespectful to me since day one." He rubbed her the wrong way first, or that's what she'd say. "Also, for the record, I have no fear of sex. I just don't want to have sex with -YOU-." She looks about ready to hit him if he comes close to her. Her hands are balled up into fists.
"I'm not admitting shit, other than you are pissing me off and I'm done with it," Julian replies, eyeing her in that doorway with a wary look. "Though, yeah, it does get my back up when the psycho crazy chick feels she's got a right to start laying into me when all I'm trying to do is my laundry. You see me hitting on you here? No. Fuck that, I do not need the headaches of shoring up your self-esteem, just because you're jealous of mine. You got a whole lot of pent up rage in there, but guess what? I'm not your punching bag." He crosses his arms coolly over his chest. "Now move or I will move you." He seems quite confident in that, though he doesn't move any closer to her.
Pointing briefly at his laundry, she says, "Then what was all that bullshit about 'are you offering'? Either you were hitting on me or you were being fucking lazy. Either way, you pissed me off from the get-go." She snorts, adding, "And no, I'm not jealous of you. You are -such- a child," Laura snaps at him, still glaring up at him angrily. "What are you going to do? Green-energy-float me out of the way? Blast me in some way? You fucking touch me with that shit and you will -pay- for it." It would actually be quite comical, if angers were not so heated, to see this image of little, petite Laura getting all up in his face like this. He could easily move her even without his powers. Granted, she should just move and let him go, but she's all fired up now and isn't about to back down from the 'fight'.
Julian just stares at her, weighing those options carefully. It is awfully tempting to green floaty thing her out of the way, which was his first idea. "Okay, first of all, the offering thing was a joke. Secondly, you're holding me against my will to fight with me and I'm the child? I think someone needs to read the dictionary, chick. Look, I get it, you want me so bad you just can't stand the thought of letting me go. God, I sure hope that doesn't get around the school. Little Laura, so desperate for a man, she has to trap them against their will." His tone turns a bit darker. "I know these feelings much be new and scary for you, but you have to learn to take no for an answer. Frankly, that ass isn't worth the crazy it's attached too." He makes a show of tilting his head, trying to look around her to get a good look at it, in case he needs to reconsider that statement.
"Know what?" Laura questions him lowly in that near-growl again. "Maybe you shouldn't taunt 'the crazy' then, asshole. In fact, maybe you should just leave her alone from now on." She glares up at him, suddenly going very, very still. Abruptly, there is a metallic -SNIKT- sound coming from somewhere around his hip-level. If he looks down, he'll see two very long, very sharp metallic claws that look like knife-blades protruding from the knuckles of her right hand — aimed right at his family jewels. The sharp points are a hair's breadth away from his pants. "You really should learn when to shut the fuck up, Julian," she adds lowly, before that -SNIKT- is heard and the twin blades pop back into her knuckles, wounds visible only briefly before the skin knits and closes over where the blades once were. With that, she turns on her heel as though to leave.
"Hey, you taunted me first. But I guess I shouldn't hold this obsession against you. It can be hard to let go, I get it." At the SNIKT, Julian looks down, his eyebrows going up as she threatens that rather delicate bit of him. Well, we can't be having that, can we. With hardly a pause, a small (but not that small!) green disk pops up to fill that space between her claws and his most favourite bits of himself. It's not touching her, so he's not breaking the rules, but sure as hell, he's not giving her free reign with the dangly bits. "You really are psychotic, you know that?" He shakes his head at her, seeming to actually mean that this time. He takes a step back, again quite content to just let her go.
Laura pauses as he actually sounds like he means the bit about her being psychotic. Her head turns slightly so that she can speak over her shoulder. "Just stay out of my way from now on, and we shouldn't have a problem," she quips almost gruffly. "And at least one thing about you I had dead wrong: you don't have a complete and utter deathwish, by the looks of it." As demonstrated by his shield going up between her claws and his groin. With that, she does turn and head out the door, turning in the direction of one of the training rooms. Apparently, she feels the need to destroy one of the Professor's training dummies… again.