Current Timeline
<@Mick> Mick was flopped out on his bed. He should be unpacking, but fuck that, he was tired and the bed was way, waaaay too comfy to move from. His rig was set up in his basement anyway, it was just...so many action figures. Why so many? He blew hair out of his face, too lazy to flick it out of his way. Why'd he have to move rooms again?
<Jean-Paul> Jean-Paul was beginning to almost regret how much time he had spent on the beach on the trip with Clarice, burn still very much apparent and not making it easier to bring his things on into the new room. He nudged the door open with his bigger suitcase, peering in. "Oh, hey Mick, how are you?"
<@Mick> Mick pushed himself up, before grinning. "Heeeey, JP!" He waved. "Lazy as hell, man, tryna work up the energy t' unpack my shit..." He huffed, falling back on his pillows. "But duuuude. Comfy." He sniffed. "You're lookin' pretty well-done - go somewhere nice for summer?" Then something clicked with the suitcase. "Mate - you're my new roomie?"
<Jean-Paul> "Oh yeah, headed out to California to Reed's which was ridiculous, headed home for a while then went down with Clarice to the beach and apparently learned that Canadians just aren't meant to see that much sun." He answered, lugging his things on in. "Yeah, according to the bullitin board anyway." Jean-Paul flopped down on the opposite bed as he got his things to the foot of it.
<Jean-Paul> "How about you, how was your summer?"
<@Mick> "Duuuude." Awesome or awkward? He liked JP, but there was the whole gay thing, but JP...but what if he walked in on him and Reed... "Awesome!" Yeah, awesome. JP was a cool person, fuck you homophobia. "Sounds like you had an epic time. Me? Quiet, besides being crowned Ultimate Highlord King Geek..." He pointed at a trophy besides a lifesized replica Frostmourne. "World PvP Champion."
<Jean-Paul> "Well, congratulations are in order then!" Jean-Paul clapped for Mick, trying to rally himself to get up and start putting things away. "So, going to be busy training for next year or will we get to pull you out to be sociable more often?"
<@Mick> "Sociable, definitely sociable, it's nice t' win but hell if I wanna be locked away that much again." Mick chuckled. "Besides, won it once. Somethin' to tell the kids, if I ever...y' know...have any." He chuckled, before pushing himself up. "Besides, foot's nearly healed, so I'll be able t' come out an' be a li'l shit with people again. Met any of th' new kids yet?"
<Jean-Paul> "I'm afraid not yet, we rolled in pretty late actually so I'm good for being in time for classes. You'd think the runner would be on time but apparently I'm forever fashionably late. How about you, met anyone interesting yet?" Well, if they were here they were bound to be interesting. "And you best believe you'll be coming out, this is going to be a good year this time."
<@Mick> "Nah, mostly been in here, tryin' to get motivated to put shit away." Mick waved vaguely at the boxes. Pretty much all action figures or memorabilia. "Hey, I'm a teleporter, man, I'm always late." He chuckled. "Yeah...I wanna come out more. Think I locked myself too much in the Danger Room last year...but I ain' been so damn fit in my life!" He patted his six-pack. "Didn' realise how fuckin' unfit I was til I hadta keep up with the X-Men."
<Jean-Paul> "Oh yeah, that's one way to kick yourself into gear." Jean-Paul looked up from where he had flopped on the bed, laughing. "Well, we could at least attempt to motivate each other to get stuff away before we have to leave for classes."
<@Mick> "...Tell you somethin', I was the only guy in that competition who did have a six-pack. Eeeesh." Mick shuddered. "Oh man, you want me t' motivate you? Are you kiddin'? I am king of laze."
<Jean-Paul> "I can imagine that would be the case. It sounds like a room of horror if I'm to be completely honest." Jean-Paul just imagined what that convention had to be like and wanted to buy stock in deodorant. "Well, I suppose we could live out of boxes until things are eventually pulled out."
<@Mick> "Well...it wasn't all bad, I mean there was this one chick who wasn't too bad, and not all the guys were overweight basement dwellers, but yeah...you could tell they didn't get out much." He chuckled. "Rich, comin' from me, but hey." He poked the nearest box, before looking to see what was inside - Danger's action figures. He blushed a bit and pushed it away. "...We should get clothes put away firs' though, right?"
<Jean-Paul> "Probably so." Jean-Paul admitted, pulling himself up to sit on the bed instead of lay there like a slug. "Oh, I know, I'm just being silly though I imagine a good many of you would glow under certain lights...though I have no room to talk considering my own state right now."
<@Mick> Mick laughed. "Oh trust me, there were enough stereotypes. We can't all be mutants an' in the X-Men - which, by the way, meant I was supervised for the whole competition to make sure I wasn' using my mutation to cheat." He shook his head, before dragging his own suitcase over. "...I need more clothes. I need to let more'n jeans and teeshirts into my life."
<Jean-Paul> "With the way some people are it's probably a wonder they let you compete at all." Jean-Paul muttered just a little bit darkly as he started rushing through hanging things up. "I'm sure you can probably talk a few of the girls into taking you shopping, hmm?" He smirked over teasingly.
<@Mick> "You mean you wouldn't rather?" Mick grinned right back over at him. "And yeah...there were a few nasty grumbles about it, but Blizzard are pretty cool...they've a few mutants on their teams and like they said, stoppin' mutants competing would be like stopping Asians or that. Wish other people thought the same way." Grudgingly, he started putting his clothes away. Ugh. Moving.
<Jean-Paul> "Well, I'm not the biggest shopper in the world, really, too cheap. But I can probably join." He shrugged, definitely cheating with speed to unpack his clothing, finding the chore too boring to actually take time with it. "Maybe one day, yeah?"
<@Mick> "Hah. Were you watchin' TV over the break?" Mick debated just...teleporting the stuff into the drawers. No, more effort than just putting it away. "I got bored, went channel surfing. Some twat thinks he's got a cure for mutants, or he's on his way to one, or somethin'...I couldn't stop laughin' at the presenter. But he sounded serious, wants volunteers an' considers us people with a disease." He pulled a face.
<Jean-Paul> "It's disgusting and in ten or twenty years people are going to be terribly embarassed they talked about how people were as being a disease considering how it's happened before." He sounded just a bit bitter but shook his head. "I missed the interview but I've heard enough people talking about it."
<@Mick> "Yeah, wonderful how people forget this happened wit' different minorities back in the day, eh?" Mick chuckled, folding his clothes. "You didn' miss much. Maybe it's better you did, because they were usin' a lot of footage of the Apocolypse stuff." He sighed. "America's weird for shit like that." He paused for a moment. "Hey, JP. If you were given a choice, would y' be a mutant?"
<Jean-Paul> "Puritanical background, the entire nation is pre-bred to judge." He chuckled at that even though the situation wasn't exactly funny. "Definitely, I'm happy with who I am and I've no problem with it. It's other people with the problem, yeah?"
<@Mick> "Goddamned Puritans." Mick chuckled. "At leas' my country just made up its own church so its king could shack up wit' some new bird, eh?" He nodded. "Yeah. I like being me. Heard about kids losin' their abilities here once...can't imagine not havin' mine." He shook his head. "Still, can't see anythin' good of gettin' people riled up about a cure, right?"
<Jean-Paul> "Well...I can see it useful in some cases. I mean, I know Kevin uses those patches...and sometimes the power is dangerous to the person who has it but you just know if there's an actual 'cure' it's not going to be on a voluntary basis here."
<@Mick> "Yeah. All those mutants considered 'dangerous' - and let's face it, that's all of us - and are registered...what if they find the X-Gene at birth?" Mick frowned. "...You know, that's a horrible fuckin' thought. I don' like thinking about tha'. Let's hope they decide curin' AIDS is more important than mutantions."
<Jean-Paul> "Curing the actual suffering people? Perish the thought. Debates about AIDS doesn't draw in near enough conservative voters." His eyes rolled dramatically. "No matter though, eventually people will come around. Not everyone is an idiot in the world, we just have a very vocal group as always making it seem that way."
<@Mick> Mick snorted. "Ah well. This'll blow over jus' like everythin' else does when people realise that mutants vote too. For now." He shoved a pair of jeans into the drawer and closed it. "Hah! I did somethin' constructive today! I need a medal."
<Jean-Paul> "I don't know, eventually I imagine American mutants are going to be turned away from that once someone decides 'We the people' doesn't count with mutants. There has to be a reason they have them carrying around mutant ID cards, after all."
<@Mick> "Like I said, for now." Mick hissed between his teeth. "Ah well...all we can do is watch, do our thing and hope no shits like this 'X-Force' bollocks decide to make our jobs harder, mmm?"
<Jean-Paul> "I imagine most everyone's learned their lessons from that...maybe not everyone but we'll be keeping an eye out." He frowned, finding himself wondering about those that had made up that team, and his thoughts flickering briefly to Reed's Brotherhood incident. He knew one that would make up for what had been done, at least, and he knew Reed wouldn't rest even when he had made up for anything he had done.
<@Mick> "Yeah...makes me worry, though." Mick sighed. "Idiots. Ah well, hopefully th' actions of the many won' be overshadowed by the few." Who was he kidding? The mob was a stupid creature. He shrugged. "Hey, this is too heavy for th' start of new term. You get th' joy of traumatisin' a new roomie, eh?"
<Jean-Paul> "I figure you need a breather before you have to deal with my suddenly drunk ass, right?" Jean-Paul just shook his head, finally stowing his suitcases away. "I promise I won't traumatize you too much, right?"
<@Mick> Mick chuckled. "Jus'...remember the sock on the door thing, man, there is no way I wanna walk in on you and Reed." He shook his head. "Fuck this. I have so done enough unpackin' for one day. I want cake."
<Jean-Paul> "Breakfast cake? I could definitely use breakfast cake. And don't worry, there will be a sign and, if there's a chance you'll be around the door to the bathroom might be locked for a reason."
<@Mick> Mick pulled a face. "...I'll bear that in mind. And my only rule? Dude, not on my bed. Never on my bed. That's uncool and breaking roomie ettiquete, no matter what gender or orientation you are, because then you're jus' rubbin' it in my face you're getting more'n me."
<Jean-Paul> "Plus that would just be weird." Jean-Paul agreed, pulling a face. "You have no worries there."
<@Mick> "Woo!" Mick turned round, dusting off his hands and gave the 'just in case' walking stick a considering look. No, it wasn't that bad any more. "So. Cake. Wanna run or shall I 'port us down?"
<Jean-Paul> "Port away, lets see what cake we have to pick from." Jean-Paul put the last things out he had, ready to have a healthy breakfast for the day.