The Inspiration of Mojo Jojo

March 05, 2016:

Jean and Betsy have Smart TV and Chill time.

Jean's Office

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions: Cable, Brian Braddock, Jamie Braddock, & Rachel Summers.

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

With days like these, there was hardly a need to sleep. No, there was a clear and present need to sleep but when there was only a nap in hour increments it makes up for the lack there of and actually revitalizes. Which was good enough for Jean. But this early in the morning, the kitchen was raided for a nice breakfast with pancakes and sausage, just enough for two. Maybe some biscuits and eggs, and sausage and gravy for a southern breakfast that she saw on television a week ago.

Then of course there was the healthy option; egg whites and carefully peeled and arranged fruit for Betsy, tea just the way she likes it, coffee for herself. And juice off to the side if the coffee and tea wasn't something one wanted to eat with their food. Turkey bacon fried all up for the both of them, and plain yogurt in small decorated bowls to go along with the fruit, or not! Either way, Jean made a banquet for no reason at all, someone was going to handle the left overs if they didn't finish.

"Alright." Jean finally says, placing the trays down upon her clear-for-once-desk. The air-mattresses upon the floor and pushed closely to leave that half of the room's floor like a fluffy cloud. There was a nice flat screen television set up, one of those Smart televisions that were already hooked up to the internet.

"Powerpuff Girls.. Or.." Jean picks up the remote as she balances herself upon the mattresses.. "..are we in the mood for violence?"


Betsy lifts her plate up off the mattress while Jean gets settled in, riding the waves of motion like she was surfing atop them. Her eyes widen and she nods vigorous assent. "Ooooh, yesyesyes, Powerpuff girls," she cheers, wiggling her bacon in victorious agreement. "That's funny, -and- violent. Precisely my kind of show."

Her contribution to their little arrangement was a giant comforter for the mattress, some silky bamboo bedding, and literally a mountain of pillows behind them for just the perfect amount of sprawling indulgence and support. She flips the comforter back obligingly for Jean when the redhead joins her, and then tugs the blanket up over their legs. Betsy's heavy, fuzzy, tremendously cliched purple robe is tossed over the sofa back behind them, leaving her in a cami and breezy sleeping shorts.

She settles back against the pillows and curls her legs towards Jean, automatically making room for her friend to curl against her.


They both overdid it! The only thing that was missing was Emma and probably an expensive bottle of wine or liquor that came from Betsy's eclectic collection. Powerpuff Girls it is! A throwback to the days of old that was filled with warmth and -total destruction and AWESOME!- Jean giggles and grabs her plate, immediately plopping down with care next to Elizabeth, nevermind the stickiness of the syrup for the pancakes because she does without!

The show was put on almost immediately, as she wriggles her bare feet beneath the blanket, taking up that casual curl with a bit of a sigh and two pieces of bacon mashed together with a bite and a quick chew. "Mmn.. I remember this.." Jean says out the side of her mouth. "Isn't this like the Mojo JoJo origin episode?" She smacks her lip just a little, gesturing towards the telly.

"You know, I can appreciate Mojo Jojo. The guys dedicated."


"I think so," Betsy agrees, nodding. "And yeah, you know— I understand he's the villain, but honestly he really is one of my favorite characters. He's so committed to what he does," she remarks, nibbling bacon off her plate. She curls into Jean and tangles her legs up with the redhead's, cheek resting atop Jean's wealth of red hair. Betsy's long purple coif is pulled back into a tidy ponytail hanging to midback, a few tendrils slipping loose to frame her face.

"Also, Samurai Jack. Which— mm, this was very interesting," she says, wiggling a bit. "I read that the same people wrote Samurai Jack and The Powerpuff Girls. So there's this fan theory that Jack is actually from their past, and landed in their future— like this dystopia that happens centuries after the girls are gone. It's … really compelling, the arguments people make."


"In a way he's not so much a villain. I personally think he's just misunderstood and is acting out. He's somewhat a kid too, just like those girls." She tears off a piece of her pancake, slipping lower into her fluffy comfort, practically curled and embraced at all sides. Even though her hair was a slight, stringy mess, it still smelled like the expensive shampoo she.. 'acquisitioned' from Betsy not an hour before.

"Now Samurai Jack, I've only maybe seen an episode or two of that. So I can't really comment on it without looking like a complete and utter terd." She wrinkles her nose, smiling just a touch. "Oh. Matrix for example. That's a good one. People dissected that trilogy until they were blue in the face. I doubt you can google -anything- about those movies without some trumped up fan theory that the makers and writers refuse to comment on."


"Look at the property damage the girls do," Betsy remarks, eyes on the screen. She sniffs Jean's hair and then sighs in appreciation, the sound quite soft and contented, and burrows closer against Jean's side.

"They break buildings, they destroy infrastructure… I mean, and that's on the episodes where they AREN'T being mishchevious or under a mind-control or something. I mean— this is the perfect allegory for teaching students self control," she points out, chewing more bacon thoughtfully.

"I didn't get to see the Matrix when it came out, mummy and daddy wouldn't let me," she reminds Jean. "Mummy said it was proletarian violence and beneath us. I was only ten, though," she concedes, "and I think that summer I was more interested in racecars anyway."


"Or a perfect warning tool to parents about what could possibly happen if they let their high powered children go unchecked. Like.. how in the world are they not dirt poor and somewhere in the gutter? If that was -us-, I bet we'd be dropped from Damage Control and sued to nothing at all. We'd be eating pantry food for a week." Bacon flicked towards the television, and then she grins.

"Racecars. The live fast and die hard way of living." She puts her plate aside, not needing to eat for the moment. "I know, like.. somewhere back there and then you just.. had to rebel for a little. Before you came here. I mean, look at your brothers. Great guys, but even I know that they've had some bad spots as kids." Brow lifts. "Bad spots as, lets not listen to our parents and sneak out at night and push the cute boy we have crushes on into mud."


"Well, Jamie was always a good boy, but he's… you know," Betsy says, eyes downcast. "A bit off." Which is Betsy's polite way of referring to what Jean knows as Jamie's crippling developmental issues. "He's never been much trouble, not that way. And Brian was such a nerdling for just… ages, I honestly wondered if he'd ever get a date, let alone get into trouble."

"But I wasn't really rebelling, Jean, not then. I won the Essex borough rally race," she says. "It's a lower division tier, granted, and dadddy had to sign all sorts of permission forms— and we had to modify the rally car so I could reach the pedals. But I did quite well. Then I was on to the next thing," Betsy says, with a negligent shrug.

She sets her plate down as will and licks bacon flavor from her fingertips, nuzzling against Jean's side and resting her head on her shoulder. "I guess I never really had room to be troublesome. Daddy kept me too busy to let me get in trouble and mummy let him do it. I think she knew it'd be better to keep me always trying something new than for me to get bored and start acting out."


"I know." Jean reaches over to pat Betsy's arm, a squeeze lingering then releasing. It was a half way hug, one that she didn't have to adjust to give. "Sounds like your parents did a good job when you were younger. I think that's the key to it all, keeping them busy with their interests and leaving no room to let anything slide." She smiles slightly. "Something you could actually impart upon our students if you actually wanted to teach and mentor." Oh, there she was again. Pushing Betsy towards the kids.

But that wouldn't be so, she lets it go right then and there with a slight nod. As the new episode starts, Jean lets out a little laugh, which dies down quick there after. "Truthfully, Betsy. Have you ever thought about settling down and having kids? Adoption, or otherwise? Like.. what do you see for yourself in the future?"


Betsy rolls her eyes at Jean's not-subtle way of egging her on. When the question gets pressed, though, she drops her eyes down thoughtfully, fingers absently runing along Jean's forearm where it's draped between them.

"I don't think that's in the cards for me," Betsy admits, finally. "For one, look at this." She sits up, back straight, and flicks her hair back over one shoulder, leg curled and body slouched enticingly. "Ruin -this- body so a howling little infant can rip its way out of my junk? No, thank you," she says. She glances down at her chest. "I mean, look at these. Lookit them!" She squeezes one of her breasts through the camisole top. "These were meant for the cover of Cosmo, not for having some snotmonster dangling from them."

Her expression softens, though, and her hand squeezes Jean's forearm again. "I love Rachel. You know that. And Clarice, and the other children who come though, they're all I'll never need for kids. Maybe I won't ever be a mother, but I do enjoy being everyone's aunt, at times."


As Betsy sits upright, Jean finally leans out from the little ditch she dug herself to watch. Her cheeks burned red, but that was due to her holding back her laughter. Not -at- Betsy, but the choice names she's called children over the years. It never seased to -not- make her laugh and here was no different.

"Oh god Besty, I said adoption too! You don't have to go through all the horrors and terrors of childbirth, let someone else do it for you and you reap the benefits."

The mention of Rachel does sting a little bit, that little smile dropping off into something unreadable, her fingers soon sinking into both sides of the hair near her temples, joining at the middle to shake out and drop messily along her shoulders. "I miss her." She states plainly. "I miss all of them. I miss the classrooms, the field trips, when they used to make little trinkets and leave it on my desk because they knew I wouldn't move it while I was teaching class." She turns out, laying back onto the bed, her head in Betsy's lap. "I miss cleaning up their little booboo's and sometimes telling them stories at night before bed. I even miss grading their papers and seeing what I taught them written there." She sighs a little, looking up towards the ceiling.

"Though at the end of the day, I suppose I don't think it's in the cards for me, either. Not in this life, anyways."


Betsy leans against the pillows, stroking Jean's hair soothingly as the redhead pours her heart out. "Rachel is… scared, and a bit new, but she's still very much Rachel," she assures Jean, her tone soft and reassuring. "She sounds just like she did that night she exploded out of nowhere and landed in our collective lap. She's nervous about how things will be between the three of you— she's not sure how she feels about her parents being her age," she says with a soft laugh.

"But, you have the advantage of having gone through this with her once before. It'll be easier this time. Try thinking of it like she's just lost her memory," she suggests. "But she's still very sweet, and very hopeful. Just like her mum."


Jean nods through it all. Her eyes closing as she takes in a deep inhale, holding her breath as if she were waiting for something bad to be said, or probably searching for it due to a worst case scenario thought. But nothing comes. Only the fact that she was afraid, nervous, but yet hopeful. Hopeful. That was a good thing.

"I know.. but.. you lost her too." Jean finally says. "The other Rachel. She was as much yours as she was.. ours." She gestures just a touch. "Good thing you've seen her first. I've probably would have ruined whatever reunion there was to be in store for us." There was that need, to tell her all about the time when they've actually first seen each other. When they met in Cable's apartment. The true nature of him and everyone surrounding them. But she doesn't say a word. It was shelved back into the inner recesses in her mind as soon as she thought it.

"Come with me? When.. when .. you know.."


Betsy smiles at Jean, the expression sincere, gentle, and without inhibitions. She hugs Jean, hard, and touches her palm to Jean's cheek to sooth the heat on her flushed skin with the cool press of Betsy's palm.

Sliding down, Betsy wraps her arms around Jean's shoulders, pressing her brow against Jean's and holding her in a quiet, shared silence, still greiving a bit in her own way. She cups Jean's face and gives her a very soft kiss, her wide amethyst eyes damp with a bit of her own grief at Rachel having lost all those years they'd all shared.

"I will," she assures Jean, pressing her forehead against the redhead's. "I promise, I'll be there for when you meet— for anything you need, darling. You can count on me."

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