(Un)Welcome Back Irish Shanty

November 22, 2017:

Betsy returns from wherever and meets with Scott, Lorna and Marco.


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

"Lower Manhattan alongside the Hudson right now is cold as can be expected, the gusts today having been enough to cause a scaffolding accident of all things. Injuries reported and minor news in a world of the 'superheroic element' one probably wouldn't have even known it had happened if not for small columns throughout papers that circulate or websites.

Scott Summers is here not because he enjoys the cold or even New York at night but for better reasons, the return of one of their team. Elizabeth 'Betsy' Braddock a woman who goes by the mutant name Psylocke. Scott promised he would pick her up and here he waits, a parka, scarf, fingerless gloves, jeans and boots. The beanie on his head sits just above the tops of his glasses.

The circular park area they wait at is lit up, actually quite pretty with the white to blue lights set up around it and the trees with enough people still outdoors you would think it wasn't half as cold as it is now which has been much worse and will be, it's just shy of 58F. Probably most here are just enjoying what they can of the 'outdoors' before it gets insufferable chilly. At least there is no snow yet, not like the spots Westchester has been getting here and there.


Betsy is hard to miss, even as the limousine - unmarked - draws up to the curb of the circular placement of the park. Black, and tinted windows, it draws attention, the steam rising from bodies gathered in the small ampitheatre as a band plays, bass thumping over the ground… Muting the growl of the Jaguar that sides the limo and blocks it into place to claim a 'marked' parking space.

Ed Shee-Ra, is it? Irish, whatever. Love songs for the -

The chirp of alarm system sounds behind the cadence of stiletto boots that grind of salted walkway, (REAL BOVINE) suede of black laced to hold upon the back of thighs, a coat of mid-length, /REAL LEATHER/, fastened at slender waist with a twist in sinew…

… Long, dark, *purple hair* that falls over her shoulders, through the /REAL/ mink ruff of her coat to mingle in the grey/shadow tufts.

"Aw for fucks sake, Scott, do not tell me ya like this sappy stuff now?"

Welcome back, Bets.


Lorna and Marcos had lingered in the mansion after the demon bear attack. Marcos, as he got checked out by Nurse Annie and cleared. As well as Lorna, who seemed to be ..off.. from her experience in the shadows. She was fearful, jumpy, and would never admit it. So there had stayed behind, helping to do repairs where they could. Lorna was handy at least, nails, screws, pipes and wires were easy for her to drag out of the rubble and salvage.

So when Scott had talked about picking up Betsy, the green haired mutant had shrugged and willingly volunteered to come with. Which meant, of course, Marcos had come along too. She seemed bored as they waited, shuffling her feet here and there with booted feet scuffling against the pavement. Her usual leather jacket, and sweat-shirt combo giving her a punk rocker look that only added to her image with the green hair.

As the car pulled up, Lorna arched a brow upwards. "Huh." She commented, and ran her fingers over her cheap metal jewelry that hung around her wrists. "I like her."


Marcos was walking hand in hand with Lorna…thankfully, they had been released moments ago. Though when Betsy arrives in her full Irish glory, and Lorna stands there in approval at Betsy's moxy, Marcos can't help but chuckle.

"Of course you would. she's a more hyperactive vocal version of you." he gives Lorna a wink and her hand a squeeze. Though he does smile at the exchange between Betsy and Scoot, speaking to Summers first. "I assume you two know each other pretty well?" he says with a grin.


Scott has been silent about his experience in the Shadow Realms. It was harrowing and expected of a place titled as such. The man is a stone though, stoic, unphased and does his very best to remain a person others can look to for strength and solidarity. He grew up modeling himself after champions and soldiers men like his father, Captain America and other heroic types. He knew one day he would have to be that person for his own team, for Professor Xavier's children, for mutants. As such, that mask is there and a smile is present for Betsy when she makes her arrival.

"This? Ed Sheeran?" Scott listens a moment, "It is okay. I made a request from the band though, nostalgia sakes." A cover band they shockingly new the 'diddy' he wanted to hear. "They haven't played it yet though."

"Yes, Marcos. Betsy is one of /us/, a long time member and one of the best people you'll ever meet." Scott extends a motion towards his companions in turn, "Betsy Braddock this is Lorna Dane and Marcos Diaz."


Finely manicured nails sweep upward, pushing back the 'body waves' of plum to peer from the narrowed corners of Asian gaze towards the other two as Lorna murmurs about 'liking' her. Glossed lips uptilt a bit before Marcos is regarded slowly as well. Call a Brit Irish, aloud? It will be the End of Days. Fair warning. Nevermind the Japanese epithet!

/Cheap/ Jewelry Lorna wears is watched in it's clutched clatter then, like a shark, her eyes narrow upon it. "Oh…. my…" A snap of gaze back to Scott, a flippant wave of his "musical (dis)taste" easily dismissed. "Lorna and Marcos need a trip to the Square Shoppes, not this sappy heart crock of malarkey!" A thumb over fur laden shoulder to the amphitheater that finally began a new song.

"What have you been telling these…" A reverse of eyes, back to Marcos and Lorna… "… Poor souls." A pinch to narrow bridge and Betsy closes her eyes for a breath of fresh air in her anxiety.

"Nostalgia is what…" A pause. "I love that green by the way dahling!" To Lorna. "He needs some highlights…" To Marcos. "I need to phone Fabian…"

But Scott is under a new scrutiny. "Okay, fill me in Lorna… Marcos… He will lie to me. What am I coming home to?"


Lorna elbowed Marcos lightly, shooting him a look, but didn't say much else to the young mutant beside her. She reached a self conscious hand to drag through tangles of green locks at the compliment. Her lips twitched as she shot Scott a side eye, lofting an eyebrow upwards as Betsy continued onwards without stopping a beat.


"Thanks," She drawled, her voice dry as a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Uhm.." Her gaze shot over Marcos as Betsy comments about Marcos needing highlights. He really didn't have much in the way of hair to dye. But.. Just to see the look of her boyfriend's face, the man that had been an enforcer and muscle for a Cartel? With highlights?

"Maybe some red in there? I mean.." She glanced back to Betsy as the woman asked to be filled in. "Mostly destroyed upper stories, Dani has turned to the dark side. Evil bears, wolves, and birds and shadows? Uhm.. Brotherhood seems to be getting active again. There's a hot mess of other things." She shrugged, glancing toward Scott. Did she go too in detail? He said she was one of them.. Oh well.


Marcos didn't even budge when Lorna elbowed him. "What'd I say?" though then he looks to Betsy….oh….my…word. is the first thing that comes to mind. THough when she calls him a 'poor thing' he seems to sigh perhaps annoyedly.

"Uhm….ladies, I would greatly prefer my hair to remain the same. Though the interest is appreciated." he sighs a moment, though he looks to Lorna at her words. nodding a bit.

"Pretty much what she said. Nice to meet you Betsy."


"I don't have any say so over the entertainment just… " Scott pauses as, ironically considering they're circling /Irish/ the timing couldn't be better as the Irish Rover's song begins to get droned out. A tune tied deeply to the oldest Summer's brother's past.

//Way out in London airport in hangar number four… A lonely little biplane lived whose name was Evermore… his working days were over no more but he would sail… //

It will definitely not be to Betsy's taste, likely not Lorna's or even Marco's but Scott could not resist. It's really only something he enjoys because of what it ties to; his family and no more than ever this is a time for that.

Thoughts aside Scott gives the green haired woman a chuckle, "She about summed it up in… I suppose." At least she didn't call Dani a Sith in her description to Elizabeth. Though, the nerd side of Scott might have given her points for it.

A helpless shrug is gifted to Diaz about the hair before Scott addresses him, "You'll get used to this. I have been having fashion debates and style conversations happen around me near my whole life. Just stick to your guns, they tell you your shoes look like grandpa shoes… never give in. It only takes once and soon they're deciding your whole wardrobe." Jean and him had their bouts in the past. He thinks she has given up by now or he's just been mindwiped to believe he still has taste of his own. At this point hes unsure.

"You were missed. You're coming back at a very good time, Betsy."


Betsy knows nothing of Marcos' /Cartel/, Lorna's lineage… But she *knows* Scott wears Grandpa shoes, and his quip as well as the song that echoes through their vicinity gets her eyes to narrow to near slits, the violet flecks in the midst of hazel brown seem to spark his way. "Least you could do is choose a better designer and polish the pointy toes."

"Three ring circus," a waffle of her hand and Marcos' reaction has Betsy stepping closer to Lorna and him, lowering just a bit to come eye-to-eye with him… them both… Necessary or not. "Really?" But the way her accent lilted in that question, the way her eyes shifts to Lorna while she rights.

"What she said. Red it is." Her cell phone is withdrawn and Fabian(Fabio of The Hair) is being texted with clicks of nails while she speaks on, the scraped screen assaulted viciously.

The song has he slowing, and the 'Send' press causes cracks to spread further over the screen, leering Scott's way. "I got two days. 3pm. Fabian waits for no one." A tuck of phone away and Betsy presses fingertips to ears.

"Now, before I bleed from my lobes can we go forth and see these damages. Two days. Do not torture me more Scotty, now get in my vessel." Allow Bets to be the reference hound!

No waiting, those heels are already grating/over salted concrete towards the Jag, keys out and fuzzy Ball a-bouncing between fingers as the alarm release beep-*boops*! "Any more of this music and I will drink the coolant like Absinthe…"

Better call who gets 'Bitch' (Shotgun) fast!


Lorna shrugged, "And plenty more I'm sure to come." She offered flippantly. If it wasn't someone causing trouble somewhere, then what sort of a life would it be? Likely a better one where she didn't wake up with nightmares, but such was life.

"You do wear old man shoes Scott, and I'm pretty sure the last time your wardrobe had an update was like.. I dunno. The '50s? Pretty sure the Professor is more fashion conscious." She smirked at her own light teasing. It was out of love. Truly!

Of course, then Betsy was continuing with the highlights plan, her eyebrows climb upwards and she shoots Marcos a look ringed with amusement.

Still, she didn't push more, even as they made to climb into the car. She picked the back, the better to curl up with her boyfriend after all. Scott could take shotgun. Once inside the car of course, Lorna is peeling off her gloves and buckling in beside Marcos.

"Did you want to fill her in on the Genosha stuff, or is that gonna be left up to a 'Wait for another time, Lorna, we're already dealing with another emergency?' Thing?"


Marcos just rubbed his eyebrows when Betsy was going full auto on this highlight thing "Uhm…you really..ah..don't have to text this gu-" too late. Shiiiiiit. That's going to be an interesting conversation. Sighing defeated, he just hops into the car. Scott can have shotgun because Diaz would rather be by Lorna.

Becuase what's better than snuggling with his gal? Very few things apparently. After he's secure and buckled in, an arm goes around Lorna to hold her close to him. "I'm certainly not explaining that one." he sighs a bit. Though he does give Scott an amused grin.

"Alright, I'll hold my ground….though you do have old man shoes man. But you rock those old man shoes."


"You're doomed, Diaz." Scott ribs the other man but is quietly thankful hes not the only one to suffer this sort of heckling from the X-Ladies. "That stings Lorna. The Professor has great suits but, yeah, that one wounded deep." A pause, "Thanks though, man. At least I have some back up here."

"Just keep on insulting my music, Betsy. We're going to have a throwdown at this rate." The red of Scott's glasses reflects some of the light from near them while his head tips down daringly. His own keys then flipping around a finger.

"Make sure you guys remind her shes back in the States. She pops lanes and she's going the wrong way also best of luck. Shes infamous for having a heavy foot."

Scott will fall in behind them in their drive back north, his headlights never far behind until hes calling, "We should stop for something to eat. I just realized the last thing I had was breakfast."

Within the next twenty they'll be at a Diner, classic in style but the menus are not. Red on tan insides, built out of an old motorhome it's been refurbished a dozen times. This place made headlines once before for a signature sandwhich, that was probably ten years ago though. Now it just looks greasy, classic and full of people who are probably drunk, here to be abused by angry waitresses so they can WELP their experiences or they found this the only place out of the cold to get a coffee at this hour.


"Yeah?" Phone answered by Bets as she drives, nope. Not hands-free. In fact she was laughing with Fabian and the lanes were skirted far too closely

// … If we don't fuck this whole thing up, guaranteed I can blow your…//

"Ah bloody 'ell!" Mwuah! SERVE! Exit careened into and a flip-down of rearview to look back. "Scott's hungry, stop sucking' face, dinner time!" A smile from Betsy and they are parking parallel in front of the diner…

Where Betsy does not fit.

Inspection is close, even to the diners silverware she unrolls cautiously from the napkin. "I am going to die tonight, if not by Demon Bear, by American Crap…"

"Music included." Bite!

"Have you had "the talk" with them Scotty?" A side-glance to Lorna and Marcos. "Not. My. Job."


Lorna was awake at least, there was zero chance of her falling asleep with Betsy's driving. Much less any chance of making out. Though her hand around Marcos' tightened and her powers interacting with his made quite the light show. It didn't help that she was actively trying to keep her attention on the road. Her free hand out stretched and at the ready to fling out other cars from their path, or rather, fling them out of the path if needed.

Heart pounding she got out of the car after Betsy and entered the diner a little more awake and aware than she had been getting into the rather nice car. She was so riding back with Scott after that.

She'd survive a screaming metal death trap of doom, but she wasn't so sure about Marcos.

Still, she plopped down into a chair, and ordered herself some fries and a coffee. A green eyebrow lurching upwards at Betsy's comment about the talk. "The school did teach sex ed when I was attending, you know." She offered dryly, glancing over the top of her mug as she poured in sugar and cream. Scott certainly didn't teach it.


How on earth could you even rest in that car ride?! Betsy drives a bit like a maniac.

Hard to cuddle with Lorna when the ride is that rocky, but Marcos did keep his hand clasped around Lornas. That's what sucks about being unable to control metal…only light and heat…real useful. So he just kinda sits and braces for dear life. Though when the metal death rollercoaster of a car ride is over, Marcos just sighs relieved, but he looks fine.

"I've been in worse rides…" he whispers to Lorna jokingly. Though when he does plop into a chair, he's right by Lorna (of course, the two are basically tied at the hip) and he headdesks. "….I'm not going to answer that question." It was the Cartel. Enough said.


"American crap? This place is almost a historic landmark. Have some respect, Betsy. Plus it was on the way." Scott defends his choice in the Diner, he really has no clue if it is or isn't a piece of New York history and options from here to Westchester beyond this one require detours or traffic even at this hour. Mostly taxi cabs and city bus obstructions but still… who wants to deal with that?

"You two just passed one of the X-Men survival tests… Betsy's driving." A grin appears before he ducks inside with them to settle in to a tall red backed chair. Coffee being poured to each of them without even request. It is after all that hour. Menus also slapped down.

"The talk? I really doubt they're virgins." Scott joins the teasing. "They're aware of who we are." It's not like most people with a television don't know Cyclops is Scott Summers if they seen the past few years of coverage around mutants. "Or is this some inside joke I am sailing past blindly?"

A tap on his coffee cup before it is picked up and sipped at. Strong and black… the mug is only slightly dirty. Win win.


Nails tap on Betsy's choices. The coffee poured behind the lofted menu stared at while drops splash upon the table around it. Manicured brow lofts as Betsy appears to be ignoring the commentary while she stares at the listed offering of 'digestive failure'!

"The Club. Whole Grain. Swiss Cheese, not that plastic yellow… /stuff/. Salad, but is the lettuce Romaine? Spring Mixed? However you phrase things with real nutrition?"

The waitress deadpans, no writing occurring on her pad after the other three.

"Aye, for the love… Okay your look tells me my English is Greek. Sandwhich. Club. Salad. Balsalmic vinegarette…..Please." Menu slapped closed and the coffee is stared at, drawn closer and downed.

Maybe it is the lighting, but Betsy is tired and there are darker circles forming under her eyes. "I just wanted to be sure. I like them, they didn't scream or tuck and roll. They were ready. Don't want them getting…" Another wave of hand and Betsy is grinning around the mug at Scott, despite it, then looking dead at Lorna and Marcos.

"Betsy Braddock. Psylocke. I will be your mentor and trainer… As long as Scott, Jean, and Xavier… Will it." A clear of throat and Betsy leans back casually, one arm flung over the back of her chair while hips swivel to cross legs and cast pointed toe to the aisle, interrupting a teens path.

A double-take. A double-back of well thought over words of choice and the matter is done in silent exchange.

"That's my talk."


Lorna burst out into laughter, "What? Don't want me knocked up and unable to be in combat? Yeah, you and me both. There's no way in hell I'd have a kid in this day and age." Green eyes flickered over toward Marcos and she quickly looked down at her coffee. She knew he liked the concept of a family. Of kids someday still. Lorna had a hard time even processing the concept. She was a fighter. She got into trouble. She had tried the normal life and it hadn't stuck. So why pretend anymore?

Still, she put down the coffee and dumped in more sugar. Her hand twisted and the spoon stirred the contents on its own under her direction.

"Also, fun fact, I graduated three years ago. I don't need more training, or a mentor, but thanks. I work out of Mutant Town as a detective with Jamie Madrox." She put the spoon down and sipped at her coffee.

"I'm more of an X-man on retainer or an 'as-needed' thing. As in, shit hit the fan, and I'm around. So someone needs to fling something at the bad guys."


Marcos just pinched the bridge of his nose when Lorna started laughing and when Scott seems to question both of their virginity. While he was right, It's Lorna's words about kids that strike a nerve with Marcos, and he just kinda stares at the table for a moment…silent. That's a talk later.

"Psylocke huh. Nice to officially meet you. Unlike Lorna, I didn't get to have the opportunity until now, so…maybe someday you all can teach me how to use my powers better." he shrugs lightly, sipping on his drink.

"I'm just a….well I dunno."


A low chuckle rolls from Cyclops at their answers. "I guess I should have mentioned that or you should try and keep up with the institutes ongoings a little better. Ninjas can't just be off pruning banzai trees all day while part-timing as supermodels. Its just… so unrealistic." A wink at Betsy from behind those shades. He doesn't comment towards Lorna's confidence, thats likely very much a family trait. If he was to say anything he would mimic the Professor and say we are all students and always need more training and help, no matter where it comes from.

Scott resists the loud thoughts though and picks up his drink again to sip while the waitress stomps off.

"You know where to find us, Marco." Scott smiles as his words are meant to encourage not push. "Lorna meanwhile is one of the best people you can probably hope for to help you with your abilities, especially since you're both… " A hand lifts and waves in the air towards his others while he makes a 'Pew' sound. As if he is failing in describing their light show. Which is it's own unique reaction.

The TV on the wall is showing a riot in Seattle Washington of all places, mutant human violence that happened not more than thirty minutes ago and was just recently broken up by the DEO. With what transpired in Genosha and now recently the Gala hosted by Emma Frost this is not uncommon lately, sadly its becoming more frequent. Old hate has rebirthed stronger. The world has back peddled from two years of progress in barely more than a blink.


The repose Psylocke is taking is pensive, and once they all speak and gain a 'gathering' of /who/ she is, that lounge is more predatorily despite the feline manner, her eyes are /narrowed/, not just… "Inherited".

Lorna's laughter, Marcos' look to the table, Scott's diplomacy, they al get one reaction from the Asian woman with a British accent and air, but a 'deeper' meaning. Her hand grips the back of her chair she is leant against, spinning it in a flick of wrist to change position and straddle the back, the metal rest propping against the diner's table in a sudden clack! as the chair is tilted forward, rocked onto two legs to draw her forward, sliding along the seat she straddles to prop both arms over the back and rest her chin upon them.

Staring at Lorna and Marcos, her smile is vibrant, but shark-like. "Sorry dah-ling, I did not read the files of your alumni status, but if yah cannot handle my driving without near neutering your partner, then you need more training. I would simply /love/ to see what yah can throw my way." A wink to Lorna and Marcos…

"Lift your chin, for fahks sake. Mercy on your soul Marcos, yah know damn well."

Scott now is cast a look from periphery, the same corners of lips lift in a smile that barely flashes teeth. "Tsk, tsk, you keep all the secrets." A wag of finger and it points to the TV playing relays of 'NEWS'.

"That is why I am back. Now I will ask again." Rocking back to sit upright. "Psylocke," Palm to chest, then extended. "Scott, I hate you right now. Know this."


Lorna exhaled a breath, and leaned forward a green eyebrow hooking upwards in challenge. "Handle my driving next time, yeah? I like to be a bit more creative." Flying cars? Main reason Lorna had a beater. It wasn't like she actually needed it to run to make it go. She picked up her coffee, reaching for Marcos under the table and giving his hand a squeeze.

A glance was spared for the TV and her lips thinned into a white line of pressure. She exhaled a breath, looking irritated and she flicked her wrist, turning the TV off from a distance. She glanced a Scott, her brows furrowing and a silent question in her gaze. What were they going to do about it?

Then of course, her gaze turned to Betsy and she considered the woman as she reintroduced herself as Psylocke. "Polaris." She offered up just as easily, "And there's way more shit to hit the fan. Like I said, Brotherhood types are acting up again."


Marcos looked upset until Lorna squeezed his hand under the table, and he returned the gesture, squeezing hers in return…though clearly he still seemed bothered. after sipping his coffee, he looks to Betsy since people are exchanging codenames.

"Eclipse." he offered up. his nickname among other mutants, so it's gonna be his X name if people so choose. "Yeah…not excited about that, but we'll work it out. It's happened before." he states optimistically, before his attention falls upon Scott, giving him an appreciative nod.

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