What Do You Suggest?

April 09, 2018:

Scott and Ororo converse a little after Natasha Romanoff departs.


NPCs: None.

Mentions: Natasha Romanoff, Rogue, Bruce Banner, Lorna, Logan


Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Storm never left with 'Logan' and Lorna. Her offer was to keep the peace.
Logan broke that with the flight of Scott's glasses and Lorna's support - the thing she sought to diffuse… Tension among her team mates and Family.
Storm walked with them out of the door and then separated herself from the situation with a slow blink to seal back the heat-lightning of a pale electricity in her gaze.

Genosha. Storm has been battling that bleed-over as well with her people after the recovery from the mists, the 'Brotherhood's' involvement igniting a new emotional tsunami within Storm, and Lorna's place? There is a piece of heart/broken, right along with the stance of Logan in the matter. What is happening here?

Plants are nurtured, kept from the unnatural climate fluxes, which does Storm's "Zen" well, even as prunes mend deadened branches…
And shave the sides of her head to drop the shorter length of white-overgrown to renew the mohawk.

The unknown red-head walking off with Scott gains a narrow of her eyes as she leans over the monitors and then resigns to lunch and a ride upon her stallion across pastures before she returns to the garage, looking over the latest 'work' of Scott's own like her very own private garden, but machine versus plants.

The metal loops off the belt that hang from hips jingle as she props herself against the quarter panel of a Mustang, lifting a cup of steaming coffee to her lips, rising her wrist up as if a watch was there and time was crucial.

Neither true at all. Sigh.

Scott sees Natasha off after their walk and talk about Banner, he showed her some of the garden and the lake but their conversation breaches very little of importance. Having offered to walk her back to her car he is pausing to stop and give Storm a steady look turning only to wave at Agent Romanoff as she peels out.

"Ororo." Scott tosses the dark woman's way in his usual casual tone, few of the X-Men get the easy friendly he can show off lately, among that handful is Storm of course. "Rogues been taking good care of the horses, I am sure they're overjoyed to see you again though."

Same outfit he had on earlier, that button up black on black striped shirt, black pants and dress shoes. Though there's mud upon the soles now which is irritating him, hes had to stop several times and kick-stomp at it.

The peel-off of the vehicle driven by the strange red-head is watched carefully, nearly reflected in the pale blue gaze of Storm's.

"Ghadabh Mntsav Allil," A pause as the thickly accented voice takes upon an echo, akin to the backdrop of rolling thunder in a distant turbulence of Mother Nature. "My Stallion is in good health, and for that, Rogue will get my thanks, he would have been in no better hands otherwise."

The further the car is away, the lower and calmer her voice gets, but still no show of a smile.

"Scott." But the way she says his name has a lingering, a question hanging in the air between them when her eyes finally bridge that gap and meet his own. Like he has barely shown his "aloof" (HA!) side, she is only that Turbulent Fringe in the presence of her own few whom she knows can handle it; one being Scott.

"The mud does the shoes good, let it be. I want to know about the Dung, instead." The shit(storm) that she has missed here while in Kenya with her people.

"Gesundheit, Ororo." Scott quips unmindful of Storm's looks after the redhead, a thumb jerks over his shoulder as if in indication, "Agent Romanoff. She was here to check on Doctor Banner."
"Interesting woman."

A closer stance now and hearing his name both of his brows rise up, "Ororo? She was /not/ here for me. I promise you." Scott insists catching the tone from one of his oldest friends.

"Right, mud is nice and all but not on my brand new shoes, these were expensive."

Storm's lips quirk at the corners at Scott's words. Storm has no concern of who comes calling for the man, considering the past, present, and future - His Achille's Heel bypassed. But the fact that he is already claiming innocence on the matter brings forth the smile.

Or the fact she needs to simply.. breathe.. "I do not have a care to give in regards to your lady, or Banner's, I meant Lorna. Logan. Genosha…" A push of hip casts her from the side of the Model Mustang towards Scott. "My friend, there is more to worry about besides mud on your shoes when shit sinks between your toes." It seems as if it almost pains Ororo to say that one curse word in place of Dung, but she does, right in time with an extended hand to tap along the temple covering of his visor if he does not back away.

"Cost is too high elsewhere, your Stingray skinned dress is not my concern here." The passing pun of Suicide Kings unremarkable due to her tone. "Blood is not just on your hands, it has swept to my shores and within homes in Kenya, and I did not expect it -here- as well."

A deep breath in, then out, but even as the smile wilts her thoughts are made to words for Scott's ears only inside the garage. "You could have retaliated. Logan would have survived," A small shrug and even as her voice and smile wavers.

"Why, Scott?" A solid question as she looks fully away and to the empty drive, up tilting her chin to the night with a deep breath. "Why do you take this alone. Rogue took on the beasts of burden (horses), but I bet it is because you did not accept help."

A drop of her tone and when Storm looks at Scott… Looks at Him! The corners of her eyes are alight with small shocks of sparks. "Stop. It."

"Oooh, language, Ororo." Scott says before hes lifting his leg up and sitting on the Mustang GT. He's not a huge fan of this particular car model but he can appreciate it, "Your hoops are going to scratch the paint, careful."

"Genosha isn't our concern." The brunette man says firmly, "We gave them freedom and the option of choice, they're making use of that now. Even if we do not agree with it. As for Logan, typical, he is a selfish radical with no respect for anyone even as a senior citizen." A noise escapes his throat, "Lorna, shes proven shes her fathers daughter is all. Unfortunately."

"I wasn't about to escalate it by reacting how he wanted me to. Doctor Banner… doesn't do violence well. He reacts in a way thats not exactly safe. Check his file out later and you'll understand."

"Stop being me. Right, I'll get on that." He replies, arms rising to rest hands limply on his biceps.

"Yes… No." pause as Storm sets her jaw into place and keeps the press of metal clad hip from the GT when Scott joins her.

"Your shoes… this cars paint job, are not our concern. Not as X-Men." A glace to the Mustang and its 'Cherry' Paint Job, reminiscent of the departed Agent. But beneath the Hood - the Cover. "That is not the Logan I recall." A give in for that arch, with a shrug of leather clad shoulder the midriff jacket hangs from, leaving abdomen bared still despite the climate. But this is Storm, after all.

"I offered Lorna an out before Logan's arrival - same logic, Scott," This time his name is said softer with more resignation to the stature despite… "I have read his file. That is why. I want Banner to feel as safe as promised. He's become Our Family now."

A deep inhale. "This is my concern," Another glance to his visor, holding the cerulean to the red steadfast. Metal scrapes metal as she props herself against the Mustang again and folds her arms across her chest, painted in the leather halter with a silver 'X' of straps lined in black around her chest. "Stop taking the heaps of…" Language Storm.. ".. You're doing the right thing, My Friend," A pause. A breath. "But you need to accept your Friends as well. This is our Islet, and you have the same backing - you just need to suck it up and accept it. Daughter, Mutate, Mutant, Meta…" A hand wave. "Be You, but you do not have to do it alone and turn cheeks until they are truly broken."

In that final phrase, Scott can see the concern from Storm, and the true nature as to why she has to temper her storm. "Banner will learn, or perhaps measures with an Agent can be taken. We all have a right to… Be."

A bend at waist and Storm peers into the rear-view mirror of the GT and tilts her head, pushing back strands of white in her reflection. "What do you suggest from here on?"

"Sure it is if you think far enough back." Scott assures Storm about Logan, "He's never been one to take orders or play well with the team, at least some of us. Especially some us." A tip up of his chin.

"Family, hrm, one of us yeah, absolutely but family. Not quite yet, you're always more welcoming then I am. I'll say Doctor Banner's got a place, if he wants it but we'll see in time, lets hope this is a good call."

He gets what shes saying there, Logan going so hard at Bruce, "We don't know fully what this Logan went through either. I'm trying to be understanding, its damned hard sometimes. Real damned hard." He smiles but hes gritting his teeth behind his lips, its a tight draw.

"I have been, Rogue, Peter, now you, I'm open to the help. I'm not overlooking any one."

"My suggestion? Right now I got none, not specifically, not yet. We do what we do, we focus down the Brotherhood, try to remain a buffer between them and the rest of whats going down… Trask is starting to show it's fangs again."
"Give me a day." Scott adds, "Then, I'll have your suggestions."

When her eyes finally rest on Scott, and his setting, the line of his jaw, the outer corners of her eyes drop slightly, because she is empathizing with that leadership role, but there is a line even there where you stand up, or take a knee - for the better of your people. There is only one way to do so after so many blows, and it is to fight back.

"We protect who we bring inside these walls, Scott," my friend in his name, in that tone. Silence as she rocks off the lean against the Mustang, no scrapes left behind on the paint job. "We call them Family. Children. Brothers. Sisters…" A few booted steps bring her to Scott's side where she pauses but does not raise a hand in gentle touch, only turns her gaze his way where he can see the silent sorrow and the rage that is behind it all sparking in the depths of that maelstrom of blue.

"We do not truly seek to hurt each other."

When Storm steps away, her eyes leave Scott the same way, leaving him the back where the length of mohawk trails between shoulder blades, teasing now at the base of the half-jacket along exposed back. "You do not have the choice to overlook any of Us anymore, Scott." A lift of her chin in that Pride as she exits the garage.

"You know where to find me by 21:00 tomorrow, then." Is that a smile in her tone? Storm took her returning stance with a

… Challenge accepted.

"We always have and always will." Scott agrees with the Weather Witch.

Rested there still against that American muscle car, "I do." He confirms, "It is good to have you around again, Ororo. I feel safer already." A low chuckle the last thing he is offering before that garage is left to him alone.

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