Chaos Cleanup

April 12, 2018:

Storm comes in to a mess and speaks with… Havok of all people.

Staff Lounge -Xavier's Institute

Trashed

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions: Polaris Cyclops Eclipse Sinister

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

With an audible snork, Alex jolts awake. He's almost immediately confused by the sleeping Lorna curled up against him on the lounge sofa. He sits and blinks a few times, working on getting his bearings and trying to figure out if he's hungover or still half drunk. Little more the latter, it seems.

Carefully, he works at untangling himself from an unexpected Polaris…

As it's primarily decorating his face, with particular focus paid to the scarred side, he does not notice the many squiggly hearts someone has seen fit to draw upon him with what looks to be permanent marker.

There's still a few bottles of various forms of hard liquor on the nearby table, and once free, Alex shuffles over to begin cleaning up.

It is later in the night, but not late enough apparently. Storm had waited until, hopefully, the party(?) had vacated the cafeteria. Since Scott had been there and it continued, she assumed the location of this odd celebration was okay'd as the younger students would hopefully not arrive and see the spectacle and tie to to news reports.

Though once Storm enters, the litter of bottles, wrappers, containers for food… A tumbleweed of a chip-bag before booted feet, has her narrowing her eyes upon it as a hand laden in leather fingerless gloves lowers to exposed hip and curls.

Every curling fingertip a beacon of a small whirlwind that has glass rattling in a relocated wind that throws sealed windows open and causes a cyclone of their post-party garbage to head for a trash can - crashing into it!

Some goes in, some does not as the lid falls off the top of the can and clatters to the cafeteria floor.

Close enough.

The trail, though, has Storm heading our of the cafeteria towards the Staff Lounge, following the spill of bottles and rubbish she picks up on her way, only to come to the staff lounge hearing noise, and nudging open the door to…!

Lips part, then thin in a sudden closure upon Alex's rise from Lorna's unconscious form. Each dark-skinned finger is hooked and holding trash that gets dropped over a tiny waist bin, filling it and spilling over.

"Do I need to even ask?"

Collecting bottles, Alex pauses to glance back at Lorna. He narrows his eyes, scanning the room for Marcos. Huh. Guess he never came up? One mostly empty bottle held in the crook of his elbow, another in that hand, and he holds a third aloft to peer at it.

"Sorry, I… uh…" No label on this one. Probably one of Logan's mystery stash that Lorna came across. He looks around for the stopper, shrugs, takes an experimental swig. The grimace indicates a less than pleasant initial impression.

Alex coughs once, then completes the thought, "I started out exhausted and was asleep for a good…" He scans the room, "Looks to be ninety percent or so of whatever all went on here." His facial decorations bear this claim out.

"But I didn't discourage anybody, so I'll inherit clean-up duty."

Storm exhales slow~ly, every step forward has her bowing to pick up one thing or another and when every grip of fingers bares the burden of backwash bottles and trash she almost stands before Alex, looking with him back to the Green Haired Lorna. A furrow of brows…

"Apparently you are not the one to ask." She remarks to Alex, shaking her head, the strands of mohawked mane falling around her face. "90 percent unconscious means 90 percent innocence, I will help you." The slow smile is one that is reassuring enough while the leather-clad Nubian woman appears in thought and then shakes her head.

"When did you arrive back with us?" A change of subject, one that will set the irrelevant clean-up duty, to the side. Saved for later as a topic with the others of Staff.

Exhaling in something that's almost a laugh, Alex shakes his head. "Which time? I think I was back for a week or so before heading off to Genosha for Lor's would-be wedding." He takes another, borderline reluctant sip from Logan's Mystery Swill before turning to go about more actively picking up.

"Most of the longer time gone, I'd ended up in Vorokhastan." Easing into a crouch, he begins re-stashing the bottles into the cabinet from which Lorna had discovered them.

"That's where I got my new ruggedly handsome look…" The decorative squiggly hearts actually help. Closer, it's clear most of the left side of his face is burn scar. It's unclear if the cloudy eye on that side can even see.

He smirks a bit, "I'm still not past the joking about it phase. Or drinking too much about it phase, apparently." Straightening, he turns and gestures toward the room, "THIS, however…"

Resting his hands on his hips, Alex ponders a bit, then adds, "We got nabbed by Sinister at Lorna's wedding. Everybody is kind of… dealing."

Abruptly clearing his throat and getting back to picking up, "Sorry. I don't know how to explain any of that without sounding extremely morbid. It's been a trying year so far, hard to get back into 'Teach Physics' frame of mind."

Which time?

Storm could be asked the same, but it seems all of Alex's times have crisscrossed with her own sans the beginning, so when he mentions his look is when Storm actually notes the scarring and the eye surrounded in it, as well as the hearts.

It is evident she never even counted it as 'different' as she hesitates then, tilts her head, and lifts a hand. Her index finger mimics the shape of a sharpied 'heart' that is painted below his cheekbone and that same shoulder rises and falls in a shrug.

"You should be." /Beyond the phase(s)/ Alex mentioned, her index pointing his way as if marking the end of that 'sentence'.

The point of finger remains though as he speaks on, slowly curling into her palm as she dips to gather more of the melee up and organize the Staff Lounge.

"How is dealing, drinking the devil?" A tilt of a bottle and the liquid contents spill slowly from the narrow neck, but at the mention of Sinister it seems some of those droplets freeze/frame to crystals and shatter before impacts at their feet.

A slow shake of her head and for a long moment Storm is silent.

"Physics should help you heal," Like her plants and Greenhouse does, or her balcony! "If not, reset your frame of mind, Alex. Get over the fact that your smile has scars, because I did not see them until now."

Offering a faint smile, Alex gives a quick nod. "It's not dealing, it's flagrant avoidance."

And that he just leaves at that, without any offer of excuse or justification. Cleaning brings him back around to the sofa, where he pauses to quietly adjust the blanket Lorna has halfway lost while adjusting to his recent escape from her sleeping clutches.

He keeps his voice mindfully softer, "Thanks, Ororo. But… I just mention it because it's the part most people see." He pauses to watch Lorna's sleeping form for another moment, before moving on to the next project of picking up empty shot glasses from the table. "And honestly, it's the easy bit to handle. I mean, I've had students who can't even go out in public. No right whatsoever to worry about how I look."

"No, more about what I had to do. Who I lost. That's where the psychic idea might be a good call." Abruptly, Alex scrunches his features and shakes his head. Definitely time to deflect and avoid: "Enough of that. How are YOU doing?"

Monet has disconnected.

"Stop focusing on what You think everyone sees first, Alex." Though as Storm speaks she is gathering, some of the debris pushed by invisible fingers - summoned breezes, to the edge of the trash can that is overwhelmed as it is.

While she removes the revolving lid and pulls out the bag to a clatter of glass and gathers the small pile into it she watches Alex, his care over Lorna's sleeping frame and his reluctance. Her lips thin and she looks away, crushing the bags contents a bit to add the rest and hold it open towards him. "My class will handle the recycle separation."

Assurance? Maybe, but she watches him carefully.

"You and they (his students), should have no concern about the public anymore," A pause as she looks back to Lorna, recalls Genosha, then the Mists, Her People in Africa. "As long as we do not appear falling A Part." The phrasing enough that when he asks how she is doing, Storm holds his gaze with her own…

"It is about what we had to do for those we lost." Storm waits enough to finally knot the top of the garbage bag held out for Alex and looks down to the top of it as she clutches the plastic wrapping.

"As good as any of us, just handling it… as I must." As the Goddess, as a Queen, as a Leader.

"I hope you know.." /Not Alone/.

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