Today's Forecast... Coffee

July 11, 2018:

Scott and Storm enjoy a rainy day and some coffee before getting to work in Golconda.


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

A fork of lightning shot through the sky in the distance sideways and a breath later thunder booms. The rain pounding down around outside of them drowns out the sounds of the streets through the town of Golconda, not much in the way of traffic but enough the noises carry on clearer days.

The diner is a small thing, pleasant, red backings to red stools and tan bar top, booths and a stylized jukebox. Old theme. Overdone in many places out this side of the country but here its at least a welcome sight, not foreign.

Outside of Golconda on a small runway the X-Men's less 'mission used' Cessna Citizen X lies in a rented hangar space. A new acquisition and one Scott was more than eager to test, it didn't fly like the Blackbird, rougher, smaller, a teardrop vs a throwing dart. He preferred the X-Men's signature craft but the Cessna was in need of breaking in, who better than himself he figured, outside of perhaps Rogue. Who arguable may or may not be the better pilot.

Stomping off mud and rain soaked boots Scott glances past a pair of wet shades at the interior of the diner, under the cover of the horrid weather it is an easier in and out he figures to get a closer look at Golconda. A town the team has been scouting for just about two months in reltion to a DEO tip off. A lot to catch up on for Scott but one thing at a time and right now, this is immediate focus.

Storm, however has little care in regards to the craft the 'X' use for flight, but moreso for the passengers and their safety.

Dealing through the turbulence of weather into Golconda the platinum haired Nubian simply watches out the window while lightning reflects off those pale blue eyes. Despite turbulence, Storm smiles.

Behind Scott, she steps down off the tiny ramp from the Cessna 'X', and into a muddy puddle without concern to the thigh-high boots that wrap over her legs and only stop upon upper thighs in a lining of silver that matches the bolts of lightning streaking across the dark sky, criss crossing down in laces towards ankles to meet the Earth.

"Seems quaint." Storm states calmly about the diner before she heads into the place with a shake of her leather midriff-style jacket.

"The idea for now. Quiet is what we want, this diner and the hangar are good rally points for the time being. Less surveillance this side of the town until we can find our target. Last time here with Rogue and Lorna we got a nudge towards the local church, forgot the name of it. It's saved in my memos somewhere."

The raincoat Scott has on is hung up on the rack to the right of the door, the chime of it's bell still lingering in a quiet 'ding echo' thats fading under their voices. Empty in here aside from a waitress, the cook and a man in the center booths. Warm, dry, unlike the weather outside.

"We can eat, I can share what we know and then we'll take a stroll. Not too far, we're still behind enemy lines here."

"Afternoon. Please sit anywhere, I'll be right with you. Coffee?" A slim blonde asks, the waitress. Pleasant smiles and curly bouncy hair. So very enemy territory worthy.

Storm did not hang her coat, she merely shook off the rain onto the 'welcome mat' and pulled it back over her shoulders. The only reveal was the X-shape of the bustier across her chest and the way it suspended downward to the low-rise hem of her pants, held in place by silver loops over each hip crest.

The pale mohawk now falls over one side of Ororo's face, wet and stuck but peeled away by fingertips in a regal /flip/ of gesture as she nods towards Scott. "It smells as if the food here has the calories necessary…" A flare of nostrils. "To down a Rhino."

The waitress then arrives and Storm smiles at her. "I approve! Yes, please."

The latter spoken to the waitress as Storm folds into the booth of Scott's choosing.

Nothing is said in regards to enemies, lines, or a mission. But the look simply passed in a flick his way says enough when it retracts half-lidded.

A feline predator in wait, but a woman happy to simply…

Be dry.

"The point with these old joints, grease. So America, yeah?" Scott offers up with a smile before waving a polite hand in acknowledgement to the waitress, "Coffee sounds great." The exchange over and hes drifting to a booth table to sit in across from Ororo. Still in line of sight for them but out of earshot enough they can converse low and undisturbed.

"Honestly, we're very in the dark on this one. Not a lot of intel or leads of any sort to work off of. Then, thats where we excell." Scott muses as the waitress swings by, all hospitality, quick and crisp service before shes drifting to check on the solo man in the corner.

"The Liberation Front faux-mutants are our target here alongside figuring out what is being hidden and why." Scott is weary, he feels like he is rambling but those close to him, like Storm can make sense of him at these hours, even without telepathic aid.
That first drink of coffee is savored, the X-Man goes silent for it's entirity and then some.

Storm is seated length-wise along the booth, her shoulder facing Scott, not her front, while one arm is draped over the edge of the table and when the coffee is delivered - her hand sweeps it up and tugs it towards the tiny holder of creamers and sugars.

The 'Punk Rock' Goddess is listening, even as her eyes take in the dark soup-thick coffee and lightens the abyss lightly with one creamer and four sugars. Her eyes only lift when the waitress leaves them for the solitary denizen in the corner. Just as the mug is brought to her liops, concealing part of her words..

"Secrets that blanket secrets. Are you offering me dessert, Scott?" A turn of phrase, before Storm sips the brew and sets it down beside her, stretching in a pose that is lazed… But not.

The opposing hand that rests along the back of her booth is holding onto the frame instead of resting over it like that hand that splays around her coffee mug. "How far from here?" She asks as she withdraws her phablet (phone tablet) and starts non-chalantly 'texting', like any other Punk of the Millenia.

"Secrets are a part of the craft." Scott shrugs those supple shoulders under his form fitted long dark blue shirt. Nothing special about it, thermal style material that falls in to a pair of belted faded jeans. Casual recon this time around. No reason for otherwise… yet.

"The Church is close. We're in walking distance but we have a rental outside."

Scott's unreadable red glasses reflect a shine of light back at Storm at her question about dessert, it takes a moment to sink in before he headshakes, "Not unless you want some key lime. Looks like thats all they have right now."
"I know. Disappointing." On various fronts. A skill to itself.

"This trip isn't meant for us to engage, we're just getting a feel of our surroundings and making sure our target is what we're guessing at." The Church. So many things can go wrong when you're a vigilante team of mutants preparing a planned assault on a religious installment.

"I'd prefer the entree, than." Storm states in a disregard for the 'Key Lime', even though inwardly, she loves the bitter flavour.

A flutter of fingers over her mug before she grips it and takes another long draw of the coffee.

Setting the mug down she tugs the menu closer and actually reviews it. "I want the chicken friend steak, covered and smothered with the side of mashed." Storm states towards Scott before she *clips* the menu closed and slides it to the edge of the table, as well as her mug that she has also emptied.

"I am always humble to the Gods," A slow dip of her chin, but her final words are lowly spoken. "I have to see and feel them first, though."

A smile towards the approaching waitress, but between the flash of pale ivories, Storm states. "I pray we meet revelations at this church, finally."

"Yes, ma'am." The woman says with a lingering stare at Storm before she is inspecting Scott.

"I am fine with the coffee. Thank you." The spectacled man declares politely. A lean to one side so he is propped upon his elbow has him studying Storm, "Our beliefs are not in question so I think you're going to be fine there. However,this going sideways… the implications… "

"They may be able to show up at our school and launch an attack, if things were fair, we could do the same but they're not and we won't let ourselves sink to that level. Not even if we know it is warranted and this Church is very likely not one at all." A shove of his cup to the side to stop his own circular inane feeling dialogue.

"Besides, this is an excuse to get out of Westchester again. A lot going down there that I feel stepping in to again too quickly is going to overwhelm me."

"Jeans got things under control for the moment." He manages after a conisering pause.

"You said we were stopping for a meal. Way to make a lady feel like a pig." Storm states at Scott as he passes on the food and simply settles on the coffee.

A small smile is offered though, to the waitress before she departs with the menus after the refill from her carafe, Storm ignoring the lingering stare and treating it casual - as it always is..

"I would never suggest such a thing." Storm states towards Scott, in regards to attacks and counter-measures, leaning back to rest her shoulders along the precipice of the diner's window at her back.

"Not unless necessary, because a small reprieve," A tilt of her refilled mug towards Scott offers him a 'Cheers'.

"And recon might be just what some strange and insane doctor… Ordered." Sipppp.

Nevermind the hidden secret smile behind the rim.

"Jeanmay need one of these after…"
"Coffee is the desired meal." Scott retaliates with a faint smile and a lift of his mug in regards to her cheers.

"Like I told you, just a stroll. We'll linger long enough for your food then head over towards the Church, just to get a look. See if it is worth all this effort."

"You're going to want to wear a shawl or something though, just enough we won't get identified. There is a reason we didn't come in from the road after all." Sip.

"The rainstorm, lets keep that overhead until we''re out of dodge too." He adds in a request before drawing up his phone, thumbs at work while her food is delivered.

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