Participants:
Also featuring:
Agent Thompson Jr.
| Scene Title | Allergic |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | No powers are needed for the task of being an utter bitch. |
| Date | August 17, 2009 |
Fort Hero - Elle's Quarters
In the middle of the afternoon, with a few days off while everyone prepares for graduation, Magnes has decided to check on Elle. He didn't want the 'breakup' to go so badly, so he has to make sure everything is right. His hair is combed back, no gel, just dressed casually in a pair of neatly fitting blue jeans, his Squirrel Girl at the beach shirt, and some old black sneakers, knocking on her door with a covered cake dish in one hand. "It's Magnes." he calls out in a casual tone.
As he approaches, what Magnes will hear filtering through the wood of the door is the sound of conversation. Plural voices. When he completes his knock, though, it falls silent completely inside, with perhaps one lingering giggling murmur afterwards. The door pulls a few inches open to reveal a man in a black leather jacket, several years older than Magnes; square-jawed, square-shouldered, and overall considerably bigger.
It's no stranger, however, but a figure that the gravitokinetic might very well recognize as at least a vaguely familiar one who has been around the Company before. "What do you want?" In the crack of the opened door, Magnes will be able to glimpse Elle sitting on the bed cross-legged in jeans and a white long-sleeved blouse, eying the cause of the interruption without moving.
"I, uh, nothing I guess." One could say Magnes' ego is incredibly fragile, and one could also say that it's just been shattered into a million pieces, melted down, pissed on, then shot into the sun which proceeded to go super nova and collapse in on itself into a blackhole. Needless to say, his ego is on the Planet of the Apes. "I should probably get going, sorry for bothering you."
"Eric, let him in." It's in fact Elle's voice that suggests this, her tone reflecting considerably more amusement and sunniness than that her companion had used. There is a glance backwards at the woman from Eric, then a -shrug- of massive shoulders before he turns back to face Magnes and grunts, tugging the door the rest of the way inwards and leaving it open for him. He tips his head in a silent 'whatever, come in.' Past it, there is now an unhindered view of Bishop's familiar, windowless room. One bedside lamp is on, which suffices to supply surprisingly bright light for the entire chamber.
"Uh…" Magnes enters, looking considerably uncomfortable as he rubs the back of his neck, staring at her. "I wanted to talk to you, but if you're busy that's alright, we can talk some other time." He really does not want to be in the middle of an ego crushing almost-sex-session.
Inside, there is a bed and nightstand sitting flush against the right wall, but directly ahead is an indigo-cushioned futon. As Eric heads straight in and reaches it, he makes himself right at home in a flumped, seated position at one end, gazing up at Magnes with a pointer-finger resting on the side of his head and a smirk on his face. "Thommy? Ohh, he's—" …just a friend. The last words go unspoken. Elle's gaze drifts upwards at the younger agent, a horrid idea forming in her head. "Visiting me from Odessa. No, you can stay, Mags," she chooses to finish, taking the moment to beam over at the futon's occupant. He meets the look with one of his own; it's like they don't even need to be telepathic.
Her attention returns to Magnes, appearing to be truely interested in the cake dish. Unfolding her legs, she slides off the bed in order to approach, adjusting the button at the end of one white sleeve. "Aww, how sweet. What've you got for me there?"
"I uh, thought I'd apologize, in case I hurt your feelings or anything…" Magnes removes the top from the cake, walking it over to the nightstand to sit it down. It's a completely white cake, except there's neon blue designs in the shape of electricity. "I'm not used to baking cakes, but I do know how to cook, so I followed the directions, then just did a nice design. It's banana cream."
Elle's eyes travel down to the cake's surface as Magnes opens its top and sets it down onto her nightstand, but then flicker back up to the kid's face, both her eyebrows lifted in a stare. "I'm allergic to bananas," she tells him frankly and, as it sounds, with slight amazement that he hadn't known. Behind her, there is a badly concealed chortle from Eric.
"Oh…" Magnes frowns a bit, then returns the lid to the cake, lifting it and heading back to the door. "I should get going, sorry Elle. I do hope we're still friends, I wanna be friends with you."
"Magnes?" Elle calls out, eyes widened as she watches him turn back for the direction of the door, Eric still watching the spectacle of the other two in silence. Her lips form into a mock pout, should Magnes glance back to look at her. The next thing she says isn't delivered derisively, though, but as a straight statement of fact. There might even be pity in it. "You're never gonna see me again, manga boy."
"What?" Magnes asks as he looks back, then his frown just deepens. He looks, well, pretty crushed, taking her words the wrong way. "I really wanted to be friends, Elle." he softly repeats, swallowing as if choking something back, then just quickly moves for the exit again.
Without another word, Elle lays a hand on the door and pushes it all the way shut behind Magnes as soon he is gone, giving her head a mild shake at Eric. One brow is quirked high. Behind the departing agent, that closed door is the last thing he will see that is associated with Agent Bishop; the last thing he hears, the fading statement "…what a doof."