Participants:
| Scene Title | He's Not Awkward, She's Just Hot |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Or maybe both. Magnes visits Peyton to apologize, but is instead thanked for various good deeds and Danko torture. |
| Date | March 23 2010 |
Peyton's Place
The apartment is quiet and somber in the late afternoon. There's no music playing or television on. An unexpected house guest has been set up to rest and recover in a back bedroom. Peyton, having situated Faye and ensured her birth mother had everything she needed, grabbed a quick shower after spending most of the past 36 hours at the hospital by the older woman's side — money at least is useful in such times, as she made sure Faye had a private room that they would not kick her out of when "Visiting hours were over."
Now, Peyton stands in the kitchen, perusing various delivery options. Somehow nothing sounds appetizing, despite the fact that all she's had is coffee and half of an English muffin hours ago.
He has no idea if she's eaten, he has no idea if he'll even be welcomed here, but… Peyton Whitney is someone who's a bit of a mystery to him, and someone he's pretty sure he may have somehow upset even though she's likely forgotten by now. And hey, it never hurts to make a new friend.
Magnes knocks a few times on her door, that practiced pizza delivery boy knock. He's wearing an unzipped Venom jacket, designed like said character's costume, a long-sleeved white shirt with black designs similar to Venom's costume, just with the colors inverted. His pants look like something made by an unknown designer, black jeans with dark indigo waves that look almost like sound coming up from the bottom to his knees. The space inbetween the waves make it more of a subtle design than something that overpowers the black in them. And of course he has his black snow boots. "It's Magnes J. Varlane." he casually calls out, trying not to disturb any neighbors.
Not really sure what Faye would like to eat, Peyton sighs, setting down the menus on the counter that divides the kitchen from the dining room, and heading to the door. She's not dressed nearly as interesting in her cropped lounge pants — hot pink with the word "Pink" in lime green collegiate lettering across the butt will alert the brand savvy it's Victoria's Secret — and complementing green hoodie with pink detailing. She gives a little head shake — so many visitors in the past week — before peeking through the peephole. An eyebrow rises when she sees it's Darth Vader the free pizza guy.
Peyton unlocks the deadbolt and then opens the door as far as the chain lock will allow. "Hi, Magnes. It's not really a good time," she says quietly, leaning her head against the edge of the door. She probably looks better than the last time he saw her, since she's not bleeding from her mouth and nose, but she looks weary, her eyes swollen and red with dark circles beneath them.
Magnes' eyes have a few seconds where they're lacking in tact, and look her up and down, then he quickly brings them up to her eyes and clears his throat. He's got a large white bowl in his hands, and it smells like something Italian, but she can't quite see what's in it due to the lid. "Oh, sorry. I just wanted to apologize, for flipping out over Danko. He makes me crazy when I get near him. I made you something to eat." He's nervous, that much is clear to anyone with two eyes, but it's his natural awkwardness shining through in the face of a girl he barely knows. Even his Adam's apple can be seen in its slight shift up and down, indicating a deep swallow. "Took a while to work up the nerve to come here."
Dark eyes blink at the apology, and she shakes her head. "Don't be silly," she says quietly. "Hold on." She closes the door for a moment, so she can unlock the chain, then opens it again wide enough for him to move past her. "Someone's staying here who is sort of sick — don't worry, it's not the flu," she adds hastily before he thinks the house is infectious. "So I'm trying not to disturb her."
She reaches for the bowl and smiles. "That's really sweet of you. Funny enough I was just trying to figure out what to do for dinner. Do you want me to swap it into another bowl, and you can have this one back now?"
"Oh no, it's alright." Magnes heads in, looking around since the last time he was here, he wasn't exactly allowed past the door. For a moment, he seems to be looking for someone. Hmm, so that Aaron guy doesn't live here, at least it doesn't seem so at the moment. "They're homemade meatballs like Mister Panucci taught me to make. I read somewhere that meatballs without the spaghetti are a lot healthier, and I figured high class girls are like, health conscious and stuff…" Nervousness growing, he starts to tap two index fingers together with his arms hanging in front of him.
"High class girls?" Peyton repeats and chuckles. "I'm upper class, but I don't think very many people would call me 'high class.' At least not in the past. I haven't exactly made the most classy choices." She nods to the dining room. "Would you like some coffee or soda or something? And you don't have to apologize. You tried to help, which is more than what a lot of people on that rooftop did. I appreciated it. I didn't mean to yell at you. I should have thanked you."
"Oh, um, you're welcome! Punching Danko in the face did feel pretty good…" Magnes admits with a mischivious smile, heading into the dining room to find a seat. "I don't really keep track of all the socialite stuff, I mean I was pretty sheltered before the whole Midtown thing anyway. But, well, you seem high class, to me at least. I'm not really used to talking to a person who would be walking around, like, broadway."
He finally takes a seat at the table, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "But I'm sure even Paris Hilton has redeeming qualities, and you don't seem anything like her."
"Paris is pretty much what Paris seems like," Peyton says with a chuckle and a shake of her head. "I wouldn't expect anyone to keep track of socialite stuff, though I suppose I used to think it was important. Things have been … put more in perspective for me since." She sits across from him, reaching for a stack of bills and magazines, mostly just for something to give her hands something to do. "I should thank you for something else too — for … what you guys did in Antarctica. I mean, most people will never know and that sort of sucks, but I do know, and I Want you to know I appreciate it."
"I… yeah, I lost a lot there, but at least the world's still turning. And it does feel good to be thanked." Magnes' smile is a little weak on that, so it's pretty clear his memories of Antarctica aren't exactly happy. "It's really nice to meet someone who's 'in the know', but isn't completely jaded. Well, I'm not so much 'in the know', I usually get a phone call if someone happens to need a guy with gravity powers." he corrects himself with a hint of bitterness in his shrug.
"I'm only in the know because I seem to have somehow made friends with all the people who got kidnapped to go do that thing, and the few other people who signed up willingly," Peyton corrects him with a little chuckle. "But I don't know a lot of things. I'm just usually in the wrong place at the wrong time. Actually, I'm pretty amazed that I wasn't somehow kidnapped to go help out, except that I would guess they don't think I can do anything useful. At least, that's what they're supposed to think." She shrugs, her thumbnail flicking the corner of an envelope. "So… why did you bring me food?" she says, tilting her head curiously. "I mean, I appreciate it and all, it's just sort of … random."
"Oh, so you're kind of like pre-retcon Mary-Jane, except better looking." Magnes taps his finger nervously against the table after that, cheeks reddening a bit, until he realizes what he's doing, then he places his other hand over the finger. "Well, I only have a few interests I can use as far as giving gifts is concerned. I could have brought my keyboard and played you a song, but that'd be weird. I could have made you a dress or something, but I like to at least seem a little masculine. Could have brought you a comic, but then you'd think I was a geek… well I am a geek, but I at least wanna seem like a thoughtful geek."
He takes a deep breath, rambling a little as he tries to get to his point. "And I can cook, which I thought would be a harmless gift since my personality can shine through and no one questions food."
Her brows knit together and she just shakes her head to show she doesn't understand his allusion, though she laughs a little at the rest of his words. "The food is good. It saves me from having to order out, since I'm certainly not a cook myself. I can bake, but even then it comes out wrong most of the time," Peyton explains, then asks, "Pre-retcon Mary Jane?"
"Man, you're gonna think I'm a total geek for this." Magnes half-jokes, since there's actually a hint of real worry about the impression he's going to leave. "But Mary-Jane Watson, you know, from Spider-Man? For years and years, in the very beginning, they used to write her as having absolutely no idea that Peter Parker is Spider-Man. Then one day, even though this created a lot of plot holes, they did a story that revealed she always knew who he was. They retconned the stuff about her not knowing. A retcon is when they change the continuity of a story, like a Deus Ex Machina for whatever reason by the editor and writers."
Like Peyton Whitney nows what deus ex machina is. She was sleeping off a hangover that day in English class. "Oh. Okay," she says. Just smile and nod at the strange boy. "I … well. I mean, we've been in enough of the same places. You know who I'm affiliated with, I think?" she adds, looking at him uncertainly. She's not about to come out and tell him all the people he knows that she knows, but if he already knows, she doesn't have to be secretive. As secretive. She's pretty sure he doesn't know the details, and she's not bout to tell him any.
"I know you were doing things with Shard, and Claire." There's a bit of a frown when Magnes mentions Claire, but he quickly perks back up. "These days I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing. I mean, I have a job and all, a pretty good one, but I don't feel like I'm doing anything important anymore. But that's adulthood, isn't it? Doing what you're supposed to do, especially if what you want to do is entirely too dangerous and impractical."
"Is there a supposed to? I mean, it's one thing if you have kids and a wife or something, but otherwise… you know. It's just you — do what you want, I think. As long as you aren't hurting anyone else — unless they deserve it. Like Danko." She scowls a little at that name. "I give you permission to hurt him." There's a smile to replace the frown. "Anyway, it's more adult than me… I don't have a job. Though I kind of consider the stuff I do … you know … for free… my job."
"I've hurt Danko, more than most people can possibly know. It amazes me to this day that he can still walk." Magnes sounds dead serious about that, but shakes his head at the mention of being more adult. "I have a nice place now, I'm funding my band, so the job's certainly paying for stuff. But most of what I wanna do is more along the lines of saving people, helping make things better. But I've been shot so many times, and I keep losing people. Claire lost her memories and forgot our whole relationship. My mentor died. Stuff like that happens in the life that the people we know lead. It's hard enough living in this world without also having that kind of life. I was trying to find you, when you were kidnapped. I wasn't on the case when I was a cop, so I kept trying on my own, and I beat myself up every night I couldn't figure anything out. What I did to Danko was for a lot of people, including you…"
"Danko wasn't the one who took me," Peyton says. "But I appreciate the sentiment. And I know what you mean. I'm terrified to do the things I'm doing to help, but too many good people have been hurt — I mean, I lost people too." Or thought she did. "Who was your mentor?" She hopes it wasn't Cardinal, because she can't tell Magnes that the shadow man lives — or sort of lives.
"Oh, my mentor's no one you know. Well, I've had a few actually. No one exactly approved of my most recent, probably because they think I had some naive rose-colored view of him." Magnes rolls his eyes at that, probably giving the impression by now that he's very annoyed at and worries about the impressions most people have of him. "But I don't wanna dwell on what I've lost. I'm trying to build kind of a new life, with real friends who can accept me for who I am."
Peyton smiles. "That I understand. I was fake for most of my life. It's kind of funny that even though so many awful things have happened to me in the past year, but at least it shows who my real friends are. And they aren't the people that I was hanging out with before I manifested, that's for sure." There's some noise down the hallway, and Peyton glances back, looking a little worried. "I should probably go. But thanks for the food, and for… well." She gestures. For all the things she's already thanked him for!
"I think I'm still learning who my real friends are." Magnes stands, offering a friendly smile and his hand to her. "Um, maybe we can hang out or something some time. I mean, when you have free time, maybe watch movies or something. If you have free time, 'cause, yeah, I wouldn't wanna use it all up, y'know…" He repeats himself in his awkward invitation, somewhere along the line losing his place and fumbling horribly.
"Thanks. I don't have a lot, despite not having a job, but maybe sometime," Peyton says, pushing aside the envelope she had been toying with, and standing. She takes his hand and gives it a friendly squeeze. "I appreciate you stopping by. I'm sorry I'm not a better host… things are just sort of … tense right now." Tense meaning her mother, who looks no more than a few years older than Peyton, is sleeping in the other room recovering from a coma she sustained when Peyton's father turned to dust by aging some 200 years in front of them both.
"It's alright. If you need anything, just give me a call. I'm pretty terrible with sick people, but…" Magnes reaches into his pocket, for a pen and a napkin, writing his number down and holding it out for her.
Peyton takes the napkin and glances at it, nodding, before adding it to the pile of paperwork on the table. "Thanks. She'll be fine." Physically, she'll be better than fine — Faye's gotten ten years shaved off of her life. Emotionally — well, Peyton has no doubts her mother will be fine, as well — Peyton herself is another issue. She hasn't had enough time to really process what has happened to her and what it means to her. She isn't sure she ever will. She heads to the door and opens it, looking a little apologetic. "See ya, Magnes. Be safe."