They Do It Sometimes


magnes_icon.gif sable_icon.gif

Scene Title They Do It Sometimes
Synopsis Sable reads something embarassing of Magnes'
Date August 21 2010

Elaine and Magnes' Apartment

Lots of geeky stuff, and it's Rebel proof!

When Magnes lets Sable in, he goes back to his seat on the couch, legs crossed with no shoes or shirt on. She'll see there's something new on his stomach, the mark of a black hand that seems burned into him, but oddly his dragon tattoo stays on top of it instead of getting burned away. "Hey, Sable. Sorry I've been gone, I… kind of have one hell of a story. I almost died." He has a brown leatherbound book that says Magnes' Wonderful Life in white letters, and he appears to be writing in it.

She bears gifts! Long overdue cookies, made by her own hand and thus maybe slightly overdone in the vanilla department, slightly overcooked and unstable thanks to an overgenerous addition of chocolate chips (she felt the directions she looked up online were squarish in their conservativism).

"So I fuckin' hear," Sable says, sauntering in and pulling the door closed, one arm holding the tin in which said cookies reside, "'n' I'd appreciate somethin' like th' full hell 'f th' hell 'f a story, if y' don't mind," she tips over to read the title on the book better, "'nless y' plan on making me what, like… read about it in yer memoirs? What th' hell is that?"

"It's fiction, you can't read it, too embarassing." Magnes is quick to say as he reaches up with a grabby hand at the tin, mocking how Sable always grabs for her cookies. "Yeah, well, you've seen zombie movies, and not the tame ones, but the ones where you've got the evolved zombie monsters with multiple heads and tentacles. Basically, you remember the time we watched Resident Evil? Well… the story's like that, except instead of zombies, it's just the horrible monster things."

Grabby handedness is just a way of showing enthusiasm! Sable sticks the tin out. "Sorry if they're fucked. I asked Dee f'r some pointers, but y' said t' make sure I made 'em, so I made sure t' make 'em alone. So… y' know… it's yer fault if they suck." Totally.

The yellow eyed girl sidles up to Magnes and loops an arm around him, giving him hug that, of course, is accompanied by a few back-pats. Dudes hugging dudes (which is how Sable conceives of this interaction) with less mediation is just something she'll take time to get used to. "That's some shit," she says, "I'm supposed t' tear int' y' f'r running off like that, 'n' mebbe later I will, but f'r the fuckin' moment I'm just glad yer okay, whatever inconvenience yer fuckin' hijinks may have caused me 'n' all."

"Remember when I explained how Claire was tortured? Well, we fought that guy, me and her. But he was… crazy. First he dropped this woman down, like some sort of puppet, he had some sort of flesh strings. But he himself, that was the real monster. He had these big… limbs, I don't even know what to call them. And he had four brains on his back, and multiple abilities. We had a hard time beating him, and my ability wasn't working at full capacity because Peter gave me some augmenting drug that left me at half my normal ability when it wore off."

He opens the tin and starts munching on her cookies, nodding in approval. They're ugly, but tasty. "In the end, Claire accidentally shot me with an AK-47 at point blank range, since we were both on its back. They did surgery and everything, but I was dying. So Peter did some crazy healing technique, and it left this black hand on my stomach."

This is all so thoroughly outside the realm of Sable's experience. And Magnes' description of it being like a film that was itself based on a video game does nothing to augment her ability to accept what Magnes says as a reality. It's not that she doesn't believe him. It's just that she can't really react as if what he's telling her is true. Plus, who's Peter?

"I dunno if I should meet all these fuckin'… whatevers 'f yers. Friends?" She uses the term with a dubious tone, "Honest, I dunno what you were thinkin' seein' as we talked 'bout you knocking this shit off. But I'm just gonna figure yer reasons 'r' good 'n beg y' not t' do that shit again. 'r at least don't go 'n' try 'n' do it without at least tellin' me first, eh? Th' other gals were none to fuckin' happy. Elaine was a goddamn mess." Saying nothing of Sable's own feelings, of course, because as far as everyone is concerned she HAS NO FEELINGS DAMMIT.

Sable sniffs, "But I don't got th' heart to be a bitch t' y' now. If y'd have died, it'd be different. I'd have fuckin' pursued y' past th' heavenly gates and beaten th' shit out 'f y' in front of God 'n' all th' angels f'r forcin' me t' find a new bassist."

"Don't worry Sable, being told I could've died, and left you, Quinn and Elaine alone, well, it was a big wakeup call. I went there to save my friend Gillian, and get revenge on Gregor for what he did to Claire. I went there for closure and for my second best friend. Gillian's like… if you were captured. I couldn't just not do something about it." Magnes rubs his stomach, still very much unsettled by the hand burned there. "I'm sticking to my original plan, I just had to do this, I couldn't let Gillian stay there being experimented on, she's been my friend longer than anyone in the city. But… I'm taking Elaine up to a cabin for a weekend."

Sable quirks her lips to the side, listening to Magnes with a slight frown. She nods. "Arright. See, now, I'm just gonna warn y' ahead 'f time that Quinn ain't as loose handed as I am. 'n'… well, I promised not t' be too light with y'. So, like, I understand yer reasons 'n' dig that yer gonna, like y' said, stick t' yer plan which I'm figurin' is, like, me 'n' th' band 'n' all but…" she wrinkles her nose, "I'm gonna have t' yell at y' a little, just so I ain't breakin' my word. That cool?"

"Can you… I don't know… talk to Quinn? I don't think I can handle the stress of her lecturing me right now. And these are great cookies by the way, they've got these big chocolate chunks." Magnes apparently enjoys her going against the instructions, so mission accomplished! "It's alright, you can yell."

Sable grimaces, "Trust me, boy, if I try 'n' mollify her it'll change not a fuckin' thing. She'll wail on me, and still have plenty t' spare f'r you. Just… you tell her t' hold off 'til yer feelin' better. If she don't respect that, I'll be mighty goddamn disappointed in her." Sable actually does smile as Magnes compliments her baking, "Aw hell, where I got it right it was just beginner's luck, eh?" She actually scuffs her shoe against the floor. "'n'… right… yellin'," she sniffs, "Dunno. Not feelin' it. Rain check?"

"Sure thing. Lemme put a movie in, and get some milk." Magnes takes the cookies with him to the kitchen, unwittingly leaving his book behind, Magnes' Wonderful Life. "I really do love these cookies, you should make them like this every time."

Sable does not miss the deposit of the secret book. Fiction? Sable bites her lip, looking at Magnes' retreating back. She moves over to the manuscript for 'MWL' and scoops it up into her left hand, feeling the weight of the leather binding. Will she read it? On the sly?

No, got to be slyer than that. Sable moseys over to the kitchen and leans in the door, tapping the book against her thigh. "Y' mean t' leave this out f'r me?" she asks, a brow lifted. She lofts the book, waggles it. "'cause you gotta know what a temptation this is f'r one such 's m'self."

Magnes is putting the milk back in the fridge before he comes back to the counter and dips a cookie into the glass, then Sable waves the book around. "Ah, wait! Don't read that. It's terrible, just… sit it on the counter."

He hasn't even reached for it, but Sable's instinct is immediately to lift it over head in a classic 'keep away' gesture. Sadly, her height being somewhat limited, this doesn't do much in the way of keeping it safe from grabbyhands. It's more the symbolism of the act. "Eh eh eh… what do I get f'r, like, purposefully-like respectin' yer privacy? Y' ask a lot from a creature 'f my nature." She's grinning, wicked.

"How about… I take you shopping for a nice band wardrobe? Sure, I can make stuff, but I bet you see things you wanna wear all the time." Magnes bites a milk-soaked cookie, then holds a hand out as he waits for the book. "Come on, let's have it."

Sable squints at Magnes, glances up at the book she holds overhead, then back to Magnes again. "I wanna know what it's about, 't least," she says, "F'r th' sake 'f my curiosity. So… gimme a gloss, 'n' take me out shoppin'… and y' got a deal."

"It's about if me and everyone I know were in a fictional college, and crazy stuff happens." Magnes gives a quick gloss, then clears his throat and starts reaching for the book. "Alright, shopping time." he says with a rather grabby hand again.

Hono! If he gets it back of his own skill, then she can't extort him, even for the shopping. That's the code she's been taught, and the one she lives by. She steps back, out of the reach of his grab, then lowers the book and extends it towards Magnes. "Deal," she says, smirking, appreciative in her own weird way, "even if that's th' gayist fuckin' thing that ever was." She means this kindly, in an asshole guyish sort of way. "'n' I'd know, wouldn't I, eh?"

"Yeah I guess you would." Magnes grunts, taking his book back as he walks over to his cookies and milk, book under his arm, then starts carrying it all back to the living room. "How did you get the chips in these big chunks?"

Sable lets the book go without a further fight. "I wanna get a crazy fuckin' old school army jacket like in Sergeant Pepper's!" she exclaims, already excited at the prospect of a shopping expedition - she's fine with clothes shopping if it's for stage appearance. "Oh, I just used th' whole bag when those sad fuckers said I should only use half," Sable declares, quite proud of her innovation now that she knows it was an innovation instead of just a mistake. She pads after him, falling into step beside him, hovering in a way only the swift and small can, pestering. "This story 'f yers gonna help write us some lyrics, huh? Think any 'f it will make it ont' an album?"

"Yeah, I guess this would make some good songs, if I changed some of the names in it…" Magnes seems very embarassed about the whole thing, sitting the book next to him on the couch as he sits the glass in the air in front of him so he can dip his cookies. "One day I've gotta get you into a 1950s dress."

Sable is not the most sympathetic person when it comes to embarrassment. She grins with a sadist's satisfaction. "'f course, I'll be tryin' t' guess which name is which, eh? Wait a fuckin' second… am I in there?" she prods a finger in the book's direction, eying Magnes warily.

"Ah, uh, yeah…" Magnes' cheeks are red, muncing his cookies even faster now. She's never seen him nervous and embarassed like this, at least not with her. "Maybe." he quickly adds, as if to somehow cull her curiosity, but his demeanor says it all.

Sable would love to just crow at Magnes' reaction, but she's too busy thinking about how somewhere, somehow, in those pages rests her in some strange, Magnes-filtered manifestation. She squints at Magnes for a long, long moment…

Then she's diving to grab the book from the couch's arm!

"Ah, wait!" Magnes is going to stop her, but then the milk starts tilting and he has to catch it with gravity before it can spill out of the glass, and push it back in. That gives her ample time to grab the book, and his eyes go wide as he turns to watch her. "You won't like it, it's all… boring!"

Ha! Milk is for the weak! Sable snatches the book and scampers to the far side of the room, backing up against the wall and peering at Magnes over the upheld leather binding. "That ain't possible!" she exclaims, "ain't nothin' 'bout me that could ever be borin'." She cracks open the book and starts to scan the pages, looking for her name in particular, flipping forward, back, then forward again in an impatient and inefficient skim.

Sable finds something that could be terrifying. A kind of 'love' scene between the two.

Various things happen in the blur of the ten page scene, the dialogue and heavily explicit descriptions being quite… imaginative. "You have the smoothest thighs on the planet…" fictional Magnes says while doing something Quinn would likely be far better at.

"Come 'ere, boy, I'll break yer feckin' pelvis."

Then, even later, when fictional Magnes has somehow managed to dominate the situation, there's words in a particular description that might catch Sable's gaze: And then, at the apex of his experience, Sable lets out her inner feminine spirit and begins to scream like a Japanese schoolgirl.

Back in reality, he's sitting the milk and cookies down, then waves her down. "Come on, give it back!"

Sable reads. God help her she actually reads it. Eyes scanning line after line, catching on the most lurid of the descriptions and, Lord save her, having imagery blossom in her brain. Other considerations aside, it's certainly an energetic piece of prose. Not that she would have the words necessary to describe it as such. Her first look is of shock, quickly morphing into one of borderline horror but, as detail mounts on detail and Magnes' - dare we call it his style? - emerges, she actually gives a small snort. And its not the only one. Enough snorts accumulate that they start to resemble chuckles. And when she gets to 'inner feminine spirit'…

"AhahahHA!" Sable cackles, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet and looking up at Magnes. "Yer fuckin' serious? Like a Japanese schoolgirl? What does that even mean, boy? I never had a Japanese schoolgirl… though come t' think 'f it, might be worth it t' find out," she grins crookedly, "part 'f me thinks I should be pissed but hey," she snaps the book shut and tosses it over to him, "y' ain't wrong 'bout me bein' a good fuck, so…"

"I, uh…" Magnes' cheeks are as bright as they can be when he catches the book, unable to even look her in the eye. "It's perfectly healthy to think of your female best friend that way!" he quickly blurts out in a desperate defense, very much wanting to crawl under a rock.

"Think I don't know that?" Sable says, setting her fists at her hips, grin still wide, "Lord knows there're few limits t' my own lust. I dig. Hell, I'd be insulted if y' didn't have any dirty goddamn thoughts regardin' my person. Hell," she wrinkles her nose, "better pen 'n' paper than paws 'n' passes, far as I'm concerned."

"I just thought it was less awkward if you didn't think I was attracted at all anymore. I can't help being a little curious, you're the only band member I haven't seen topless. Not that I did anything with Quinn, but she flashed me. I mean, a guy just wonders." Magnes turns back to the table so he can resume the consumption of his cookies and milk, shaking his head. "I feel so lame."

Sable peers at Magnes, then nods. "She's got a hell of a pair," she agrees. She rolls her shoulders. "Arright, don't you fuckin' make me regret this, arright?" Is she really? Oh dear lord, she is… Sable reaches down to take the hem of her shirt in hand, arms crossed in classic style. She pauses there, giving Magnes an appraising look. "This is just t' break th' fuckin' spell, dig? End th' mystery. Don't you fuckin' dare go readin' nothin' int' this, or I will snap off more parts 'f you th'n y' care t' lose."

"Y-yeah, yeah, sure." Magnes' eyes are wide, practically popping out of his head as he leeaaans forward. He motions his hands in an 'up' motion. "I'm watching, I, I don't know what else to say… go ahead…"

Sable rolls her eyes. "It's never th' tits themselves. It's always th' fuckin' idea 'f th' tits. Th', like, fact 'f seein' rather than actually what y' see. Swear t' god. Arright, let's get this over with." She pulls up her shirt with a quick tug, the only thing necessary to give him an eyeful since Sable owns precisely zero (0) bras. She grants him five full seconds of viewing, before tugging the tank top down again. "So now it's all 'f us. Ain't you a lucky S.O.B., huh?"

"That was awesome." Magnes says in a rather dumbfounded tone, just staring as he blinks repeatedly. "I, uh, I'm gonna go take a shower, I've been working all day." He stands up, stuffing two cookies in his mouth, then downs the rest of his mouth. By the time he's at the bathroom he says, "Help yourself to leftover pizza!"

Sable grimaces and rubs her forehead with the heel of her hand. "Just… fine… sure, sure. Just go… jerk off, I guess…" she mutters. She suddenly raises her voice. "Damn boy, didn't you say y' thought 'f me like a little brother? Pervert!" She rolls her eyes, again, for no one's benefit but her own, then edges over to the couch. She eyes the only existing copy of Magnes' Wonderful Life, then leans over to snag it, crossing her legs and opening it in her lap, leaning over to peer down at the first page.

Magnes doesn't say anything, he's going to bask in his embarassment and seeing Sable's boobs alone, under a hot shower.

But that first page, well…

At the gates of Chesterfield University, Magnes stands as the scent of a new day arises from freshly cut grass over the campus grounds. He holds his case at his side, in a blue uniform with a helix symbol on the school's golden chest emblem.

As he walked through the gates, the stars burned bright enough to shine through the daylight sky, as he'd laid eyes on the most beautiful creature that ever walked the mortal planes. Abigail Beauchamp. "I, uh, hey… I'm Magnes Varlane."

As she turned to face him, he could swear that her golden locks slowed in the breeze, as if the gods themselves felt she'd be more beautiful if they slowed time for her vanity. "Ah do declare, Mister Varlane, your zipper's undone." she said before a light giggle, turning to head back into the school as his entire greeting turned into perhaps the single most dreadful moment of his life. Zippers…

"'Ey, boy, we transferred together so I could be yer wing girl, right?" says the rather Napoleon-like Sable, hair wild like a Themyscirian princess, and thighs as smooth as Helen of Troy's skin. "Let's go do it in th' nearest closet we can find, that'll make y' feel better."

Sable gets just this far before snapping the book closed and setting it aside, a hand rising to rub her brow.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ…" she mutters, "I'm gonna stay clear out 'f th' closet."

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