Jason
The bar is not a particularly ritzy one, but neither is it the sort where bar fights and bathroom trysts are the norm. It sits firmly in the middle of class in every sense of the word, and the woman who sits alone in a darkish booth with a half-full martini glass to match the empty ones at her elbow most certainly fits here. The face she wears is not her own - not precisely - but it's a familiar guise to those who've seen her in several, dark-haired and fair-skinned and, as usual, beautiful.
Jason is here to drink or perhaps to absorb, and not alone and never alone. He is here to find a partner, pour a drink, and while away a lonely evening with something like company. He is not disguised and he is in motion, sharking past several booths before he discovers-- this one. And sits. "Good /evening/."
A sharp jawline tilts swiftly upwards as blue eyes fix on Jason across the table. Slender fingers tighten around the stem of a martini glass as she notes, "I didn't invite you."
"No, but I'm counting myself invited." Jason settles a bit more Comfortable.
"One of these days you will invite yourself straight into Trouble," Mystique grumbles, and the capital 'T' is clear in her voice.
"I often do. On a regular basis, in fact. Aren't we grouchy." Jason folds his arms on top of the table.
"I do try."
"I am not. I feel fantastic. Do you want to know why?" Jason tilts his head.
"Desperate to find out."
Dark brows rise silently with an extreme minimum of interest as Mystique lifts her glass for a sip of martini.
"One of the kiddos who took down our dear friend Ellen. I daresay she will have nightmares for the rest of her life."
Elizabeth lifts her head entirely then, eyes sharpening with a bit more focus. "What did you do?" she wonders.
Mystique lifts her head entirely then, eyes sharpening with a bit more focus. "What did you do?" she wonders.
"Well." Jason blows his breath out. "I gave her a car crash, then had Ellen rescue her from said car crash and kill her. Good fun. I did it /just/ so it looked like nothing more than a graphic dream, though."
"And why," Mystique asks, very carefully, "Did you do this?"
"We protect our own. Really. I should have killed her. But she was-- boasting about it, you know?"
"Ellen was rather insane," Mystique points out, eyes narrowing. "If we were taking care of her, we should have done so long before some children decided to take her in. "
"Well, she threw in with Magneto. Look-- I didn't do any permanent harm," Jason segues, unfolding his arms. "But I felt like something ought to be done to curb it. People /should/ be scared of the Brotherhood."
"There isn't a Brotherhood, Jason," Mystique answers, voice raised to peculiar sharpness before she drinks. It's more than a sip this time.
"Former Brotherhood." Jason's voice drops away entirely. "She was creepy and crazy, yes, but I liked her."
"Did you? Well then. I suppose it's the thought that counts."
"She liked me! I tend to reciprocate those kinds of things."
"Do you?" There is a faint snort from Mystique as she lifts her head and fixes her gaze on Jason, and then after a slight pause she wonders, "Do you think, then, that if your little back-stabbing sweetheart had come back to you and desired to forget the past and move into the future, you would have returned to her? If she /liked/ you?"
"No. But if someone had killed her and/or sent her away to jail for life, I would be peevish, yes." Jason refolds his arms.
"Whyever not"
"Because I'd know I couldn't trust her."
"People change," Mystique reminds.
"So you'd take, say, Magneto back?"
Brows rise sharply as Mystique's lips thin into an unpleasant expression.
Jason shrugs in full innocence. "Just saying. People perhaps do not change enough."
"Tell me, then. Jason. So wise. What is the /correct/ response?"
"If you want it bad enough that old trust issues don't matter, take it. If not, don't burden yourself."
"Very nice, Jason," Mystique approves with the curl of a disdainful smile. "Well done. A neat twist of the situation. Second chances equated to weakness."
"Do you want to hand out second chances, then?" Jason again cants his head. "I can never tell with you."
"Can't you? You are sitting at my table, Jason," Mystique replies bluntly.
"You are a magnanimous woman."
"Would you prefer I didn't? Perhaps I should hold a grudge until I die. Carry them with me to my grave." Full lips twist into an unpleasant expression.
"So you think I /shouldn't/ have given Monet nightmares in the interests of second chances? Even though she's just some human chick?" No expression on Jason.
"Don't fool yourself, Jason. You didn't do it for Ellen. You did it for yourself, and Ellen was an extremely handy tool. What did it accomplish?"
"Perhaps she will be a little less loose and fast with who she plays vigilante with." Jason inhales. "You know. What? We lose Ellen forever, she loses a little sleep. It's slight justice."
"Then I am glad for you, Jason," Mystique replies a touch sharply.
"Sometimes, talking to you, I feel like I can't ever do a darn thing with my powers and have you approve."
"I am carrying a grudge to my grave," Mystique replies shortly.
"I mean," Jason mock-huffs, "I'm sorry I can't cure cancer."
"And I sense your deep-seated sincerity."
"Well. I /don't/ regret what I did." So there. "I haven't felt that inspired in years. I wasn't just /messing/."
"Of course not."
"Just-- just tell me. When /would/ it be appropriate for me to use my powers? Just in the way you do? Hi, I'm someone else?"
"Is that what you think I do?" Mystique lifts her head and fixes her eyes on Jason with a quiet heat. "Perhaps I enjoy working as a lawyer and I'm finding it a pleasant change from terrorism."
"No," is faintly sullen. "And I doubt very much you're just playing lawyer."
"Do you? Sometimes I think that your notion of my life consists entirely of--" Mystique pauses, frowns, shakes her head, and goes for her martini. Changes the subject. "Why are you here, Jason?"
"Because I'm lonely. Does my answer ever change? Why are /you/ here?"
"There are millions of people in this city. Go sit with someone else."
"And leave you alone? That would be so assish."
"Then at least order something to drink. Perhaps it will mellow you a bit." Because she is so very mellow.
"Or it will make me crazy." And yet, nonetheless, Jason raises his hand for a barrista. Over here!
"That would be a change," Mystique replies dryly.
"Critic, critic, critic. That's all you are tonight." The barrista is here. Very nice. Jason mutters something about whiskey.
"What am I ever?" Mystique murmurs in reply. Her brows twitch a touch lower and she lifts her glass to her drink before gesturing a request for another.
"Inscrutinable, cool, and unsatisfied. You're a cat with a series of insects that are no fun to play with. So you don't play." Jason does the arm fold again. "You just stay over there all elevated and superior."
"Clearly I should find some mice."
"They'd bore you, too."
"Goodness." Another sip. "There's no real hope for me, is there?"
"No. Thoroughly doomed." The whiskey comes. Jason unfolds his arms, curls his hand around the shot, and idly knocks it back.
"I suppose I should just drink myself into oblivion, then."
Jason coughs. Idly tossing back whiskey is dumb. "Peeerhaps."
Mystique lifts her brows slightly as she studies Jason, and for a moment there is drawn silence.
Jason inhales on a bit of a rough chokish note and recovers. Also in silence.
Silence settles, lingers, and stretches, and although Mystique has another martini, she does not drink it. Whatever the impetus, it seems to have faded.
Jason glances down at the table. "I never associate you with getting drunk."
"What do you associate me with?"
"Mental. Facilities."
"Well." Mystique lifts her glass once more.
"It is nice not to have them sometimes."
"It is dangerous to not have them sometimes," Mystique counters.
"You're in a bar."
"Even worse."
"You must have some reason to shed yourself of your mental facilities."
"I'm hardly drunk, Jason." Mystique's tone is wry as she studies him, and then she adds, "Just enough to allow you to remain, I suppose."
"Oh," Jason dismissed. "You're always that drunk."
"Sometimes more than others."
"Lonely!"
"Ah, cats don't get lonely. They are creatures of solitude."
"Not entirely," Jason muses, and shakes his empty shot. "They have to breed, after all. Raise kits."
Mystique nearly chokes on that, with a poorly-timed drink making breathing abruptly difficult.
Jason hums a bit to himself and shakes that glass.
Finally swallowing, Mystique lifts her brows sharply to wonder, "Is that what you feel I am lacking?"
"Where are the /children/, Mystique?"
"You are here," Mystique points out.
"Whoa, what? You've been my mother all this time?" Jason's eyebrows shoot up.
"You'd hardly know if I were," Mystique replies, voice dipped quite low. "So many possibilities, Jason. Expand your mind a touch."
"Gee." Jason glances at the ceiling. "It explains everything."
"Doesn't it just."
"Entirely." Jason knocks over his shot. "You've probably had enough of me."
"You can't honestly enjoy sitting here with me, Jason."
"Sure I do. But. We've probably done enough sitting." He levers standing. Helpfully!
"I am not terribly pleasant company," Mystique counters. Still sitting. "And you certainly aren't getting the benefit of regular sex."
"Oh, well, Ellen was like the last thing I slept with." He stretches his hands over his head.
Mystique makes a faint sound in the back of her throat and shakes her head. "You are a mystery, Jason Wyngarde."
"So are you, Raven, darling." He starts long-stepping away.
Mystique's lips go tight at the corners at the name and she looks away, leaving Jason to disappear without comment if he wishes.
Jason keeps walking away. One may as well after, indeed, using that name.
It's Mystique's birthday. That has nothing to do with anything!
Jason is here to drink or perhaps to absorb, and not alone and never alone. He is here to find a partner, pour a drink, and while away a lonely evening with something like company. He is not disguised and he is in motion, sharking past several booths before he discovers-- this one. And sits. "Good /evening/."
A sharp jawline tilts swiftly upwards as blue eyes fix on Jason across the table. Slender fingers tighten around the stem of a martini glass as she notes, "I didn't invite you."
"No, but I'm counting myself invited." Jason settles a bit more Comfortable.
"One of these days you will invite yourself straight into Trouble," Mystique grumbles, and the capital 'T' is clear in her voice.
"I often do. On a regular basis, in fact. Aren't we grouchy." Jason folds his arms on top of the table.
"I do try."
"I am not. I feel fantastic. Do you want to know why?" Jason tilts his head.
"Desperate to find out."
Dark brows rise silently with an extreme minimum of interest as Mystique lifts her glass for a sip of martini.
"One of the kiddos who took down our dear friend Ellen. I daresay she will have nightmares for the rest of her life."
Elizabeth lifts her head entirely then, eyes sharpening with a bit more focus. "What did you do?" she wonders.
Mystique lifts her head entirely then, eyes sharpening with a bit more focus. "What did you do?" she wonders.
"Well." Jason blows his breath out. "I gave her a car crash, then had Ellen rescue her from said car crash and kill her. Good fun. I did it /just/ so it looked like nothing more than a graphic dream, though."
"And why," Mystique asks, very carefully, "Did you do this?"
"We protect our own. Really. I should have killed her. But she was-- boasting about it, you know?"
"Ellen was rather insane," Mystique points out, eyes narrowing. "If we were taking care of her, we should have done so long before some children decided to take her in. "
"Well, she threw in with Magneto. Look-- I didn't do any permanent harm," Jason segues, unfolding his arms. "But I felt like something ought to be done to curb it. People /should/ be scared of the Brotherhood."
"There isn't a Brotherhood, Jason," Mystique answers, voice raised to peculiar sharpness before she drinks. It's more than a sip this time.
"Former Brotherhood." Jason's voice drops away entirely. "She was creepy and crazy, yes, but I liked her."
"Did you? Well then. I suppose it's the thought that counts."
"She liked me! I tend to reciprocate those kinds of things."
"Do you?" There is a faint snort from Mystique as she lifts her head and fixes her gaze on Jason, and then after a slight pause she wonders, "Do you think, then, that if your little back-stabbing sweetheart had come back to you and desired to forget the past and move into the future, you would have returned to her? If she /liked/ you?"
"No. But if someone had killed her and/or sent her away to jail for life, I would be peevish, yes." Jason refolds his arms.
"Whyever not"
"Because I'd know I couldn't trust her."
"People change," Mystique reminds.
"So you'd take, say, Magneto back?"
Brows rise sharply as Mystique's lips thin into an unpleasant expression.
Jason shrugs in full innocence. "Just saying. People perhaps do not change enough."
"Tell me, then. Jason. So wise. What is the /correct/ response?"
"If you want it bad enough that old trust issues don't matter, take it. If not, don't burden yourself."
"Very nice, Jason," Mystique approves with the curl of a disdainful smile. "Well done. A neat twist of the situation. Second chances equated to weakness."
"Do you want to hand out second chances, then?" Jason again cants his head. "I can never tell with you."
"Can't you? You are sitting at my table, Jason," Mystique replies bluntly.
"You are a magnanimous woman."
"Would you prefer I didn't? Perhaps I should hold a grudge until I die. Carry them with me to my grave." Full lips twist into an unpleasant expression.
"So you think I /shouldn't/ have given Monet nightmares in the interests of second chances? Even though she's just some human chick?" No expression on Jason.
"Don't fool yourself, Jason. You didn't do it for Ellen. You did it for yourself, and Ellen was an extremely handy tool. What did it accomplish?"
"Perhaps she will be a little less loose and fast with who she plays vigilante with." Jason inhales. "You know. What? We lose Ellen forever, she loses a little sleep. It's slight justice."
"Then I am glad for you, Jason," Mystique replies a touch sharply.
"Sometimes, talking to you, I feel like I can't ever do a darn thing with my powers and have you approve."
"I am carrying a grudge to my grave," Mystique replies shortly.
"I mean," Jason mock-huffs, "I'm sorry I can't cure cancer."
"And I sense your deep-seated sincerity."
"Well. I /don't/ regret what I did." So there. "I haven't felt that inspired in years. I wasn't just /messing/."
"Of course not."
"Just-- just tell me. When /would/ it be appropriate for me to use my powers? Just in the way you do? Hi, I'm someone else?"
"Is that what you think I do?" Mystique lifts her head and fixes her eyes on Jason with a quiet heat. "Perhaps I enjoy working as a lawyer and I'm finding it a pleasant change from terrorism."
"No," is faintly sullen. "And I doubt very much you're just playing lawyer."
"Do you? Sometimes I think that your notion of my life consists entirely of--" Mystique pauses, frowns, shakes her head, and goes for her martini. Changes the subject. "Why are you here, Jason?"
"Because I'm lonely. Does my answer ever change? Why are /you/ here?"
"There are millions of people in this city. Go sit with someone else."
"And leave you alone? That would be so assish."
"Then at least order something to drink. Perhaps it will mellow you a bit." Because she is so very mellow.
"Or it will make me crazy." And yet, nonetheless, Jason raises his hand for a barrista. Over here!
"That would be a change," Mystique replies dryly.
"Critic, critic, critic. That's all you are tonight." The barrista is here. Very nice. Jason mutters something about whiskey.
"What am I ever?" Mystique murmurs in reply. Her brows twitch a touch lower and she lifts her glass to her drink before gesturing a request for another.
"Inscrutinable, cool, and unsatisfied. You're a cat with a series of insects that are no fun to play with. So you don't play." Jason does the arm fold again. "You just stay over there all elevated and superior."
"Clearly I should find some mice."
"They'd bore you, too."
"Goodness." Another sip. "There's no real hope for me, is there?"
"No. Thoroughly doomed." The whiskey comes. Jason unfolds his arms, curls his hand around the shot, and idly knocks it back.
"I suppose I should just drink myself into oblivion, then."
Jason coughs. Idly tossing back whiskey is dumb. "Peeerhaps."
Mystique lifts her brows slightly as she studies Jason, and for a moment there is drawn silence.
Jason inhales on a bit of a rough chokish note and recovers. Also in silence.
Silence settles, lingers, and stretches, and although Mystique has another martini, she does not drink it. Whatever the impetus, it seems to have faded.
Jason glances down at the table. "I never associate you with getting drunk."
"What do you associate me with?"
"Mental. Facilities."
"Well." Mystique lifts her glass once more.
"It is nice not to have them sometimes."
"It is dangerous to not have them sometimes," Mystique counters.
"You're in a bar."
"Even worse."
"You must have some reason to shed yourself of your mental facilities."
"I'm hardly drunk, Jason." Mystique's tone is wry as she studies him, and then she adds, "Just enough to allow you to remain, I suppose."
"Oh," Jason dismissed. "You're always that drunk."
"Sometimes more than others."
"Lonely!"
"Ah, cats don't get lonely. They are creatures of solitude."
"Not entirely," Jason muses, and shakes his empty shot. "They have to breed, after all. Raise kits."
Mystique nearly chokes on that, with a poorly-timed drink making breathing abruptly difficult.
Jason hums a bit to himself and shakes that glass.
Finally swallowing, Mystique lifts her brows sharply to wonder, "Is that what you feel I am lacking?"
"Where are the /children/, Mystique?"
"You are here," Mystique points out.
"Whoa, what? You've been my mother all this time?" Jason's eyebrows shoot up.
"You'd hardly know if I were," Mystique replies, voice dipped quite low. "So many possibilities, Jason. Expand your mind a touch."
"Gee." Jason glances at the ceiling. "It explains everything."
"Doesn't it just."
"Entirely." Jason knocks over his shot. "You've probably had enough of me."
"You can't honestly enjoy sitting here with me, Jason."
"Sure I do. But. We've probably done enough sitting." He levers standing. Helpfully!
"I am not terribly pleasant company," Mystique counters. Still sitting. "And you certainly aren't getting the benefit of regular sex."
"Oh, well, Ellen was like the last thing I slept with." He stretches his hands over his head.
Mystique makes a faint sound in the back of her throat and shakes her head. "You are a mystery, Jason Wyngarde."
"So are you, Raven, darling." He starts long-stepping away.
Mystique's lips go tight at the corners at the name and she looks away, leaving Jason to disappear without comment if he wishes.
Jason keeps walking away. One may as well after, indeed, using that name.
It's Mystique's birthday. That has nothing to do with anything!