3587/Fireside Chat

Fireside Chat
Date of Scene:	27 September 2020
Location:	Wilderness Campsites
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Logan Howlett, Noriko Ashida

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Logan Howlett has posed:
It's becoming just cool enough in New York that a campfire is now a comfortable thing. In preparation, Logan has cut a few fresh logs, flatten two sides on each, and laid them out around a circle of stones. The surrounding area has been cleared of leaves and other flammable debris. The groundskeeper takes his work seriously.

A modest fire now crackles and burns, orange flames casting shadows over the nearby tall trees. The Canadian sits upon one of the aforementioned logs next to a cooler wearing jeans and a white tank-top. Firelight illuminating his face, he raises a beer bottle to his lips and takes a long sip. He's alone at the moment, but a few wire coathangers and smores demonstrates he's prepared for the occasional wayward student, an offering for those who can't accept one of the long neck bottles.

The night is mostly quiet except for the occasional snap of woods, the endless serenade of crickets, and the occasional grunting Logan as one of his memories creeps to the forefront of his thoughts.

Noriko Ashida has posed:
There are lots of places that could serve as an escape on the grounds, but none of them transport one away from the environment of the school.  Not really, nice as it is.  Escape?  Definitely on the agenda tonight for Noriko Ashida.

"Fuck-" Noriko hisses under her breath at some wily bushes with thorny vines that entangle her.  She should have graduated by now.  She should have been free to not worry about things like curfews and teachers.  She sneaks her way to the edge of the pool of light coming off of the fire.  Let's be honest though, there's no way she's moving undetected.  It's only a few steps, but the more Noriko moves, the more she seems to find more thorny vine to wrap around her.

There's a sudden bristle of electricity in the darkness.  As if the trashing didn't give her away, Noriko suddenly spills into the edge of the pool of light which makes it easier for her to scramble out of the vine.  Standing, she stares wide-eyed and tries to step into the shadow without turning her back on Logan.  Don't mind meeeeee.  Don't mind my going out clothes or anything.

Logan Howlett has posed:
Logan takes a pull from his beer bottle and gazes over his shoulder toward Noriko. The firelight casting on his side profile, his face fills with shadows that make him look even rougher than his usual self. He squints and sniffs briefly, taking in whatever scent the woman offered above the smell of burning logs.

Raising an eyebrow, he slowly reaches down toward the ground in the direction of a large axe. One might immediately conjure thoughts of many a late night slasher film. However, when the calloused hand clutches, it's not around the haft of an axe. There is a crinkle of plastic and then a bag of marshmallows is lifted and shook.

"Evenin' kid, want a smore?" His voice is rough and gravelly, but there's no hint of menace behind it. The only thing insulting about it is the term 'kid' which one then one teenager has given the Canadian snark for. He also doesn't take much note of her 'going out' clothes. Those who knew Logan knew he wasn't a strict disciplinarian unless he was actively training someone or someone was doing something -very- stupid.

Noriko Ashida has posed:
Noriko, frankly, smells like various smoked things.  Cigarettes, weed, and the faint lingering undertone of her Suave body wash that somehow survived the onslaught, probably only detectable by someone like Logan at this point.

The teen's heart-rate spikes for a brief moment as the horror-ific image of Logan grabbing an axe in the dark splats into her brain, if only for a moment.  Yep!  Time to split!

But...but.  That baggy calls to the girl.  Noriko presses her lips together and finally relents at the direct offer.  "Gah I'm so dumb," she says under her breath to herself as she steps into the flickering light to join Logan.

"Only a kid to you Old-Timer," Noriko says as she takes a seat within passing distance.

Logan Howlett has posed:
Logan chuckles lightly and shakes his head. A straightened wire hanger gets a marshmallow stuffed on the end of it before its offered to Noriko. "I really hope you are doin' a good job of hidin' the tobacco and weed, or you are bein' smart enough to smoke off campus."

He reaches into a pocket and produces a partly smoked stogie. He reaches into the fire, grabbing a burning log, and proceeds to use it as a lighter, puffing away until he has a smolderin' cherry on the end. He grins at the hypocrisy of it. "I think I remember seein' you around through out the year but I don't think I ever caught a name. I'm Logan."

Noriko Ashida has posed:
A little zap of static electricity shoots out when Noriko grabs the hangar, most of her metal gauntlets hidden under her bulky jacket.  There's a slight hesitation and then she withdraws her hand to mess with something on her gauntlet before she actually takes it.  "Thanks."  She props her elbows up on her knees, letting the marshmallow dangle haphazardly out over the fire.

Gulp.  Logan's words get a sidelong glance.  "Well the cigarette crap is secondhand.  The weed.  I'd never smoke on campus.  I'm not a total idiot."  She sighs as she stares into the flames.  Logan's hand reaching for the burning log jars her back into the moment.  A brow lifts toward the other mutant in silence, and then the moment passes.

"Noriko."  The electric blue haired girl is definitely letting her marshmallow slowly roast unattended.  Looks like it is in no danger of 'spontaneously' combusting.

"Does that hurt?"  The question he probably gets asked over and over and over again.

Logan Howlett has posed:
Logan repeats the name with his gravelly voice, "Noriko." He nods as he commits it to memory. He tosses the log back into the fire and takes a long puff on his stogie. "I wouldn't rat you out, but Scott or someone else would flip their lid."

He gazes down at his fingers, which are just slightly singed. "A little... good callouses and a healing factor though doesn't make me mind it much." He fishes a marshmallow out the bag and tosses it back, chewing the morsel.

"Do you speak Japanese, Noriko? Plenty of Japanese-Americans these days, so figure I wouldn't assume. Had to ask though. I spent a long time in Japan." He eyes the teenager thoughtfully.

Noriko Ashida has posed:
"Thanks.  I really appreciate it."  Most kids would stop at the curt thanks, if even.  Noriko would be one of them, but not tonight.  "Yeah.  I mean I figured that.  He seems kind of uptight.  I guess he's got a lot of pent up energy."  Heh.  Meh.

"That was awful," Noriko admits aloud with a carefree tone.  Moving on, she instinctively glances back to his hands even if she can't see the callouses in this light.  "Cool.  Convenient.  I guess you'll know when you've gone soft," she says as if this were an added benefit she really doesn't give a rats ass about, not that there's anything malicious behind it.

~I hope so.  I'm from there~ Noriko replies in Japanese.  "Well, I was born here, but my parents are both Japanese.  I didn't come to the States till a few years ago.  They're...still there though."  She has what is typically known as a  standard American English accent with only a trace of an accent.  It really only pops up in the less common places for those with English as a second language.  Yeah, she's good enough to pass.

"What's in Japan?...for you?"  Noriko's marshmallow then decides it is time to fireball.  She pulls it in closer to blow on it, cheeks puffing up with the effort.

Logan Howlett has posed:
Logan responds in fluent Japanese, ~It is a noble language spoken by a very noble people. I'm glad to hear it.~ He takes another long pull from his beer bottle and then nods. "Well, if there is one thing the States has that Japan doesn't. It's Xavier's."

He gestures back in the direction of the mansion and then sighs, "Oh. These days, just a lot of memories. Some of them good, some of them very painful. I studied extensively there. Learned a bit of bushido, pissed off some yakuza. Ya know... life."

A low chuckle rolls in his throat before he finishes off his beer bottle. He opens the cooler for a fresh one. There's a brief moment when a singular lethal claw of adamantium erupts from behind his hand, the tip of the bottle is cut off just below the cap, and the claw disappears. He pours a little onto the ground, perhaps in memory of someone, before he resumes drinking.

"If they are there, why are you here? Studying abroad?" Logan tilts his head to the side and watches her.