7318/I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues

I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues
Date of Scene:	11 August 2021
Location:	Harry's Hideaway (Bar)
Synopsis:	A nice chat and better understanding between Henry and Raven.
Cast of Characters:	Henry McCoy, Raven Darkholme

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Henry McCoy has posed:
Plans were made, if only to chat without an angry Cajun and angry Raven at each other verbally. Henry reached out to Mystique, offering an evening out of drinks and food if she liked, to discuss how things are going. The world is topsy-turvy, after all! Hank had arrived early, getting them a booth to chat in. A beer was sitting in front of the blue Doctor, the head foamy and rich.

His fingers drummed along the table, Henry humming along with the song on the jukebox. Were it not for the deep blue fur and feline features, he'd look like any other regular.

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique had promised Henry dinner, and she kept her promises. Coming to Harry's via teleport, not purple as Clarice was in the infirmary with a broken nose, the cobalt beauty stepped through right outside the bar, then went inside. She was learning that just popping in made people nervous. Wearing a pair of tighter fitting jeans and a white tank top, her red hair left free to hang where it wished, she took a glance around to see if Henry was there.

Spotting him at the booth, she collects a beer from the bar before sliding in across from him.

"Never been to this place," she offers then takes a drink of the beer. "Though Clarice has spoke of it."

Henry McCoy has posed:
The Doctor sits up a bit straighter once Mystique is spotted. A wave to her, nodding as she slides into the booth across from him. "It's a good place, we're welcomed here. We've had a few parties out this way - karaoke as well." A wry grin from Hank. "I quite enjoyed it - love to get up on stage." He takes a sip of his beer.

"How are you holding up, Raven?" He asks, after a moment. "No new troubles facing you?" He wonders, before clarifying. "I mean, anyone else giving you problems?"

Raven Darkholme has posed:
For a moment she takes a look around the place, getting a feel for it. It seemed like a small bar that could be poked in any small town, comfortable, homey.

Mystique shifts her amber eyes back to Henry and offers a smile, "It seems like a really nice place, glad we're welcomed here. It's rare."

Another sip from the bottle and her shoulders lift in a shrug, "It is what it is Henry," she finally says. "Most people are starting to get that I'm not playing another trick, but they still find it difficult to believe. I get that Remy is having troubles with that... he just pushed my buttons, that's all."

Henry McCoy has posed:
The Beast mmhms at the comment, nodding. "It is what it is, but it's still something you can chat to me about if it ever gets too much." Henry offers over to her, smiling just a bit. Another glance around. "Rogue had her birthday here." He murmurs. "They treat us like everyday clientel, nothing crazy. I can appreciate that."

Five stars on Yelp! A wry grin to the woman sitting across from him. "Like it or not, trickery is kind of your thing." A friendly smile. "And people have a hard time opening their hearts to people who have hurt them or friends." The man shrugs. "I try to keep mine open, no matter the hurt I've suffered. With... a few exceptions."

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique laughs with a nod, listening to every word Henry said but that last part, just made her laugh.

"Yes, I'm well aware I'm a trickster," she offers with a smile. "Its part of the training you see, to be able to manipulate others to get the answers, the information, the clues, or get laid." The smile fades, and she shakes her head slightly.

"I've messed up a lot of stuff Henry," she admits quietly. "In fact, I think I've screwed up some things so bad, there's no fixing them. Sure, I can make amends, and change my ways, I can apologize a million times to every person I've hurt, but there are some..."

She looks up, directly at his face, at his eyes. "I'm trying to start over, but to do that I have to do what alcoholics to and make amends to certain people. How do I do that?"

Henry McCoy has posed:
The man thinks on that, grinning as she laughs. "I am well aware of the nature of espionage. Your gifts make you a perfect infiltrator, and quite formidable." A grin, nodding in respect to her. "We've all messed up, Raven. Every one of us. It's part of human or mutant nature, whichever you choose to go with. It is part of life to make mistakes, to hurt others or yourself." He taps on the table. "You need to hope they will forgive, but you need to start forgiving yourself if you've reached out to those you've hurt."

"Baby steps. Rushing things would cause more problems and stir up more distrust. It's a matter of slow and steady wins the race." A wry grin. "You have plenty of time, of course." The man winks.

"You are doing what you can, and you are making people think twice. I promise."

Raven Darkholme has posed:
A very large drink is taken from the bottle before Mystique decides to speak again.

"Forgive myself... that's not going to happen." Well at least she's blunt. "I can forgive myself for taking the wrong path. I can work toward the forgiveness of myself in leading other on that path. I can never forgive myself for what happened with Rogue and... my son."

She doesn't elaborate further on the second part, at all. "I know it will take time, a lot of time, and patience. I have a great deal of time, so I'll get there perhaps by the time I'm three hundred."

Henry McCoy has posed:
A cant of his head. "Do you want to fix what happened with Rogue and your son?" He asks, not prying necessarily about the who. "Can you come to terms with them? Can you move past what happened, and look towards something better in the future?" A slight shrug.

"We are absolutely our own worst critic, Raven. It's how the brain works, I am afraid." A nods. "We lay in bed at night, thinking of the wrongs we've done, repeating them in our mind and punishing ourselves forever." A slight sigh. "Eventually, we have to heal and realize we cannot change what was - but only what will be."

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique smirks, finishing off the bottle of beer and signaling for another.

"I've been ready to try and fix things with Rogue for a long time, she however is not ready, so I keep my distance. If she's never ready, I understand."

Then the new bottle arrives, another large drink is taken, "As for my son, we won't talk about that. I don't talk about it. I'm not ready."

Henry McCoy has posed:
Not one to fall behind, he finishes his beer and signals for another as well. "She's young, and proud. I suspect that's a lot of the friction there with Remy, too." The man decides. "But Remy always is a enigma." A chuckle from Henry.

"Well, if you ever need an ear - I'm here to listen. Keeps my mind focused, helping others." The man comments. "After my time at the hands of Essex, it's harder to keep my mind on task and not ... more animalistic."

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique's head tilts, and for a moment there is a glimmer of anger in her amber eyes.

"I'm so tired of this shit Hank," she mutters, getting the anger shoved back down. "The constant persecution just for being a mutant. I'm going to tell you something no one else knows, not even Erik."

Taking a deep breath, then another drink, "If you look through every piece of information out there about me, there's nothing about me before about the age of twenty... and I don't talk about what happened. You see, I was born in 1879. My parents..." another drink, she might need something stronger. "I went to bed there lovely red headed girl and woke up a blue monster. They locked me in the cellar until they could figure out what to do with me. I was twelve, I didn't know what was going on, no idea why I was blue. My parents decided to try and kill me. I managed to get away with a gunshot wound, but my father hunted me down and drug me back. Anyway, that's been my entire life... running, from one thing to the next, hating myself, hating what they made me, wanting to make it better for younger mutants.... and I failed at that too."

Henry McCoy has posed:
His own head tilts as her's does, trying to sort out what has angered her. He listens as she speaks, blinking a few times. "I had thought you... I mean, with your gift..." A shake of his head. "I never knew of your upbringing. I am very sorry you suffered through that, Raven. I truly am." He says, quietly.

"I was born a mutant. I would suspect it was from my father's proximity to various radioactive materials. He worked in a nuclear plant, you see. An accident happened and then... there I was. I had overly large hands and feet." He holds his hand up - though now it's more of a three-fingered feline paw. "I had my muscles, my agility - all from birth. I went through to college without people knowing I was a mutant." A wry grin.

"It wasn't until after I'd graduated from Xaviers and started working in the scientific community that I ... well, I triggered the change with my fur."

He looks to her, still offering a weary smile. "We run. We fight. We strive to be treated as normal people. One day, it will happen. I hold out hope, that we'll all live together without bias towards mutantkind. And you have made some leaps for other, younger mutants. Clarice is changing for the better, as an example."

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique watches his face as he talks. When he lifts his hand she shifts her eyes to them, even reaches out and takes one for a moment to trace her finger over. Sometimes, she just acts without thinking really, but she was curious about how his hand works. She continues to listen then lets his hand go.

"You shouldn't have to hide yourself," she states bluntly, looking back up to his face. "People always ask me, 'If you can look like anyone you want, why don't you just hide yourself as a human?'. I reply, because I shouldn't have to, and I never will."

It's time for something stronger, so she orders up some whiskey before continuing, "I don't like human's Henry, I never have. I've never met one who was kind or considerate until Neil Graham, yes the reporter. I thought he was just pretending, but I followed him for week and, no, that man is serious about telling the real story."

When the whiskey is sat down, she takes a drink of. Yeah, that's what she needed. "I want to believe it's possible that some day we can live in peace, I really do, but right now... I just don't see it, so I decided the best thing I can do is keep helping mutants and actually... care about humans. Not just see them for what they did in the past to me and others, but for who they might actually be, and perhaps from that I'll see real hope."

Henry McCoy has posed:
His eyes go to her hand as she touches his. A slight grin. "Essex caused this change." He mentions, not pulling his hand free. "Captured myself and several others - tortured us and experimented on us until we mutated again." A shake of his head. "I'm stronger. Faster. Claws now are ... more effective. But I'm always fighting against the animal in me." A slight frown.

He looks to her eyes then, nodding. "No hiding. You, we, should not have to." He agrees. "Bigotry happens, part of the illogical problems of emotions and fear. I don't condone it, obviously. I don't excuse it. But I realize where it stems from, and try to fix the source of the issue."

"I'm glad you can see the possibilty. It will be hard fought to get there, but we will get there." He's certainly determined.

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique lifts a brow, "I'm trying to see it, really hard. Clarice believes it, that is can happen, so really it's her enthusiasm that I'm clinging to. I think she gets it from Lorna, so maybe that's where I should be clinging. Anyway, this isn't what we came to drink about, or talk about, I'm always willing to drink to anything. It's how I stay sane."

Henry McCoy has posed:
A smile. "Keep trying. I'll be glad to point out the good points, where I can." A chuckle from Henry. "And we learn from those we mentor, truth be told. I cannot count how many times a younger student or trainee has opened my eyes and mind to a new way of thinking about subjects. Us older folks get hyper focused on what we've seen, done and how we've experienced things. Fresh eyes give us new hope."