Post-Combat Nerves

Log Info

Title: Post-Combat Nerves
Emitter: None
Characters: Summer, Miles
NPCs: None
Place: Campus
Time: Afternoon/Evening, July 11th, 2010
Summary: After the events of the Firefly's Dilemma, Summer has trouble dealing with the concept of neohuman combat and its necessities. Miles offers his perspective, and a bit of cheering up.

North of the Quad feels smaller than it actually is, due to looming presence of the various academic buildings. Drake Hall and Walker Hall are the closest to the Quad, a pair of traditional multi-story red brick buildings covered with ivy flanking the main path. Drake Hall is to the west, and is where Language Arts and English classes are taught. Just to the left of the main entrance to Drake Hall is a bronze statue of Ray Bradbury sitting on one of the benches, peering thoughtfully up at the sky to the east, over Walker Hall. Walker Hall is where the various 'Soft Sciences' are taught; Social Science, History, and the like.
The path splits and encircles Gordon Hall directly to the north, a modern looking building of concrete and glass. Gordon Hall is where science and mathematics classes are taught. If one goes a bit further, hidden directly behind Gordon Hall is an odd, trapezoidal building. The roof is covered in grass, just above a row of what appear to be first story windows, but are actually the third floor. On getting close enough, you can see that most of the building is built down in a concrete lined pit, with the lowest level accessible by switchback ramps. This is Thar Hall, where the more unusual subjects are taught such as basic spellcrafting, neohuman biology, and creative mathematics. Freshmen are often told that a class in advance time travel will be held there four years before the school was founded, getting to the class being a prerequisite for attending. It's mostly believed to be a joke.
The spaces in between these buildings are filled with trees, with the occasional bench beneath them. But the students hanging out here are usually getting in some last minute cramming before class, rather than socializing.

So, Summer's shopping trip was cut short by insane fiery villainy and bomb warnings; there was something in the news about it, likely, and comments on the odd thunderstorm. It's raining now, albeit lightly, making quiet noise as raindrops hit the leaves and pavement beneath.

Summer is up in one of the trees, resting her head back against the trunk of the tree with her legs partly drawn up to her chest. She's still dressed for shopping, albeit soaked now, and an umbrella leans against the trunk, the ferrule poking into the ground.

The thing with the brand of invisibility Miles has is that there isn't a tell-tale person-shapped bubble; the brain gets tricked into just seeing the rain fall normally, like a context sensitive fill in Photoshop. Which is why, unless she's paying attention, there's no real warning before his voice is at her elbow asking, "You okay?" By the sounds of it he's clinging to the wet bark right below her.

At least she isn't angsting; her expression is more bemused and thoughtful than that. She lets her head thunk lightly against the tree trunk, looking up at the filtered rain…

And, next thing she knows, she's jumping nigh out of her skin, and off the tree branch she's sitting on, and /falling/. "Dammit, Miles!"

Miles has good reflexes, at least- he automatically reaches out to catch her, grabbing her by the hand at the last possible moment. "Sorry! You seemed a little…lost in thought. Saw what happened on the news and figured, with the weather, well…" He shrugs.

When her hand is grabbed by his, she locks her grip for a moment, bringing her other hand up in a sweeping, circular motion that brings the winds upwards. "This isn't me. There actually /was/ a front coming in from the ocean," she notes, re-settling herself. "The storm, /that/ was me. Mostly." She doesn't let go of his hand, though, instead tugging him up with her. "If that's what crimefighting's always like, I … think I'll stick to weather-working only."

Letting himself be tugged, he settles in, slipping an arm around her waist. "What exactly -did- happen? But I can pretty much guarantee it's not always like…whatever happened, if only because what it's like is so highly variable."

"I don't think that's helpful." There's a bit of a sour note to Summer's voice at that. "There was a protest versus BP outside their building here, and apparently some thieves were trying to use that as cover; they blew up part of the building, and apparently released or triggered a neohuman in the building. She started to go up like a torch and I think the pain made her insane — all she wanted to do was burn us all — and Jon and I had to deal with her while Revenant dealt with the guys trying to steal… whatever." She relates this all rather too evenly. "Once we dealt with her and the bombs that the guy Revenant was fighting set to cover his escape, I lightning-jumped us to the hospital and Jon got her admitted. I hope she's all right. I had to knock her into a lamp-post."

"It's the last one that's bugging you, I'm guessing?" A pause, and Miles squeezes her shoulder, lightly. "Sounds like a rough one. M'sorry." A sigh, then. "I mean, thing is, though, yeah, she got bounced around, but from the way you described her, if you -hadn't- knocked her down she might have hurt someone."

Resting a hand upon his on her shoulder, Summer nods and laughs wryly. "Hell, the most I've ever actually /fought/ was a catfight," she admits. "And I didn't know what to do when it was all over. Was I supposed to wait for the paramedics? Where did I take a person who was hurt but also likely to try to burn people once she woke up? How do I keep my identity secret? I can't keep using an umbrella as a shield. It doesn't work well and is a little too… Mary Poppins somehow."

"Not a problem I've ever had, I admit." Miles shrugs- obvious given he's holding on to her. "I mean, cops and paramedics don't take it serious when invisible boy tries to give a statement. " A pause. "Well, though, with your powers, couldn't you just…conceal your face in fog, or something? Or a mask, like everyone else. Hell, even I wear one, since my face shows up on cameras." Another shoulder squeeze. "As for the rest of it, well, that's half of what they're trying to teach you with all those newbie classes, I think."

"I went out to go shopping with Jon, not to go out and fight crime! And the Baldwin uniform was way too warm to wear under my clothes." As evidenced: water-drenched camisole and tank-top over jeans. Summer rolls her eyes slightly at his shrug, though, noting, "I wish I had that problem today. Jon took care of it because she has the whole 'cat' thing going on in that form." Pause. "I'm not sure I really /want/ to fight crime and supervillains, at least not… face-to-face. I wanted to go into journalism." Pause. "I've never asked. What do you want to be when you leave here?"

Miles snorts. "It does kind of happens that way, a lot of the time; you're the one on the scene, and then you can't -not- help, you know?" He pauses, thoughtfully. "Actually, given the way you can lightning port things, could you maybe…do the same thing with a costume? Teleport it -on- to you." Another pause at her question, then, he admits. "Uh, same thing, actually. I mean, I'm on the school paper, and my folks…my grandfather founded one of the local papers back in the thirties." He coughs. "I mean, I might have to work it online- blog-news or something, so I can avoid public appearances, if we haven't figured out how to turn this off by then, but…"

"I… doubt it," Summer says dubiously. "I don't even know how that lightning-port works, just that it does." She squeezes his hand and leans her head upon his shoulder, probably not helping much with the dampness. "The school paper was run by someone who wouldn't let anyone do more than interview the Prom King and Queen, so the popular clique was pretty much in charge of it. I wanted…" She trails off. "You'll figure it out. Your grandfather did, after all." There's a bit of a laugh that follows this statement. "Besides, you'd have to mostly work in an online format anyway, these days. Or a video format, which isn't a problem for you."

"…Wanted what?" He kisses her, lightly. "Thanks. Anyway. I'm…mostly on the school paper here because if you've got a byline they put your picture by it. I was kind of…attention starved for a while. For some reason. But it turns out I actually like it, so."

"I wanted to change that, and I managed to get a decent teacher-advisor for the paper this year, and I was going to join the staff, but here I am instead." Summer smiles into the kiss, then returns to resting her head upon his shoulder. "Kind of, you say? I never would've guessed." She smiles drolly. "So, news-hounding runs in your blood, hmm?"

"Yeah. So does the crime-fighting, I guess. All kinds of legacies passed down in this family." Another shrug, and he pulls her closer, resting his head against hers in turn. "You're always welcome to join the paper here, if you want!"

"Yeah. I'll try it, though I'm more interested in the shift towards more visual mediums for news," she admits, shifting as he pulls her closer. She isn't shivering, at least, but there /are/ goosebumps under his fingers. Evidently she's not bothering with keeping the elements from bothering her. "Nothing like that for me. Just stories of sailors and pirates."

"You'll forgive me if I'm now distracted by the notion of you in one of those sexy pirate costumes they always advertise for Halloween." There's a pause, and he shifts around himself, the better to put his jacket over her shoulders. "I get…vigilantes and old folk stories about phantom rangers."

"Did that for Halloween two years ago," Summer says with a laugh, tugging his jacket more snugly around his shoulders and taking a deep breath. "I mean, given home and all, everyone is a pirate sometime during their lives." She holds a hand out to him, waiting for his hand to land in ers so she can lace their fingers together.

Miles slips his hand into hers, with a half-sigh. "Sorry I missed it, then. My compliments to whoever made the bodice, though. A pause. "Of course, a couple of years ago I wasn't much to look at. I'd just hit my first growth spurt without the rest filling out so I was all legs and knees and gangle and elbows."

"Don't be. It was just after my gothy phase, so my hair was shorter and still recovering from being dyed black." Summer's tone is dry. "Worst choice /ever/. But it /was/ a good costume." She snickers. Her humor seems much-restored now, either by the chat, or the mental image of Miles as gangly knees-and-elbows. "Like a big puppy?" she teases, eyes gleaming with mirth. The jacket's snugged around her a little more. "Aren't you cold? I appreciate the jacket, but…"

"A bit, but hey, I'm planning to leech all your body heat by staying close." He snorts a little, good-naturedly. "Just a bit. Eventually I grew into my hands and feet so I wasn't quite so awkward at the end of it." He cranes his neck to kiss the top of her head. "We could go inside, if you want. Dry each other off…"

"I'm sorry, the mental image of you as a gangly puppy shall /never/ leave my brain." There's a laugh behind the words as Summer glances down at the ground below them. "Hmm, tempting. Though I sort of like the rain. I'm just not fond of /cold/ rain." Which, to her standards, this evidently is. "I want to find out what those mercenaries Revenant fought were after; it supposedly wasn't a vault of any sort." Pause. "And I need to find out where the most important bits of the city are, too." Her hair's pretty much soaked, it must be said. "There's a lot to be done if I'm going to be of any use." She's gotten distracted from the idea of going inside, evidnetly.

"I could give you the local boy's tour on the latter front, if you like. Can't help so much on getting in touch with Revenant. Really we need, I dunno. Dorm message boards. Or to post notes on the fridge for each other. Or something."

Summer pauses for a moment, thinking. "I can probably find the Revenant on my own, given the gossip network and all," she says thoughtfully. "Times like this, though, I miss being the local girl." She sounds a bit wistful, but wiggles her other hand free of the jacket, sweeping winds around them — warm, /dry/ winds — and tilting her head towards Miles. "I have a whiteboard on my door for just that reason, but a general messageboard would probably be good. I'm pretty sure we've got enough fridge-magnets around from pizza delivery and all that stuff. Do we want to head inside?"

"I think so. I mean, I -could- give you the tour now, but a lot of the good places are closed by now anyway." He relaxes in the winds. "Or we could stay up here like this. I'm really good either way."

"Mm. Maybe next weekend, then," Summer suggests, freeing her hand from his to reach up to cup his jaw fondly. "Thank you. And we probably should go inside; the temperature's going to drop a bit more, and the moment I get too terribly distracted we'll wind up getting drenched and cold again."

Miles snorts. "Are you implying I'm terribly distracting then? Anyway. Let's get inside."

"Pleasantly." Summer follows the line of her hand to kiss him lightly, then whisks them off the tree branch and back to their dorm.

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