cutting_edgex23 | (no subject)

(no subject)

Parties at Greymalkin Industries -- parties that involve the X-men -- are barely-contained chaos made manifest.

At least this year there were no supervillain attacks.

Or attacks by the government.

Or attacks by anyone or anything, for that matter. X does not consider it luck.

(She wouldn't.)

But now the party is over, and she and Elle have made their way back across San Francisco from Marin County. The fish have been fed, and the kittens, too.

And now all that remains to do is to get ready for bed.

And, perhaps, have a post-party debrief. Sometimes it is important.

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Apparently not too ready for bed, Elle sinks into the sofa pulling what's apparently silver tinsel out of her hair. At least it goes well with her shiny, low-cut red blouse.

(Some things will never change.)

"I guess you can do that if people know about you."

Elle's not sure she'd chalk up the ability to have public mutant holiday parties as a good thing. But they're not a bad thing, either. With no supervillain or government attacks.

"We do not have to worry about people finding out," X acknowledges, crouching down to pull some tinsel off the floor.

It is better if the cats do not eat it.

"I think it was okay before people knew, too. The parties."

Beat.

"The mansion was isolated. And there were not many visitors."

"Sometimes they did things like that. At the Company."

Elle wasn't invited very often, for what were, at the time, obvious reasons.

"But they weren't that big."

Beat. "Or they were work stuff." Which isn't really the same at all.

"We were not supposed to be working. Tonight."

She hesitates, flicking a glance at Elle.

"I do not think it is always difficult. Now."

Elle's playing with a piece of tinsel between her fingers.

"Having a party?"

(She gets the feeling that still might be a little difficult for X.)

It takes X a little while to say it, but say it she does.

Finally.

"Not working."

For X, anyway.

A little.

Maybe. If you squint.

Elle blinks up from the tinsel.

"Right."

"But you still have to -"

She twists the tinsel rather tightly around her ring finger. "- be like them. Kind of."

X tilts her head a little, considering.

Then she nods.

"Yes. But it is not -- "

She pauses.

"I do not have to hurt them. So it is not the same."

"Nope," Elle agrees.

"Do they have that stuff a lot for holidays?"

X is silent for a few moments.

"I have not been to one before. With them."

Beat.

"I was not here long enough. Last time."

"Did you like it?"

She starts to untwist the tinsel again.

"It was not uncomfortable."

That is strictly true.

"But there were a lot of people."

Beat.

"You did not like it?"

"It's - like that."

Beat. "But I don't mind a lot of people."

When she's working, anyway.

"I like it here, too."

Beat.

"When it is quiet."

Elle is good company.

"But there's no decorations here."

Elle doesn't mind that either. But she's also probably more partial to shiny stuff than X is.

"You brought tinsel with you," X says, holding up the few faint silver strands caught in her fingers.

Beat.

"And Mr. Simmons has more. Downstairs."

This pause is longer.

"He says he likes when the store looks festive."

"It's - something you do."

With a small shrug, "I used to get stuff. Like candy."

X would probably care for candy canes even less than decorations.

"You don't get to have it most of the time."

"I think he has those, too. They are multicolored."

They taste like fruit punch. X does not know this.

"We can get some. He will not mind."

Elle blinks away.

"Even now?

She does know people don't always like to be bothered at night. And doesn't care enough about candy canes to not let that stop her.

"He does not sleep in the store," is X's response.

"And we can be quiet. On the stairs."

It's like being six again, a little.

Not that X would know that.

Elle wouldn't remember enough to comment.

"Okay."

She doesn't move to leave immediately, however. "Have you had them?"

X shakes her head.

"No. I do not like sweets."

One day someone will introduce X to root beer barrels.

Then her resistance to candy will be doomed.

But today is not that day. Probably.

"I know."

Elle shrugs. "We can do it later. If you don't want them."

Or however 'later' turns out.

"I do not mind them."

Beat.

"And the cats are quiet now. It will be easier."

Elle looks back down to the tinsel in her hands.

And then, without saying anything, she rises from the sofa, walks over to X, and puts the tinsel in X's hair, instead.

"Okay," she repeats.