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| Fluorescent Post-Adolescents; 5/20 Late-ish Afternoon - Jean, Ali | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 8 2013, 11:44 PM (1,154 Views) | |
| Jean Grey | Jan 8 2013, 11:44 PM Post #1 |
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Can kill you with her brain.
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[Because I can't stand an empty forum. Continued for Jean from Malice in Wonderland, after some off-panel cleaning up etc.] Alright. Showered, appropriately divested of awkward memories of being kissed by an interdimensional little brother stand-in by some very good work from still shinily new husband, Jean Grey-Possibly-Summers was just about ready to face this World From Suck again. Sure, it wasn’t exactly a honey-moon, especially since Scott had got called off again to meet with Rogue and some other guy. And her hair still felt awkward and brittle and freaked her out every time it flicked into the edges of her vision, and it might have kind of left green streaks on her shoulders when she’d showered, but... ...yeah, bright-siding, for the win. Things could definitely be worse. Though Jean was fairly determined not to think about how they could be worse, in case someone snuck up and made them happen. Emma Frost was still lurking around here somewhere, after all. And she really didn’t feel like running into Calvin Fucking Rankin again, any time in the next... oh, six lifetimes or so. The high that came off effectively impersonating your sister-in-law without becoming totally bug crazy could only stretch so far. So... with Scott occupied in the important stuff, and Warren deeply invested in what felt like some sort of diplomatic project on his own, based on a light mental brush, Jean was pin-wheeling aimlessly a little. She’d drifted down to the storage rooms for the base, in case they needed any help cataloguing the booty harvested from Wonderland, or the supplies that had apparently trickled in overnight from the other Resistance Cells. And if, on the off chance, they happened to have anything that was going to stop her hair from cracking up like so much green straw, well, she wouldn’t say no to that, either. She’d lifted enough out of other people’s memories to have a basic sense for the system they used to keep track of things here, so when she found a pile of boxes just inside the door, neatly printed with SHIELD insignia and a brief description of their contents, it wasn’t too hard to start in and get them floating off gently to where they might need to go, reading the labels on the shelves as she wandered by. Right, basics - toilet paper, and all those other sundries, clothing, food, medical supplies, assembled tech, tech components... and if you were a probably unnecessary cosmetic item that might somehow still have snuck into these stores, where would you be? |
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| Dazzler | Jan 10 2013, 03:49 PM Post #2 |
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I'm the best at what I do, and what I do is roller skate
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[cont'd for Ali from the Strip Club via a bunch of off panel stuff, wandering around, and probably things no one really wants to know about for the sake of their own sanity] It was official, the world had gone to hell. Long fall of pink hair brushing over her shoulders as Alison Blaire gave her head a sad, uncomprehending shake, striding down the hall like a woman on a mission, the former singer tried to make her mind accept what everyone had been telling her all day, any time she asked. Her mind refused utterly. How the hell could the world still exist when there were no iPods? Or at least none that she could find. No iPods, no Nanos, nothing. Not only that, even worse, there were no Zunes, no Sansa Fuses, not even one've those cheap MP3 players you could've bought in any chain store five years ago for ten bucks. Sure, they'd only last a week, max, before they fell the hell apart, but she was desperate here. But nope, not even one. So wrong. Nearly five years in a damned camp. Was it too much to ask for one cheap Chinese Apple knockoff so she could stuff some earbuds in her ears and listen to a little Red Hot Chili Peppers in peace? Yeah, apparently. And then...then there were the clothes. Because she couldn't exactly wear the same outfit every day, now could she? Except it was hella tempting at this point, considering the selection Rogue had shoved at her late last night/early this morning, whatever. Yeah. So not a button down girl. And all the Soccer Mom blouses and teeny-bopper t-shirts? Not happening. Jeans weren't horrible, so those she was wearing, along with one've Johnny's shirts she'd nabbed outta his closet, tied at the waist because otherwise it went practically to her knees and so did the sleeves for that matter. But, you know, she could rock the pseudo-boyfriend look until she could scrounge up something more Ali-like. For that, and the possibility that there might, by some miracle, be something MP3 player-like in the stuff Team Rescue and Destroy had brought back from that Wonderland place, Alter-Kitty had pointed her toward the storage closet. Which, Ali suspected, was more an excuse to get her outta her hair than anything else. But whatever. Like she said, desperate here. And, well, even the forces of evil listened to music, right? One storage closet located easily enough, Ali was still pondering the type of music that might appeal to the Dark Side of the Force as she opened the door, stepped inside, then stopped and shook her head sadly again, hands on her hips and eyebrows lifting slightly, at the sight that greeted her. "Oh man, they haven't got you on, like, closet organizing duty, have they? Because that's a kinda sucky 'welcome to our universe' assignment," the pink haired woman told what could only be the Alter-Jean, only now with day-glo green hair. She hadn't had that yesterday, had she? Ali didn't think so, but then there was a lotta shit going on, so who knew? "Nice color," she added, head cocking and moving forward a little, giving the hair color in question a more serious once over. Yeah, definitely a dye job. From the looks of it, one they'd done with some kinda sulfuric acid. Damn, that had done a number on her hair in a big way. Ali shot the other woman a hugely sympathetic look, "But we need to find you some deep conditioner for that in a huge way." Then maybe she'd forget the MP3 player and help her hunt down her colorist. So they could shoot them, for the good of humanity. |
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| Jean Grey | Jan 17 2013, 12:19 AM Post #3 |
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Can kill you with her brain.
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Occupied in her sorting, floating, and searching of shelves Jean felt the approach of another mind only a second or so before the door opened again. Just enough time to place the thoughts as belonging to Ali - an Ali, anyway - before she turned slightly, twisting her head around to give the other woman a smile of greeting. The other, pink-haired woman. Warren’s memory dump this morning hadn’t quite managed to do that justice, compared to seeing it before her in the flesh. But it was definitely Ali - same pose, same almost amused shaking of her head, same lift to the eyebrows. Same Ali... or not quite, maybe, Jean decided, meeting the eyes of her teammate’s alternate version with a slightly thoughtful gaze of her own. Same Ali, but different Ali too. Interesting. "Oh man, they haven't got you on, like, closet organizing duty, have they? Because that's a kinda sucky 'welcome to our universe' assignment," Jean smiled, and shook her head as she let the last few items she was floating settle on whatever shelves were nearest. “Actually, I’ve just got back from my official ‘welcome to our universe’ assignment - busting up Ultrons and Sentinels and seeing that prison they had Ro and Reed in blown all to hell,” she told the pink-haired woman, and gestured toward the pile of SHIELD-stamped loot she’d been sorting things from the Mission, then shrugged. “I figure I can put in some suck time, and still be ahead of the game.” "Nice color," she added, head cocking and moving forward a little. Wrinkling her nose, and giving a slight shake of her head with distaste, Jean submitted to the other woman’s friendly inspection, and smiled gratefully at the sympathetic look it concluded on. "But we need to find you some deep conditioner for that in a huge way." See, different as they might be in this world sometimes, there were still universal constants that most of them seemed to share with their counterparts of her own friends. Different Ali, same way of hitting right to the important, overlooked parts of just about any thing that mattered. With a half sigh, Jean nodded, acknowledging the truth of the statement, raising one hand to pat at her poor abused hair before flicking it back over her shoulder where she couldn’t see it out of the corner of her eye. “Alright... busted,” she admitted, shooting the pink-haired version of her friend a guilty look that actually failed to have anything much in the way of real guilt to it at all. “The search for anything resembling hair treatments might have had more than a little to do with my volunteering for unpacking duty.” Odds of finding anything that might help weren’t looking very good so far, but if anyone could manage the feat, somehow Jean felt confident in thinking that it stood a good chance of being an Ali. |
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| Dazzler | Jan 18 2013, 05:13 PM Post #4 |
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I'm the best at what I do, and what I do is roller skate
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What, so they were putting the new people on closet organizing duty now? Not her call, obviously, but still. Not the best way to say 'welcome to our universe' to their new friends and strip club guests. Either Southern hospitality wasn't what it used to be, or Rogue had slipped a cog somewhere during all the drama and trauma of the last few days. Jean turned and smiled - and jeez, did she remember that smile, how totally damned weird, and sorta throat lump inducing there for a second - shaking her head, though, giving the former singer some hope that both keeping Remy in line and helping run this damned place hadn't shoved Rogue off the deep end after all. Or at least not yet. “Actually, I’ve just got back from my official ‘welcome to our universe’ assignment - busting up Ultrons and Sentinels and seeing that prison they had Ro and Reed in blown all to hell,” she told the pink-haired woman, and Ali nodded approval, because that sounded both a hell'uva lot more fun than organizing and a lot more satisfying, as the former redhead shrugged and motioned toward all the boxes and assorted stuff clearly stamped with SHIELD's logo. “I figure I can put in some suck time, and still be ahead of the game.” "And get first pick of all the best pirate loot," Dazzler agreed with a grin and an wink before sweeping her gaze back over the pile of stuff, which was pretty damned impressive. "Nice haul," she commented before that same gaze settled onto Jean's now-green head of hair which had apparently been achieved by some sort of horrific ritual that had sucked the life right out of it. Nice color, even if Jean didn't seem to think so. Kinda had the whole Polaris thing going, which come to think of it might've been the general idea, but man. They needed some deep conditioning for that. Stat. And maybe go out and shoot whoever'd done it for her. Because nobody would do that to their own hair. The other woman shot her a grateful smile, but hey, what were...pseudo-friends from alternate universes for? Yeah, that sounded weird, but whatever. It was a Jean, she couldn't just leave her and her poor abused hair like that. Then, with a sorta sigh, she nodded and reached up to pat the mortally offended hair in question, pushing it back off her shoulder. “Alright... busted,” she admitted, shooting the pink-haired version of her friend a guilty look that actually failed to have anything much in the way of real guilt to it at all. “The search for anything resembling hair treatments might have had more than a little to do with my volunteering for unpacking duty.” Ali waved away any thoughts of pseudo-guilt away with a soft "Pfft," and the wave of one as-not-yet-properly manicured hand. Apparently, good manicurists were as hard to come by as good stylists these days. "It's your hair, that totally makes it top priority." Of course. Everyone knew this. Not even a question of priorities at all. Brow furrowing, the former singer moved into the room and began pulling up box flaps and looking inside curiously. Things with wires, what looked like toilet paper, more things with wires, things with computer chips. "Do I even wanna ask how that happened?" Ali asked, waving a hand in what she thought was the direction of Jean and her hair without looking up as she moved to the next box. "And I'm starting to think," she added with a sigh, opening up yet another box of unidentifiable...things, "that the forces of evil have no appreciation for proper haircare, here." No wonder they were always in such a bad mood, with the evil cackling and world conquering and putting people in death camps. All those frizzies and split ends? Enough to make anybody cranky. |
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| Jean Grey | Jan 22 2013, 10:29 AM Post #5 |
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Can kill you with her brain.
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Nice haul? That she could agree with. Nice hair... that, not so much. Perhaps Ali might have had a point about the color, but red had always been plenty unusual in the hair shades stakes for Jean Grey (Possibly-Summers), thanks ever so very much. Yes, she was probably kind of boring. She could live with that. Harder to live with was the way her temporarily vegetable-impersonating hair currently felt more like dried and about-to-fray straw than actual hair. She could live with that, sure. Probably. It was certainly better than messing things up for both herself and anybody near to her, in this stupid Suckoverse, and she knew that... ...but a few hair treatments might not go amiss, all the same. Or a lot. She could admit to being busted in her attempt to cloak the search for Conditioner under a veil of ‘helping sort the confiscated government pirate loot’. Not that she’d needed to, though, with this (or probably any) version of Ali, who just made a noise and casually waved away any lingering droplets of faux-guilt. "It's your hair, that totally makes it top priority." “Right!” Jean agreed with a definitive nod. “Top of my head, top of my priorities. Totally makes perfect sense.” As long as she didn’t try it out on her husband, anyway. Though maybe she would all the same, just to give him something to laugh at. Something more to laugh at, anyway, on the off chance he ever got sick of what Jean was choosing to only refer to, even in her mind, as ‘the thing with Bobby’. Scott might have assured her that he wouldn’t ever get sick of it, but a girl could still hope. In the meantime Ali had moved on to flipping through the boxes on her own, so Jean wandered a few steps down the storage row, looking increasingly despairingly at the stubbornly product-free shelves. "Do I even wanna ask how that happened?" Ali asked, and rather than turn her gaze away from her search, Jean brushed ever-so-lightly over the pink-haired woman’s surface thoughts to double-check that they were still talking about her hair. “Rogue and Doug, in the bathroom, with what looked almost like a bottle of drain-cleaner to bleach it first,” she related, perhaps just a little theatrically. “All my public appearances here are supposed to be as Lorna,” Jean continued by way of explanation as she reached in toward the back of one shelf toward a bottle that almost looked like it could be - just a little tug with TK to pull it to her hand - damn, dishwashing liquid. “It’s supposed to slide down better with the public than being me. Or... you know... her.” Madelyne. It occurred to her briefly that Ali probably had known her cl... that woman, if her time with the X-men had been at all similar to that of her own Ali, but the urge to ask about it was very, very fleeting. Better just to keep unpacking. And searching the shelves, futile as that seemed to be. Right. "And I'm starting to think," [Ali] added with a sigh, opening up yet another box of unidentifiable...things, "that the forces of evil have no appreciation for proper haircare, here." Clicking her tongue in mock-disapproval, Jean shook her head. “Shocking, the way they’ve let things slip,” she shot back. Serious conversation? No thanks, she’d take a double-helping of Intentionally-Shallow Snark. “I’d have expected more from Carol, at least. Not to mention Tony.” Now there was a man who she’d never seen with a hair out of place. “But then I think Pym was in charge of the prison facility where we picked this up, so maybe that will have to explain it.” The version in her own world was... well, maybe she’d seen him with some of his hairs in place. Occasionally. |
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| Dazzler | Jan 23 2013, 06:19 PM Post #6 |
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I'm the best at what I do, and what I do is roller skate
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In her single-minded, box-rummaging pursuit of the Hair Care Products of Evil, Ali paused just long enough in her so far futile quest to nod her head sagely at Jean's enthusiastic agreement. Now that was the kinda attitude she liked. Top of her head, top of her priorities. As it should be. Obviously. How come more people didn't get that? Simple. Made complete sense, just like Jean said. What didn't make so much sense was both the question of why there were no decent hair care product, or actually no hair care products period, in the stolen pirate loot snatched from amidst the apparent destruction of Ultrons (whatever the hell those were, but seeing as they were apparently blown up didn't matter) and Sentinels. And how the hell that'd happened to Jean's hair in the first place. If hair destruction by horrific stripping and dying methods was some kinda new thing from the Unholy Trio, things were getting even more outta hand than the former singer originally thought. But, no, it was almost worse when the former redhead gave her the lowdown. “Rogue and Doug, in the bathroom, with what looked almost like a bottle of drain-cleaner to bleach it first,” and Ali shuddered dramatically, shooting the other woman a suitably horrified look. "Oh man, that's just not right." In fact, Doug doing anybody's hair? So. Wrong. Unless he'd somehow become a hairdresser in her absence, and from the looks of his handiwork she was gonna go with a big no on that. Rogue...such a shame, she should totally know better. “All my public appearances here are supposed to be as Lorna,” Jean continued by way of explanation as she did some recon on the shelves, not looking like she was having any better luck than Dazzler herself. “It’s supposed to slide down better with the public than being me. Or... you know... her.” Right. Her. The one with the capital H. Goblyn Queen. Ali grimaced a little in sympathy. Had to suck to deal with something like that. Something some damned wacked out clone version of you'd done, especially in a world that wasn't even yours. But you still had to take any damned shit that came along with it. Like ruining perfectly awesome red hair with the green dye of hair damage and death. Maddie, much as she'd liked her when she was sane, had made a hell'uva mess. "Jesus, didn't even think've that. Still, no damned reason, if you gotta go green, to sacrifice the well-being of your hair to the cause." Too damned bad none've the loot seemed to be any help at all with that particular goal. Another box, another pile of wires and random electronic shit. Sigh. It was obvious the forces of evil were worse than she'd even imagined. No apparent appreciation for the need for proper hair care at all. Yeah, they were gonna have to fix this shit ASAP. Jean, as she totally should, was making disapproval noises over there by the shelves as Ali closed the box and gave it a disgusted look. Was one bottle of decent hair therapy conditioner really too much to ask? “Shocking, the way they’ve let things slip,” she shot back and Ali gave a nod of serious agreement. Some things just shouldn't be fucked with. This was one've those. “I’d have expected more from Carol, at least. Not to mention Tony.” Now there was a man who she’d never seen with a hair out of place. “But then I think Pym was in charge of the prison facility where we picked this up, so maybe that will have to explain it.” Eugh, ok, yeah. No kidding. Ali shuddered dramatically, "Uggh, god, tell me about it. He had that whole...science-hair thing going." Making a face, she waved her hands around to indicate the proper amount of sticking up in odd places, unconditioned, untrimmed, hair abomination she was talking about. "He was married to Jan Van Dyne for a while, right? How the hell could she let him walk around like that?" Of course, hadn't he beat the hell outta her in there somewhere, too, so yeah. That kinda explained a lot. Moving on , because they needed a solution here. Dusting off her hands and looking around the storage room in semi-despair, because they were obviously hair product-less, Ali put her hands on her hips and looked over at Jean. "You know what this means, right? We're gonna have to go on Safari or something. Out into the wilds. Somewhere out there," she waved one hand again, grinning over at the other woman, "in the wilderness of Queens, there's gotta be some decent conditioner, right? If anybody can find it, it's us." |
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| Jean Grey | Jan 28 2013, 08:20 PM Post #7 |
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Can kill you with her brain.
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Right - Ali was totally correct, of course. Going green for the cause was one thing, and Jean had seen Rogue’s point about it clearly enough, when the other woman had brought it up to her. Better not to look like herself - or worse, like her... other self - as much as possible here, if she were going out in public. But if there was a way to do that without sacrificing her hair integrity on the altar of not freaking out the world’s population... well, that would be nice. Very very nice indeed, really. If avoiding that was going to be an option though, it was really looking like salvation wasn’t going to come from these shelves. Or even the boxes they’d brought back from Wonderland - though given that it had been Madison Jefferies and Eugene Gah-I-wish-it-wasn’t-Sizeist-to-Hate-You-This-Much Judd picking them out, maybe that wasn’t so surprising, even if it did reflect poorly on the standards of Former Heroes Turned Evil in this Suck-o-verse. Though Jean did feel obligated to admit that it had been Pym, rather than Tony or Carol, that they’d taken these from, which might go a long way explaining the sad dearth of useful hair products they were experiencing in their loot. "Uggh, god, tell me about it. He had that whole...science-hair thing going," Ali agreed with a grimace and a theatrical shudder that Jean was happy to echo in only slightly moderated fashion. Science hair... worked for Hank - their Hank - in that kind of all-over blue hair thing that was peculiar to him. And maybe it worked for Reed Richards too a little, with those silver wings of his, though it would probably take even more jello shots than she’d drunk at her bachelorette to admit that out loud. For the rest of the examples - of which the Hank Pym she’d known had always most definitely been a candidate for type specimen - the least said, the better. Though Ali’s hand gestures certainly did stand in very well in lieu of words. Gah. "He was married to Jan Van Dyne for a while, right? How the hell could she let him walk around like that?" Jan... and Hank. Yeah... that had turned out badly even in her own world, where Giant Man hadn’t completely lost his shit and decided to become a new version of totalitarian psychopath. Deciding that was best left as a rhetorical question, Jean gave it no more than a shrug, and a brief shake of the head, and it looked like Ali had reached a similar conclusion. Least said there, maybe. Yeah. They’d go with that, and forge on with things that - while still unpleasant - they might have a shot of doing something about in the near future. Or at least, that was what Jean was choosing to read in to the hands-on-hips, decisive action-taker pose this world’s pink-haired version of her teammate and friend had adopted. "You know what this means, right? We're gonna have to go on Safari or something. Out into the wilds. Somewhere out there," she waved one hand again, grinning over at the other woman, "in the wilderness of Queens, there's gotta be some decent conditioner, right? If anybody can find it, it's us." Jean let out a snort of laughter, but still couldn’t help but lift a recently wedding-sculpted, though now also sadly color-abused eyebrow skeptically back at the other woman. “Decent conditioner. In Queens,” she dead-panned back. “This is most definitely not my universe.” It was... Queens. Great for ethnic food, great if you wanted to see a mediocre major league team play what Scott always insisted was still baseball, however much it looked like awkward flailing. Not exactly a mecca for haircare. Though on a moment’s reflection, Jean supposed it could have been worse. If Ali had suggested looking for it in Staten Island, then they really would have reached Twilight Zone levels of surreal un-possibility. “Still, you’re probably right. There can’t possibly be two more fabulously suited people for this critical mission,” she relented, grinning back. “And my honeymoon is turning out weird enough already without having to deal with split ends and fray-age on top of everything.” Some things, you had to learn to deal with, if not outright expect, living the lives they did. Having your wedding interrupted by universes in peril... yeah, that was probably one of them. But there had to at least be a clause in that that said you didn’t have to deal with bad hair as well, right? That would just be unfair. |
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| Dazzler | Jan 31 2013, 05:00 PM Post #8 |
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I'm the best at what I do, and what I do is roller skate
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Science-hair. It was tragic. Well, on everybody but the Hankster. He'd totally been able to rock the science-hair. Anybody else, not so much and those were hair disasters better left un-thought-of. Especially if somebody like Jan Van Dyne hadn't been able to help. Obviously, Hank Pym had been destined for evil all along. The hair had spoken. So had the storage room. It had spoken in the sad, broken tones of a thing deprived of anything even close to appropriate haircare products. Proof of just how much amazing suck the world, or at least the US, had fallen into and there was really only one alternative. They were gonna have to go out. on Safari. Into the wilds of Queens, god help them. But somewhere out there there had to be a stash of decent hair products. They'd be like the Indiana Jones' of Vidal Sassoon. It'd be epic. And seriously, they had to help Jean's hair. Like now. The former redhead now gone green let out a snort, cocking one very nicely manicured brow, Ali couldn't help but noticed. Which was also, sadly, afflicted with green and probably could use some conditioning, too. “Decent conditioner. In Queens,” she dead-panned back and Ali shrugged. Yeah, it was a longshot, but if anybody could do it, it was them. “This is most definitely not my universe.” "Hey, it's the apocalypse. Sometimes you gotta make do." Though making do in Queens, of all damned places, yeah. Maybe that was stretching it just a little. But whatever, they were awesome. They'd probably collectively saved the world like...a dozen times at least. They would not be defeated by the gauche of Queens when it came to saving Jean's hair. Maybe they could still find some decent Thai while they were out, too. Definite bonus. “Still, you’re probably right. There can’t possibly be two more fabulously suited people for this critical mission,” she relented, grinning back because of course there couldn't. “And my honeymoon is turning out weird enough already without having to deal with split ends and fray-age on top of everything.” Oh mannnnn... Ali made a face. A horrified, sympathetic face. Wrinkles be damned. Because this? As a honeymoon? Sucked ass in a spectacular, wrong in any universe way. "Oh, hell no," the pink haired woman said with a definitive shake of her head, "no way are we having this. We're gonna fix your hair and you are totally entitled to a Honeymoon do over. There has to be like some cosmic rule in place to keep you from having to count this much wrong as your actual honeymoon, right?" Right. Because there was wrong, and then there was wrong. Attacked by Sentinels and living in a strip club basement for your honeymoon with straw like green hair? Definitely fit in that last category. Glancing down at herself, then, as another thought struck her, Ali added, "We probably need some've those stealth suits or something, huh? If we're gonna go out into the badlands on a mission of hair mercy." |
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| Jean Grey | Feb 6 2013, 04:00 PM Post #9 |
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Can kill you with her brain.
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"Hey, it's the apocalypse. Sometimes you gotta make do," Ali pronounced, though even it looked like even the pink-haired version from this universe wasn’t quite as confident in her own declaration as she might have wished. At least as far as it went with the potential union of Queens and decent haircare. Still, stranger things had happened, Jean was pretty sure. Like being transported to said apocalypse from her wedding reception. Though admittedly, upon a moment’s reflection on that front, having relented on the possibilities offered by Queens in favor of not making her Weirdest Honeymoon Ever rendered furtherly sucky through split ends and frayage, Jean had to wonder whether that actually counted as stranger. Their lives were full of strange, and even if hers, personally, hadn’t had a lot of interdimensional visits cropping at odd times, that was almost an ‘X’-ception to the rule for their friends and teammates. She’d probably been overdue... and yet still. Why make a weird honeymoon worse, right? Ali agreed. Or that was what Jean was choosing to take from that horrified face the other woman was making. "Oh, hell no," the pink haired woman said with a definitive shake of her head, "no way are we having this. We're gonna fix your hair and you are totally entitled to a Honeymoon do over. There has to be like some cosmic rule in place to keep you from having to count this much wrong as your actual honeymoon, right?" Jean smiled, and shrugged. “Well, I don’t know about cosmic, but there is definitely a Rule of Jean that clearly states the need for a do-over,” she declared, before shooting the other woman a slightly amused look, and adding, “I’m pretty sure Scott’s more likely to listen to me than the Higher Powers of the Universe, anyway, so it all works.” He was a good husband like that... and was more than smart enough to know - she was pretty sure - that this situation, do-over and all, was all still covered under the resolution of the original fight over whether to go on the Honeymoon at all. Which she had won. So... yes. He would still have three weeks of naked wife in Hawaii when - she was feeling better about it being when, not if, this afternoon - and he would enjoy them, dammit. In the meantime, though... there was hair to be salvaged. And if Ali had been in one of those Camps - Jean was pretty sure that was the information she’d gotten from Warren - the one time popstar’s need could be no less dire than her own. And almost on cue, or at least as another sign that they were clearly having moments of non-telepathic brainshare... "We probably need some've those stealth suits or something, huh? If we're gonna go out into the badlands on a mission of hair mercy," the other woman added, after glancing down at herself. Stealth suits... mmm, yeah, that was a good point, and Jean nodded quickly. “Yeah... those are easy though, I know where the spares got left after our mission today,” she said, but then a bigger potential problem of heading out into the wilds of Queens jumped in for consideration. “Though your face is still probably too famous, and mine...” she trailed off, rather than complete that point again, and raised her eyebrows queryingly at the other woman, “...you got any objection to telepathic disguisery to keep from exciting the natives too much?” Even with green hair, probably not a great idea to risk taking the face of ‘Madelyne Pryor’ out for a walk in any of the boroughs, and no doubt - if this world had ever been anything like her own - there would still be people who’d still recognise Dazzler. But that was what telepathy was for, right? ...something like that, anyway. |
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| Dazzler | Feb 7 2013, 09:13 PM Post #10 |
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I'm the best at what I do, and what I do is roller skate
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Yeah. No. So much no. An entire world of no to making this trip to their current World of Suck and Sentinels count as an actual honeymoon. Honeymoons were supposed to involve sex and beaches and, if you were really lucky, both at the same time. Not deathbots and Hounds and living under a strip club, no matter how awesome having a hideout under one actually was. Fuck that noise. If anybody was due a cosmic honeymoon do-over, it would be Jean and her current Scott of choice. The wrongly un-honeymooned bride just smiled and shrugged, though, like it wasn't that big a deal. Pretty impressive, considering they were standing in a store room in a rebel hideout trying to find a way to save her newly greened hair from an untimely death by over-processing. '"Well, I don't know about cosmic, but there is definitely a Rule of Jean that clearly states the need for a do-over," she declared, and Ali beamed her approval. See, that was the spirit. "'I'm pretty sure Scott's more likely to listen to me than the Higher Powers of the Universe, anyway, so it all works." With a soft laugh, the pink haired former singer smirked over at her companion. "Good point. Ours was kinda like that, too. And, you know, as it should be and all that." She waved a hand around for emphasis, because it seemed called for. A properly trained Scooter, Ali was convinced, from any universe was a much happier Scooter. That settled, it was back to the imminently important task at hand: Operation: Save Jean's Hair. Their mission, if they chose to accept it: Go forth bravely into the badlands known as Queens (which had, in fact, been pretty damned bad lands even before it got trashed and the world went to hell) in search of something close to a decent deep conditioner. And also possibly a little ethnic food. Mission of hair mercy, drastic measures were called for. Also, it occurred to Ali as she glanced down and gave herself a good once over, possibly stealth suits. For, you know, getting not stomped by Bono's less friendly and awesome cousins. That would really put a dent in the first thing that came even close to passing for a girls shopping trip in about five years. Yeah... those are easy though, I know where the spares got left after our mission today," Jean nodded, which was awesome, because the only useful thing she knew was where the bar was and where most of the guys were sleeping. Totally necessary info, but not helpful for not getting squished out in the world while carrying those pesky power genes. "Though your face is still probably too famous, and mine..." she trailed off though Ali brightened considerably at the prospect. "Oooh, you really think so?" She asked hopefully, because her last single was like forever ago, and it barely made the top ten and... Oh, right. Sentinels and Jean still looked like Maddie who tried to destroy the world, only with green hair, and other nasty things. Being recognized was bad in this case. Jean sent her a questioning look, brow lifting, "...you got any objection to telepathic disguisery to keep from exciting the natives too much?" Look at that. Brilliance. "Total genius," Dazzler proclaimed with a grin. "Sure, disguise away if keeping that up won't like...give you a massive migraine or make your head explode or something." Or make her brains leak out her nose. Whatever it was that happened to over-exerted telepaths. Pretty sure other dimensional Scooter would not be pleased if she broke his wife. "So should I think of something non-Dazzler like," Ali asked, flashing a grin at her soon to be partner in Queens safari among the wild normals, "or are you just gonna surprise me?" Looking like Madonna was probably out, with the whole celebrity factor, but she could come up with something off the cuff. Or hey. She liked surprises, so she was good either way. |
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| Jean Grey | Feb 17 2013, 07:05 PM Post #11 |
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Can kill you with her brain.
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If it was a contest between herself and the Cosmic Forces running the universe about who Scott Summers might actually listen to... well, Jean was pretty sure there wasn’t a contest at all. Plus even Scott, at his most Scott-like, wouldn’t really argue with her regarding the clear and pressing need for a honeymoon do-over. Probably. Well, he might, but not all that earnestly, since he knew she’d make agreeing with her worth his while. In any case, her observation regarding her husband’s preference for listening to her over any Higher Power going raised a brief laugh - and a knowing smirk - from this world’s Dazzler. "Good point. Ours was kinda like that, too. And, you know, as it should be and all that." Jean smiled back pleasantly, choosing not to respond to that direclty, or to put too much thought right now into imagining the Scott who’d been their Scott here. Who’d... died, saving the rest of the team. And who’d married... ...right, not thinking about it. She could manage that, especially with Ali providing new conversational distractions that made it easier to lock the recalcitrant thoughts back up in her mind. Stealth suits, and where to find them. That she could do, and nodding quickly back at the other woman, Jean told her as much. Though... when she actually seriously considered the prospect of going out amongst the wilds (or at least the neighborhoods) of Queens on this mission, a somewhat more tricky problem - not insoluble, but trickier than the stealth suits - occurred. It wasn’t all that often you could have cause to think two faces that looked like theirs were a problem. But Ali was probably still too famous, and as for herself... well, even with green hair, her face was probably still too infamous, in this place. Or not her face, but Madelyne Pryor’s face, at least. Too bad she couldn’t not think about that too, but it seemed like something that was sort of unavoidably necessary to keep in mind. "Oooh, you really think so?" Ali asked, with a note of hope in her voice that told Jean that pink hair or no pink hair - or hell, whatever differences there were between this version and her friend and teammate back on her world, and there definitely were a lot of them, you didn’t even need telepathy to feel that - this was still, most definitely, an Alison Blaire standing in front of her. The redhead smiled back at the different-but-still-absolutely-the-same version of her friend, with a lot more genuine warmth and amusement than she’d put into the smile she’d given to the comment about this world’s Scott, then nodded. Totally famous. So totally a problem. Not really much of one though, still. Definitely not insoluble - in fact, easily soluble (solveable?) with a little judicious application of telepathy to nudge them into the appearance of faces that wouldn’t cause riots on the streets. At least, if Ali had no objections to a little psychic disguise, anyway? "Total genius," Dazzler proclaimed with a grin. "Sure, disguise away if keeping that up won't like...give you a massive migraine or make your head explode or something." Jean snorted lightly, waving that worry away with a flick of one hand. “Not at all. It’s as easy as breathing,” she declared. Then paused, tilting her head to one side as she smiled a touch wryly back at the other woman, “Well, okay, not quite that easy, but it’s definitely easier than, say, walking in 3-inch heels, and I mastered that years ago too.” Important life skills, both of them, and projecting a low-range mental image to lay over people’s perceptions was definitely the easier of the two. Plus it came with a comparatively much reduced risk of developing bunions. "So should I think of something non-Dazzler like," Ali asked, flashing a grin at her soon to be partner in Queens safari among the wild normals, "or are you just gonna surprise me?" Now there was an important question - or at least an amusing one, and in the whimsical mood she was rapidly falling into here, Jean couldn’t help but decide that that was the same thing. She tilted her head back to the other side, regarding Ali speculatively as she pretended to think hard about an answer. “Tell you what - I’ll pick the theme, you imagine the details as you choose,” she told the pink-haired woman after a moment, before grinning again. “And the theme...” - absolutely necessary dramatic pause for emphasis inserted as a matter of course - “...is punk.” Though the next moment, reality (or boringness, depending on your point of view) crept back in a little again, and Jean’s smile slipped away, replaced by an awkward thoughtful pursing of lips. “Hmmm... maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” she suggested, albeit quite reluctantly. “Scott will flip if I tell him I’m going to run off randomly into Queens in search of deep conditioner, and I don’t want to give him anything more to stress about here.” That wasn’t fair to him, with everything he was already having to deal with here, everything they’d learned, and everything that was so hard for him, having to figure out ways to trust a wholly new - and yet awkwardly familiar - group of people he’d never worked with before. And on the first day of what was supposed to be their honeymoon. No, mentally unstable wife running off into the neighborhood on a mission that he’d never be able to understand the pressing importance of, without any clue of where to start looking was not a present she really wanted to give her new husband. But she wasn’t quite ready to give up on this mission yet either. It was important. Really it was. “We need...” Jean started, before trailing off, because she wasn’t at all sure what it was they needed, and just saying those first two magic words had unfortunately not managed to change that fact. Or... had it? Yes, yes she rather thought it had. The telepath looked up again, grin firmly back in place as she sought to meet the eyes of the pink-haired version of Ali, and declared, “...we need a plan. And I think I have one.” |
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| Dazzler | Feb 18 2013, 04:46 PM Post #12 |
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I'm the best at what I do, and what I do is roller skate
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Ok. For the purpose of this exercise, famous was bad. Got it. Ali grinned back at an amused-looking Jean and shrugged completely unselfconsciously. What could she say? Once a fame whore, always a fame whore. Except, you know, when it might get you smashed by Godzilla sized sentinels and make people freak out all around you in the bad way. As opposed to the good way where they just wanted you to sign their underwear and tell you how awesome you are. Right, ok. Off that tangent for real this time, especially since Jean was offering to use her awesome mind powers of disguising to keep them out of the public eye. Which was both perfect and total genius, as long as it wouldn't make her brain explode or give her the mother of all mutant telepath migraines or something. Having her own powers of holographic disguising, the former pop star knew if she tried to keep that up that long on two people, she'd be ready for a soundproof, windowless room and a bucket of aspirin, at the very least. Didn't wanna fix her hair only to make her brain wanna dribble out her ears or something equally Do Not Want. As usual, because she was awesome that way, Jean wasn't worried. Just let out soft snort and waved any brain hurty worries away. “Not at all. It’s as easy as breathing,” she declared. Then paused, tilting her head to one side as she smiled a touch wryly back at the other woman, “Well, okay, not quite that easy, but it’s definitely easier than, say, walking in 3-inch heels, and I mastered that years ago too.” The former singer nodded solemnly, because that she totally understood. Walking in three inch heels was a bitch. Totally necessary life skill, but still a bitch. But man, did they make your legs look beyond awesome and like the saying goes, no pain, no gain. Right, so should she, like...think of something non-Ali-like, like a frumpy housewife from Jersey (euggh, god she really hoped not; even she would only go so far in the name of hair beautification and saving)? Or was the former-redhead gonna just surprise her? Head tilted, Jean gave her a considering once over with all the import the decision of how you should look required. “Tell you what - I’ll pick the theme, you imagine the details as you choose,” she told the pink-haired woman after a moment, before grinning again. “And the theme...” - absolutely necessary dramatic pause for emphasis inserted as a matter of course - “...is punk.” Oooh, she definitely liked this game! "Hmmm...well, I always was kind of a Brody Dalle fan," Ali pondered, flashing her partner in disguising another grin. Sooo...dark spiky hair, some fun piercings - lots of fun piercings - black tank top and ripped, lowcut jeans. Appropriate makeup and sneakers. This was more fun than Halloween! “Hmmm... maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Jean's smile had kinda slipped and Ali frowned slightly. Well, if she wasn't all that fond of The Distillers, she could always pick somebody else. Not like it was a life or death thing. “Scott will flip if I tell him I’m going to run off randomly into Queens in search of deep conditioner, and I don’t want to give him anything more to stress about here.” Oh! Well, hell, that was an easy one, and Ali waved it away with one still-not-satisfactorily-manicured hand. "Pfft, then why tell him?" Not like it was an actual mission or anything, just a...pseudo-mission. With disguises and hair car product safari "It's not like we're gonna go raid a SHIELD base or something. We'll be back before he even knows we went anyway." It was Queens, not Bora Bora. They'd be totally fine. See? There, issue solved. Besides, Jean couldn't back out now, the health and happiness of her hair was at stake. Scooter would want that taken care of on his shiny new wife, right? Right! “We need...” Jean started, before trailing off and Ali cocked an eyebrow, because that sounded like her partner was back on board with the plan. When, you know, they had a plan other than play mental dress up and go invade Queens. Though, when she thought about it, that was a pretty good start. “...we need a plan. And I think I have one.” "And I like that you have a plan," Ali assured her, grinning back and arching one brow a little higher in inquiry. "So spill," The pink haired woman made a little 'get on with it' motion with her hands, "'cause I don't have all those fun mind powers and you know I don't have the patience to guess, right?" Whatever it was, the look on the other woman's face told her it was gonna be good. |
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| Jean Grey | Feb 28 2013, 01:48 PM Post #13 |
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Can kill you with her brain.
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Punk. Yes. Jean had always harbored a weird (and extremely secret) desire to try it out for herself sometime. Or if not always, at least since Ro had turned up back from Japan working that mohawk. Not like she wanted to do it permanently, or where any of her friends might see her, but if telepathic disguises were going to be the order of the day... well, why not? "Hmmm...well, I always was kind of a Brody Dalle fan," Ali pondered, flashing her partner in disguising another grin that only confirmed the redhead’s (greenhead’s? She had to ask Lorna if that was appropriate, next time she saw her) suspicions that this was a great idea. Then there was the image that was forming in the pink-haired woman’s mind, of a version of herself with black hedgehog-style spiky hair, piercings, and the kind of clothing that Jean Greys - or hell, Ali Blaires - did not ever wear. Grinning back, Jean snuck in a couple of extra details into the mental picture, covering the arms with intricate tattoos and adding a block print Punk Is Dead to the front of the tank top. So much fun... though even as she was doing it, reality called her back, and burst the soap bubble of silliness. This might not actually be such a good idea. Heading out into who knew where the hell in Queens, on a hunt for deep conditioner? Scott would flip out if he knew. He might even be right to flip out, for that matter - though Jean still wasn’t entirely sure her husband grasped how serious this hair issue really was - but regardless of that, right or not, she didn’t want to give him any more stress than he already had in this place. Confessing as much to Ali didn’t really seem to do the trick, though. "Pfft, then why tell him?" she asked, waving it away with one hand. Jean smiled at that, but shook her head all the same. There were times when ‘what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him’ was definitely an important, even necessary, concept, but this? She didn’t really want to be playing those games with Scott on the first day of their married life, even if it was in a Suckoverse. Maybe especially if it was in a Suckoverse. "It's not like we're gonna go raid a SHIELD base or something. We'll be back before he even knows we went anyway." “Talk like that will just ensure that something goes spectacularly wrong, and you know it,” Jean pointed out, smiling again. Murphy’s Law, the guiding principle of all those who would try to squeeze into skintight colored costumes and go out to save the world, if they didn’t want to end up smacked upside the head by something ridiculous and unforseen. “Plus, he’s guaranteed to find out somehow,” she added, tapping her temple with one finger, and giving Ali a slightly regretful look. “Mental link, and if not that, he has that sixth sense of sniffing things out so that he can worry about them.” She’d long suspected it might actually be how he got the energy for the optic blasts - an internal neurosis powered generator. Had even gone as far as mentioning the idea to Hank, who’d thought it was promising, but they’d never quite got round to trying to test it out. Being a responsible person, and not risking breaking your shiny new husband by rushing off on good ideas was hard, though. That promised land of deep conditioner waiting for them had sounded pretty damn good. And... “We can’t really just wander off into Queens without a clue of where we should even be looking,” Jean said aloud, trying to stay firm. And responsible. And sensible. “You know how big it is... it’d take too long, for one thing.” She stopped a moment, lips pursed. This mission was important, though. Very important. ”We need...” What did they need? Oh... yes. A plan. And just like that, there was one, ready made in her head. Good brain! "And I like that you have a plan," Ali assured her, grinning back and arching one brow a little higher in inquiry. "So spill," The pink haired woman made a little 'get on with it' motion with her hands, "'cause I don't have all those fun mind powers and you know I don't have the patience to guess, right?" “I do know that,” Jean agreed with an easy chuckle, before switching into an imitation of ‘Fearless Leader Mode’ with a grand sweep on one arm (only narrowly avoiding smacking one of the shelves as she did). “So, problem: we’re thinking about rambling off into the wilds of Queens without really knowing where in hell we even ought to start looking for decent hair products, this city being like it is now. Or if they still exist. Right?” She paused for confirmation, or possibly dramatic effect, then soldiered on. “Solution: a little reconnaissance, and info-gathering, so then we can set out on a targeted, surgical strike straight to wherever we need to be, instead of wandering around hoping to stumble on it. Even Scott couldn’t possibly object to that,” she explained, stretching the truth a little, but not in an important way. “But Jean, you ask-” she winked at the pink-haired woman, and gestured dramatically again, “where on earth would we find such a source of information? Well, Ali... it occurs to me that we have a potentially untapped source of exactly the expertise we need right upstairs.” Pointing one finger upward, where she was pretty sure there was a genuine Strip Club sitting on top of this headquarters Remy had found for his team, Jean grinned over at the other woman. “I propose we go upstairs, pick out the stripper with the prettiest hair, and pump her for her secret sources of information. And conditioner. Then the rest really should be easy.” ...though maybe she’d just broken the rule about Murphy’s Law herself now. Ah well. |
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| Dazzler | Mar 1 2013, 09:12 PM Post #14 |
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I'm the best at what I do, and what I do is roller skate
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Punk! She could totally do punk! She'd always been a fan of The Distillers, here was her chance to play the part. Without, you know, all the trouble of half a day spiking the hair, not to mention all the time she'd need for tats and piercings. Yeah, way too labor intensive for an outing in Queens, even if it was on a mission of desperate hair mercy. Jean had it covered, though, and before Ali knew it, the redhead-who-temporarily-wasn't had added her own dash of flavor to the outfit. The former singer totally approved. Hell, she might try this look out for real, though maybe without quite so many holes in her face. How the hell did people eat and blow their nose with all that on their face? A problem for pondering another time, however, since her partner in the storming of Queens in search of hair product nirvana seemed to be getting cold feet. Understandable, considering the whole just married thing, but in her extensive experience, it was just better not to tell them things they didn't wanna hear. Especially when they'd be back before Scooter from Other Universe even noticed. Or not, since Jean didn't seem to think they could just sneak that one by him when he wasn't paying attention. “Talk like that will just ensure that something goes spectacularly wrong, and you know it,” Jean pointed out and Ali sighed dramatically. She probably had a point. Stupid Murphy and his stupid laws of ruining things. “Plus, he’s guaranteed to find out somehow,” she added, tapping her temple with one finger, and giving Ali a slightly regretful look. “Mental link, and if not that, he has that sixth sense of sniffing things out so that he can worry about them.” Uggh, guys in her head, how did she stand it? She loved them, but swear to god if they were running around in her head all the time like that, she'd go nuts. Jean was a stronger woman by far to deal with that. Plus, yeah, she had a point again. Scooter always had some weird ass latent power of sniffing out stuff he had no business knowing. Ali had always insisted it was some kinda secondary mutation and she was betting it applied to Scooters all across the however the hell many dimensions there might be. Well, crap. Man, she hated when they had to stop and, you know, think. Totally for the birds. “We can’t really just wander off into Queens without a clue of where we should even be looking,” Jean said aloud and see! Like that! There was no fun in that. They were talking themselves outta fun and this had to stop. There was gonna have to be an intervention here or something. “You know how big it is... it’d take too long, for one thing.” Ali as about to protest, and point out that that was half the fun, at least. It was an adventure. Even Scooter could understand that, right? Right? Yeah, that wasn't even working all that great in her own head, but Jean managed to pull out a save at the last minute. She had a plan, and Ali definitely approved of her having a plan. A plan she needed to spill, because she, Ali, totally did not have the patience for guessing and was totally without any fun mind powers she could use to cheat. Having an Ali of her own, presumably, Jean should know this. “I do know that,” Jean agreed with an easy chuckle, before switching into an imitation of ‘Fearless Leader Mode’ with a grand sweep on one arm (only narrowly avoiding smacking one of the shelves as she did). “So, problem: we’re thinking about rambling off into the wilds of Queens without really knowing where in hell we even ought to start looking for decent hair products, this city being like it is now. Or if they still exist. Right?” "Right," the former singer agreed definitively and with an enthusiastic nod of her head. Jean was good at this, she had the whole presentation form down and everything. Obviously, she'd learned from the best, or you know, Scooter. “Solution: a little reconnaissance, and info-gathering, so then we can set out on a targeted, surgical strike straight to wherever we need to be, instead of wandering around hoping to stumble on it. Even Scott couldn’t possibly object to that,” she explained though Ali wasn't so sure, she'd seen their Scooter object to a hell'uva lotta stuff, but why ruin the moment by pointing that out? So she just nodded again. But you ask-” she winked at the pink-haired woman, and gestured dramatically again, “where on earth would we find such a source of information? and she totally would've, if she'd had time to actually think about it, or maybe she had and hadn't noticed and Jean had pulled it outta her head? "Well, Ali... it occurs to me that we have a potentially untapped source of exactly expertise we need right upstairs.” "Jack Daniels and Smirnoff?" Ali ventured as Jean pointed upwards, toward the bar. Except that didn't sound right, exactly. Inspiration, maybe, but she didn't think whiskey and vodka could give them actual expertise. Not that they'd really notice after a few good shots... “I propose we go upstairs, pick out the stripper with the prettiest hair, and pump her for her secret sources of information. And conditioner. Then the rest really should be easy.” Oh, this was an awesome plan. Possibly even better than raiding the bar, because they could do that later. After they'd fixed Jean's hair. Yes. Jean had learned well. "Excellent. This is an excellent idea," Ali declared, because who ever heard of a stripper that didn't have awesome hair? And tassels, but one mission at a time. "I'm in." Then, pausing and shifting her weight to one hip, she gave the other woman a once over, waving a hand her way again, "Except don't you need your punk Jean disguise? I mean, if we're gonna be all stealthy and with a plan, we gotta do it right, right?" Right. Obviously. Though they might wanna rethinking some phrasing there, now that she thought about it. Because pumping strippers was kinda a whole other type of adventure. |
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| Jean Grey | Mar 10 2013, 06:24 PM Post #15 |
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Can kill you with her brain.
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Oh yeah, this Fearless Leader exposition stuff was actually pretty fun. She should really think about doing it more often. Though probably, it was only fun when hair care and strip clubs or other fun things featured in there. Though were strip clubs fun? Evidence from Emma Frost aside, Jean was willing to put a provisional Yes to that question in her mind. In any case, with the one right above their heads, they clearly had a source of expertise and intel tailored exactly to their current problem waiting for them. "Jack Daniels and Smirnoff?" Ali ventured as Jean pointed upwards, breaking the dramatic flow slightly. Jean paused, pursing her lips thoughtfully, then shook her head. Not the expertise she’d had in mind, no. Potentially quite an interesting source of something, though probably neither expertise or intel. They’d put that down as a temporary No, particularly as she found herself without hangover-curing grown-up interdimensional offspring in this Suckoverse. So... maybe she should just explain the actual source of information then. Being the strippers up there. Specifically the ones with the prettiest hair, who could be prevailed upon (and between them, they ought to have any number of methods available at their disposal for that task) to spill her secrets about where to source decent haircare in this place. Right then! Maybe she should have left off the bit about it being easy from there, since that might have invoked various jinxing laws, but... ah well. The look on Ali’s face radiated approval, at least, so that definitely made up for it. "Excellent. This is an excellent idea," Ali declared. Jean smirked back, rather smugly. Yes, it really wasn’t a bad plan, was it? Too bad Scott would be almost guaranteed to get too bogged down in the purpose and the goals to really appreciate its neatness as a plan. Maybe she could tell Ro sometime, though, for Alternate Fearless Leader Approval. "I'm in." Then, pausing and shifting her weight to one hip, she gave the other woman a once over, waving a hand her way again, "Except don't you need your punk Jean disguise? I mean, if we're gonna be all stealthy and with a plan, we gotta do it right, right?" “Hmm,” Jean murmured, considering this carefully. “Do we need disguises for upstairs?” Maybe they did, come to think of it. “I guess we do,” she decided aloud, “if for no other reason than to do Two Riot Grrls walk into a Strip Club.” She wasn’t quite sure what the punchline to that would be, exactly, but it sounded like it would have to be good. So... disguise. Punk Jean Disguise. Another moment’s thinking, and she had it. “Alright then,” she declared, concentrating slightly to create a new projection of her appearance that anyone in the vicinity would see instead of her actual person, “I will never admit to this if you happen to repeat it to anyone, but I’ve kind of always wanted to try this ever since Ro went through her weird Japan phase.” She paused a second, before adding, "Especially don't tell Warren. It'll ruin all my leverage I got this morning from seeing him in those overalls, and I have plans for that." There, that should do it. To all perceptual purposes, she should be standing in front of the pink-haired - well, newly black spiky tattooed, actually - version of Ali with a 6 inch tall Mohawk. A green one. Might as well keep with the theme. Ripped black jeans, Ramones t-shirt, assorted piercings. “What do you think?” she asked Ali, spinning back and forth to display the look, since it was easier to map altered perceptions onto real movements. “Missing anything?” It was probably missing something. Who knew punk could be so full of details? Complicated DIY fashion creeds. |
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7:46 PM Jul 10