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| The Lives of Kittens, and Other Secret Mysteries; 5/24 - Early Early (Team Re-Assemble) | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 7 2014, 12:14 PM (671 Views) | |
| Tigra | Aug 14 2014, 06:33 PM Post #46 |
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The bikini's not the costume, I'm the costume.
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Easy? Oh god no. No, Bobbi could smile like that if she wanted, like there was irony to be appreciated here, but the truth where it came to her motherhood skills was really very simple. Right now, William was doing a really good job of making her look good at this, as Greer told her friend, but it was coming from him, not her, and it would not last. And wouldn’t you know, but her son - her wonderful, ever-loving, and sometimes unfortunately intelligent son - picked just that moment to help demonstrate just how truthfully she’d been speaking. This time, it was by reopening the subject of bath instead of sink with a note in his voice that promised intractably stubborn insistence was only a few moments away if they didn’t head this off fast. Time to reassert the superiority of sink, then, and Greer hoped that she could still be more stubborn, and more authoritative than a three year old. Or at least distract him before he’d had time to dig in by another appeal to the things Aunt Bobbi was doing for him. In this case, making the water there just right for mischievous little cat boys who hopefully weren't yet above being pleased by this kind of treatment. No problems this time with Bobbi playing along. “Mmmm…nice and warm and everything,” she told William with a smile, demonstrating that by splashing her own hand through the running water. It was enough - at least for now - to catch William’s interest long enough to submit to being taken to the sink, where he perched on the edge and tried his own puttified hands in the stream. A little careful positioning of her own body and hands on Greer’s part meant that he’d have a hard time getting away quickly if he did change his mind (always a risk with William), after which she was free to take hold of one of his and start to ease the caked putty off of his fur. Try to, anyway. Really, what was in this stuff? “You’re gonna need some soap for that,” Bobbi informed her in tones of experience, snagging some to be a little nearer to hand. Well, she would know, wouldn’t she? Relieved that this, at least, was apparently a relatively surmountable problem Greer sent her a grateful look, before quickly swapping her efforts over to William’s other paw. They could get them wet enough first to take a good lather, maybe that would help too. Better push down the mechanism to block the drain, let it start to fill up for a good soak, too, while she was at it. Once she was done with that though, Greer turned her attention back to her friend, and the conversation topic that had been temporarily on hold. Because the truth was that regardless of whatever it might like look, or whatever skills she might have acquired from her son, all of this? Dealing with kids? It wasn’t that different from dealing with anyone else. They had personalities of their own, and you learned who they were. Add into that any number of mistakes, and eventually you picked up some things about what worked. Not to mention a lot of things about what didn’t. “So, trial and error," Bobbi commented with a half grin that absolutely belied the expert way she was applying soap over William’s hands and arms, “That at least sounds familiar.” Greer smiled slightly in turn, nodding slightly. Yes, trial and error. Nothing like it for arriving at something that looked effortless or intuitive, that was for sure. “It still seems to come pretty naturally to you, or you're faking it really well, Bobbi went on to say though, and when the feline woman glanced up, she found her friend eyeing her with a look that could have been either scientist or spy: intent, with a side-dose of assesssing. ”But I don't think you are, and I'm not talking about the superficial parts.” Greer met her eyes for a moment, then looked back down to the sink. “I’ve had three years,” she said simply. “Parts of them, at least.” Bits and pieces, days borrowed here and there, and never enough. Always feeling like the kind of mother she’d never, ever, wanted to be - the one who was barely more than a transient presence in her child’s life, appearing for long enough to be a fun novelty out of everyday life, then disappearing again before the shine had time to wear off, because there were ‘more important things to do’. That there really had been, and that William had had close to the entirety of the Cat People’s dimension ready to help and look after him was scant comfort. But never mind that. Explaining it to someone else, even to Bobbi, about why it mattered and why it never felt like enough, wasn’t going to work unless they’d been there, and experienced it for themselves. Though… well, in point of fact, maybe that wouldn’t be all that far off for her friend, and maybe it was time - well past time, in fact - that she stopped putting off the issue and actually told her friend what she needed to know. And so, after encouraging her son to soak his hands in the warm water for a little while before they went back to trying to scrub away that putty, Greer looked over at her friend, and asked a question that seemed like one of the more foolproof ways to break the news she’d noticed yesterday, after rejoining the team. Had Bobbi even thought about why she was throwing up in the morning today? It only took the surprised, confused frown that took over her friend’s expression to have Greer scratching ‘foolproof’ from that assumption. Trial and error reared its head again, apparently. “I dunno, nerves maybe?" Bobbi answered with a shrug and a little bit of a frown, like even she could see the problem with that idea as it applied to herself. “I’m usually fairly nerve proof, but it's a big thing we're going out to do today. Skipping dinner last night probably didn't help, either." Eyes on her friend, Greer lifted her brows a little. It was always the smartest ones, wasn’t it? Nothing like an overdose of brainpower to let you think yourself into any number of odd places, and then get stuck there. “Maybe it all snuck up on me. Or I can just go with the default setting of 'somehow it's Clint's fault'," she added with another half grin. That one, Greer did return, albeit briefly, and not without a roll of her eyes. “It is his fault. Half his fault, anyway,” she informed her friend, tilting her head to the side as she made that secondary adjustment to the statement. Not waiting this time to see whether that would be hint enough to get through the layers of intelligence sufficiently to make an impact, she pressed on seriously. “You’re pregnant, Bobbi.” That deserved a pause, and a chance to absorb, and careful watching of her friend’s face to see how she might be taking that, before adding the rest of what she knew, “One, maybe two, weeks.” It couldn’t be more than that, Greer was sure, or she would have noticed before yesterday. But there was no doubt of it now. |
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| Mockingbird | Aug 15 2014, 06:27 PM Post #47 |
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This isn't a catfight. It's me kicking your ass.
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Trial and error, huh? Practice. That was familiar, at least. A lot of her life had been that. Greer smiled a little, nodding a little, too. No, that didn't sound so bad. You always had to work for anything worth having. Still, Tigra wasn't fooling her. It either came a little more naturally to her than to some or she was faking it pretty damned well. Not the superficial parts that were baths and breakfast cereal and a kid covered with putty. Bobbi had a slightly younger brother who'd done worse than that (she missed Ben, and her mom, hoped they were doing all right, but she'd cut off contact when it got too dangerous for them to have an Avenger in the family), so she remembered how at least some've that went. No, she meant the big stuff. The way Greer looked at William, and smiled at him, and talked to him. Held him and loved him. The things that mattered. Unless she was a lot worse spy than she imagined, that wasn't something she was faking. Greer met her eyes for a second, looked down then, though. Back into the sink. “I’ve had three years,” she said simply. “Parts of them, at least.” Yeah. Yeah, that had to have been hard, being away from him. Doing what she had to do. Leave him like that, even if was for a damned good reason. Knowing Greer, she'd beat herself up over it, too. Whether she should or not, and she shouldn't. "He's a great kid, Greer," Bobbi told her friend, and meant every word of it, but left it at that. That hadn't happened by accident and William obviously knew exactly who his mother was and loved her to death. Whether she'd been there full time or not, she'd done something right in there. Now if they could just get the kid in question de-puttied, they'd be ahead of the game. Or at least even with it. Those hands were gonna need some soaking, though, to loosen it from all that fur, so while that was happening, Greer hit her with a question that seemed to come out of the blue. Had she thought about why she was throwing up this morning? Well, yeah, at least a little. Maybe nerves, even if that wasn't normal for her. This wasn't exactly a normal situation, though, either. skipping dinner, and then breakfast, probably hadn't helped, but the latter she could attribute to not wanting to look at anything close to food after the mornings rest room adventures. Or they could just go with the old stand by of it being Clint's fault and why was Greer giving her that look? The one with the lifted brow and a brief smile, and then eyerolling. Alright, what was she missing here? Bobbi's own brows went up. Alright, what was she missing here? Had to be something, and it wasn't like Tigra to beat around the bush. “It is his fault. Half his fault, anyway,” Greer informed her and her brows drew down again. Okay, granted Clint could be a little much sometimes, but he'd never made her physically sick before... “You’re pregnant, Bobbi.” There was a pause there where Greer was watching her and Bobbi was just staring at her. Staring at her and feeling suddenly a little light headed. “One, maybe two, weeks.” Realizing belatedly that her mouth was hanging open, Mockingbird snapped it shut again. Tried to fit that in her head, but her head wasn't having it. "No, but-" she started, then stopped and frowned again. And tried to think back to that notice from Stacy and just exactly when she'd been supposed to go back in. Then factored in how things kept popping up, even before things had gone so suddenly crazy. "Oh shit." Looking back at her friend with wide, stunned blue eyes, Bobbi Morse Barton took the opportunity of a conveniently placed wall to lean back against a little. Just in case she tipped over. It felt distinctly like she might for a second or two. Then she looked down at her abdomen like-what? She was suddenly gonna develop sonogram vision? God. "Greer, are you sure?" she asked, looking back up again into her friends cat-like eyes. And already knowing the answer, but she thought she might need to hear it again for it to sink in. Pregnant. One or two weeks. Too early for morning sickness, HCG levels weren't high enough by then, usually. Nothing was set in stone, though, when it came to that, and there were still all the more subtle chemical and hormonal changes from fertilization and implantation and- Well, it was a good thing they'd gotten things sorted out last night, wasn't it? Because the game was ahead of them. |
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| Tigra | Aug 17 2014, 09:23 PM Post #48 |
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The bikini's not the costume, I'm the costume.
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Alright, trapped. Bobbi had come back with something even she couldn’t argue with. Or do anything with to extend the debate, or whatever this was right now, except smile softly down at her son. Who was a great kid. Or she thought he was, anyway. One who deserved to get the very best mother his mother could possibly be, but… …yes. Yes. Bobbi and her fiendish scientific intelligence had won that point, or at least closed down the argument, so onto other things. Other things like getting William and his puttied paws soaking, since that seemed like it was going to be an essential next step in the removal process, and other things like finding the time to break the news her friend needed to know. Making the time, in fact, because she’d put it off for too long now. Of course, however well she might have done in neatly putting a stop to that ‘debate’ just now? That was about how badly Bobbi and her supposed biologist brain were missing the point coming up with answers for what should have been one of the most leading questions in any repertoire. Clint’s fault, though? Well… yes. Actually, yes. Though only half his fault, technically, because while she might have abandoned biology herself after the general ed requirements, Greer still knew that much about it. And… …oh, god, really? Bobbi didn’t get that either, just drew her brows down with the kind of frown that usually presaged one of those defenses of Clint that usually ended up hearing far more than anyone who had to live with them really wanted to know about their relationship. Fine. Fine. This was why she didn’t do subtle. And apparently you could lead a Mockingbird to water, but you had to shove her nose - no, that’d be her beak… well, whatever - in there to get her to realize it was an extended metaphor for a very simple fact that could be summarized in four direct words, one of which was her name. She was pregnant. Judging by the stare she’d gotten in return, Greer suspected she might have been even further off the mark with her choice of hints than she’d realized. Or… no, maybe not. Maybe that wasn’t really so far off the look she remembered staring at herself with in the mirror, the morning she’d realized the same about herself. Not the same, certainly, but she did remember having that minute when it had all seemed bigger than could possibly ever fit inside her head. Certainty had helped, though. Information had helped. So, one more fact - or estimate, at least. One, maybe two weeks along. It couldn’t have been more than that. That finally closed Mock’s mouth again, or maybe that was just on a general time delay, kick-starting the whole process of processing. Starting with… oh god, that was going to be denial, wasn't it? “No, but-" she started, sure enough, while Greer watched her, and said nothing. This was the part you had to work through on your own. “Oh shit.” Still with her arms around her son - who (thankfully) was treating this strange interlude of adulthood with only the barest modicum of interest, absorbing himself instead with making patterns of greyish swirls on the water by swishing his hands around beneath it - Greer watched her friend lean back against the wall behind her with mild concern. Was that nausea, or just the size of this news, or something else again? And then the blonde’s eyes tracked downward, staring at her stomach like she expected either an alien or some sort of rapid ballooning fastforward. Well, you couldn’t blame anyone who’d ever heard about what had happened to Carol years and years ago from wondering that one at least once. “Greer, are you sure?" she asked, looking up once more, and meeting Greer’s eyes. Not with disbelief anymore, though. Delaying tactics, maybe, but she knew she didn’t really need to ask, didn’t she? Well, she was the smart one. The feline woman nodded, just once. “The nose doesn’t lie about this kind of thing,” Greer explained. No point in asking what it was that stole into the odor when it did - she’d never found a good way to describe the qualities that came and went from a scent - but it wasn’t something that anyone with enhanced senses, and the instincts and experience that taught you how to interpret them, could have doubted at all, even this early on. “I caught it yesterday, before Utah, she added, still watching her friend closely, “It just… didn’t seem like a good time to mention it.” And then, since she was unsure how, or how far, or just whether to proceed further at all with that right now, Greer dropped her eyes back down to her son. Giving her friend a little space (metaphorical space, anyway) to process that, while she carefully picked up a washcloth and the bar of soap, and set to work finding the smudges and smears of putty William had managed to get over his head and neck, keeping all the senses she had that didn’t involve doing anything so obvious as turning her head alert for signs from her friend. |
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| Mockingbird | Aug 19 2014, 02:52 PM Post #49 |
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This isn't a catfight. It's me kicking your ass.
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A second. Bobbi needed that to pick her chin up off the floor. Try to fit that word inside her head. Pregnant. Pregnant? No, that couldn't be right. Could it? It wasn't like she ignored birth control. No one did. No one could afford to, with what was going on. Except she'd gotten the notice from Stacy that it was time to come back in, and things had gotten busy and- Oh. Oh shit. Good thing William was happy making putty laced swirls in the basin, and that Greer had a grip on him if he happened to try to make a run for it, because she'd have been useless for helping with that just now. Good thing there was a wall right behind her, too, because Bobbi decided she needed it. Just for a few seconds, so she didn't tip over on the floor. She'd be fine, Greer didn't have to worry (since she looked like she might be a little). Give her a minute, she'd be fine. Her head would sort it all out and she'd stop looking down at her own stomach like she might be able to see through it and confirm what her friend was saying. Yeah, that wouldn't work, so Bobbi did the next best thing. Looked back up at Tigra and asked her if she was sure. It wasn't that she didn't already know the answer, Greer wouldn't have said a word if she wasn't sure, but maybe she needed the confirmation. Just to wrap her head around it. Her friend nodded. Once, but that was enough. “The nose doesn’t lie about this kind of thing,” Greer explained, confirming what she already knew, like Bobbi knew she would. “I caught it yesterday, before Utah, she added, sharp, feline eyes watching her in a way that it took Mockingbird a second longer than it probably normally would've to figure out, “It just… didn’t seem like a good time to mention it.” Shit. Yeah. Well, she wouldn't have thought so, either, under the circumstances. Greer dropped her eyes back down to her son, working on the other little spots of putty he'd managed to smear on himself. While she did that, Bobbi took a second to remember to breathe. Draw in some air, let it back out, feel less like someone could knock her over with a feather. She was pregnant. This time, Bobbi Morse smiled a little. The game might be a little ahead of them, at this point, and it might not have been the best timing. It wasn't the worst, either, and searching through her feelings told the blonde that, under the surprise and automatic trepidation and not knowing what the hell just hit her, she was fine with this. More than fine. Clint was gonna fall over, but that would be fine, too. Or she hoped it would. Talking through things last night made her feel more confident about that than she would've otherwise. "Yeah, it wouldn't have been," Bobbi agreed with a shake of her head, ready to move away from the support of the wall and be useful again as she reached up to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind one ear. "I didn't have a damned clue Clint was holding onto the stuff with Kate like that," she added, moving back to the sink and smiling down at the way William was swirling his hands in the water, which was already pretty putty colored. "But I think we got most've that straightened out last night," Mockingbird added, looking back up at her friend. Feeling that same little smile make its way back to her face. "We both want kids, Greer. If it maybe happens a little sooner than we thought it would, I think even Hawk'll be able to adjust to that." Once he was done possibly losing his mind a little for a few minutes, Bobbi mused as she reached down to take one little furred hand to check if it was ready to let go of all that putty it'd accumulated. But that probably went without saying, since Greer knew him, too. |
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| Tigra | Aug 24 2014, 08:18 PM Post #50 |
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The bikini's not the costume, I'm the costume.
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Yes, she was sure. No hesitation needed on assuring her friend of that, and Greer didn’t take any. The nose was as good a confirmation as a test - better at this early stage, in fact - and she’d caught it yesterday. Only yesterday had been right before the Utah mission, and that really hadn’t seemed like the right time to mention it. Having said that, the feline woman returned her attention to her son, leaving Bobbi a little space to process that however she wanted (or maybe needed). To think it through for herself, without anyone else’s thoughts on the matter, because this was something she needed to have straight in her own head, without anyone else in there with her. And William… oh god. How? How had he managed to get putty in his tail? He’d only had the putty for all of five minutes! “Yeah, it wouldn't have been," Bobbi agreed with a shake of her head, around that time. Greer looked up from an attempt to catch hold of the tip of her son’s tail (trying to hold it still long enough to remove the smear of gray that it had been dipped in), in time to see her friend tucking a piece of hair behind one ear, looking more together (more like herself, in fact) than she’d been the last time she’d looked. “I didn't have a damned clue Clint was holding onto the stuff with Kate like that," she added, eyes on William and the game he was playing with his hands on the water. Kate. It took a moment, once again, for Greer to place the name to that girl who’d hung around for a while, and spent quite a lot of time with Clint. “Was that what that was about?” she asked, though the question was rhetorical, as much as anything, and she was already looking back down, trying to secure William’s tail again before he caught on and took up keeping it away as a fun new game. Kate, the girl from the wealthy family that Tony knew, who’d spent that time. Then she’d gone… right, gone and tried to break her boyfriend out of the Bronx camp? All part of that bad time, the six months that had been, in their own way, a lower point than the ones that had gone before them. The ones that had led to the start of Re-Assemble. Well, if Clint had still been holding on to things from that time, she was hardly the right person to judge him for it, was she? There, that was the tail. “But I think we got most've that straightened out last night," Mockingbird added, and when Tigra lifted her eyes again (this time keeping a much more secure grip on Willliam’s tail as she did), she found a smile on her old friend’s face that was clearly more than a response to cat children antics. It was the smile you hoped to see on someone who’d got this news. “We both want kids, Greer. If it maybe happens a little sooner than we thought it would, I think even Hawk'll be able to adjust to that.” Well, he’d have to, wouldn’t he? Tigra thought, but kept to herself as she watched Mock reach down to check on the work that William and warm water had done to loosen that putty caking his hands. Because whatever Hawkeye wanted now, and whether he might have changed his mind two days later or not, it was obvious already just how much Bobbi wanted her baby. This baby. And that, as far as Greer Grant was concerned, was all she needed to know. “You’re happy,” she observed, smiling sincerely at her friend, “Good.” It was a good thing, and she’d be there to help however Bobbi needed her. Starting, though, with a question. Or… no, it was a statement, and one that Greer paused again in her work on William to deliver to Bobbi with all the needed seriousness. “You need to think about what you want to do today,” she told the blonde woman. Which could be a number of things. But she needed to think them through, and think them through as clearly as possible, before she did any of them. |
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| Mockingbird | Aug 25 2014, 03:44 PM Post #51 |
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This isn't a catfight. It's me kicking your ass.
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It was just as well Greer hadn't said anything yesterday. God knows what sort of explosion of buried crap that would've caused, considering the way it'd gone after Clint latched onto a completely unrelated turn of expression. All these years later, and she hadn't had a clue he'd been still holding onto that whole mess with Kate. They'd worked through that, she thought. Years ago. Turned out not so much and she sure wouldn't have been in any shape to deal with it yesterday if she'd known she was pregnant. Without knowing, it'd been shock enough. “Was that what that was about?” Greer asked from...damn, had William managed to get putty on his tail, too? How the hell? Bobbi nodded, putting the mystery of puttied little cat boy tails aside for the moment to finish getting her bearings again. Thank god she was feeling more steady on her feet and less like the room was trying to turn upside down without warning. And she wasn't throwing up. That was a bonus. "Yeah," she confirmed. "You know Clint. He can hold onto the damnedest things." Probably an understatement, but weren't they all holding onto something or other from back then? Something they wished they'd done differently or hadn't done at all, or should've done but hadn't? There were still days Bobbi wasn't sure how the hell they hadn't seen all this coming. Realized where it was going in time to head it off. She'd been a SHIELD operative. A spy. Long before she'd been an Avenger. You'd have thought that training would've kicked in somewhere along the line. Of course, she could've said the same thing about this situation, couldn't she? That made her smile a little, but it wasn't the only thing as Bobbi decided that she didn't need the wall to keep her on her feet anymore. Tucked a strand of blonde hair behind one ear and moved back to see if there was any hope yet of deputtying William's little, furred hands. They'd got it talked out, she and Hawk. They both wanted kids. Always had. If it was happening a little sooner than they'd figured, well, they'd adjust. Even Clint. Maybe once he was done not knowing what hit him. It might be a surprise, but she wanted this kid. She wanted it a lot, shock or not. “You’re happy,” [Greer] observed, smiling sincerely at her friend, and Bobbi looked up from trying to gently soap the first layer of putty off Will to smile back. Yeah. Yeah, she was. It was almost a surprise, but it was true, “Good.” It was that, too. "Yeah. Yeah, I am," Mockingbird confirmed aloud, holding onto that smile a lot more easily than she might've thought after being hit with something like this. "The timing might've been better, but I don't care. I really want this kid, Greer," the blonde confessed. They'd put this on hold, years ago. When everything started going to hell. She'd almost forgot how much she'd wanted it then, but she was remembering now. “You need to think about what you want to do today,” her friend reminded her, voice serious, and Bobbi looked up again, lifting a brow slightly. "You mean besides do recon on Dazzler?" Something she was pretty sure Tigra would be for, too, but that's not what Greer meant and she knew it. So, expression turning back toward something more serious herself, the former SHIELD operative nodded. "I know," she acknowledged with a nod and a contemplative look as she managed to actually get past putty and down to fur. Still slightly gummy fur, but it was progress. "I'm not sure I'd feel right sitting it out," Mockingbird continued, forehead creasing as she scrubbed Williams little hand gently. And got splashed in the face a little by the other one for her trouble by the cutest little giggling catboy in existence. "We don't exactly have a lot of people to spare." Grinning at him, Bobbi splashed his other hand in return a little, then paused to reach up and wipe away that drop of water tickling at her nose with the back of her hand. "And if I didn't know, I'd still be going just the same. Besides, I'm pregnant, I'm not disabled." Now she knew, and she could be careful, but she was a couple of weeks along at most. A tiny little clump of cells with plenty of padding. Hell, she'd gone through the rest of this week fine, including yesterday. This shouldn't be a lot different. |
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| Tigra | Aug 28 2014, 10:43 PM Post #52 |
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The bikini's not the costume, I'm the costume.
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Bobbi was happy. No powers needed to see that - just a familiarity with her friend, and Greer had more than enough of that to be sure of it. Now that the initial shock was fading out, Bobbi was happy, and there was that smile to confirm it. The feline woman only had one word for that, and that was Good. That was the thing you wanted to see in this situation. “Yeah. Yeah, I am," Mockingbird confirmed aloud, holding onto that smile a lot more easily than she might've thought after being hit with something like this. "The timing might've been better, but I don't care. I really want this kid, Greer," the blonde confessed. She knew that much, this quickly, with that little hesitation. Good sign. “Then that’s what’s going to happen,” Tigra said simply. Regardless of anything else, she’d do whatever she could to help her friend (her friends) make sure of that. Starting, though, with a pause in what she was doing trying to clean up William’s tail, and a point that Bobbi might not want to hear or think about yet, but needed to anyway. She needed to think about what she wanted to do today. Her friend looked up at that, with a lift of an eyebrow that said that no, she hadn’t wanted to hear it. Or maybe just hadn’t thought about it. “You mean besides do recon on Dazzler?” “You know I do,” Greer told her. Not ready to be deterred by that, however much she might agree in general that that was something they needed to be doing, and as soon as they possibly could (it might already be pushing too late, given that smile that had been on Simon’s face, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t do what was needed). “I know," [Bobbi] acknowledged with a nod, turning her gaze back down to attending to William’s hand (now somewhat less gray than it had been before). Thinking about it, though, so Tigra let her have all the silence she might need to work through it on her own, and went back to attending to the sets of smaller clumps of putty that her son had collected in his adventures so far, half an eye on what he was doing with his free hand, splashing about in the water. “I’m not sure I'd feel right sitting it out," Mockingbird continued, forehead creasing as she scrubbed Williams little hand gently. Earning a partial shower of puttied water for her trouble, but not seeming too fazed by that, at least. “We don't exactly have a lot of people to spare.” Greer nodded, keeping her own expression neutral as it could be while watching her friend return the splashing favor to a grinning William. “No, we don’t,” she agreed, not about to deny the truth of that. “And if I didn't know, I'd still be going just the same. Besides, I'm pregnant, I'm not disabled.” Dr Morse Barton would see it that way, wouldn’t she? Something you could see as a matter of physiology, and nothing more. Greer waited a moment before responding, scooping a little water up in one hand, and dripping it gently over the top of her son’s head. William squirmed, giggling a little more, and she smiled, stroking one finger over the top of his ear before looking up again. “Okay,” she declared, but stopped there only for the briefest of seconds. “There’s one thing you need to get a handle on, though, as soon as possible,” the furred woman continued, looking seriously at her friend even while she worked her fingers gently at the clumps of putty that William had got into his hair. “You’re not an I, anymore, Bobbi. You’re a We.” Which wasn’t quite the same as being a parent. Not yet it wasn’t, but it wasn’t totally different either. “And every time you go out there now, you’re taking on responsibility for someone else. Someone who depends entirely on you, and only you, for everything.” Someone who couldn’t tell you what they needed, or even if they were okay. “I’m not saying don’t go,” Greer added quickly, though maybe she was still a little late clarifying that, and if so, she’d have to hope that her friend knew her well enough to forgive the suggestion of butting in beyond the prerogative of a friend, “That’s your decision, and maybe it’s still the right one. What I’m saying is that you do know now, so it’s not the same decision that it was yesterday.” And she knew for herself just how entirely that knowledge could turn everything you thought you’d resolved on, and all the choices you thought you’d made, over on its head in no time at all. |
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| Mockingbird | Aug 30 2014, 01:10 PM Post #53 |
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This isn't a catfight. It's me kicking your ass.
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Rhetorical question, but not any less true. One thing Babara Morse wanted to do today was check out Dazzler. This very damned pink, shiny, possibly dangerously fickle girl that had Simon smiling like that all morning. Didn't suppose that's exactly what Greer meant, though, and no surprise her friend wasn't going to let her just dodge the actual question. “You know I do,” Greer told her confirming that theory, just like Bobbi knew she would. Yeah, alright, she did know she needed to think about this. There hadn't exactly been time in the last ten minutes or so, and part of her would've liked to have avoided thinking about it. Not this time, though, and god knew that hadn't ever worked out all that well for her in the past anyway. So, yeah, she knew she needed to give it some thought. So she did, working on getting the first of however many layers of putty off Williams fur (how the hell had he managed to get this much attached to him so fast?) as he splashed around in the water with his free hand. And now there were little droplets dotting her nose and face. Thanks kid. Didn't really mind as she mulled the bigger question over, brow furrowed and expression serious. Torn on quite how to handle it, in a way she wasn't used to. Yeah, she was pregnant but it was very early. So early it probably wouldn't show up on most tests yet (not that they needed those, with all the noses and pheromone powers around that'd pick it up from a hundred paces). Not just that, but Bobbi wasn't sure she'd feel right trying to sit it out. The blonde paused there a second, just long enough to smile a little, give William a gentle, and not too messy, return splash. God, he had the cutest grin. Then she swiped that stray drop of water off her nose and got back to it. No, she didn't think she'd feel right, taking herself off the roster. Especially when they didn't have a lot of people to spare considering what they were going out there to do. They needed every single body they could get out there and she'd never been somebody that sat out a fight she needed to be in. If she didn't know, she'd still be going out there. She was pregnant, and just barely at that, by medical standards, anyway. Not an invalid. Right now, the kid was a collection of cells. Well padded in there. And she wasn't an amateur, she knew what she was doing and how to handle herself. Greer took her own turn dripping water on her son, right over his head. Setting him to wriggling and giggling as Tigra ran a finger along his ear, smiling. Bobbi smiled, too. Say what she would, Greer had the parts that mattered down pat. All she could do was hope she'd manage half that well. “Okay,” her friend said, then hit a short pause. “There’s one thing you need to get a handle on, though, as soon as possible,” the furred woman continued, looking seriously at her friend as Bobbi got back to rescuing that hand that was showing at least a little promise of eventually being putty free. “You’re not an I, anymore, Bobbi. You’re a We.” Well, when she put it that way... Shit. Yeah. Glancing down - hell if she knew exactly why, still nothing to see but she did it all the same - one hand lowered to hover over her stomach, brow creasing. A We. That was sure as hell gonna take some getting used to. “And every time you go out there now, you’re taking on responsibility for someone else. Someone who depends entirely on you, and only you, for everything.” Yeah. That thought wasn't scary as hell. “I’m not saying don’t go,” Greer added quickly, but Bobbi already knew that as she looked back down at William's little furred hand, and grinned at him as he gave it a critical once over, apparently checking her progress to see if he approved, “That’s your decision, and maybe it’s still the right one. What I’m saying is that you do know now, so it’s not the same decision that it was yesterday.” Again, yeah. All of that. Logic told her it wasn't so different. She wasn't more pregnant today than she was yesterday in Utah just because she knew. Mockingbird also knew that wasn't quite true, either. There was more to this than logic, or she wouldn't have all this conflict rolling around in her head. Glancing back up, Bobbi smiled a little wryly as she checked on the progress on that hand, decided it might actually be about done with a little more minor scrubbing. "No pressure, though, right?" she asked her friend, then shook her head slightly, smile fading again back toward serious. "I know what you're saying, Greer, and you're right. Puts responsibility in a whole new light, doesn't it?" Bobbi asked. Maybe rhetorically, maybe not so much. "This whole kid thing. Turns it into a whole new ballgame." Changed everything, and she'd known that. In her head, she'd known that. Having it really sink in, though? That was something different. Bigger. A hell of a lot bigger. |
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| Tigra | Sep 8 2014, 08:34 AM Post #54 |
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The bikini's not the costume, I'm the costume.
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Okay, and there they were. ‘Pregnant, not disabled’. As though this was was a matter of dividing cells, and measurements and diagrams from a textbook about stages. Bobbi would know more about those than she did, and probably most of it was good things to know. But with their lives like they were, there was something her friend, smart as she was, was going to need to learn on a pace that was maybe a little sooner than doing it for herself, and that was that all of this? Didn’t come with the word ‘I’ anymore. Especially for the next months, however many of them there were, the word Bobbi needed to be thinking about was ‘we’. That had the blonde looking down at her stomach, with an expression that Greer remembered well enough for herself. One hand poised there like she wasn’t sure if she could touch it (or perhaps, knowing Bobbi, there was also a little speculating about whether she could make herself more certain it was real by prodding it). Not exactly the same as being a parent, but then this part wasn’t, even though it did change things, and a lot of those were the kinds of things than anyone in their business never liked to admit. When it wasn’t I, but we, that meant every time you went out there, you weren’t just going out as you, but were taking along another person, one who you were completely and entirely responsible for, and who depended on you for everything. Scary thought? Of course it was. Tigra hadn’t meant to scare her friend, so it was probably a good thing that Mock didn’t scare easily. She was looking a little paler, maybe, or at least a little more thoughtful for a few moments, but when the feline woman moved quickly to explain that she really wasn’t advising her not to go, Bobbi had already moved back to checking on William as he inspected her work on his hand. Grinning a little too, but maybe that was just for the idea that there was any possibility that she’d have let anyone get away with really suggesting that she didn’t go somewhere that she’d set her mind that she should. Between that and the faces William was making, there did seem to be reason enough for a smile. So, yes, like Bobbi already knew, it was her decision, and deciding to go might still be the right one to make here, even with this news. What Tigra thought did still need to be said, however, was that now, because her friend did know? Then it wasn’t the same decision anymore. The physical risks might not have changed, but everything else did. Giving her friend a little time to think that over, Tigra bent her own head again, picking up William’s still-puttied hand and following the lead Mock had set with the other for how to loosen the worst of the putty under the warm water. “No pressure, though, right?” Bobbi asked, and Greer glanced up, lips curving very slightly. Yeah, the blonde knew the answer to that, or she wouldn’t have asked with that wry tone. “I know what you're saying, Greer, and you're right. Puts responsibility in a whole new light, doesn't it?” Greer nodded. They thought of themselves as no strangers to responsibility, and while that was true in a lot of ways, this was something else again. “This whole kid thing. Turns it into a whole new ballgame.” With her eyes on her son again, Greer scrubbed as gently as she could at the putty, watching it come off in globs, taking a moment to gather her thoughts before answering. “Nothing’s the same,” she told her friend, looking at the patches of orange fur that were starting to reappear through the grey on William’s wrist. Seeing a hundred different things in her mind and in her memories. “And everything’s harder.” She wasn’t going to lie to her friend about that, even just by omission. That was something that was going to be true whether or not there were two of you, or the happiest, safest world they could make it. Life was a lot of things with a child in it, but easier was never going to be one of them, and that was just how it was. But there was also William, turning his head again, and looking at her with green eyes that had just the very slightest hint of blue in them, grinning behind tiny pointed fangs, and wiggling his fingers like he was thinking about escape again. “And everything’s better,” Greer finished, glancing back over to Bobbi with a sincere smile. Harder, but better. She wouldn’t trade it. Alright though, enough. She’d made her point, and anything more on that was probably not going to help very much, so Greer let that smile take a turn back toward wry. “And yes,” she agreed, “on top of that, there is definitely recon on Dazzler to be done.” Just in case Bobbi didn’t already have enough yet today to suit her taste for multi-tasking. |
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| Mockingbird | Sep 9 2014, 04:31 PM Post #55 |
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This isn't a catfight. It's me kicking your ass.
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We. Yeah, no shit that was going to take some getting used to. Not just her. Not just her and Clint. Another person, or at least a start on one, that was completely dependent on her. A little clump of cells now, but not for long. A few weeks, and it'd start looking like a person. There'd be head and limb development, essential organs laying the groundwork for formation. Eight weeks in and it wasn't an embryo anymore. God, she didn't want to screw this up, but she didn't want to lose her damned mind, either. Greer knew that, knew her plenty well enough to know that. She wouldn't sit on the sidelines, Bobbi wasn't sure she could do that. Not without going insane in the process. Yeah, this needed some thought, Mockingbird decided as her hand hovered over her abdomen and her mind managed to tangle itself up again. For now, she'd plan on going, and plan on being as careful as she could be and as aware as she could be. There was still a little time for her to roll it all around in her head and come up with a final decision before everything was finalized. She wasn't an amateur when it came to a fight and a mission, but she sure as hell was one when it came to kids. Even if William was grinning and being pretty damned good about letting her fumble around and try to get all that putty off his paws. Yeah, no pressure, right, she mused, lifting her eyes back toward Greer and half-smiling. She knew what her friend was saying. It'd be easier if she didn't in some ways, but she'd never been one not to want all the information, whether she liked it or not. This whole kid thing? It put the word responsibility into a whole new light. Turned the whole thing into a completely different ballgame. “Nothing’s the same,” Tigra told her as she worked on Will's other furry little hand and Bobby soaped the one in her custody up again. Even she could tell the kid was maybe getting a little antsy. “And everything’s harder.” Yeah, that kind of went with the territory, didn't it? Even she'd figure that one out. The honesty was appreciated, though, god knew. Getting pregnant, that was biology. Almost anybody could do it. Having kids, doing right by them, that was something else all together wasn't it? Even in a world not as beaten to hell as this one. Hell, Clint's family was proof enough of that. “And everything’s better,” Greer finished, glancing back over to Bobbi with a sincere smile. The kind Bobbi felt forming on her own face. Maybe a little softer, or maybe just dazed, since she damned well felt that way. But definitely something softer under there, too. "Isn't that how it is with about anything worth having?" Maybe it came easier to some people, but she'd never had anything worth having without working at it and working hard. From her marriage to her career with SHIELD, to...well this, she guessed. "I'm not afraid of hard, I just want to do it right." And, yeah. Have that better. A little person that looked at her and Clint the way that William looked at Greer. And the way that Greer looked at William. That was worth harder. Yeah, the kid was definitely thinking about making a run for it, wasn't he? Grinning that way and wiggling his fingers around as Bobbi worked to get that one hand all the way clean. The smile on Greer's face turned wry, but not because of they might need to chase a damp toddler around the bathroom. “And yes,” she agreed, “on top of that, there is definitely recon on Dazzler to be done.” Raising her eyes again, if not her whole head, or letting go her grip on William, because yeah, even she knew better, Bobbi's brows inched upward. "Any idea what the assignments are going to be?" Mockingbird threw out there, "I'm thinking we could do some rearranging, get at least one of us on whatever group she's going with." Both, if possible, but she guessed that'd depend on who was going where and doing what with who. Simon wouldn't like it, if he got wind of it, but that just meant they'd have to make sure that didn't happen. |
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| Tigra | Sep 17 2014, 12:31 AM Post #56 |
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The bikini's not the costume, I'm the costume.
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Having a kid changed everything. Simple fact. Made everything harder, in fact. Also a simple fact, and if it wasn’t a pleasant one, well, Greer had always tried not to be the person who avoided a fact because it wasn’t pleasant, so she wasn’t going to avoid telling her friend that part. But she also wasn’t about to hesitate before telling Bobbi the other half that came with all of this. Everything was harder, but everything was better, too. Having a child. Having her son, who was already wiggling his fingers again in a way that definitely meant he was already thinking about an escape attempt, with only two thirds of the putty at most removed from his fur so far. Who knew if the world was better for having William in it - time, and the path he chose would tell that. But her world was better for him. That much didn’t need any qualification. “Isn’t that how it is with about anything worth having?” Bobbbi asked, and that was one of the rhetorical ones, wasn’t it? “I’m not afraid of hard, I just want to do it right.” Greer’s smile softened again, and she thought about reaching over to squeeze her friend’s arm, but in the end, between the putty that was averaging itself out by spreading onto her hands as it came off William, and the necessity of keeping a small but determined cat boy from squirming out of the circle of what they were both trying to do for him. “I know exactly what you mean,” she told her friend softly, though a moment’s reflection (or rather, a moment’s combined reflection and attempts at dislodging a particularly stubborn gob of putty) brought a modifying thought to that statement. “And at least yours won’t have fur to deal with.” It wasn’t often that she missed having naked, bald human skin. But when having to deal with the stickiest of sticky things her son already had a knack for managing to find? Then yes. Maybe a little. Never mind that, though. The putty too should pass, and since there was only so much that could possibly be said in one burst about the topic of Bobbi’s pregnancy (for the possibility of overloading, if nothing else), perhaps that topic change that the blonde scientist had been trying to angle back toward earlier was in order. So yes, on top of that, in case Bobbi didn’t now already have more than enough to deal with, there was definitely recon to be done on Dazzler. Also known as the glowing pink whirwind that seemed to have caught Simon up in the path she was blazing through the ranks of the Resistance. What she meant to do with him now though, well that wasn’t so clear. “Any idea what the assignments are going to be?" Mockingbird threw out there, showing enough instincts not to let William get even a sniff of the opening he was very clearly still on the lookout for, “I’m thinking we could do some rearranging, get at least one of us on whatever group she's going with.” Still working on her son’s hand, Greer considered that question for a moment. Just to make sure she’d pulled together every piece of information she had right now. “Simon said something about wanting me for NYPD liaison, with the team he’s putting together to go after Tony,” she replied, cocking her head to one side thoughtfully, without really taking her gaze from what she was doing. “If he’s taking her too, then we could work with that. But I don’t know that he is yet.” Would he do that now? She still wasn’t sure whether he’d brought the former X-man into the end of the Utah mission yesterday, or if she’d just invited herself, and now, this morning, when he hadn’t managed to wash off all of the scent of sex and popstar from himself, god even knew what Wonder Man and the heart that was sometimes far too big for his brain would want to do. “What else do we know about her?” Tigra added, glancing back across the sink to her friend. She’d done fine yesterday at Utah. Good even, with some of what had filtered through the comms about how she was dealing with the former prisoners. Even if she did apparently have more trouble than even Jen at self-editing her tendencies to break into song at the oddest possible moment. But beyond that? What did they know? |
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| Mockingbird | Sep 17 2014, 10:21 PM Post #57 |
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This isn't a catfight. It's me kicking your ass.
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Hard she could do. She'd been doing hard a good part of her life. It wasn't something she was afraid of. Doing it right? That was something else. The thing Bobbi really wanted to make sure she managed. This wasn't a practice run or a test trial. This was a little kid. Her kid and Hawk's. Their baby. Hard was nothing, as long as they could manage not to screw this up. Greer's smile went a little soft and Bobbi thought her's might've, too. She could blame that on the hormones, right? “I know exactly what you mean,” her friend told her, voice soft and Bobbi wondered how the hell she'd done this - this little person they were trying to clean all the putty off of before he could escape - all by herself. All alone and keeping it a secret. How the hell had she managed it? “And at least yours won’t have fur to deal with.” Looking down at Will who, oh yeah, definitely looked like he was thinking about making a run for it, Bobbi's smile went slightly sideways. "There is that," she agreed. Though who the hell knew? Around here, anything was possible. But if the could avoid fur on the first go, she'd take it. They could work their way up to the more complicated stuff. Then it was back to Dazzler. Or, more to the point, if they could trust Dazzler not to break Simon into a million little pieces. As nice as it'd been to see Simon smiling the way he'd been smiling this morning, nobody really wanted that at the expense of the bubblegum flavored Hellfire Queen wiping it off his face in a day or so, if that, when she moved on to the next victim. Simon was great and she loved him to death, but he didn't have a suspicious, judgmental, self-preserving bone in his body. So, it was up to her and Greer to fill in the missing parts, obviously. Right, so, first up: any clue on what the days assignments were going to be and did they know where Dazzler was on those? If they could do some behind the scenes rearranging, maybe they could get at least one've them with whatever group she was with. Do a little up close and in person recon. Greer looked like she was thinking it over and, while she did that, Bobbi got back to work on finishing up the almost deputtied, furred little hand she was working on. Too bad she couldn't say the same about her own, since it seemed to have migrated a lot of that putty arrow on it instead. “Simon said something about wanting me for NYPD liaison, with the team he’s putting together to go after Tony,” she replied, cocking her head to one side thoughtfully, without really taking her gaze from what she was doing. “If he’s taking her too, then we could work with that. But I don’t know that he is yet.” Now it was Mockingbird's turn to think that over, also keeping most of an eye on what she was doing. Since chasing a wet catbaby around the bathroom might be fun, but they were on a schedule here. "Being Simon, he might, but..." trailing off, the blonde shook her head, "I don't know, either. If he'd brought her along this morning," and it was still kind of a surprise he hadn't, "I'd have said for sure, now I don't know." It wasn't like Dazzler - at least in theory - didn't have experience. She'd been with the X-Men, so she'd had at least some training. She'd seemed okay in Utah, but that'd just been evac. It was hard to screw that up. “What else do we know about her?” Tigra added, glancing back across the sink at her. Really? What the hell did she know about shiny pink people that lit up like night in Las Vegas? Okay, so she'd been a spy. Maybe that was why, but it wasn't like she'd had a chance to do a background check. Still, Bobbi frowned thoughtfully and rifled through what little information her brain decided to pull out about one Alison Blaire, AKA Dazzler. There'd been SHIELD files, but that had been years ago. "Hrm," she mumbled at Greer, pulling up remembered bits and pieces. "She was an X-Man, but not for long. Joined up right before the mess in the Midwest, left right after Inferno. Used to be a pop singer, and an actress. Dated Johnny Storm and Warren Worthington. Had some kind of thing with Hank McCoy for a while, he seemed pretty fond of her," Bobbi added, for what that was worth, as she looked up briefly. She hadn't known Beast all that well. Nice guy, smart, but then so was Simon. "She's from here, Long Island, I think," but it'd been a long, long time since she read that file. "We know Mortis is her sister-no, half-sister," Mockingbird corrected, pausing to grin down at William and splash at him a little again. Mostly to distract him from her not very stealthy attempts to finish that hand up, "Took off back to California after the Inferno and hooked up with the Hellfire Club, apparently." Which didn't exactly recommend her. "Few minor Hollywood type scandals the first time around, and a bigger thing with Project Pegasus earlier on, but I don't remember much about those." Looking up again and pausing in her kid washing, Bobbi shrugged again. "Seems to move around a lot and sleep around a lot, and be involved in a hell of a lot of things," she concluded, which might or might not mean anything. Same could be said for a lot of them, but it wasn't exactly a recommendation, either. "And she's really pink and shiny. I never met her before now, but I think Hawk did and some of the other Avengers. Wish I'd have had time to run some background on her, it's been too long and her SHIELD file wasn't exactly a priority read." So yeah, short version: She didn't know a hell of a lot and what she did know was old and a lot of hearsay. |
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| Tigra | Oct 3 2014, 10:47 PM Post #58 |
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The bikini's not the costume, I'm the costume.
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Assignments for ‘Dazzler’. That she didn’t know, but Greer did know that Simon had asked her to be part of his team in Manhattan. If he also wanted the new, very shiny, very very pink woman with him there too, maybe they could work with that. Bobbi took that under advisement, without having to look up. A good thing they knew each other well enough to not need to make eye contact, because taking eyes off William at a time like this would be a failproof recipe for letting him escape, but her friend seemed to have caught that already. Probably after years of dealing with Clint. ”Being Simon, he might, but..." trailing off, the blonde shook her head, because he was Simon, and he had an unfortunate tendency to try to leave his heart wherever he put his penis, and more often than not, he managed to find new and surprising ways to do it. “I don't know, either. If he'd brought her along this morning,” said Bobbi, “I’d have said for sure, now I don't know.” No. Maybe he knew better than that. Maybe he didn’t, or at least he’d forgotten, and she’d just had - what had he called it? ‘Other things’ to do with herself at a godawful early hour of the morning? Ah well, no point in speculating about that, at least not without having had a chance to gather a little more information about the things Dazzler already thought were better to do with her time (you might like to hope it was a case of tact and discretion, but… you might be hoping a long time). What else did they know about her? Bobbi put on her thoughtful frown, the one that she used for anything from calling to mind obscure medical trivia to two decade old status reports from SHIELD’s backfiles. “Hrm,” she mumbled at Greer, who took that as a cue to settle herself back into working on William’s increasingly twitching hand, while Dr Morse used her personal encyclopedia mojo. “She was an X-Man, but not for long. Joined up right before the mess in the Midwest, left right after Inferno. Used to be a pop singer, and an actress. Dated Johnny Storm and Warren Worthington. Had some kind of thing with Hank McCoy for a while, he seemed pretty fond of her," Bobbi added, for what that was worth, as she looked up briefly. Beast? Dazzler had… been involved with Beast. Stopping what she was doing, Greer glanced over at her friend, eyebrows lifting skeptically. “Simon’s hooking up with his dead best friend’s sloppy… fourths?” she queried. Or fifths. Or god knew. But… alright, the lives they lived were personally complicated, and often a little insular, and so maybe she might have been talking to the single Avenger in history whose romantic life only had one entry into the mangrove thicket of inter-team dating, but that was… something. “She’s from here, Long Island, I think,” Bobbi continued, pulling that detail from god knew where. “We know Mortis is her sister-no, half-sister," Mockingbird corrected, pausing to grin down at William and splash at him a little again. “Really?” Greer asked, with a sarcasm that was softened by the view of William turning up and grinning as he tried to duck the water droplets, “I’ve never once heard Mortis mention that fact.” Certainly not half a hundred times. Oh no. “Took off back to California after the Inferno and hooked up with the Hellfire Club, apparently.” Right, that sounded familiar. The Hellfire Club, setting up in what had still felt like their town, not even six months after they’d had to leave it for New York. “Few minor Hollywood type scandals the first time around, and a bigger thing with Project Pegasus earlier on, but I don't remember much about those.” Lifting the corners of her mouth in a somewhat ironic smile, Greer glanced up again at her friend. There was something she hadn’t got memorized from a file she must have last glanced at years ago? God, what would they ever do? “Seems to move around a lot and sleep around a lot, and be involved in a hell of a lot of things," [Bobbi] concluded, and Greer nodded. A lot of things that didn’t seem to have interested her enough to stick with longterm. “And she's really pink and shiny. I never met her before now, but I think Hawk did and some of the other Avengers. Wish I'd have had time to run some background on her, it's been too long and her SHIELD file wasn't exactly a priority read.” “I guess that’s something,” Greer commented drily, scooping up a handful of water to try to rinse off the part of William’s forearm he was refusing to put back under the greyish sinkful of water. Well, Bobbi had done her Poindexter routine, so… she might as well contribute what little she knew to add to that, huh? “And since she showed up on Saturday she’s made herself a new notch on Wisdom’s bedpost, and then dragged Johnny Storm into new experiences he unfortunately felt the need to tell Jen all about afterward,” the feline woman continued, in a matter-of-fact tone that got marred a little at the end by a grimace that couldn’t be entirely disguised even by looking at her son. Wasn’t Jen supposed to be lawyer, and wasn’t there attorney-client privilege that was supposed to prevent her from sharing details that no one ever, ever, had needed to know about Johnny Storm’s eye-openers? But no. She’d just had to repeat that. “And now… Simon,” Greer finished, this time frowning a little more seriously. Simon, who thought he could do casual, and thought that he was a taking things easy, and who had already, so very, painfully, obviously, fallen for this woman and her pink hair and her sparkles. Harder than even he usually did,too. God. “She did get us this Helicarrier,” Greer said aloud, after a moment. “That’s something.” Maybe that didn’t come out as convincingly as she should have been trying to make it, but… it was halfway to trying, at least. She’d work on it. |
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| Mockingbird | Oct 4 2014, 01:32 PM Post #59 |
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This isn't a catfight. It's me kicking your ass.
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Things she knew about Dazzler. It wasn't a long list. More things she remembered from a long ago, now grossly out of date SHIELD file and bits and pieces she'd picked up since. An X-Man for a while. Joined after the mess with Apocalypse, took off again after the Inferno fiasco. Pop singer, actress, dated...well, every damned body as far as Bobbi could figure. Johnny Storm, Warren Worthington, whatever her thing had been with Hank McCoy. He'd seemed pretty stuck on her, even the little time she'd known him. Greer stopped and looked up at that as Bobbi sent a sidelong glance her way, keeping one eye on William. Because she didn't have this bathing kids thing down anywhere close to good enough to risk taking her eyes off him completely. “Simon’s hooking up with his dead best friend’s sloppy… fourths?” Bobbi's brows lifted a little in their own right. When you put it that way... "Looks like," the blonde agreed, "If we want to be generous." Jesus, she hoped this wasn't some sort of misguided thing about Hank having a thing for this girl, and being dead now, and Simon thought... Deciding it was better if she didn't finish that thought, since she'd rather believe Simon wasn't that far gone over anyone, Bobbi went back to the pretty short list of what she knew about Alison Blaire. From here, somewhere around Long Island, she remembered that. Mortis' sister, or half-sister. Not that it mattered, or that she probably needed to add that, since Mortis never let them forget it to start with. “Really?” Greer asked, rhetorically and with all the sarcasm available for that tidbit, as Bobbi went about splashing and grinning at William. Who was trying to duck the water and grinning back in the cutest damned way possible. While also being distracted enough that she was edging in on the home stretch on de-puttying that hand. Bobbi shot a brief, commiserate grimace her friend's way. "We've all heard it a million times, god knows." Once an operative, though, always an operative. Information came in as complete a set of chunks as she could make them. Greer would have to weed out the redundancies on her own. What else? Let's see, Dazzler headed back to California, after the X-Men. Back practically into what had been the WCA's doorstep to set up another Hellfire Club out there with Shaw, Jr. Other than that, few minor Hollywood scandals that she could vaguely remember. Seemed like pretty standard starlet type crap that hadn't made any particular impression. Something with Project Pegasus, though, before that. More serious, but damned if Mockingbird could remember the details now. Yeah, she was ignoring the way Greer was smiling over there. Or mostly she was. Not enough to keep the edges of her own mouth from twitching up in almost unwilling amusement. Oh, like she was any different, with her police officer thing going on. Mostly, Dazzler seemed to move around a lot, sleep around a lot and have her shiny pink ass involved in a hell of a lot. And she was very damned pink and shiny. Never met her before now, but she was positive some of the other Avengers had, at least, including Hawk. God, she should've found time to run a background on her. It'd been too long and she hadn't really been a SHIELD priority read, even then. Because on paper? The woman sounded like a complete disaster. “I guess that’s something,” Greer commented drily, rinsing off Williams arm as she finished scrubbing his and and went to do the same. How the hell had he got that much putty on him in two minutes? The water was completely gray. “And since she showed up on Saturday she’s made herself a new notch on Wisdom’s bedpost, and then dragged Johnny Storm into new experiences he unfortunately felt the need to tell Jen all about afterward,” Bobbi's brows made for the top of her head. Oh Jesus. And they all knew how Jen liked to share. "Sorry, but I'm glad she found you first," Mockingbird told her friend dryly, with a half-smirk that turned into an accompanying grimace. If it was a new experience for Johnny Storm? Hell no, she didn't want the details. No matter how good Jen thought they were. Or how bad. “And now… Simon,” Greer finished and Bobbi let out a breath that was a little too close to a pensive sigh as she got William's hand rinsed off and started looking for any spots anywhere else they might've missed. "Yeah. Now Simon." Who had no damned defenses against, well...anything. Especially pretty girls who didn't take things anything like as seriously as he tended to. And he was damned well taking it seriously, no matter what he said. That smile this morning said it all. “She did get us this Helicarrier,” Greer said aloud, after a moment. “That’s something.” Deciding William was relatively deputtied, or at least she wasn't spotting anymore right now, Bobbi lifted her eyes Greer's way again briefly. "I'm wondering how the hell she had time to get us the helicarrier between all that." Dazzler had been busy, that's for sure. Putting her attention back on William, Bobbi considered it all again for a second, managing a smile for the little boy and holding onto his hand lightly. Mostly to keep him from sticking it in anything else now that it was mostly clean. "I guess none of us would look great, if we laid it all out like that," the blonde allowed, but it the allowance didn't pull the frown off her face as she turned back to Greer. "We all have history." She'd swung around the Savage Land for a year or so, hanging out with Ka-Zar and dinosaurs, been officially a Traitor on the books of SHIELD for a while. To some people, it wouldn't matter that she wasn't, that she'd been undercover for Fury at the time. Done a lot of things in her career that people could and would judge her for. Hell, she'd married a man she'd known all of a week and a half, and they'd had their issues there, too. Still... "But none of this sounds like anybody that's going to take things the same way he will, or even stick around, to me. Unless I'm missing something big." It didn't make her happy to say it. Simon had looked pretty damned happy this morning. "So I think we owe it to Simon to be where ever Dazzler is today. However we need to do it. And hope we're wrong." He didn't need another Wanda, or something even worse. |
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| Tigra | Oct 13 2014, 10:12 AM Post #60 |
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The bikini's not the costume, I'm the costume.
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Bobbi remembered an awful lot more of one mutant popstar’s activities (antics? Hijinks?) from five plus years ago than she did, that was for sure. Not very surprising either, but right now she’d hold off doing any more than tacitly mocking the super-scientist super-spy memory, since it was working out in their favor now that it abruptly seemed to be a whole, whole lot more relevant to know whatever they could about Dazzler. So following on from that not at all reassuring summary (the major point in the pink-haired woman’s favour so far seemed to have been avoiding an actually gripping SHIELD file), Tigra contributed what she could to the company pot. Not a lot of history, but current events which she unfortunately knew more than she’d ever wanted to about. Five days with the Resistance, and the woman had gone from putting herself on Wisdom’s arrya of bedpost notches in nearly record time, to doing things to (or rather with) Johnny Storm, and that Shaw who seemed semi-attached to her like a particularly dilettante-ish limpet. That last part, she only knew from the Human Torch’s unfortunate decision to tell Jen, and Jen’s unfortunate inability to not tell people everything she knew that she found amusing. Hadn’t wanted to know. Really. “Sorry, but I'm glad she found you first," Mockingbird told her friend dryly, which was all very well, but Greer was still privately reserving the right to send Big Green the blonde woman’s way before too long. Pregnant or not, some pains had to be shared - or spread. So yes. Dazzler had been a busy, busy woman in her first few days. And now… she’d found Simon. Bobbi’s sigh said it all, but she repeated the words all the same. It was that kind of sentiment. ”Yeah. Now Simon.” Simon, who might as well have been William’s age where his heart was concerned, because he didn’t stop to think, and never seemed to learn. Just presented it up on his sleeve and got broken when people didn’t bother to take the care they needed with it. Simon didn’t do casual. Not the way he thought he could. And there was not one single little bit of casual that had been in his smile this morning. What a mess. Dazzler had gotten them this Helicarrier, though. At least she could point that out, in the interests of fairness, or just trying to make something about this seem not quite as ominous, Greer didn’t know. But it was something. “I’m wondering how the hell she had time to get us the helicarrier between all that,” Bobbi commented, raising her eyebrows over her son’s head, before looking away and smiling down at him. Deciding that was a better option than adding the completely uncharitable, not to mention hypocritical answers that sprang into her mind, Greer followed that gaze, continuing to gently rub away the last of the globs of putty from William’s other hand. “I guess none of us would look great, if we laid it all out like that," the blonde allowed, but it the allowance didn't pull the frown off her face as she turned back to Greer. "We all have history.” Greer looked away, scrubbing at William’s wrist with slightly more force than was strictly necessary. Even leaving aside the time when she’d nearly let Pandemonium destroy the rest of the team because she couldn’t figure out how to make her cat side say no… history, yeah, that was one way of putting it. She’d definitely had her own share of mistakes and bad ideas. “True,” she said shortly, then had to intentionally relax her hand when William looked around. His expression was more accusatorial than actually alarmed, but still, it was a mistake.“She didn’t spend a year reporting to Tony and the others,” Greer added slightly acerbically, though with more care to keep her hands soft and gentle this time as she finished the last rubdown of one small furred arm. “Point to her.” Probably not what Bobbi had been thinking of. Maybe not, anyway. But still not something that left her with any leg to stand on where it came to judging people for their choices in the last five years. Still, this wasn’t about her, and so the feline woman put that set of thoughts away again, the better to focus on the actual discussion they were supposed to be having. “But none of this sounds like anybody that's going to take things the same way he will, or even stick around, to me. Unless I'm missing something big.” Something big? And just when she thought she was going to have to work to re-lighten her mood - nothing like on old friend to be able to do it for you with a few exploitable words. Smile lightening back into something genuinely approaching amused, despite Bobbi’s turn for the serious (or maybe because of it - one lightening turn deserved another) Greer lifted one eyebrow back at the blonde woman, and cocked her head to one side, semi-thoughtfully. “Well, there is the ‘Wonder Penis’,” she pointed out, dryly pausing over the air quotations to the name that only Simon could have bestowed on himself. It certainly didn’t fail to deserve the name. “That might buy him a week…” Greer continued thoughtfully, trailing off only when she started to hear what she was saying, and what that would end up meaning for their friend, then shaking her head. “Yeah, alright. That just makes it worse, doesn’t it?” A week to fall harder and harder for the shiny, smiling singer before she shimmied on out of his life. God. “So I think we owe it to Simon to be where ever Dazzler is today. However we need to do it. And hope we're wrong,” Bobbi summarized. Not exactly the finest plan either of them had ever come up with, but it was the only real option on the table right now, wasn’t it? “I agree,” Greer agreed, refusing to let herself think about what Simon would have had to say if he knew they were making this plan right now. Just because he probably wouldn’t get angry (not precisely) didn’t mean they’d like what happened if he found out. But if they were wrong, there’d be no harm done. They could give Dazzler the benefit of the doubt. And if they weren’t? Well, there was question, actually, but Greer dismissed it mentally too, with a shrug of her shoulders as she looked back seriously to her friend. “And if we’re not wrong, then we’ll figure out what to do next.” Between the pair of them - Hawk too, he could probably be counted on, if it turned out to be necessary, which they were all still hoping it wouldn’t - they’d find a way to keep this from being Wanda 2.0 (the Heart Crushing Strikes Back). They were resourceful like that. Hell, they’d just managed to de-putty William without a single gray-streaked escape off the sink, and experience with her son made Greer inclined to think that was a minor miracle. “Okay, Honey,” she said though, leaning down to put her head closer to his, and trying not to think about how that last thought had probably jinxed the suggestion she was about to make even before she’d made it. “Time for a real rinse. Can you find the plug down there?” If not, maybe Bobbi would give him a hand with it. Getting some actually clean water running through his fur seemed like a good idea before they considered trying to get themselves a little less creature from the mud lagoon too though. |
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3:33 AM Jul 11