“Bullshit. If you didn’t want me around, you’d have told me to fuck off long before you knew why I was here. I’m not going anywhere. So for fuck’s sake, will you eat some food?”
“I’ve been telling you to fuck off for years, you just don’t fucking listen,” he muttered, pushing the food away from himself.
“Maybe so. Might take a bit of work though. Not so easy to convince unless there’s concrete proof, but then again, most people might just call that common sense with how the world works these days.”
“Last time I held that belief in things existing or not, I was human,” she pointed out, knowing there were more than enough people that believed they couldn’t possibly exist.
“A month? I could top that. No problem. A little blood magic to go off the grid to others, clean up my healing spells to keep them alive a little bit longer, avoid anyone who’d be missed too much. Easy.” Over confidence wasn’t exactly a new facet to Mason, but it hadn’t been quite so predominant before.
“The mark of sloppy killers that get nowhere. You do realize Cord isn’t going to let you stay here anymore, right? She doesn’t harbor killers.” At least not people that chose to go around killing folks.
It hadn’t occurred to her that she hadn’t introduced herself as she reached out and took his drink. He had had a bit of a point on her lack of manners, but she was too old to really give a damn anymore.
“Alright, fine. I’m new to this, there’s a learning curve.“ He rolled his eyes, slouching back in the booth and watching her, keeping that almost perpetual cheeky smile up. If anything he looked impressed.
“Storm who controls storms. Wow. They weren’t great at names were they? And sure. But you haven’t. Come on. It’s fun. Don’t you want to see if I can improve? Watch a new talent on the scene emerge.”
Ava remained still, never once breaking eye contact. It was something she could do all day if she had to. “Or you could quit while you’re ahead.”
“That’s just her hero name. Her real name was Ororo Munroe.” The fact that she knew that off the top of her was a little lame, she knew, but she had rather enjoyed the comics when they first came to print. “Last person I heard say that didn’t last a month after saying it.”
“Awh, come on, that last one at least had a degree of artistry beyond a typical kid with anger issues, don’t you think?” He took another drink. It really didn’t. He knew it. Sloppy spell work, bad cut lines. A bit pretentious. His own biggest critic really.
“No plans to die at the moment. And doubting it. I’m kind of rocking this, I don’t know, what’s the name of the woman with the storm powers in x-men? Cause I think I can do that right now, so would be fun to see someone try.”
“My psychotic grandson that we chained up in the Underworld had better knife skills.” Which was true, but she didn’t really want to give Chance any sort of credit. Not after everything that had happened with that mess.
“That would be Storm. And, for the record, I have talons and could gut you before you had a chance to react if I really wanted to. No amount of magic could stop that.”
“Huh.” He leant forward, head tilting curiously and a broad excited grin “Cool.”
Chewed up and dirty nails tapped against the table and he hissed in a breath. “Ooohh, not sure I like that. Kid. Kiiiddd. Nah. It doesn’t sound right. Try Mason. Or sir. I’ve never been called sir. Could be fun.”
“I think I’ll stick with kid since I’m the one cleaning up your messes,” she shot back, not at all amused with him. At least, not amused enough to let on.
Honestly, she could throttle her brother and sisters for this one. They knew she had a type and a bad habit and yet they kept putting her in these situations. “Are you trying to get killed? Or are you just that stupid?”
She winced at the words, remembering what it had been like to lose Jasper, even if he hadn’t stayed dead. It hadn’t been anyone’s fault, but she still wondered if there had been some way to avoid it. “That’s just the curse of bein’ supernatural, I s’pose,” she said softly. He hadn’t mentioned what he was, but she recognized the scent of a shifter when she smelled it.
He glanced up quickly at that, unease clear. He didn’t quite like being called out that easily. It made him far more anxious. “Ain’t like it’s anyone’s business,” he muttered, body stiff as he watched her over the plate of food.
ofviolentdeath 