Continued from yesterday:
Constant practice with her shields - now that she had a good reason to constantly practice - meant that they were getting better.
She was learning to tune out those damn clocks and the random noises of someone trying to be quiet at BF in the morning. At most, she would awake, identify Sara as the source, and slide gratefully back into slumber.
She was even learning to tune out that goddamn little morning song.
Therefore, it was a surprise of sorts that she was awoken by a shriek.
Jean half-sat up. “Wzt?"
Sara was fumbling into her shirt. "Robert Drake, you are *so* dead!"
Further investigation proved that, while indulging in his illicit hobby of ice-surfing before the adults were awake, Bobby Drake had surfed right past Sara’s quasi-illicit dawn worship. He’d compounded the felony by surfing *back* past it and, while he was distracted by the sight of a naked female, slammed right into a tree.
Sara had known nothing until the slamming part but it wasn’t hard to guess, what with the ice slides to and fro in front of the balcony.
Sara was flashing her fury colours. "I put up warnings, they were ignored. I took utmost care and attention to make sure no-one would wake up and investigate… but they *did*. I’m making a paintball pistol and the next motherfucker who ogles me is going to get *NAILED*!"
"You could just quit,” offered Jean.
Sara glared at her. “If there was one thing, one little ritual, that made the daily grind seem a little more worthwhile - would *you* give it up?"
Put that way… "Not immediately, no."
"Precisely."
"What is it with you and the dawn anyway?"
"Promise,” said Sara. She was rooting around in her clothing assortment for her Gi.
“Um. That was a little - spare,” said Jean when no further explanation seemed to be coming.
“The dawning of a new day holds the promise that things don’t have to *remain* bad… it’s a purity thing. The day’s perfect because nobody’s had a chance to mess it up, yet. And bathing in that light… makes me feel like I could absorb some of it into me, like that perfection is being absorbed… It’s a pure moment."
And the Institute males were interrupting that. Destroying it. "Should we do something to Bobby?"
"Any way we can slow-roast him without getting incarcerated?” Sara really was a mistress at the quick change. It must have come from years of habit.
“Tempting, but I think tying him to a flagpole will suffice."
"Upside-down?” said Sara, hopefully.
“You say that like it’s an *option*,” said Jean.
+
{Boooonnng…} “Ow.” {Boooonnng…} “Ow."
Logan appeared in Bobby’s field of view. "You’re holding up the morning, Frosty."
"Well, I–” {Boooonnng…} “Ow. Kinda got a little - uh…"
"Tied up. I heard.” He popped a claw. “Now it’s up to you whether you get down fast and hard - or slow and gentle."
_Gulp…_ "It was an accident, I swear! I thought no-one’d be awake on the east side at dawn and– I didn’t believe what I saw, but when I did - wham! Watch out for that tree, you know?"
Logan pulled back with the claw.
"I SWEAR TO GOD THAT’S THE WAY IT HAPPENED! PLEASE DON’T CUT THE ROPE! *PLEASE*! I’LL NEVER ICE-SURF WITHOUT PERMISSION AGAIN!"
At the last possible second, Logan withdrew the claw and untied the knots keeping Bobby aloft. Descent was relievingly gradual and gentle. The untying… that was rough.
"Breathe a word about what ya saw an’ I’ll make your life Hell, understood?"
"Yessir."
"Now get onto the field before I make you do your Kata in yer undies."
Fear put wings on his feet.
+
After the Kata and the Karate lessons, there was target practice. With thrown objects. Those with more experience in the matter were flinging shurikens with unnerving accuracy.
Those with less skill got velcro balls.
Sara kept missing.
Even Jamie did better than she did, and tried to offer advice.
"You shouldn’t flinch when you throw. It’s not like the target’s gonna sue.” Or, “Try breathing out when you move your arm.” Or, “It’s just one smooth movement."
Logan’s advice was brief. "Less wind-up,” and, “Try underarm until you get it."
Even underarm… she sucked. The best improvement she had all morning was winging the edge of the target so that the ball swung back and flopped to the ground.
She sighed at the fallen projectile and slumped on her way to breakfast.
"You’ll get it,” Jean soothed. “It’s not as if throwing things accurately is emphasised in girls."
That thought cheered her a little. "Yeah, but give us a baton to twirl and we’re deadly."
"Especially with glitter."
"Of *course* with glitter. It’s essential to dazzle the enemy’s eye."
Both laughed as they began to eat.
~
If there was anything worse than getting over a blow to the head after a failed romantic manoeuvre, it was knowing that he had to drive someone back to the scene of the crime, as it were. And if there was anything worse than that, it was knowing that that someone was *far* more successful at romance than him. Knowing that that someone happened to be Todd "not to be touched with a forty-foot pole” Tolensky made it even worse.
And at a nine point five on the richter scale of ‘worse’… was *enthusiasm* from the very same Todd Tolensky.
Todd Tolensky who now *burbled* every waking hour about what a gal he had and how flummoxed he was that she hadn’t found anyone better. About how she was a catalyst for the people currently reconstructing half of the boarding house while propping and shoring most of the rest.
Todd Tolensky who now *crooned* in the shower.
And showered every day because his gal helped him find a soap replacement that didn’t make him want to hurl all the next day.
And none of this was ever helpful knowledge at six o'clock in the morning.
“C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon…” Todd was jumping on his bed. “Wegottagetrolling, c'monc'monc'mooooooooonnnnnnn!"
Lance went, "Mnurgh…” and half-opened an eye. “I’m not moving b'fore th’s sun’s up,” he mumbled.
“But Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnce…"
”…no.“
"ButI'mgonnabe la-aaaaaate."
"J'stf'ck'ff…” he mumbled into his pillow.
“You’re the only one who can drive, yo. How’m I s'posed to get to work. yo?"
"Walk?"
"Or I could jog… Logan’s all about fitness, that’ll impress him."
"Good idea. ’s quicker…” Lance resumed his morning coma.
At least it was quiet when he got up. Quiet and peaceful. Calm.
Until he saw the note on the fridge.
_Gone joggin’ 2 work like U said, Lance. Pick me up @ the usual time. Or a bit later _
Fred found him looking for an old patch of wall fifteen minutes later.
“Uh… what are you doing?"
"Looking for some wall that hasn’t been patched up."
"Why?"
”'Cause I wanna bash my freaking head out on it.“
+
Sara looked at the small object in her hands. It wasn’t precisely *heavy*, per se, but there was a peculiar… inertia to it. No wider than one of those "energy drink” cans, grey, and a little longer than two palm-widths. It featured discrete buttons at either end, and in the middle, around the circumferance of the cylinder without being too near any edge.
“What is it?"
Logan was unhelpful. "Click a middle button… but make sure you’re holdin’ it vertical."
She did so. {Vvt!} Now she was hanging on to a grey staff. ”*COOL*! Just like the Rangers[1]. Would I be allowed to pinch this for a con?“
Kurt, part of the audience, frowned. "I understood each of those words, but in context… uh… What are you saying?"
Sara slapped her forehead. "Sorry, I was speaking in tongues. You know the show Babylon 5?"
"Oh, *those* Rangers! Ja, ja!” He blushed. “It’s why Logan won’t let me have one…"
"Give him certain weapons and he acts posessed,” said Jean. “Trust me. You don’t want to see him on swords."
"Swashbuckler?” said Sara.
“The worst."
Sara laughed as she gave it an experimental twirl. The inertia wasn’t much in the starting, but all in the stopping. "This thing would give out a pretty impressive concussive force,” she said.
Logan activated a similar staff and stood ready. “You’ll see how much of a whallop it packs in a minute, Tallwater. Hit me if ya can. Keep yer eyes open for any opportunity you can grab."
Sara began turning it in patterns, over arm and elbow, wrist, switching sides. "Aw, but I was just starting to have *fun*…"
Logan sighed, butting his staff on the ground and leaning on it. "Tallwater…"
{Krak!} One little fillip and she tagged him on the unprotected side of the head. She grinned. "A cheap shot, yes, but I *did* follow instructions."
"Less of th’ fancy stuff,” he said. “This is *combat* training."
”*You’ve* never seen backstage practice in a Lovely Little Lady competition,“ said Sara.
+
Ororo opened the door -again- to discover a red-faced, drenching wet and wheezing Todd.
"What on *Earth* happened to you?"
”…decided…“ wheeze, ”…t'jog….“ wheeze, ”…here…“ wheeze pant wheeze pant wheeze. "Wan'ed…” wheeze, “…t'get…” wheeze, “…t'work."
Ororo picked him up from his state of near-collapse. ”*You* are going no further than some ice packs, a long, cold, rehydrating drink and perhaps some oxygen.“
"But…” wheeze, “Logan’s…” wheeze, “d'pendingonme."
"I think he’d prefer that you didn’t die,” said Ororo. “And besides, Sara would kill me if I let you perish."
"She’s up?"
"Since dawn, same as always,” Ororo gave him a gatorade straight out of the refrigerator. “Possibly since before dawn."
"Ohyeah…” wheeze, “…theinsomnia."
"Insomniacs are tired, but they can’t sleep. Sara just needs less downtime than we do. Some people are like that."
Todd gulped at the drink. "Oooohhhhhman, Ineededthat…” He panted for a bit and muttered, “I’m'a kill her mom one day."
"Join the queue,” said Ororo.
He was using both glass and ice backs to cool himself. “Yah? Wohappen?"
Ororo gently took the glass and refilled it. "We’ve been adopted. Logan was the only one to actually nearly catch her in the act, but this morning, we were all left breakfast trays. Rather exquisite ones.” She sighed. “We wanted to thank her, but she kept acting like it was a criminal act."
Todd surfaced from his second drink. "I’m'a *fuckin’* kill her Mom…"
[1] On Babylon 5.
~
Ororo had wrapped him in foil and fed him some still-warm leftovers from breakfast before she lead him to the observation deck. He picked out Sara in an instant, and not just because she was the only aqua person in the room.
She was sparring against Logan and holding her ground.
Todd honestly didn’t know what she had against her body, specifically her knees. He couldn’t see anything wrong with her at all.
Two shapely legs, long and lanky… Strong arms that were capable and nimble… a lithe body and a nice ass.
A very nice ass.
Ororo leaned on a button. "Mr Logan, your young hire is here."
He was so startled by the news that Sara managed to knock him down. The audio picked up her chirping, "No distractions, you said."
"I’m busy,” said Logan. He allowed Sara to help him up. “My parcels come in?"
"This morning by FedEx,” said Ororo. “Several times, in fact. All I’ve been doing this morning is answering the door."
"Then get Treefrog to put as much of it together as he can. He knows his stuff."
"Yo, promise I won’t borrow any tools on a permanent basis,” he said.
Sara laughed even as she blocked him.
Todd grinned as Ororo ushered him away. Well… if there was anyone to ask, it was a fellow female. “Yo, do you know what’s up with Sara and her knees? I never got it."
"Probably a remark someone made when she was younger,” said Ororo. “Ladies tend to remember something someone said and multiply it out of proportion… sometimes for years."
"Yo, that’s whack.” He made a face. “Any way to talk her out of it?"
"Not easily."
+
Logan was rarely impressed, but Tallwater fell into the rhythm of staves as if she’d been there before.
"You learned all this,” he said, “at some Little Pretty show?"
"Lovely Little Lady, Little Miss Whatever, Dimpled Darling… you name it.” She grinned. “It’s easier here, 'cause I don’t have to make it seem like an accident."
That raised his eyebrows. "You sabotaged the competition?"
"At mother’s behest. It’s worse than dog-eat-dog at the backstage arena in those competitions. Mom had triple locks on our wardrobe box and someone *still* nearly managed to break in."
"Yeah?"
"They were somewhat foiled by an application of genitan violet on the handle… and the Mom and daughter with the purple hands got disqualified.” Tallwater was smug, but she never got distracted.
It was rare that anyone took instructions to heart like she did, and if there was anything Logan liked, it was a quick study. “I’m gonna have to look at those do’s,” he said. “Might get some new techniques."
"Look for the long-termers,” suggested Sara. “They’re *vicious*."
They broke after another handful of minutes so the students could take some time to relax and enjoy themselves… and he could check on the Treefrog.
He had put together a mobile of rods and cams and was trying to figure out how to hang it.
"Treefrog… are you an’ Tallwater makin’ me your *hobby* or somethin’?"
"Huh? No. I swear. This is all that’s in these boxes, yo. I couldn’t make an engine, soooo… uh… Ikindagotbored. Sorry."
Logan checked the invoices. "Those fuckin’ *bastards*! They sent me part *number* L-579… not parts *for* an L-579. I’m'a rip 'em open and–"
Todd had hidden under bench.
"Relax, Treefrog. I’m mad at *them*, not you."
”…'f it’s awright wit’ you, I’m'a stay here 'till yo’ stop throwin’ stuff, yo.“
*Why* did he have to babysit teenagers with messed up heads?
~