Toby and Scott | Backdated to 9/15/15
Sep. 15th, 2015 07:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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om_mainScott discovers that Toby wasn't kidding about her driving.
Toby squealed the car to a stop in front of the school's gates, and grinned as she looked over at Scott. "So, what do you think? Will I pass this time?"
She thought it had gone well. She hadn't hit anyone. Only half a dozen or so drivers had pounded on their horns, and at least one of those she'd never figured out why, so it might have been an accident. She'd only ended up on the curb once, and that was because she'd been trying to avoid that idiot old woman who'd crossed against the light. Things were definitely looking up.
"I think....the fact we're both alive....is akin to a miracle," Scott managed to say, looking a touch paler than usual.
Toby's eyebrows climbed and she gave Scott an indignant look. "Hey, I didn't hit anything!"
"Probably attributable to the law of large numbers," he grumbled. Scott took a few deep breaths, and then unbuckled his seatbelt.
"It was a huge improvement," Toby grumbled back as she unfastened her own belt. She glanced sidelong at Scott. "And you can't say I didn't warn you."
Scott was forced to concede that point, and nodded. "You did warn me. And we didn't hit anything. Now if we can avoid you hitting curbs and cutting off strangers, you'll be closer to passing your test."
"I didn't hit the curb. I drove up on it. Intentionally." Toby got out of the car and held out the keys. "I could have just taken it into the garage."
He shook his head. "I'm going to wash it later, so it's easier if it's already outside," Scott said, shrugging. It was the truth; going up on the curb had taken them through some dirt. "Wanna grab something to drink?" He could use something to soothe his nerves.
Toby shot a skeptical look in Scott's direction, then shrugged. "Sure, why not?" She smirked. "If you need something stronger than water, I may have something." Actually, she didn't, but she figured Summers needed to be needled a little. Honestly, he could take on the Danger Room without blinking (or, well, so she assumed; for all she knew, he blinked constantly), but was freaked out by her driving?
He rolled his eyes, exaggerating the gesture for her benefit. "I'm sure the headmasters would appreciate their security staff drinking underage with the students," he said dryly. "But I'll pass."
"Hey, the way you look? They'd probably count it as medicinal or something." Toby smirked and started towards the front door.
Scott managed not to stick his tongue out at her, and just followed her into the mansion and towards the kitchen. "When is your driver's test, anyway?"
"Next week Tuesday, at 3:30. Reminds me - can you take me?"
"Sure." The good thing, or bad thing, about working in security was that there was some variability to their hours. Unlike when Lydia had been a TA, and had set classes and office hours, the security staff's scheduled could be changed up. Scott pulled out his phone to put the time and date into his calendar.
"Any tips? Other than not driving onto the curb?" Toby turned the corner, watching to make sure Scott did as well instead of walking into the wall.
Scott smirked. "Don't drive onto the curb. Don't cut people off. Signal. Don't give your proctor an aneurysm," he suggested, turning the corner. "Keep the swearing to a minimum..."
"Well, I didn't give you an aneurysm," Toby pointed out. "And I signaled at least half the time. So that's 1 1/2 out of 5." She sighed as they entered the kitchen. "Also? I'm not cutting people off. There's always plenty of room to change lanes. Whether they believe that or not is their problem." Just...people apparently didn't, which resulted in honking. Which led to the swearing. Also a probably inappropriate gesture directed towards the driver of a certain green minivan, but she was pretty sure Scott had missed that.
He just shook his head a little, but went into the kitchen and reached for the fridge. "1/5 is better none, but let's aim for closer to 4 or 5."
Toby sighed. "I need my license. The mass transit system here sucks."
Scott nodded in understanding and sympathy. "We'll practice again a few more times before your test. You'll be ready," he said. He grabbed a bottle of Gatorade, and opened the door wider so Toby could see inside.
Waving for him to shut the door, Toby went over to the coffee pot, sniffed at its contents, and shrugging, poured them into a mug. "So..." she began casually, "you didn't pass out, but you looked as if you were going to. I figure that buys me at least 8 questions."
Scott sat down and opened the bottle. "Mmm. I'll give you six and, in exchange, promise not to lie overly much."
"Seven. And no lying." Sitting at her coffee, Toby changed the filter, added coffee grounds, and set a new pot brewing before she came over to the table and sat down.
"Seven." He took a sip. "Shoot, Daye."
Toby grinned, but took another sip, considering her questions. If she only had seven, she definitely didn't want to waste them. On the flipside, she'd been giving this intermittent thought since they'd made their initial deal, so it wasn't as if she didn't have a few of the questions ready. "How long were you living on the streets?"
"Technically? Never." It was his usual method of answering personal questions. It was an answer, and it was even true, but it didn't tell the whole story, necessarily. Still, he'd promised not to lie overly much and it wasn't really a secret, so he explained, "I was in the foster care system."
"That had to suck." Toby made a face and took a sip of her coffee.
Scott shrugged slightly uncomfortably. "It was what it was. But I ended up here."
"How?"
"The headmasters found me." In the middle of a robbery, no less, but that was just details. "They brought me here, and it seemed like a better situation, so I stayed."
Toby nodded. It wasn't much of an answer, but then, it hadn't been much of a question, either. She took a sip of her coffee, considering. "What happened when you started eye-cannoning things?"
Scott sipped at his gatorade and looked away. It was lucky she couldn't tell if he was looking at her or not, because his gaze had dropped to the table. "I'd already had the glasses by then, so I guess that was lucky. I did hurt someone." Scott Summers, master of understatement. Permanently hurt, he guessed. "But as soon as I had my glasses on, that stopped it."
"How did you have the glasses before you needed them?" The question was out of her mouth before she even thought about it, but she'd have asked it anyway. Something in that didn't make sense, especially considering that it was obvious that he hadn't just grabbed the shades off the shelf of the nearest K-Mart.
He nodded. "Yeah. Or, well, I did need them, but for different reasons."
"That doesn't answer the question," Toby pointed out with a bit of a smirk.
Scott smirked back. "It does, but if you insist....I used to get headaches, before I had the beams. The glasses reduced the headaches." Another understatement - head-splitting migraines would be more accurate. His school had intervened because he'd gotten such a bad one in class once that he'd vomited. It had been hellish at the time, but in the long run he guessed it had worked out, in a warped way.
"Wow. That was luck." Not the headaches, which she was guessing were related to his brain damage, but the fact he had the glasses already. Given what she'd done to the poor tree when she'd hijacked his powers, and his inability to turn them off?
Yeah. Having magic glasses on stand-by didn't suck.
"Something like that." Scott agreed.
Toby nodded, pondering what to ask next. "Why does having to go to the infirmary freak you out?" She held up her hand. "And don't say it doesn't, because you had the whole 'I'd rather die than do it again' look going after you bruised your ribs."
He closed his mouth - he'd opened it to say it didn't - so that he could think. Not about what the answer was; he knew what the answer was. He was figuring out how much he could not say while still being honest, and how to say it in a way that didn't reveal anything. Finally, Scott said, "I'm a private guy. Tam scanning a person isn't exactly conducive to privacy."
Toby nodded slowly, accepting the answer at both its face value and what it likely hid. "Tell me about it," she offered casually, just to keep it relatively light. "Honestly didn't expect him to pick up on a two year old stab wound. Weird." She smirked. "Okay, easy one. What are you planning to do with your X-Men or whatever that stupid acronym is that you're calling your team?"
Scott smirked back. "Well, first I'm changing the name. Jean-Paul may be comfortable with 'the Exquisite Ones' or whatever, but it's just weird. Even 'X-Men' would be better."
Toby nearly choked on her coffee. "It actually means something? Seriously?" Honestly, she'd half-figured someone had just chosen random letters. Recovering, she favored Scott with a mischievous look. "Y'know, he could keep it as a codename. It suits him way better than it does you."
"I'm told it actually means something," Scott nods. "And I'm not calling Jean-Paul that. Fitting, sure, but he doesn't need the ego boost."
"You could always tell him you meant it sarcastically," Toby pointed out, then paused and shook her head. "No, he'd never believe it."
"He knows me too well for that," Scott said, nodding. "Alright. You're almost out of questions."
"I am not. Besides, you never really answered that one," she pointed out, eyebrows rising. "Changing the name of your team doesn't count."
"Sure it does. But fine. I plan on it doing anything that's necessary." It was a short answer, but it was the only true one. Sure, he could delve a little more into specifics, but 'protecting people and mutants whenever called upon' really was the long and short of it.
Toby's eyebrows climbed. "Anything necessary covers a lot. The headmasters are cool with that?"
"I think they trust that if it's anything that questionable, I'll ask them about it," Scott replied.
"What will you do it you end up disagreeing with them on it?" she asked curiously, then held up her hand. "Which does not count as a separate question."
He huffed slightly. "Of course it does."
"It's a clarification," she argued.
Scott looked skeptical. How he dealt with disagreement with the headmasters, or how he would if it came up, definitely seemed like a different question from what he saw the X-Men's (he couldn't keep them Le X-Quis. Just couldn't) role as. "That's a pretty hefty question for mere clarification."
"It's a hefty clarification," Toby replied smugly, and took a casual sip of her coffee.
He weighed whether or not he wanted to fight it out with her. It was a large question. On the other hand, it didn't demonstrate anything particularly personal to him. So, finally, he said, "I would tell the team there had been a disagreement and let them decide." The X-Men were not Scott's personal army. He was the leader by default, not by their choice. Them letting him lead was, he full recognized, a privilege, not a right.
Toby considered that for a moment, then nodded. "That's fair." He wasn't writing off doing anything, but he wasn't forcing anyone else to go along with it, either.
Scott shrugged slightly. "It's the only real way to deal with it, I'd think."
"The only way that makes sense, anyway." Toby grinned. "So what, I've got...three questions left?"
"Two," he corrected.
"Hmmm." Toby paused for a moment, thinking, then smirked and got to her feet. "I'll save them," she said casually as she walked over to the sink and rinsed out her mug.
Scott quirked an eyebrow. "That's ominous."
"Hey, you never know when you'll really need an answer. Better to have a couple in reserve." Toby turned to lean against the counter, amusement masking the truth behind her words.
"A better strategist than you like to let on," Scott teased. He finished his Gatorade, and tossed the bottle, basketball style, into the recycling.
Toby smirked. "I got seven out of ten questions for screwing up driving, didn't I?" she pointed out as she headed for the door. "Same time tomorrow?"
"Same time tomorrow." Scott agreed.
Toby squealed the car to a stop in front of the school's gates, and grinned as she looked over at Scott. "So, what do you think? Will I pass this time?"
She thought it had gone well. She hadn't hit anyone. Only half a dozen or so drivers had pounded on their horns, and at least one of those she'd never figured out why, so it might have been an accident. She'd only ended up on the curb once, and that was because she'd been trying to avoid that idiot old woman who'd crossed against the light. Things were definitely looking up.
"I think....the fact we're both alive....is akin to a miracle," Scott managed to say, looking a touch paler than usual.
Toby's eyebrows climbed and she gave Scott an indignant look. "Hey, I didn't hit anything!"
"Probably attributable to the law of large numbers," he grumbled. Scott took a few deep breaths, and then unbuckled his seatbelt.
"It was a huge improvement," Toby grumbled back as she unfastened her own belt. She glanced sidelong at Scott. "And you can't say I didn't warn you."
Scott was forced to concede that point, and nodded. "You did warn me. And we didn't hit anything. Now if we can avoid you hitting curbs and cutting off strangers, you'll be closer to passing your test."
"I didn't hit the curb. I drove up on it. Intentionally." Toby got out of the car and held out the keys. "I could have just taken it into the garage."
He shook his head. "I'm going to wash it later, so it's easier if it's already outside," Scott said, shrugging. It was the truth; going up on the curb had taken them through some dirt. "Wanna grab something to drink?" He could use something to soothe his nerves.
Toby shot a skeptical look in Scott's direction, then shrugged. "Sure, why not?" She smirked. "If you need something stronger than water, I may have something." Actually, she didn't, but she figured Summers needed to be needled a little. Honestly, he could take on the Danger Room without blinking (or, well, so she assumed; for all she knew, he blinked constantly), but was freaked out by her driving?
He rolled his eyes, exaggerating the gesture for her benefit. "I'm sure the headmasters would appreciate their security staff drinking underage with the students," he said dryly. "But I'll pass."
"Hey, the way you look? They'd probably count it as medicinal or something." Toby smirked and started towards the front door.
Scott managed not to stick his tongue out at her, and just followed her into the mansion and towards the kitchen. "When is your driver's test, anyway?"
"Next week Tuesday, at 3:30. Reminds me - can you take me?"
"Sure." The good thing, or bad thing, about working in security was that there was some variability to their hours. Unlike when Lydia had been a TA, and had set classes and office hours, the security staff's scheduled could be changed up. Scott pulled out his phone to put the time and date into his calendar.
"Any tips? Other than not driving onto the curb?" Toby turned the corner, watching to make sure Scott did as well instead of walking into the wall.
Scott smirked. "Don't drive onto the curb. Don't cut people off. Signal. Don't give your proctor an aneurysm," he suggested, turning the corner. "Keep the swearing to a minimum..."
"Well, I didn't give you an aneurysm," Toby pointed out. "And I signaled at least half the time. So that's 1 1/2 out of 5." She sighed as they entered the kitchen. "Also? I'm not cutting people off. There's always plenty of room to change lanes. Whether they believe that or not is their problem." Just...people apparently didn't, which resulted in honking. Which led to the swearing. Also a probably inappropriate gesture directed towards the driver of a certain green minivan, but she was pretty sure Scott had missed that.
He just shook his head a little, but went into the kitchen and reached for the fridge. "1/5 is better none, but let's aim for closer to 4 or 5."
Toby sighed. "I need my license. The mass transit system here sucks."
Scott nodded in understanding and sympathy. "We'll practice again a few more times before your test. You'll be ready," he said. He grabbed a bottle of Gatorade, and opened the door wider so Toby could see inside.
Waving for him to shut the door, Toby went over to the coffee pot, sniffed at its contents, and shrugging, poured them into a mug. "So..." she began casually, "you didn't pass out, but you looked as if you were going to. I figure that buys me at least 8 questions."
Scott sat down and opened the bottle. "Mmm. I'll give you six and, in exchange, promise not to lie overly much."
"Seven. And no lying." Sitting at her coffee, Toby changed the filter, added coffee grounds, and set a new pot brewing before she came over to the table and sat down.
"Seven." He took a sip. "Shoot, Daye."
Toby grinned, but took another sip, considering her questions. If she only had seven, she definitely didn't want to waste them. On the flipside, she'd been giving this intermittent thought since they'd made their initial deal, so it wasn't as if she didn't have a few of the questions ready. "How long were you living on the streets?"
"Technically? Never." It was his usual method of answering personal questions. It was an answer, and it was even true, but it didn't tell the whole story, necessarily. Still, he'd promised not to lie overly much and it wasn't really a secret, so he explained, "I was in the foster care system."
"That had to suck." Toby made a face and took a sip of her coffee.
Scott shrugged slightly uncomfortably. "It was what it was. But I ended up here."
"How?"
"The headmasters found me." In the middle of a robbery, no less, but that was just details. "They brought me here, and it seemed like a better situation, so I stayed."
Toby nodded. It wasn't much of an answer, but then, it hadn't been much of a question, either. She took a sip of her coffee, considering. "What happened when you started eye-cannoning things?"
Scott sipped at his gatorade and looked away. It was lucky she couldn't tell if he was looking at her or not, because his gaze had dropped to the table. "I'd already had the glasses by then, so I guess that was lucky. I did hurt someone." Scott Summers, master of understatement. Permanently hurt, he guessed. "But as soon as I had my glasses on, that stopped it."
"How did you have the glasses before you needed them?" The question was out of her mouth before she even thought about it, but she'd have asked it anyway. Something in that didn't make sense, especially considering that it was obvious that he hadn't just grabbed the shades off the shelf of the nearest K-Mart.
He nodded. "Yeah. Or, well, I did need them, but for different reasons."
"That doesn't answer the question," Toby pointed out with a bit of a smirk.
Scott smirked back. "It does, but if you insist....I used to get headaches, before I had the beams. The glasses reduced the headaches." Another understatement - head-splitting migraines would be more accurate. His school had intervened because he'd gotten such a bad one in class once that he'd vomited. It had been hellish at the time, but in the long run he guessed it had worked out, in a warped way.
"Wow. That was luck." Not the headaches, which she was guessing were related to his brain damage, but the fact he had the glasses already. Given what she'd done to the poor tree when she'd hijacked his powers, and his inability to turn them off?
Yeah. Having magic glasses on stand-by didn't suck.
"Something like that." Scott agreed.
Toby nodded, pondering what to ask next. "Why does having to go to the infirmary freak you out?" She held up her hand. "And don't say it doesn't, because you had the whole 'I'd rather die than do it again' look going after you bruised your ribs."
He closed his mouth - he'd opened it to say it didn't - so that he could think. Not about what the answer was; he knew what the answer was. He was figuring out how much he could not say while still being honest, and how to say it in a way that didn't reveal anything. Finally, Scott said, "I'm a private guy. Tam scanning a person isn't exactly conducive to privacy."
Toby nodded slowly, accepting the answer at both its face value and what it likely hid. "Tell me about it," she offered casually, just to keep it relatively light. "Honestly didn't expect him to pick up on a two year old stab wound. Weird." She smirked. "Okay, easy one. What are you planning to do with your X-Men or whatever that stupid acronym is that you're calling your team?"
Scott smirked back. "Well, first I'm changing the name. Jean-Paul may be comfortable with 'the Exquisite Ones' or whatever, but it's just weird. Even 'X-Men' would be better."
Toby nearly choked on her coffee. "It actually means something? Seriously?" Honestly, she'd half-figured someone had just chosen random letters. Recovering, she favored Scott with a mischievous look. "Y'know, he could keep it as a codename. It suits him way better than it does you."
"I'm told it actually means something," Scott nods. "And I'm not calling Jean-Paul that. Fitting, sure, but he doesn't need the ego boost."
"You could always tell him you meant it sarcastically," Toby pointed out, then paused and shook her head. "No, he'd never believe it."
"He knows me too well for that," Scott said, nodding. "Alright. You're almost out of questions."
"I am not. Besides, you never really answered that one," she pointed out, eyebrows rising. "Changing the name of your team doesn't count."
"Sure it does. But fine. I plan on it doing anything that's necessary." It was a short answer, but it was the only true one. Sure, he could delve a little more into specifics, but 'protecting people and mutants whenever called upon' really was the long and short of it.
Toby's eyebrows climbed. "Anything necessary covers a lot. The headmasters are cool with that?"
"I think they trust that if it's anything that questionable, I'll ask them about it," Scott replied.
"What will you do it you end up disagreeing with them on it?" she asked curiously, then held up her hand. "Which does not count as a separate question."
He huffed slightly. "Of course it does."
"It's a clarification," she argued.
Scott looked skeptical. How he dealt with disagreement with the headmasters, or how he would if it came up, definitely seemed like a different question from what he saw the X-Men's (he couldn't keep them Le X-Quis. Just couldn't) role as. "That's a pretty hefty question for mere clarification."
"It's a hefty clarification," Toby replied smugly, and took a casual sip of her coffee.
He weighed whether or not he wanted to fight it out with her. It was a large question. On the other hand, it didn't demonstrate anything particularly personal to him. So, finally, he said, "I would tell the team there had been a disagreement and let them decide." The X-Men were not Scott's personal army. He was the leader by default, not by their choice. Them letting him lead was, he full recognized, a privilege, not a right.
Toby considered that for a moment, then nodded. "That's fair." He wasn't writing off doing anything, but he wasn't forcing anyone else to go along with it, either.
Scott shrugged slightly. "It's the only real way to deal with it, I'd think."
"The only way that makes sense, anyway." Toby grinned. "So what, I've got...three questions left?"
"Two," he corrected.
"Hmmm." Toby paused for a moment, thinking, then smirked and got to her feet. "I'll save them," she said casually as she walked over to the sink and rinsed out her mug.
Scott quirked an eyebrow. "That's ominous."
"Hey, you never know when you'll really need an answer. Better to have a couple in reserve." Toby turned to lean against the counter, amusement masking the truth behind her words.
"A better strategist than you like to let on," Scott teased. He finished his Gatorade, and tossed the bottle, basketball style, into the recycling.
Toby smirked. "I got seven out of ten questions for screwing up driving, didn't I?" she pointed out as she headed for the door. "Same time tomorrow?"
"Same time tomorrow." Scott agreed.
