evilbeej | LOG: Crosstime, more, Sam and Kitty, etc.

Next (short) installment of the Lord of Genosha crosstime.

NOW he looks taken aback. "...What?" At the moment he doesn't look sure what to think. "...I am," He says, "...Kitty?" He's wearing a white shirt and black slacks, and spit-polished black wingtips. Not the Capes-and-Helmets kind of Lord, apparently. "...How is it possible?" She LOOKS LIKE Kitty. Sounds like Kitty. Acts like Kitty.

Sam hasn't aged a day. Well, maybe a couple of years; but other than looking far more tired, he hasn't changed.

"Come on, Sam," says Kitty quietly, more slowly, after a second. She carefully puts the photograph down - out in the open, now, not back in the cabinet where it belongs. "You know how strange our lives get." After the first initial shock, she's back to rolling with the punches. A day like this and you /have/ to. Picture put down, the young woman's hands are free, and she takes a step closer. She pushes her glasses up and studies Sam. "I'm not sure if I've time-travelled or just come crosstime. This morning I was in New York City and it was June 20th, 2004. Walked up a dark flight've stairs and wound up in Magda Square." There's a pause; she wrinkles her nose. "/Sam/, I can understand the friends close and enemies closer thing, but hiring /Sinister/?"

Samuel Guthrie raises his eyebrows. "...Huh." On one hand, that's -very odd-. On the other, he has no reason to disbelieve it, either. Quite the contrary. "...That's a long story," He says, "Well over thirteen years' worth of a long story." He looks down. "...Sit? I've got some juice in here somewhere." He looks around, and then hits a button on a nearby control panel, causing a hidden fridge-deal to open up in the wall. "...You want orange or apple?" There's half an apple and some bananas in there, too. "I don't eat much, these days, unless it's some official function."

Flopping down on the closest cushioned surface and dropping her hands into her lap, Kitty tilts her head slightly and regards the moving-and-talking former New Mutant. "Um. Orange'd be great. A screwdriver would be really great, but I get the impression you still don't drin-- Sam," she interrupts herself, leaning forward, elbows on her knees. "I snooped your room like I was Encyclopedia Brown, and I'm not sorry, but I thought I should let you know I know you figured it out. Because if it's time-travel, then I don't know if you've changed so much that you're completely cracked, and no offense, but your title kinda points in that direction. And today's been *so ridiculous* that I figure a no-baloney approach will spare me the most headache."

"I do, actually. But not often. I learned years ago that it doesn't help much." He pauses. "Pete never learned that, after you-" He shakes his head, slowly. "Cracked? ...You know I think about that. Maybe I have? And you put too much stock in titles. 'Lord' was what they called Magneto, 'Lord' is what they call me. It's just a word."

"Just a word? Okay -- I mean, I believe you. You don't sound as nuts as Erik is right--" A heartbeat. "I mean, as he was last I knew. There being a statue and everything, I'm figuring he's dead. And you don't have to tapdance," says Pryde, leaning back in the chair and letting her hands be; just idle in her lap, one cupping the other. Her shoulders - she looks fairly relaxed. So much she's not saying. "Essex told me who killed me. I think if I lost my temper with him instead of asking if he ate babies, he might've told me things I really /didn't/ want to know." She falls silent for a second, looking wrily up at Sam, then raises her eyebrows. "I don't drink a lot. I could just...use a drink. And yes, damnit, I'm legal."

Samuel Guthrie pushes another button, and another cabinet opens in the wall, this one with some liquor in it. He takes out a half-empty bottle of vodka, and then rummages up a glass from somewhere, before mixing a screwdriver. "It's been awhile.. if you want more orange juice just say so." ...It's mostly vodka going in that glass. "You know, maybe I'll have one too."