bakerstreet | A Real Time Out Meme

[In time out]

"So. Are you ready to tell me how you do it yet?"

The woman Davis is addressing is currently wearing the form of one of his co-workers, but he knows it's just a disguise now. That's why they're both in this room now, a locked and soundproofed room in Met Gen's criminal containment unit. Her because he saw her impersonating him, knowing he had the day off, and followed her until he could catch her by surprise. And him because... well, he wants to see how she did it. He doesn't want to just restrain her to a gurney and call Belle Reve.

And yes, at least part of this is him wanting to know how much she knows about him. Did she choose his form purely at random, or did she have other reasons?

Arms folded, Davis shifts his weight from one leg to the other, determined to stand in front of this door until he gets answers.

Her eyes narrow, staring up at the man in front of her. She hates being imprisoned in any way, but especially with one of her missions. He was supposed to be off. He wasn't supposed to be there, catching her in the act of shifting and impersonating.

But he did. And she had to be impressed by that. Not many could catch her.

"If I tell you, will you let me out? Or do you have... Other plans for me?" She licks her lips, eyes moving up and down his body. She takes in his very firm torso and believes he works out. She wonders just what she could do to try to convince him to let her out of this cage.

She blinks at him. "Why do you care how? Don't you want to know why?"

He meets the woman's stare impassively, not trying to stare her down, just letting her know that he's serious. Privately, his feelings are a little more complicated. He knows he should be angry; she stole his badge somehow and then stole his form, getting into the hospital's restricted area for a purpose he can only guess at.

He wouldn't have even caught her at all if he didn't have certain... advantages. Advantages he hasn't shown her yet. Advantages he's not sure if he can show her. He has too much to lose to rush into this half-cocked.

"That depends on what you tell me." There's the barest hint of a smile, but no more. He knows she's trying to play him. He's seen it before, even if she's better than most. He could play along, too, except it's not her body he wants.

He shrugs the question off. "Why is your business, not mine. I just want to know how."

That's a half-truth; he does want to know why. Why, how, when, all of it. But he'll only get to know all that if she chooses to tell him, he doesn't intend to make her. He could, but it's not his place.

"It's complicated. I don't know how to put it into words." She was telling the truth, at least mostly. Shifting was something she had done so long now that she didn't really know how to tell him how she did it. Most of the time she just did.

There's something off about him. Something she can't describe. Magic? Mutant? She's not sure, but it's something. That's why she had broken in, she wanted to know more about him. If he was a mutant, she needed to confirm it and tell Erik. He would then decide if an invitation to the brotherhood would be extended.

She rises to her feet, moving from the chair he gave her and standing in front of him. Her arms extend out to the side and her eyes close as she pictured someone in her mind. "I picture someone. And then... It's like I picture myself changing, shifting to look like them. I picture my hair changing color, then my body, little by little."

She chose very carefully what she told him and what she didn't. She wasn't ready to trust him, but she could tell him a little. When she was done, a woman with red hair stood in front of him, covered in head to toe black leather. "The image keeps until I change, but there are hints. If I wear it too long, my eyes glow. It doesn't last forever."

"That's fair, I guess." Certainly he'd have a hard time if their roles were reversed and she was the one quizzing him on how he uses his abilities. They just... come naturally. And it seems like it's the same way with her. But that just deepens the mystery.

A meteor type wouldn't have their abilities come to them so naturally. Their abilities are the result of infection, exposure to an alien radiation that temporarily alters their genome. Usually with the unfortunate side effect of acute psychosis. But his impersonator's been nothing but calm and rational. Cunning, even. A meteor type wouldn't have had enough patience to try tempting him the way she just did.

He takes a step back, not to get away from her, just to give her space. All the while, his dark brown eyes follow her every movement. He nods to her explanation but says nothing, instead waiting to see if she'll stop there or not.

She doesn't, and he watches the process of her shifting with undisguised fascination. It's not a metamorphosis, like what happens to him. It... he's not sure if it's an actual physical transformation, or if it's some kind of illusion. Certainly she can't grow entirely new clothes from her body, can she? "That's... amazing," he says slowly, looking over her new form from her fiery red hair on down to her leather boots and back up again. "You control it completely, don't you? You don't even need physical contact, you do it entirely from memory."

As someone locked in a constant struggle to control the more extreme aspects of his abilities, that control is something he can deeply respect.

"No, I don't." She smiled warmly at him. "I won't shift into you again. You clearly didn't like it.

There was one man who really was vein and wanted to fuck himself..." Her voice trailed off as she morphed for him again, slowly shifting back into her blue visage. The blue persona really left nothing to imagination regarding her body, one of the reasons that she wore it so much. She had a nice body and she knew she could use it to her advantage.

Her head tilted to the side, watching him curiously. "You want to learn." It's not a question. While she doesn't know what his skills are, she can feel he has something. Erik was right about him. He wouldn't have her like this if he wanted her dead or imprisoned. "Perhaps I can teach you. I show you mine, you show me yours. Gifts of course," she purred, though there was something darker in her eyes.

"I came to you because there are others. Like us. Like you." Slowly, she sat back down, leaning back in the chair and making herself comfortable. "We wanted to possibly ask you to join us."

"It's not that," he starts, shifting awkwardly as though he may have offended her somehow. "It's just that it could draw attention to me. I try to keep a low profile here..."

He doesn't offer a comment to that second part, but his expression really says it all. Yeah, he can imagine only too well people who would see her, see her ability, and see nothing besides a way to have a good time. Which, to be fair, he can understand somewhat. If this form she's wearing for him now, lithe and blue-skinned, is her real form, then she's attractive without even needing to shift. But that also means she's had to put up with a long line of stupid guys nipping at her heels like dogs in heat. He's not going to be the next one in that line.

He chews his lip, considering his answer, and then nods. "Yeah. I do." It's risky, making that admission, but then she just took a risk by showing him her ability and explaining as best she could how it works. Trust is a two way street, he knows, and though he'd like to shrug off her gentle prodding she's earned a better answer than that. "But we'd have to go somewhere else if... you know, you want to see what I can do. Not here." She deserves to see them, but he's not going to put innocent people's lives at risk for a demonstration.

He puts his hand on the wall and closes his eyes, heart momentarily racing. This is... not what he was expecting. Definitely not. "There's only one person on this planet that's like me," he tells her, though his tone lacks conviction. After her demonstration, he's no longer quite so sure. "How did you find out about me?"

"Low profile." She nods her head, looking up at him. "Then hanging around with a blue girl is probably not helping your situation." One hand reaches up, running through her hair as she regards him. There's something about him. He's skittish. She wonders if maybe she shouldn't have done things the way that she did. Perhaps a different plan instead.

She pauses, trying to think how she wants to answer. "We keep an eye out for people like us. There's never only one person. You're never alone." Her eyes are sad as she gazes up at him. "That is why we stick together. Why we try hard to find others like us. So many people would gaze on us with hatred. Like finds like."

Rising to her feet, she moved over to stand in front of him. One hand reaches out, gently taking his. "Did you just ask me to go somewhere private with you," she teased him. "Not that I'm saying no." She knows what he's asking. He wants her for her powers, not her body. Even if he did want her for her body, she wouldn't entirely object.

"Having two of me running around the building at the same time wasn't helping my situation." He puts his hands on his hips, manages a small smile. "Hanging around a blue girl's just going to get people telling her she can do better." It's a weak joke, sure, not his best by a long shot, but he's trying. It's just a lot to process at once, that's all.

He doesn't answer that second part right away, instead jamming his hands in his pockets as he studies her. Her body's beautiful, there's no question about that, but it's her eyes that tell the real story. They're not the teenager's eyes her youthful features would seem to suggest, but somehow older, as if she's seen terrible things that somehow always fell just short of leaving physical scars. Those eyes have seen things.

He tenses up when she approaches, but doesn't stop her from taking his hand, and as she squeezes it lightly some of that tension he's feeling ebbs away. She's not trying to play him anymore, not now. Or maybe she still is. It wouldn't really matter at this point, he thinks. He has no intention of keeping her in this room any longer than she wants to be. "I suppose I did," he admits, flashing white teeth as he smiles, this time not having to force it. "As long as you're okay with it this time." He holds out his other hand to her, then makes a point of stepping away from the door, so that he's beside her now rather than in front of her. She can take his hand or walk out the door now, the choice is hers.

She's quiet for a long time, contemplating his question. She has a lot of ideas, but none that she wants to think about. Erik always has a plan, but this man wouldn't like it. He wants to stay under the radar. Erik's plan was more beat up, kill, then run.

As he studies her, she studies him too. He's wounded. Not physically, but emotionally. His words resonate with her. He feels like he is the only one of his kind and he hates it. She too had never met someone else like her, but other mutants made her feel just as good. Being alone was the worst part. She'd been there. She'd been alone and she'd done things she regretted. Magneto might not have been the best, but he was a good alternative.

Reaching out, she takes his hand in hers, threading their fingers together. "You're cuter than the last one." Slowly, she shifts out of her blue image and into her blonde one, preferring that one when she was trying to blend in. "Let's go."

He shifts his weight almost nervously from one foot to the other as he waits for her answer, waits to see if she'll let go of his hand or not. It's a lot to ask, what he's asked of her. Perhaps it was more than he had a right to ask.

It's strange. He thought he would be angry longer about her deception, about the way she stole his identity, but he's not. Not really. If this is really her true form, red-haired and blue-skinned, it means she must constantly disguise herself just to pass through normal society. He thought he'd had it bad, having to cover for his absences and blackouts, but he has the luxury of appearing normal some of the time, perhaps even most of the time. She doesn't. He can't begin to imagine what that would do to a person, having to live like that.

She pulls him away from that question when he feels her take his other hand in her own, lacing her blue fingers together with his, pink and seemingly normal. Giving her hands a gentle squeeze, he lifts them up over his neck, ducking his head for her. "You'll want to hang on tight." He waits for her to finish shifting, the process taking only seconds, before cupping the small of her back with one hand.

And then, before she can ask him what he's doing, he lifts her weight easily with that one hand and moves. Out the door, down the corridor, down the stairs, out the front door, all in the span of a couple of seconds. Normal people won't even see them, and for her, the world will go by in a barely-perceptible blur for those few seconds. Walls, doors, people, all reduced to streaks of color as he takes her past it all, until they're outside, on the street, and he comes to an easy, perfect stop, setting her gently back down on her feet.

She would never say it, but she was jealous of him, of everyone who could pass without a problem. Erik. Charles. All those who could just be themselves. Not her. She would always be the girl with blue skin, gold eyes, and flame red hair. Okay, the hair wasn't as bad, but the skin? People stared at her when she was younger, to the point that she had to make up a second image. The blonde hair was just what everyone loved, wasn't it? She had grown accustomed to it, finding people she could be herself around, but some things would never change.

"Hang on?"

She looks at him quizzically, her arms tightening just in time to feel herself lifted off the ground. A small, happy squeal slips out as she presses against him, the wind easily moving her hair around her face. It's so fast that when he sets her down again, she's almost disappointed. One hand reaches up, brushing a lock of blond hair out of her eyes. "Wow," she murmured, staring at him in a new light.

She knew Erik had been right about him. She still doesn't let go of his hand, gazing down at their fingers intertwined. "You're... That was amazing. I've never flown before. Not like that."

He's expecting her to gasp, to be disoriented and frightened. It's the first time he's taken someone else along for the ride while using that ability, one he still hasn't got a whole lot of experience with period. He expects her to step back from him when he sets her down, to reconsider her offer to him. None of that happens. Instead of crying out in fright, she clings to him tight, her cry one of delight rather than fear. She doesn't step back from him, or even let go of his hand. Instead she brushes the hair out of her eyes and gazes up at him, almost in awe. It's not a reaction he was prepared for at all, and it makes him grin broadly, breathing hard in a way the sudden burst of speed couldn't make him do.

"I hope I didn't go too fast for you," he breathes, pressing his fingers against her own. "I was holding back, I've never done that with someone before."

He's gotten so used to hiding what he is, what he can do, that he long since gave up on meeting someone he could share them with. Even just now, he'd only showed her because she wanted to see, he wasn't trying to show off. But the way she's looking at him now makes him feel a strange kind of pride he's never felt before. It feels good. This feels good... the way she's looking at him now, smiling, her fingers laced into his own. If she's still trying to play him, he's starting to fall for it. Hard.

"It wasn't flying, not really," he confesses. "It was just me moving fast. I might be able to run up buildings, but I don't think I can fly."

"It sure felt like flying." She stepped closer, looping her arm through his, standing very close to him. Her free hand reached out, brushing her fingers up and down his chest. "Can we do it again?" Her smile widened, looking up at him. She didn't care that anyone could see them. All she saw was him.

"Don't hold back," she murmured. "I want to feel it. Feel you really letting go. I'm not afraid." Her hand moved higher, cupping his cheek, staring into his eyes as she spoke. He was special, not like any other mutant she met before. Nobody had ever offered to take her for a flight or a ride.

"Please? That was beautiful."

A Real Time Out Meme

Mystique | X-Men First Class | ota

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject