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Jack was asking for trouble, dozing on the outskirts of Xavier's property. But it was a decent day with lovely weather, and she wasn't about to try napping in the park. No, the green of Xavier's Sister School was just fine, thank you. She'd take the harmless pranks of mutant teens over potentially mutant-phobic attacks any day. The prawn inhaled, and exhaled, watching the silhouettes of leaves in the trees dance across her eyelids.

<Bi-deeeee bi-deeeee bi-deeeee,> her phone sang, signaling a text. The prawn's antennae twitched, and she rolled over, sleepily grabbing her phone. Her shirt had ridden up over the secondary arms, so while her primary hands held the phone steady, her secondary hands went through the motions of accessing the text.

>> ##”BBQ dinner is on for tonight with the Family.” ##“I told them we’re a thing.”

Jack's throat tightened as she skimmed the last sentence. While the thought of being in a relationship with Zinnia filled the prawn with joy and wonderment, the thought of announcing such a thing to Zinnia's parents unearthed a wealth of anxiety and self-consciousness. Any self-respecting parent would want their daughter to find a nice, human-looking partner, right? Not some sci-fi monster reject... but, here they were, inviting her to barbecue! So that was nice!

<<Kk, sounds good, what time?>> Jack typed back, trying to sound nonchalant despite the burbling in her gut, <<Look forward to seeing the boys.>>

She'd been fairly warmly recieved by Zinnias' brother last time, although in a slightly sensationalized way. Jack distinctly remembered weathering a barrage of questions like "Do you have heat vision? Can you punch through walls?" with timid "No"s and quiet smiles. Something about adolescent boys and crazy mutations worked so well together, Jack still hadn't solved the mystery of that, yet.

Upon Zinnia's response, Jack set an alarm for herself, and closed her eyes once again. There was plenty of time for a nap between then and now.


Hours later, Jack found herself shakily climbing the steps towards Zinnia's front door. She was reasonably early, and clothed rather conservatively, as she'd just left Xavier's-- a pair of jeans, a dark button-up shirt, and a dark surgical mask. Jack stepped onto the porch, and lightly tapped her knuckle against the hardwood of the door. The phrase, "I told them we're a thing" rattled around in her brain. Jack removed her face-mask and stuffed it in her pocket, shrugging her shoulders and feeling a touch discombobulated.

Footsteps closed-in on the door, and Jack heard that latch turn as the knob was turned on the other side. A lopsided smile tilted across her mandibles.

Jack finished the Old Fashioned at her own pace, enjoying the whiskey drink deeply, before setting the emptied glass down on its coaster. Given her size, one drink wouldn't do it for her, but it was still well-mixed. As if anything less could be expected of Honey.

>>"Can I get another for her and another rum and coke for me?"

>> "'course, anything for Chief."

Jack tilted a timid smile at Honey, rolling her eyes. Sometimes, the bartenders would flirt with certain patrons if they thought it would curry them any favor (or higher tips). Jack wasn't susceptible to such tactics, but intead the bartenders made it into a game of, "Let's toy with Chief's delicate sensibilities."

Because, despite her gruff exterior, it was a well-known fact that Jack was timid when it came to romantic advances, among the staff. And the prawn did nothing to discourage the teasing. She didn't need to prove anything to them. What she and Zinnia shared was between her and Zinnia, and would only be publicized at work if it arose in conversation.

Jack nodded to Devon, and ceased leaning on the counter. She found a spot in the large square of leather seats, a corner area by the wall, where it would be somewhat easier to hear Devon speak. Jack took her seat, back to the wall and attention facing outwardly, as she waited for Devon to rejoin her. After a quiet conversation with Legolas, Linley staggered over and plopped himself down. Jack's gaze cut towards Devon, who still stood over by the bar, and then back towards the officer. She leaned-in close, murmuring in his ear.

"Said your nay-n's Nister Lundgren," she rumbled to him, "And dat you're a raging drunk who oss-ten gets into trou'le here, so I'n kee'ing an eye on you." She sounded all to pleased about the second bit, the smirk in her tone distinct. It was okay to mess with the cops, as long as it wasn't counterproductive to their goals.

Regardless of Linley's answer, when Jack saw Devon's approach, she rose her voice a credible degree and said, "I ain't gonn' drag yo sriend out just 'cause he ga'e you a weird look. No sights tonight, re-nen-der? I'n oss duty."

>> "She- Shy... I'm really shy...i'm Heidi."

Thankfully for "Heidi", Jack was a "at face value" kind of gal. She found the stammering endearing, in a way, as if "Heidi" was trying to make excuses for why she'd previously run. Which, you know, showed that she might actually give a f--- about the prawn as a person with feelings.

"Is okay," Jack reassured her, "Hat-ens nor than you know? I was just really sur'rised."

>> "T-thank you for the tissues."

"No worries," Jack assured the young woman, finally rising off of her haunches, "You can kee' dem. In case you, like, take-out any nor... urns." The prawn made a light punch at the air, for emphasis.

And, with a casual salute, turned and began to shuffle off.

>> "Jack?"

"Yeah," the prawn confirmed.

>> "...I'm fine."

As if to drive the point home, she stuck her hand in her mouth and promptly began bawling. Yeah. Right. "Fine". Jack shifted on her haunches, casting a glance around. While she thoroughly enjoyed her job at Xavier's, she still wasn't sure how to handle crying people, especially people she interpretted to be crying children or adolescents. When people cried, they got all snotty, and wet, and their faces got puffy, and they... just always seemed to want hugs or something. It was just... so... unsanitary?

First, Jack reached for her walkie, and quietly reported, "Could we get naintenance to duh East Hall near duh lied-rary? Dere's a 'roken... uh... urn-" "Vase" was a hard word. After a quiet confirmation, "-I'n wiss duh student right now..."

Jack clipped the walkie back onto her waistband, reached into her pocket, and fished out a travel-pack of tissues. She held the package out to the young woman before her, and said, "Sore your hand... or your say-ce... or whate'er..."

Whether the young lad's priority was to mop up her tears or stop the bleeding was up to her.

"What's your nay-n?" Jack said gently.

The kid was frozen like a deer in the headlights, her eyes roving over the prawn's face. Even with her surgical mask on, she was still quite the sight to behold. Jack wore a loose pair of jeans and a t-shirt, with the "Mansion Security" badge clipped to her shirt.

>> "... y-you're really not him, are you? ... thank the gods.."

"Not e-zen a "hin"," Jack confirmed lightly, sinking on her haunches as the young woman crumpled. She kept her distance, not knowing what the kid's powers were-- but gave the young woman the courtesy of sinking to eye-level with her. People tended to not be as cagey when the prawn made herself smaller, "Jack is short sore Jacquelyn. Not to nanny solks know dat, 'ut it's true."

Her voice had a low lilt to it, with the same baritone timber of a cello. The prawn's mandibles clenched. Someone had done a number on this one, Jack could only wager. She'd probably seen some sh--.

"I kee' duh Nan-sion say-s," Jack reiterated, "Nee and a whole lot o' uzzer solks do. So whoe'er 'he' is, he can't get you here."

The prawn would personally see to it. She would personally fight anyone who threatened a student of Xavier's. It didn't matter who they were, kids deserved better lives than she'd had.

But that was a topic for another day. Jack extended a primary hand, and waved the kid closer, "You're a hot s-reaking ness, kid. Where'd you cut yoursell-s? Cut dee'? Need to see DocPro-ss?"

The kid laughed, turned, and... Jack's antennae flattened and she squinted her eyes disapprovingly, shrinking back from the yell. What the f---? She expected that kind of reception out on the streets, but people in Xavier's usually gave a warmer reception than that.

And off like a shot, the pink-haired one went, up the hall and around the corner.

"Kid, wait!" Jack called-out, "You aren't in any trou'le. Chill!"

Jack walked with haste but didn't run. The last thing she needed was to be thundering down the hall after someone who was already obviously startled. Despite the benefit of long strides, however, the sound of retreating footsteps was hastily fading. The prawn groaned, rolling her eyes. She was inclined to just leave the twit and let them come around on their own. If they were well enough to turn tail, then they were fine, she assured herself.

She happened to glance towards the floor and saw a glimmer on the tile... tiny droplets of blood. It led from where Jack had come, the prawn noticed as she looked back, and proceeded ahead of her. Okay, so, maybe the kid was hurt. Sh--. That meant she really should go check on her.

With a huff the prawn set off up the hall, gaze trained on the floor. Occaisonally, she glanced up to look aroud and holler something to the kid.

"Are you new here?" she sang, "I'n Jack... I kee' duh nan-sion sase srom... well, whate'er..."

The blood droplets led around the corner.

"Kid?" Jack inquired, "You're getting 'lood all o'er e'eryt'ing... I can hel' you out... iss you stah- 'eing such a nut."

With a huff, Jack trudged onward.

"I work security, I ain't gonna gizz you any trou'le unless you are trou'le. Kid?"

Door duty was the worst. Most people were pleasant and/or too stoked to go in to cause too many problems. But the occasional *ssholes were always more memorable than the actually half-decent ones. The ones who pitched tantrums and assumed that the bigger pissbaby they were, the more they could get away with. Jack hated door duty, if not for the fact that she couldn't mill about, than for the reason that she hated dealing with the worst of the patrons.

Some splindly limbed chick with alabaster skin, dark hair, eyes, and dress sashayed her way up to the prawn, defiantly tilting her chin forward. The seven-and-a-half foot behemoth arched her brows, staring down her nasal ridge at the figure before her.

>> "Want inside. Get drink."

Uh-huh. Right. The prawn breathed a huff of disbelief, adjusting her suit coat. It was her usual unifom-- black slacks, vest and button-up shirt, and a black surgica mask. And, of course, a bone mic. The lady came up to perhaps the base of her sternum, and that was being generous.

"Dat's nice," the prawn rumbled drolly, "Need to see ID sirst."

She looked like she was young enough to be in bed by nine o' clock, honestly. But some ladies were graced with gift of looking young. Checking ID was a good way to cover oneself. Besides which, the prawn had no patience for people who cut right to the chase and wouldn't give her the time of day.