The X-men run missions and work together with the NYPD, striving to maintain a peaceful balance between humans and mutants. When it comes to a fight, they won't back down from protecting those who need their help.
Haven presents itself as a humanitarian organization for activists, leaders, and high society, yet mutants are the secret leaders working to protect and serve their kind. Behind the scenes they bring their goals into reality.
From the time when mutants became known to the world, SUPER was founded as a black-ops division of the CIA in an attempt to classify, observe, and learn more about this new and rising threat.
The Syndicate works to help bring mutantkind to the forefront of the world. They work from the shadows, a beacon of hope for mutants, but a bane to mankind. With their guiding hand, humanity will finally find extinction.
Since the existence of mutants was first revealed in the nineties, the world has become a changed place. Whether they're genetic misfits or the next stage in humanity's evolution, there's no denying their growing numbers, especially in hubs like New York City. The NYPD has a division devoted to mutant related crimes. Super-powered vigilantes help to maintain the peace. Those who style themselves as Homo Superior work to tear society apart for rebuilding in their own image.
MRO is an intermediate to advanced writing level original character, original plot X-Men RPG. We've been open and active since October of 2005. You can play as a mutant, human, or Adapted— one of the rare humans who nullify mutant powers by their very existence. Goodies, baddies, and neutrals are all welcome.
Short Term Plots:Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
The Fountain of Youth
A chemical serum has been released that's shaving a few years off of the population. In some cases, found to be temporary, and in others...?
MRO MOVES WITH CURRENT TIME: What month and year it is now in real life, it's the same for MRO, too.
Fuegogrande: "Fuegogrande" player of The Ranger, Ion, Rhia, and Null
Neopolitan: "Aly" player of Rebecca Grey, Stephanie Graves, Marisol Cervantes, Vanessa Bookman, Chrysanthemum Van Hart, Sabine Sang, Eupraxia
Ongoing Plots
Magic and Mystics
After the events of the 2020 Harvest Moon and the following Winter Solstice, magic has started manifesting in the MROvere! With the efforts of the Welldrinker Cult, people are being converted into Mystics, a species of people genetically disposed to be great conduits for magical energy.
The Pharoah Dynasty
An ancient sorceress is on a quest to bring her long-lost warrior-king to the modern era in a bid for global domination. Can the heroes of the modern world stop her before all is lost?
Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
Adapteds
What if the human race began to adapt to the mutant threat? What if the human race changed ever so subtly... without the x-gene.
Atlanteans
The lost city of Atlantis has been found! Refugees from this undersea mutant dystopia have started to filter in to New York as citizens and businessfolk. You may make one as a player character of run into one on the street.
Got a plot in mind?
MRO plots are player-created the Mods facilitate and organize the big ones, but we get the ideas from you. Do you have a plot in mind, and want to know whether it needs Mod approval? Check out our plot guidelines.
>> “Hmmm, because you’re beautiful, and sweet, and I want to be more than friends.”
The carapace was fairly effective at dulling any sensation of the little pecks, but Jack could still feel her temperature growing feverish. Zinnia was so kind to her. So gentle. The most physical interaction Jack usually got was breaking up fights and being incidentally-clobbered. Jack didn't want to be that obnoxious friend who tried to refute every compliment that was sailed her way, but she was understandably doubtful. Beautiful? Hardly. Sweet? Maybe to Zinnia. Other acquaintances were hardly so lucky, as to call Jack sweet.
The prawn churred quietly, her mandibles fluttering at the sound as Zinnia redirected her attention. Lavender eyes surveyed deep brown ones. Jack was close enough to see flecks of amber in her friend's irises. Zimmia leaned in and Jack cautiously took the cue to spread her mandibles, the outermost mouthparts. There was so much to pay attention to, and the prawn was hyper-aware of all of it. The wandering hands that traced lines along her shell-- Jack would respond with meek trembling whenever the boldly venturing hands found gaps in the carapace... the crook in Jack's arm, for example, or her unarmored throat.
She was also hyper-aware of the position of her mouthparts-- she kept her mandibles, the anterior part of her mouth and most powerful appendage at play, uninvolved. Jack would never want to hurt Zinnia. Her maxillae, however, were more audacious-- they were small appendages with tiny palps upon them, sensitive to taste and touch and far more capable of gentle touches. Better suited for kissing, if you could call it that.
Whatever it was, it was pleasant, and Jack found her own hand venturing from the back of her friend's head, to the small of her friend's back. This was so surreal, and yet, so nice. Zinnia withdrew, leaving a prawn in deep smit.
>> “Is that ok? Do you want to slow down and have some noodles?”
Which starvation was more imperative to address? On one hand, Jack craved the proximity and physical contact that Zinnia was providing, taking in the curious touches and affection greedily. On the other hand, noodles held a certain appeal. Jack was inclined to go along with what Zinnia wanted to do, but it was impossible to read what her dearest friend genuinely wanted.
"Nore zan okay wiss nee," Jack confirmed, lightly brushing her friend's cheek with the knuckle of a finger on her primary hand, "Dis isn't too weird sore you, doh? Is okay wit' you? Wit' dis situation? Wit' nee?"
"Should eat noodles sooner or later..." was the polite response to Zinnia's follow-up question, "No rush ei'er doh."
Jack was powerless to the determined young woman. She was hardly able to snag the duffle bag in time before Zinnia led her inside-- she dropped the duffel just inside the front door, followed Zinnia into the dining room. Jack hunched lower to cross thresholds from one room to the next, keeping pace with her dear friend. Never once, was the prawn's hand released. The noodles were, but Zinnia's tiny hand was latched onto a finger of Jack's.
Jack chuckled timidly. Well, she had suggested "figuring things out". She had signed herself up for this, whatever this was. This must've been what kids felt like with their first relationship. Uncertain. Excited. Intrigued. Everything new.
>> “I’m game if you’re game. But you have to come down here.”
Another timid laugh. Jack nestled her face against Zinnia's hand, obediently lowering her head closer. Smiling eyes surveyed Zinnia's features, part admiration and part puzzling. Any imagined interaction of lips and mouthparts seemed so invasive and strange. Unnatural. Surgical, even. There weren't even lips to lock.
"I's ne'er tried to kiss any-unn," Jack reiterated, "Not as-ter ny nyu-tation started. Is... really new."
Her gaze dropped again. One would think someone as large and as gruff as Jack would know what they wanted and demand it, back Jack was quite the contrary. She was so careful and unsure. Baby steps, Jack told herself, just take baby steps.
The prawn nuzzled Zinnia's cheek, a hand gently caressing the back of Zinnia's head. Try doing something kiss-like. Inquiringly, Jack nibbled at her friend's neck. In a way, the gesture was more intimate than a simple kiss, but in another, it was easier. Less invasive, from Jack's point of view.
"How do you like nee?" Jack mumbled. Both "how" as in "how was it possible", and as in "in what way". What were they? Why did Zinnia kiss her? Jack peppered her friend's neck with gentle nibbles as she awaited any answer.
Jack was behind Zinnia when her friend ascended the steps, head bent as she removed the mask. She lifted her gaze towards the front door, and was greeted by Zinnia's face. Way. Closer. Than expected. Oh.
The prawn began to stammer out an awkward "hi", but barely made it past the "h". There was peck on her mandibles, and then Zinnia retreated. Saucer-like eyes surveyed an equally wide-eyed prawn.
"I..." Jack was without words. Her face was hot, "Was dat..." Was that a kiss? That was a kiss! Wasn't it? Jack could feel her heart stammering in her chest. It was nice, but-- Jack had never kissed anyone with her mouth. Ever. Not her prawn mouth anyways. So she just stood their gawking at Zinnia, wanting to reciprocate, but... stuck in a stupid, slack-jawed pause. Timidly she clambered up the steps, looking around. The street was uncharacteristically quiet.
She set the duffel bag down lightly, lest their be any breakable items in there, and turned to the other young woman. This was different than that movie night months prior. This was one-hundred percent intentional. One of Jack's primary hands found Zinnia's cheek and caressed it. God, her head's tiny. The prawn closed her eyes and touched her forehead to Zinnia's.
Her throat clenched. How, exactly, was she supposed to kiss back? With her mouthful of nightmare fuel?? Any innocent bystander would probably think Jack was trying to devour Zinnia... a muscle twitched at the corner of her eye, and a timid mandible reached and brushed the cheek that Jack wasn't holding.
"I don't know how to do dis," Jack said lamely. She didn't want to let go, but she didn't want to stay stooped over, breathing on Zinnia's face. Jack straightened her back, letting her hand drop to Zinnia's shoulder, then forearm, then to her side. Jack was ashamed but stood rooted on the porch. Don't leave her hanging.
"'erhats," she trailed, "We could... sig-ure it out? Inside?"
Her gaze fixed on the duffel, away from Zinnia. Jack wanted to run, but what then would've been the point of buying all the food? Noodles remembered...
Jack lingered behind Zinnia as the young woman ordered for the two of them. It was a good arrangement-- Zinnia spoke, Jack paid. It spared the prawn the embarrassment of haviing to grumble through a few sentences and being asked "What? I'm sorry? Could you repeat that?" a few dozen times, but by paying it felt like she was repaying Zinnia for being the mouth piece. As Jack relayed what she wanted to Zinnia, her gaze lingered on the other woman's neck and shoulder. Heat flooded the prawn's face as she acknowledged her inclination to snuggle close while Zinnia ordered.
The prawn did not, however, act on those inclinations.
Jack snapped to attention when the cashier repeated their order back to Zinnia, Jack's secondary hands moved beneath the tank top, reaching into Jack's short's pocket to retrieve the wallet. Jack's secondary arms pushed the tank top back and flipped through the wallet, withdrawing the few, necessary bills. Her primary hand passed the bills to the cashier, who watched as though nothing were out of the usual.
Though they'd only come to the store a few times, Jack was the sort of figure one only need to see once to remember. Jack re-pocketed her wallet, secondary arms letting the shirt drop. The cashier made change, which Jack accepted with a primary hand and dropped into her pocket with a rumbled, "Shanks."
It wasn't long before their meal was out, bagged and ready and in their hands. As Jack still had Zinnia's duffle shouldered, she allowed the other mutant to take the meal.
"Let's jet," the prawn said chipperly, giving another wave of thanks to the cashiers. Jack followed Zinnia to the door, reaching past her to push it open for her, before ducking-out behind her. The promise of lunch pushed them onward to Zinnia's parent's house, their pace more brisk and their talk more scant. Still, the walk felt like an eternity and when they rounded the corner towards Zinnia's parents' place, the prawn had to fight every inclination to run up ahead of the young woman.
"It's a shane dat your ss-olks are outta town when you returned," Jack remarked. She imagined that Zinnias' parents would want to see her after Zee had been out of town for so long. So, in that way, it was unfortunate. But it was also darned lucky, too.
As they approached the front door, Jack was already unhooking her surgical mask, stretching the various bits of her mouth and gulping in the cool(er) outside air.
Jack was at a diner when the news broke. A corner booth, with high seat-backs huge tables. At this hour, Jack shared the dining area with only a scant few patrons. She was a regular here, so the wait-staff spared her the strange looks that she typically received at other places.
Jack was in the midst of a mushroom-swiss burger when the garbled chatter of the t.v.’s all synced to one voice.
“We interrupt your scheduled programming to bring you a CNN news alert—“
Jack had been in her own thoughts when the broadcast interjected, but the sudden unison of the t.v.’s—which had previously all been dialed to different channels—tugged at her attention. The prawn lifted her head.
“Tragedy struck just moments ago in Odessa, Texas, where an explosive was detonated inside of a shelter for mutants…”
The burger was lowered to the plate. The prawn fell still. Eyes unblinking. Fixed. The camera panned over a nondescript building, the shelter, emergency vehicles parked haphazardly half-onto curbs and in an adjacent parking lot, lights flashing.
“Authorities have not been able to fully assess the situation but early estimates put the death toll well above 20 already, with over 50 likely to be injured…”
Again the camera circled from the overhead view, tiny personnel carrying a stretcher to a waiting ambulance, a frenzy. A pit was growing in the prawn’s chest, throat tightening. An involuntary whine escaped her throat.
“We have just received word that the majority of those residing in the shelter at the time were children who had been kicked out of their own homes.”
Her heart shuddered, a muscle tensed in her jaw.
“I believe I speak for the entire nation when I say that the horrors we are witnessing are truly unimaginable.”
Not unimaginable. The human-mutant relation, as a whole, had always been sh*t. There were just moments of uneventful-ness that lulled people into a false sense of security. That was the way of the world. Jack nudged her plate away. She wasn’t hungry, anymore. It could’ve been anywhere. Odessa, Texas. Xavier’s. Same difference. The thought made her weak.
“As more news of the situation arrives we will keep you informed, but until then our prayers go out to those affected by this Mutant Massacre.”
Distance was irrelevant when it came to acts of terror such as this. Attack one shelter or school and ripples of it would be felt throughout the mutant community. For those whose own families disowned and rejected them, your family became those who shared the same X-gene. You could never know another mutant and they were still your brother or your sister. Lineage had nothing to do with it.
Jack would nurse her soda and fries for a few more minutes, trying to muster the inclination to stay and finish her meal, but nothing could fill that growing pit in her stomach, the dread and hurt that was so easily unearthed by a singular, horrible incident.
The prawn ultimately admitted defeat, abandoning the rest of her meal to go pay her tab at the front desk, before setting-off into the humid outdoors. An uncharacteristic chill chased her out of the restaurant, and remained on her shoulders for the remainder of the day.
Jack hummed as Zinnia rattled off their accommodations. It wasn't much but it was something. Big beds were hard to come by... and expensive, to boot. Jack was still saving up for a bed that would fit her.
"I know I's got anxiety o-zer going to duh doctor," Jack nodded. Why wouldn't she? If it wasn't the fear of bring treated like some science experiment that drove her, it was her indecision over whether a doctor or a vet or a marine biologist would be better able to serve her.
>> “Mmmm, I’ve been craving noodles from that place near the gym for ages! ... my parents are out of town if you want to eat there?”
"Noodles it is, den," Jack agreed, "I like duh sound o' dat."
The conversation lingered on Zinnia's experiences during her time away, and Jack occasionally offered up stories of Xavier's and Chrysalis as they instinctively wove their way towards the noodle shop. Although completely attentive to what the young woman said, Jack felt as though the rest of the world was so far off. Like she and Zinnia shared a rose-colored bubble. It felt happy.
They arrived at the noodle shop, and Jack fetched the door for the smaller woman, her free primary hand curling over the top of the door.
"As'ter you," the prawn said chipperly. She lingered a moment after Zinnia stepped in, allowing two little old ladies to step out. They scurried past, casting sidelong glances and taut "thank you's". Whatever.
Jack gave a quiet groan and ducked through the door, sinking to a shorter height (and hiding behind Zinnia, a little) as they crossed the foyer.
"Welcome to Noodle House!" an employee greeted, "We can help you when you're ready!"
(ooc: please feel free to have Jack murmur her order to Zee...)
Jack could hardly hear what Zinnia was saying over the hammering in her ears. Missed you... missed you... missed you... The prawn closed her eyes momentarily, smiling to herself. Regardless of the connotation (platonic or otherwise), the sentiment was nice. It felt good to be missed. Like your presence in someone's life made a positive difference.
>> “They had a lot of specialised chemo stuff, for cancer, and a ward that dealt in mutant-specific stuff.”
"What kind uzz nyu-tant s'ecific stuss?" Jack prodded. She admittedly avoided the doctor's office like the plague, but if she had done to the doctor's, Jack imagined that she'd need a lot of accommodations.
>> “Do you want to grab something to eat and take it somewhere?”
Her head still felt like it was in a fog, but the prawn had enough wherewithal to reply, "Yeah, let's get sun-sing... You choose. Ny treat."
Zinnia had just gotten back, after all. It'd be nice to buy food for her.
>> “Well I did I lot of studying, which means I should pass my exams this time! And I got to practice a whole bunch of new skills, which is always nice. Oh yeah I got to see a baby being born, which I haven’t seen live before.”
Admittedly, Jack was not privy to the finer workings of the life of a student in a medical field. She didn't understand why Zinnia had gone somewhere else to learn something when there were so many hospitals in New York. So, on one hand, Jack was curious--what was so great about this other hospital? What, specifically, had Zinnia learned there? Such schools of learning were fascinating to a blue-collar worker like Jack. On the other hand, the prawn was peevish. You could see a baby be born at any hospital. While travel cross-country to see a baby be born?
Of course, this grumpiness over Zinnia's absence was likely loneliness in disguise, but Jack would be damned if she admitted that outright.
The prawn listened quietly, occasionally uttering a resonant "nnhnn" to show that she was still actively listening to the other young woman.
>> “It was a much quieter city though and I missed the hustle and bustle. And you.” clutching Zinnia's bag as if for dear life. She stared at the young woman for a measure, mandibles articulating words unspoken from beneath her surgical mask.
Jack's heart sputtered. She brought her foot forward to take a step and her toes caught on a nonexistent crack in the pavement. Gracelessly, the prawn stumbled, somehow recovered, then looked go her fellow young woman in alarm.
The gears were turning but the light bulb hadn't turned on. Jack was stooped down, clutching Zinnia's bag as if for dear life. She stared at the young woman for a measure, mandibles articulating words unspoken from beneath her surgical mask.
People can miss each other, sometimes. Family, friends. Jesus, Jack, the prawn chastised herself, stop being so thirsty.
"I-I nissed you too," Jack stammered, quickly regaining her composure (and the fallen duffel bag), "And I, uh, nearly nissed catching your dussel."
Jack laughed a faint and brittle chuckle. Apparently years of never dating had made her quick to assume.
Heyo it's your friendly neighborhood mantis shrimp and I'm looking to get more active again. (I have been shamefully absent from the site). That means that I am once again on the prowl for threads! If you and I were threading before I disappeared for a bit, and still wish to continue, please PM me. We can discuss either continuing our thread or maybe starting something new-yet-related.
For any potentially new thread-friends, let me give you a rundown of who my character (Chief) is and what I like to do!
Chief is a no-nonsense behemoth of a woman with a heart of gold. She works two jobs-- she's a bouncer at a nightclub known as "Chrysalis", which is popular in the 21+ mutant demographic, and she is also part of the security staff at Xavier's.
Although Chief is no-nonsense, I have a deep love of shenanigans. Seriously. Please torment my prawn mercilessly, it'll be fun to write. Got an open thread? Wanna plan some plots together?? Comment below or shoot me a PM, I'm eager to write with you.
Jack readily accepted the duffle bag, grasping the girth of the parcel with one of her primary hands. The prawn fluidly set the dwarfed duffle upon her shoulder, then nodded when it was in place. Piece of cake.
>> “So how have you been? Work ok? Nobody giving you any trouble?”
A laugh burbled out of the prawn’s throat as she gestured for the smaller woman to come with her. Her pace was leisurely, since Jack was mindful of her long strides (and Zinnia’s comparably shorter ones).
“No trou’le,” the prawn echoed, relieved, “Sank-fully. Xa’ier’s is good. Chrysalis is good. No sights, no draw-nuh. Really door-ing.”
That was how Jack preferred it, though—boring. People like her had bad habits of finding trouble. So, to find a bout of uneventfulness was a true blessing, indeed.
“What a’out you doh?” Jack countered, “I jus’ ‘een here doin’ not’ing. You’re duh one who’s gone on duh ad’enture.”
Jack shifted the bag on her shoulder, “I want to hear all a’out it.”
Jack peered at the screen of her phone, clicking to herself. The bus was a tad late, as buses often were. She huffed, chirring as she tucked her phone away once more, and resumed peering down the drive. She'd be here soon-- not soon enough, but soon.
A large bus swung around the corner and into the lot, pulling into an empty space and bringing the prawn's anxious chirring to an abrupt halt. Her antennae, which had rested flat against her skull, perked. Jack's back straightened, and eyes pried towards the movement beyond the tinted windows. Zinnia?
Of course she couldn't make out the lines of her friend from so far off. But the prawn was alert, antennae up. Jack saw the crown of her friend's head as she rounded the front of the bus, but Zinnia found her voice first.
>> "Jack!"
The prawn bumbled her way past other waiting parties, noticing her friend's own quickening steps. Her heart threw itself into her throat, and the prawn swallowed hard. What was she supposed to do? Zinnia looked radiant. That smile. That everything. Maybe she should've waved, but her knees felt weak.
Jack sank more to Zinnia's level as the distance between them closed, and enormous arms wrapped themselves around the young woman. One of the prawn's primary hands settled on Zee's head, and Jack's massive head tucked into the other young woman's shoulder. She was still the very same.
Jack caught herself after a moment too long. Had they hugged before? Was that weird? That was pretty weird. She felt out of breath as she released Zinnia.
"Sorry," she laughed, her eyes pinching slightly, " 'een too long. Nuss-ing to do wiss-out you around."
Jack counted her inability to blush through her carapace among one of her genetic small favors, becuase her face felt very hot.
Posted by "Chief" on Jun 22, 2016 0:45:33 GMT -6
Cafas likes this
Beta Mutant
darkturquoise
lesbian with exceptions
it's complicated
502
113
Apr 25, 2024 23:17:11 GMT -6
Sophy
The bus station was in a seedy part of town-- where guys slurred even though it was only one in the afternoon and ladies wore not nearly enough. Such was the way of bus stations. Always in the most unsavory areas. Jack had made up her mind to meet Zinnia there, when her friend had informed the prawn of her intentions. Yes, yes, Jack was sure that Zinnia could handle herself. No, it wasn't very far to the nearest bus line or subway. But that didn't mean that the prawn would let her dear friend walk herself. Oh, no no. And it was different for Jack because she was an enormous iridescent behemoth who bore the look of one who could give you a very, very bad day if you pissed her off. Zinnia, however... she looked like Zinnia.
Jacquelyn stood outside of the station, lavender eyes thinned and flickering from person-to-person. Sure, there was a waiting area inside, but she was excited. She deigned to admit that life had been boring since Zinnia had left-- or, perhaps what she deigned to admit was that she only had a few (perhaps two) decent friends, and with Zinnia being the best of those, her life had become pretty lonely once Zee left town.
Anyhow, Jack stood on the sidewalk, feet apart and massive hands jammed deep into her pockets. She shifted her weight between each foot, unable to stand still. Some buses left, others pulled in, but only unfamiliar faces passed by. Waiting was the worst part.
She let the boss-man go—and boy, did he go. He vented and vented and ripped into the behemoth of a woman. There was no noticeable change in Jack’s expression or body language. What he said was fair enough. The jab at “the only reason he hadn’t called her boss yet” made a muscle in her jaw twitch. She broke a table that had caught fire, with full intention of repairing it. It wasn’t like she was breaking tables for the hell of it. And what would he tell her boss, anyway? “Yo, your bouncer got drunk, and her fling nearly burnt down the place. She didn’t do too much, except get stabbed, protect herself, and repaired the table that was already going to be burnt to cinders in the first place. But, you know, even though she really didn’t do anything wrong, I’m going to threaten her livelihood! Haha!”
Of course he knew Jack was in the business. The prawn felt like nightclub owners gossiped like old housewives, though she had no concrete proof of this. Word of a seven-and-a-half foot tall iridescent bouncer had to have been passed around at some point. But to try and use that knowledge just for some petty revenge… beneath her surgical mask, the prawn ground her mandibles. Her pupils were constricted. There was no noticeable change to her body language, but she seemed more… tense. But she didn’t say anything. What did she expect, a warm welcome? Ha! At least he wasn’t going to press charges. And hell, he didn’t want to her around, so that was nice.
“Didn’t intend on only re’lacing duh ta’le,” Jack said, making fully certain that Randy understood the terms that she was offering, “Know duh cost uzz collateral is ex’ensive. Sought un’aid work could con-esate sore duh dan-age. Worked construction. Know sun maintenance-related skills. ‘ut I understand your rationale.”
All he needed to do was say the word and she’d get the f—k out of there, and gladly never show her face again. Or if he wanted to extort the prawn for labor, she was openly offering to work-off her debt. Whatever. It was literally just an offer.
“You want dis? Could at least sell,” Jack said with finality, tossing a shrug, “Good crass-manshi’. Good wood. Cou’le hundred dollars easy. Or I take.”
Literally just offers. She wanted to clear her name with the man but she wasn’t going to prostrate herself at his feet and beg. Jack was a dignified woman, and in a business where her reputation as a tough person was an asset. It wouldn’t do to have her sniveling at the feet of the boss of a rival club. But at least she had enough a sense of responsibility to try and put things right.
Jack stonily awaited the arrival of the boss, gaze casually wandering towards the far wall. There was still a gap where the broken table had been removed. And, from this distance, her adaptation of the design looked strikingly similar. Maybe even better. Jack didn’t want to get ahead of herself.
In a wavering tone, the woman announced Jack’s arrival into the mouthpiece of the phone. There was a pause, a space for their response, and then the barkeep hung-up.
“He’ll be down in a moment.”
Jack nodded patiently. She blinked. And a man appeared, heralded in by a fluttering breeze. The bartender seemed unsurprised, perhaps a touch relieved. He had to be the boss. A mutant man. Jack didn’t put any stock into their shared possession of an X-Gene, as she and her—hrm, fling—had still trashed his establishment. There was tension in the prawn’s stance, squared shoulders and stoic expression.
>> "Guessing you came back to get you cards?"
“Yes,” Jack replied, “Dat is nigh intention.”
It wasn’t really her fault. Nor was it really Victor’s. But if either of them were to blame, it was Victor—he did more physical damage than she did. Perhaps that was why Jack was here, instead. That, and her familiarity with nightclub operations and skills with carpentry and general maintenance were a plus. And in the event that the boss at Looking Glass ever figured out where she worked, her livelihood would be at risk.
“Also,” she bent at the waist, patting the replacement table with the flat of her palm, “An oss-ering. I wanna work sun-sing out.”
She resumed her position by the door, pocketing her thumbs once more. Jack wouldn't move from her spot until invited in. Trouble was the last thing she wanted.
?? Missed... Zinnia missed Jack? Specifically? WHAT. 
We can discuss either continuing our thread or maybe starting something new-yet-related.