2011-01-04: Sportsball And Spakakopita


Billy_icon.jpg Index_icon.jpg Rashmi_icon.jpg Travis_icon.jpg

Summary: There is talk of debates and eating of snacks in the common room of Barnes.

Date: January 4, 2011

Log Title: Sportsball and Spakakopita

Rating: PG

Barnes Academy - Common Room

Plush carpet in a neutral beige colour goes wall to wall in the Common Room. The furniture is just as plain as couches and chairs in various shades of browns are lined up all around the room. There's a large fish tank on the far side of the wall to give some colour and sense of life in the room. There's a large flat screen television with a collection of movies in front of some of the couches. There are tables off to a side if one wishes to study and there are books and magazines on various end tables and shelves. The florescent lighting reflects off the white walls giving the room an artificially bright feel to it. Glowing in the corner of the room are snack and beverage machines, free of cost to those at Barnes.

Sitting in front of the television wearing one of his custom Rockies jerseys instead of his Barnes uniform is Travis. He's leaning forward with two arms resting on his knees and two on the back of the couch as he intently watches a basketball game, Miami verses Milwaukee. In his other two hands he holds a can of soda between them. "Come on…come on.." He mutters to himself as his homework sits on the table in front of him, ignored for the moment.

Index walks into the common room, dressed up in his usual clean and carefully pressed business suit complete with expensive shoes, and looks towards the television. A blank expression crosses over his face. Though a man, he has never free up much space in his brain for sports, having already been one of the theatre geeks when he was young. "Who are you cheering for?" he asks tentatively. Maybe it will give an opportunity for student teacher bonding to talk about this stuff. If Index's skills of fabrication and self-illusion can keep up that long.

Billy Kaplan has never beena huge sports fan either. THat's left to his boyfriend, who is currently absent from the gathering. As he walks in, he brings a tray of snacks. Spanakopita and Pita chips. Homemade, of course. Since… the guy can cook. "Of course, sports night. Blah." He laughs.

"The tall ones," comes a voice from behind a fortress-like arrangement of stacked books. A pair of the thicker ones are lifted from the top, set to either side to reveal Rashmi's face as she bends back down to her own homework. "Honestly I can never keep track of all these sportball teams, but it's nice for background noise at least. Hi Mr. Blake, Mr. um… Index." A brief wrinkle of the nose shows that Rashmi would dearly prefer to call Index by a proper name, but since none exists that she has clearance for, Mr. Index it is.

Travis laughs at the word sportball. "Milwaukee Mr. Index." He says to the teachers question. "Cause I can't stand Lebron James." He says with a chuckle before realizing that the people here might not know who he is. "Feel free to change the channel, it's not like it's baseball." He says before looking at Billy. "I figured I wouldn't watch it in the room and subject you to it but you're in there anyway." He says with a laugh. "Who knows Rashmi, maybe one day I can drag you to a sportsball game."

"You can just call me Index," says the man, responding to Rashmi, "Mr. Index sounds like computer software. It's unnerving." He adds, "Yeah, that Lebron James…" An unconvinced fist is shaken, but hey, he probably doesn't have to get dragged down this path of conversation much further. One thing that does catch his attention more than anything, though, is Billy's food. "Oho, what have you there, Mr. Kaplan?"

"Spakakopita, pita chips, and tzatziki." Billy offers towards Index. "Help yourselves anyone who wants and isn'tlactose intolerant." He laughs. "Just got out of the kitchen. I also have some Saganaki and Souvlaki, but that stays in the room for the roommates and visitors." He winks. "They take longer to make."

"Oh?" Rashmi says, head perking up behind her books at the mention of food, "want to trade?" A plate at her elbow is lifted up into view, revealing a half picked-over pile of sliced naan and grocery-store hummus. Mentally rewinding, the redhead glances at Travis, nose wrinkling again. "You do, and *I'll* drag *you* to an election debate. Fair's fair, right?"

"Will I get a hot dog and cracker jacks at an election debate?" Travis jokes with Rashmi as he's been in a pretty good mood since the holidays. "And oh god Lebron James, the guy who buys his wife a diamond worth more than everything I own every time he cheats on her." He grumbles before switching the channel to some mindless game show that's on so no one else has to deal with his sports. "And Spank-a-pita? What is that?" Travis says not familiar with the weird word.

"Mmhmm," responds Index to Travis' continuing to talk about Lebron James. "What a turd." He says this as if he already knew all that and didn't just learn it. He takes Billy up on the offer of food, though, his eyes flicking over towards Rashmi's plate when she shows it. Well, only one snack was offered, so that's the one he goes for.

"No thanks. Not a big hummus fan. Just never has been a major flavor for me." Billy wrinkles his nose before looking at Travis. "Spak-a-ko-pita. It's spinach and a cheese mixture in phylo dough. Very good." He offers a grin. "Feel free to help yourselves." He adds on. "And yeah, sportball, huh." He adds on, agreeing with Rashmi. "Exciting or something."

Rashmi nods, laying the plate atop the stack of books. "…Actually that's why I'd want to go to a debate. That way, Travis gets to root for Milwaukee, and I get to root for the Liberals. Only sorry, no hot dogs or Crackerjacks," she says to Travis. "Probably you'll want a big lunch beforehand, debates tend to drag on if you give them a chance. Um. Also, Mr— er. Index? Naan's free if you want some too, I don't mind."

"Actually you'd have better luck dragging me to a debate than me going to a sports game as much as I'd love to, I wouldn't want to risk it." Travis says waving six arms with a smile. "Sorry, as good as your cooking is Billy, I'm not a huge spinach fan." He says wrinkling his nose. He looks up at Index as he says Lebron James is a turd and chuckles. "Mind if I have some of the Naan? And did your Mom make it? She's an awesome cook." Since he spent Christmas as her house.

Index, it seems, is not so discriminating as to turn down either snack. "Oh, thank you, Ms. Franklin." He also takes some of the naan and hummus, sampling that too. "And thank you to you too," he adds to Billy. No need to be rude about these things. "I always get so tired watching debates. I'd hate to /participate/ in one. A political debate, anyways."

"I don't debate too much. It gets me in trouble. I have too much conviction behind myself that it sometimes surges." Billy laughs, as lightning crackles over his eyes. "But that's just me. Try to hold back until we get attacked by boobzilla again." He says, pointedly to Index.

"See that's the thing," Rashmi says, sliding from her chair and approaching the spakakopita, plucking up one with a nod of thanks to its contributor, "I've sort of been doing the debate thing since high school, and a *good* debate is just as much fun as sports. You just, y'know, have to have a couple people who don't stoop to character assassination doing the talking. And no, Travis, that's something I made up, um… a couple hours ago? Garlic naan, though, so it's still pretty good. I—wait," she says, blinking as the last bit of Bobby's comment registers. "…Boobzilla?"

"I don't think I've ever watched a debate. Well unless you count two sports commentators talking about who has the better odds on a game." Travis admits but then he doesn't knock what Rashmi likes or anyone for that matter. He eats some of the garlic naan and nods. "This is really good. "I think I'd be like Index with a debate, and boobzilla, is that the weird thing you were telling me about at Halloween?"

At the Boobzilla comment, Index says, slowing his chewing slightly and swallowing before doing so, "Oh yeah, I thought I repressed that. That was an awkward day. I've never felt so icky in a combat situation." He says this casually, like he's not really committed to the truth of his words, noting to Rashmi, "Sure, but in a political debate, it feels like there's always the one guy who is into character assassination. Then it gets messy, then it gets boring. As for debate team stuff, I dunno. I guess that could be fun, but not as much fun as improv exercises."

"Boobzilla was actually Lactosa, Mistress of Mammaries. Not a fun night, but hilarious." Billy laughs as he looks down at his cell phone and winces. "Teddy needs me. I gotta get running." He says with a wave, before he looks to the door. He waves and heads to the door.

Rashmi blinks, looking from Bobby to Index and back again, lifting a hand as the superhero makes his exit line. "…Um. Okay, then take care?" Turning back to Index, the redhead forrows her brow. "…Lactosa? *Seriously?* … …Okay that's even *more* ridiculous than a French superterrorist."

Travis raises all six of his arms and shrugs. "I don't know, I wasn't there, I am glad I wasn't there. As much as I enjoy boobs as the next guy…that doesn't sound hot or sexy or my idea of a good time." He says shaking his head. "So anyway, debates, you know, I don't think I've ever watched a political debate."

Index offers a wave to Billy as he heads off. "Yeah, it wasn't a blast. Well, I mean, there were blasts, but it wasn't -a- blast, you know? It was pretty ridiculous, and gross. And are there French superterrorists? I always figured they supplied so-so terrorists. Too busy with their baguettes and berets and mimes for that…" says Index, frowning slightly at that.

"Iiiii think I get it," Rashmi says, holding up a hand and turning slightly green around the cheeks. "It sounds like it was, um… is it all right if I just stick with 'better you than me'? And um, yeah. Batroc the Leaper, he's called… made a fuss at the Empire State Building when my friends visited about a year ago. I don't know why, just he was there, and French, and yeah. But Index is right, Travis, these days most of the big political debates turn into playground name-calling after awhile… it's pretty sad to watch."

Travis agrees with the better you than me statement with a nod. "Batroc the Leaper? Whose that?" He's not really sure about a lot of this villain stuff. "And you want to drag me to a debate?" He says raising an eyebrow. "Though if I could find a good way to go to a sports game, I miss going to baseball games." He says putting the television back to see whose winning. "Oh, and Rashmi, my Mom would love to get together with your Mom again sometime."

"Oh, that guy. What a doof. Decent fighter, though," says Index, frowning slightly at that. "And yeah, better me than you indeed! You don't need that filth permanently engraved into your brain. Neither do I, but oh well. I'm old. Forgetful." He listens to the bit about debates and nods, "But people eat up those attack ads, so they keep using them. In a weird way, it's like supply and demand."

"No, I want to drag you to a *smaller* debate," Rashmi corrects, raising a finger. "The ones where getting issues out matters more than looking better than the other guy. Local political circuit's *great* for that kind of thing, and you even get some actual entertainment out of it. Like, y'know, the 'Rent is Too Damn High' party that ran for governor last year, *that* was brilliant. And I *hate* how smear campaigns are so popular," she grumbles, flopping into her chair and plucking a piece of naan from the plate. "Lesser of two evils is no choice at all, and it's *stupid* to make that the only choice anymore. … Anyway. Um. Did you want me to give you their home number, Travis? I'm sure they'd be happy to have her over anytime, really."

"Okay, I'll go to one of these debate thingies with you and then as soon as I figure out a good way to go to a sportsball event, I'm dragging you." Travis says with a grin. "Though maybe now that I'm eighteen I should register to vote but…" He's not sure which name he'd use, probably his current one. "And that'd be great, my Mom would love that. I think she likes finally getting to have someone to talk to up here." He then looks to Index. "Sorry, my Mom is also a teacher at the school here."

"Yeah, registering to vote can be a hassle sometimes," says Index, after Travis wonders what name to use. The man whose name is a secret enjoys voting, but has to do so under an alias, since in that particular case, 'Index' simply does not cover it. He nods at Travis and adds, "Which teacher is your mom?" He resists adding a 'is she hot?' after that, since while antagonizing your fellow soldiers is all well and good, you have to treat the students with kid gloves.

"…You're not registered?" Rashmi's voice is, while not quite dangerous, certainly lightly annoyed. "Travis, you really should fix that. I mean, it's not like you have to do it more than once until you move. How else d'you expect things to change?" Index, likewise, gets a brief glance and a furrowing of her eyebrows. Naturally, as inherently political as the redhead is, calling registering a hassle is a good way to get under her skin.

Travis shakes his head. "No, so much has happened since my eighteenth birthday I haven't really thought about it. With the house burning down and then coming here and my mutation manifesting, I just didn't think about it." He admits. "Though I could probably register through the school." He ponders and they'd help him through it. "My mom is Crystal Smith, she teaches classes for like the younger kids with powers. Like Freshmen and younger if needed. She doesn't have powers or anything, not like most people here."

Index catches the look and says to Rashmi, defensively, "I have aliases, and I can't register under my birth name 'cause if SHIELD had it their way, it'd be confidential from me. So it's a process. I do recommend doing it though. Voting means I get to complain about the results. That's what /really/ counts." He pauses for a moment and then nods, "Neat, good for her. There's actually quite a few kids who get their powers pretty darn young." He gets a bit of a distant look for a moment, "They can be irresponsible."

Rashmi bobs her head. "Actually Travis, you'd be surprised how many people here don't have powers. I mean, you have the support staff, the mechanics, the maintenance people, on and on and on. Lots of people, even a good chunk of the agents don't have any… well, far as *I* know. And yeah, Mami and Papi would really like to talk more with your mom. If only because they get to spend time with my friend's family, y'know?"

"My mom likes having some friends she can talk to and I think likewise with the friend's family." Travis says before nodding to Index. "Yeah, once Barnes approached me to go here they also offered her a job." Him and his Mom are in a similar situation as Index where he can't use his birth name. "I heard I got mine late? I guess eighteen is late to get powers for a mutant. I dunno. And your Mami and Papi are really nice Rashmi, and you Mami makes really good food."

"I don't have any mutant powers, but I know they're supposed to hit around puberty. So eighteen is pretty late, yeah, you usually see kids from twelve to fifteen manifesting," says Index, thinking about that for a few moments. "But yeah, plenty of agents kicking around with no powers or anything."

Rashmi nods. "I was kind of a late bloomer too… But, I was still sixteen. Still, that's what I guess you'd call the trend, it's not like there's an owner's manual for mutant powers…. Much as I'm sure everyone *wished* there was," she amends, a touch lower. "But anyway. Um. Index? Is it all right if I ask how the whole Game investigation is going? I mean, I understand if there's stuff I'm not supposed to know, and I'd be happy to sign another NDA if it'll help… just…" The redhead shrugs. "Everyone knows what happened before Christmas wasn't the end of it… and I know *I'd* feel better if I knew anything more?"

Travis stands up and lets out a yawn. "As much as I wanna hear about what happened, I gotta go see my Mom before heading to bed. Rashmi, let me know about that mutant town stuff later?" He says as he gathers his books up under his lowest left arm. "Oh and Rashmi, instead of a sportsball game, how about we go to the movies sometime. I wanna see that Tron movie and in return, I'll go to one of your debates."

"Alright, have a good night Mr. Smith," says Index, waving his hand at the student, before saying to Rashmi, "Well, we're still doing investigations, and I'll look into the particulars of what I can and cannot tell you to put some of your fears to rest. That whole thing was pretty sick, though. Anyways, I -can- let you know we are making progress."

Rashmi nods quietly. "Thank you, sir," she says quietly. "I'd really appreciate it." Blinking, she looks up at Travis, head tilting to one side. "Tron? Um… That's a sequel, right?" Nodding slowly, she looks back to her books, pursing her lips. "Okay, um… lemme know when you want to go, I'll have to watch the first one so I know what's going on."

Travis smiles and nods. "Yeah it's a sequel and cool, the original is older than me, but it's still ten shades of cool." He waves one of his arms. "G'night Index, g'night Rashmi, see you guys later." He says as he heads out of the room.

"Tron?" says Index, mouthing the word a couple of times before he shrugs. The word is meaningless to him. "I don't think television will ever catch the wonder of the theatre for me. Still, I guess TV gets all the cool special effects that kids love."

Rashmi chuckles, lifting her hand as Travis turns, glancing at Index and smiling. "Hey, don't look at me… *I* like books better than both, because you don't *need* budgets to be sucked into the story. …Well, *and* you don't have to worry about inconsiderate jerks spoiling it with their cell phones or whatever."

"Ugh, that makes me so mad. I swear, if that happens during my class production, I will flip out," says Index, frowning at the very thought of such a travesty against the arts. "I usually end up reading playbooks these days. I think I'm pretty biased towards theatre, though. Drama teacher and all that."

Rashmi nods, smiling. "Well yeah… but that's why we *have* so many art forms, so there's something everyone can like, right? Anyway um, when's your next production? I'd like to see how it goes, when it happens."

"We should be seeing a production of Ibsen's A Doll's House in a month or so. I like how subversive he was, without necessarily being so subversive now that putting it on stage would cause a big kerfuffle," says Index, nodding slowly when he finishes the statement. "We also have a pretty small class. It's a military school, so I thought it was suitable." He cups his chin and shrugs, "I'm just worried it's not energetic enough to capture young people nowadays. Like I said, not many fancy special effects there. What do you think?"

Rashmi lifts a shoulder. "Honestly? I don't think special effects have to matter so much with plays. Plays aren't *like* movies, anyway, you shouldn't try to compete in the same direction. Maybe if you set up the audience more like, um… say a cafe? Like, coffee and a show kind of thing? Especially for the students who're dating, that'd be a nice alternative to springing for dinner and a show in the city."

Index nods and says, "Well, since the audience is probably going to be small for this event anyhow, I do think that would be nice. I was thinking of making the audience into something a little more intimate because, even though the admission is free, I don't see a huge turnout. We'll have to see what ticket 'sales' are like, though. That would probably work." He smiles and says, "But yeah, I don't like to try and compete with movies. It's useless, but I just feel like lots've kids refuse to be exposed to theatre arts, and that's such a shame!"

"Well, *I* intend to be there," Rashmi says, smiling. "And you can't really help that, it's just… People're gonna like what they like, you know? Keeping the options open is about all anyone can reasonably do, and maybe play with the atmosphere to make it a little more attractive."

"That's great! You intend on bringing someone?" says Index, glancing out where Travis left just a little while ago. "And yeah. I think people don't give some mediums a chance, that's all. 'Cause it's not manly to be into the theatre scene. Social constructs, blah, blah. Which is kind of why I like plays that challenge social constructs a little." He rolls his eyes and says, "'course, let me know if I start to bore you. I can lose track've myself when I talk about this stuff! I used to want to be a Broadway star, you know."

Rashmi grins. "You're talking to someone who likes epic fantasy *specifically* because of the messages under the words, sir… I don't think you'd bore me by analyzing *your* favorite works."

"Well, thank goodness, because I can get pret-ty boring," says Index, chuckling, "Epic fantasy, eh? Not many common stage productions that fall into that category. Especially not musical theatre, which is kind've my main area of interest. You wouldn't think it, but I've got the voice of an angel! Anyways, I could probably think of a couple that might hold interest to you anyhow. Any particular plays that you're a fan of?"

Rashmi tilts her head slightly. "We-e-ell," she begins, slowly… "…I'll be honest, I haven't paid *attention* to many plays, but for fantasy… There's always Shakespeare? I mean there's Macbeth, The Tempest, Midsummer Night's Dream… But it's not that I don't *like* plays, I just haven't been able to see any, really. Mami and Papi didn't exactly live on the Upper West Side, and no smart parent would let a teenage girl go to Broadway on her own, you know?"

Index nods and says, "Yeah, I was going to suggest those. Oh, Shakespeare, there's a guy who knew how to please the crowd. Sex, violence, witchcraft! He had it all. And yeah, I understand. I'd explain how I got into it, but, you know. A big black marker has struck itself over the majority of my life."

Rashmi nods, shrugging. "No, I understand… It's sort of weird, honestly, being in this school while all the SHIELD business flies past your head, but, honestly it makes sense. We're not really agents, we don't have the kind of clearance we need, and anyway we're still sole citizens of our own country. Kind of makes it easier when you realize that just because our education is being funded and carried out by a major extranational peacekeeping organization, doesn't mean we have all the rights and responsibilities to go with it." Leaning back in her chair, the redhead chuckles, tucking a lock of hair behind an ear. "…But then, I also intern for a foreign embassy, and end up going out of the *dimension* with Ms. Walters now and again, so I guess I'm just used to it."

"Yeah. I personally have so many international enemies that I think SHIELD is satisfied in saying that most of my aliases are dead. Except for the non-identity I keep here. It's important for SHIELD affairs, though, that we do what we do. Clearance is such a funny thing, though. I'm cleared for a lot, because I've been there for lots of the classified business and they consult me for a lot of information related business, but other agents are cleared for other things that I'm not," explains Index, pondering this, "It can be an information game figuring out who knows what."

"Well," Rashmi says, chuckling, "it's more than *I* need to know, usually. That's why I ask, after all… Better to just figure out where the boundaries are, and try not to worry too hard about anything that lies outside them. Lots of people here are paid to deal with that kind of thing anyhow, right?"

"Yeah, that's true enough. Besides, all that /really/ lies outside of your clearance is extremely boring paperwork anyways," says Index, grinning at that, "Believe me, I've written and read some pretty dull reports in my time. Oh yeah, and my personal information. But the air of mystery I surround myself with, well, I'm sure it's intriguing at least."

Rashmi's lips twitch upward. "Well, probably… But I'm usually too busy to think about intriguing mysteries… Um, no offense sir. Also there's all the practice I've had in not prying into other people's lives; trust me, after a few months at Xavier's you get *really* good at avoiding interpersonal minefields."

"Nah, no offense taken. I know what you mean. This place has some people with pretty unique backgrounds, too. I'm guessing Xavier's kids are kind of the same, but more mutant flavoured. Not that we don't have mutant flavour here, obviously, but it's more of a neapolitan thing," says Index, shrugging.

This last comment has Rashmi throwing back her head, laughing brightly for a moment. "Yeah… all the different flavors of powered people, definitely. But it's not just the mutant-flavored background, more like mutant *teenagers* with all the apocalyptic worries of the teenage mind, *plus* all the trauma of finding out you have powers the worst way possible. Still, there's probably a lot of that no matter what type… just.. not… often with a crowd so young, right?"

"I can't even believe I was a teenager once. Admittedly, they can drive me up the wall. But yeah, tossing powers into that mix is messed up," says Index, chuckling softly, "Mutants tend to manifest in their teens. You tend to get magical people turning up either really old or really young, mechanical and accidental powers show up in adult years. So I can see why so much drama must have coloured your lives at Xavier's. Everything is so dramatic when teens are involved!"

"Don't I know it," Rashmi groans, voice wry. "But, one *very* good thing about it is, you go there and you realize the mutant part of it probably isn't as world-ending as you thought; I mean, it's hard to be alone in your suffering when there's a couple handfuls of dozen kids, half of whom have it worse than you, and at least a quarter of which are superhero fans anyway!"

"But doesn't that just harsh your existential angst?" says Index, shaking his head disapprovingly. "I always think kids are collecting that stuff in their teenage years. You have to get it while the getting is good. I do think it's nice that kids have a place to go where they aren't outsiders, though. I was kind of an outsider myself, albeit for /really/ mundane reasons."

Rashmi's head tilts to one side, eyebrows rising. "Oh? This more of the black marker stuff, if I can ask?"

Index shrugs, "Theatre geek. You can probably extrapolate that from our conversation already and a touch of cleverness. I'm sure you have at least a touch of that." He smiles and nods, "But more than that, I can't really say. As always, I can offer to make something up."

Rashmi waves a hand. "Oh, don't worry about it then. Theater geek I can understand, I was a debate club and mock-trial nerd in a high school half-populated by kids from the Kitchen. So yeah, if I'd've given it much thought I'd probably feel like an outcast too. Fortunately, Mami and Papi were really *really* good at keeping me feeling loved and happy, so I know it wasn't nearly as bad as it could be."

"Reminiscing is really hard when you can't say anything substantial," comments Index, raising his eyebrow. "It's good that your parents were so caring. That's important in later stability. Given your records, you seem fairly well-adjusted and involved, so it paid off."

Rashmi chuckles. "Well *I* like to think so, anyway. Besides, the way I was raised, it was either this or rebelling hard, so I like to think I made the right choice."

"Yeah, I think you did. I should get back to my quarters, though. Old guys like me have to be in bed early, you know. Not that it's so early anymore," says Index, raising his eyebrow, "Anyhow, keep up being well-adjusted. I know it can be hard in this crazy world, but eh, do your best. And have a good night."

Rashmi blinks, looking at her PDA, and pales. "Oh, good Lord it *is* late…" Immediately, she starts to snatch books from the pile, restacking them according to some order only she can follow. "I'll try, sir, and you have a good night too, okay?"

Giving a half-salute, Index says, "I'll do my best. Catch you later, Ms. Franklin." He walks away, seeming to be carrying nothing with him as he goes, as is usual with him.

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