2015-04-16 Casual Thursdays
This scene is rated Everybody
Warning: N/A
Players: Hank, Drake
GMed by Who GMed?
Title: Casual Thursdays

Drake has an objective in mind; one he's toyed with for a few days now. But things have been rather busy for him lately, and he wanted to get a little practice in before going through with the thought anyway. He's got a long way to go before he could be called a marksman, but he's better than he was before, so, you know, screw it. No point in dallying around further.

This objective requires someone with an innovative mind and technical savvy. One person stands head and shoulders over everyone else he can think of: Hank. Unfortunately, there are only two places he knows to really look for him, being the workshop and medlab. The workshop happens to be the closer of the two.

The door opens to the spacious chamber, pushed wider by a shoulder-nudge. Drake's hands are largely occupied with an ultramodern high-powered crossbow. As if marching with a rifle, the teen carries the weapon at an angle crossing his torso as he scans the interior, stopping about midway into the room.

Blue-Furred Scientists are always in the last place you look. As Hank wasn't in his usual domains of the Science Lab or Medical Bay. But Drake eventually locates him in the workshop. He's in his usual X-Speedo and is currently seated on the floor amongst a pile of junk. Though after a little while the nature of the pile of junk is clear, it appears to be a motorcycle. A motorcycle in which every part has been broken down into it's individual pieces. And Hank is seated on the floor with an arrangement of tools, a box of Twinkies, and a book on 'Motorcycle Repair'. It's clear he's not paying attention to the surroundings at the moment, focusing on comparing the parts to the picures in the book.

But fortunately, it's hard to miss him. He's a big feller. But this happens to be the first time Drake's spotted him in his X-speedo. He's always had on some kind of covering. So Drake's first reaction is to pause and blink.

"Heck yeah, I didn't know the faculty has a Casual Thursday!," he pipes up mirthfully from behind. "Does Marie know about this?"

Should Hank look in his direction, he'll be met with a playful grin.

"Anyhoo, is this a bad time?"

Beast glances up from what he's working on… looking almost relieved for the break. Rolling forward and up onto his feet. His prehensile toes on those large feet spreading just a bit to balance his stance as he does. "What?" Hank asked with a curious rumble. "Oh, the uniform. You've seen me in it before… right?"

Hank assumed everyone has. But Drake's comments given him pause for a moment. Well… he does tend to wear something a bit less revealing when teaching and such. Hank backflips and twists in midair, landing so he's facing Drake now instead. "But I doubt you're lurking about to critique my attire. And no, not really a bad time. Just a lil telekinetic powers training went wrong and one of the motorcycles was dismantled entirely."

Drake observes the totally unfair acrobatics display before him. He's come a very long way in terms of gymnastics, tumbling, and acrobatics, himself - but Hank's just got it cornered. He's jelly. "I'm just givin' ya the business, Doc," he chirps amiably. He tilts aside to peer at the wreckage Hank had been working with, and upon learning it was once a motorcycle, a sense of horror fills him. None of the components are candy lime green though, so it wasn't his brand-spanking-new birthday present lying in pieces before him. Still, it's a terrible thought.

Drake shudders.

"A-actually, this," Drake redirects, hefting the crossbow, "is what I wanted to show you. Totally random birthday present, but I dig it. It got me thinking, though. Whenever I'm out doing the, uh…" He pauses to shoot a cursory glance around the workshop, ensuring they're alone. They are. "…New Mutant stuff, sometimes I need to get somewhere in a hurry; somewhere other people can't get easily. So I guess it sort'a inspired me to ask about a… a zipline or something? I dunno. This sucker's probably too big to be carried around efficiently with my style, but… what're your thoughts?"

Beast flips up a pack of Twinkies out of the box with his foot, grabbing it and then tossing it to Drake. It's known that Hank is a bit over-protective of people eating his Twinkies so t's actually a really touching gesture. "So what can I help you with?" Hank wonders as he grabs his own pack and casually munches them.

"A crossbow?" Hank asks with a soft hrmmm. "Well today isn't RenFest Friday…but I suppose I could give it a once over. He brow perks though at what Drake is asking him about. "So… like a grappling gun?" Hank wonders as he nibbles on a Twinkie. "I'd just recommend a good pair of retractable in-line skates myself."

Drake tilts the crossbow and leans, awkwardly catching the twinkie along its haft. It would be pretty cool, if it looked for even a moment like he did it on purpose or with grace. But he flashes the blue beastie a big grin afterwards. "Yeah!," he nods. "Maybe something, like.. on the wrist. Whatever's feasible!" Drake's technical savvy extends mostly to vehicles, with a focus in making them move without having their key. (Spoiler: he hotwires cars.) So his grasp on what would work is limited to his imagination with no functioning, practical scope of what can actually be made.

But if the Danger Room is a thing, he's pretty confident in the brightest minds the mansion has to offer.

"Skates?," asks an incredulous Drake before shooting a look to his feet. "I hear what you're saying, but I'd think being able to get to higher ground quickly and quietly would be a bigger advantage. If I'm throwing out bolts of lightning in a crowded area, someone could run through through a stream or something. If I'm shooting down from an angle up above, there's less chance someone's gonna get tagged by accident. I'd have a clearer shot. And better cover." Beat. "And a better place to stash my backpack if I've gotta change in a hurry." His head tilts faintly to the side, bangs wafting a little further over his eye. "Am I makin' sense?"

"On the wrist might not be feasible… you hook to something mobile and it could tear your hand off." Beast offers as he takes a seat on a desk and ponders. Considering options in his head as he is lost in thought for a moment. He'll have to toy with some design sketches and mock-ups before he can really commit to something. "I'll see what comes to mind when I do some brainstorming later." Beast offers with a warm smile as he polishes off this pack of Twinkies.

Hank does crack a bit of a smile though as he listens to what Drake has to say. "Be honest, have you ever caught yourself shouting 'Lightning Bolt!' repeatedly when slinging lighting?" Yes, Beast is a D&D geek… though he hasn't really LARP'd. Given his life is enough of a LARP when you look like what he does. "Just wear your costume under your clothes. It's what I do." Hank notes. Though he does nod to what Drake is saying.

"When's your birthday? I'll shout it all day for ya," muses Drake. "I'll even wear a wizard hat. People'll think I'm a sorceror."

With a chuckle, the teen rolls his shoulders to adjust the crossbow-and-twinkie combo in his arms. "I wear gloves'n boots'n a mask," he specifies. "I'll show ya sometime. It'd be tough to get it all under my clothes." Beat. "Unless it's Casual Thursday." A part of him is daring enough to try it. The other part fears for his reputation. He could just imagine what Xavier would have to say: 'Put some damn pants on.' Could he make Chuck swear? Would it be worth it to try and find out?


"I wanna keep my arms where they are, yeah. Uh.." He glances aside, brow furrowed. "What iiif…" He glances back to Hank. "…what if it had a sort of 'shock' absorber? Like what cars have? Wouldn't help if the thing is going super fast, but a little give might help stop some dislocation. I'unno, I'm just spitballing." The more he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea of something wrist-mounted. That'd be pretty convenient.

"Oh, but whatever it is needs to be able to not, like, fry under crazy amounts of electricity, of course."

Beast doesn't really get any flack for his choice of attire/costume. But then he's also covered with fur from head to toe. So he tends to be able to get away with something like that a little easier than most. Though Drake does get a bit of a grin at some of his comments. He does nod though when Drake offers a few idas.

"A hand-held device would still be better. Give you more precise control. And cold offer a means of retracting or disengaging the line easier. It's something for me to put some thought into anyway." Hank notes as he gestures behind him to the bike parts. "I hope you're not above waiting. I do have a lot of other work on my plate."

Drake nods eagerly, bangs abounce. "Yeah, of course! I didn't mean to come off like I'm, uh, trying to push my way to the top of the pile. I can be patient." He takes a step forward and leans aside again to look at the motorcycle parts. "Do you want a hand with that? I don't know too much about'em when they're in pieces like that, but…" But he's willing to learn and be useful. Plus it'll help in case something should happen to his own, personal ride.

"No worries, I was just letting you know. Especially when I'm something of a workaholic around here. But then I don't tend to get out much… for obvious reasons." Hank chuckles softly and glances back at the motorcycle parts. "If you'd like… I certainly don't mind the company. But I don't wnat to keep you if you have something better to do than hang out with the 'Teach'." Hank chuckles just a bit and moves back to his spot on the floor.

Drake makes his way around the metal parts and chassis and simply plops down to sit on folded knees. The crossbow is set aside, and Drake surveys the parts with all the bewilderment of a newborn. None of it makes sense in its given form. They just look like oddly-shaped metal pieces. Oh, and some wheels. Wheels, he recognizes. The twinkie package is finally popped, and the spongecake finds its way into his mouth. Once he swallows, he pipes up with, "I hang out with the staff often enough. Ain't no thang." A reassuring smile is flashed his way next.

"So, uh.. where do we start?"

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License