2013-02-21 A Chaperone for Detroit

"I hope you aren't afraid of riding on a motahcycle."

Famous last words, right? Jocelyn may not have been permitted to leave the Institute without a chaperone, but Kwabena had that kind of authority. While he could have taken any of the automobiles available to the X-Men and Institute staff, he'd elected to give the student a ride on his own personal quarry - the Harley Sportster, all black and gunmetal gray edition.

It's got plenty of room for two, and he had, of course, insisted on her wearing a helmet. He's wearing one too, even though in all technicality it was not necessary. Call it an opportunity to avoid getting pulled over by the police. Soon enough, the forestry gives way to the small town of Salem Center, its multitude of small shops collected around the most important economic aspect of the little town - its train station.

Kwabena pulls the bike up to a parking spot near the train station, kicks the stand down, then glances over his shoulder. "How you doin' dere, Detroit?"

"Not at all. I've ridden on them a fair number of times. Never driven one though. Just got my regular driver's license recently".

Jocelyn had, of course, worn a thick black leather jacket and gloves along with the helmet. Not only were the gloves stylish, but they prevented her from shocking the man. The fact that she'd gotten ahold of some rubber lining to slip inside some gloves was, of course, the main cause of this. One of the more scientific types had made the suggestion to her, and she'd spent some time getting the basics done. They weren't super comfortable, but it meant she didn't have to worry quite as much. It was worth the tradeoff.

The girl looks around as they pull up near the train station. "Just fine," she comments to the man as she looks around the place. It's certainly a lot smaller than where she's from, but that's too be expected. "It's good to get outside of the school for a bit. Remember there's a world outside". She does rub at her eyes a little bit. She'd gotten used to how things were at the school, and the different energy types she might see shooting around. Here? It was positively boring with just your basic electricity, kinetic, and other more mundane energy.

"So, got any suggestions?" she asks, glancing at the older man. "I'm not sure what all is around here".

"I can't stay cooped up in one place for too long," agrees Kwabena as they dismount from his bike. The keys are promptly stowed inside his own black leather riding jacket, and the helmets are stowed away upon the rear cargo compartment with a locking cable.

After all, he loses far too many belongings when pulling his smoke trick in sticky situations. No sense in giving some thief free reign over their helmets.

"Well, dere is not much," he answers with honesty, and perhaps a bit of a disappointed sigh. "Some few restaurants, a cafe bar, places to do some shopping. De most important thing is, this place is very friendly to mutants."

He doesn't explain exactly why, for it was a mystery to himself in many ways. What he did know is that Professor Xavier had pulled some kind of 'mind trick' over the area, impressing thoughts and ideals upon those who enter that would further protect the X-Men and the Institute. A sort of psychological safe barrier, so to speak.

"Not at all like Detroit, right?" he asks, with a bit of a smirk. "Dere -is- a rather impressive record store about two blocks away." One eyebrow shoots upward, curiously.

Locking up just makes sense to Jocelyn, but she's used to the fact that if it isn't locked up, it won't be there later. So she waits for the man to lock the bike up before continuing. "Really?" she asks in regards to the question about the friendliness to mutants. "I still imagine that getting all flashy isn't something to do, but people aren't going to turn someone in to the cops for being a mutant either?" She asks that question in a quiet tone of voice, because there wasn't any sense in yelling it to the world.

"It's kind of like some of the smaller outlying towns," Jocelyn suggests. "Not like the city itself, no. Pretty much the exact opposite". She hasn't heard a gunshot yet, so it's already nothing like Detroit. "Hmm. Record store. Maybe I should check that out. I don't exactly have much in the way of music, or something to play it on for that matter. Cessily assured me this phone I got can play music, but I haven't figured it out yet. I just keep getting cat videos".

"-Cat- videos," scoffs Kwabena, having a clear distaste for such things. "I am sure we can do bettah dan dat. Cat videos are a quick way to lose your intelligence. Unless your name is Jubilation Lee."

Beat.

"Don't repeat dat."

As they walk, Kwabena motions about a bit, pointing out the different places. "No, I wouldn't be all flashy with your abilities here, but at least we don't have to be as much on de down low. Still, we wouldn't want to attract de attention of de police. From what I undahstand, de effect over de area is much more passive dan anything else." As if in demonstration, his words go quickly silent when a walking police officer comes around the corner, presenting the both with a friendly nod and a smile, which the African answers in kind.

"What -part- of Detroit did you grow up in?" he asks, curiously. "I cannot recall de actual name of the place where I stayed, but we nicknamed it 'meth alley'. Not a pleasant place at all."

"I've noticed they're pretty stupid. People get all this technology, and they use it to put up pictures of cats with watermelons on their heads. Why?" Jocelyn comments with a shake of her head. She nods to the comment about Jubilee. "To each their own, right?"

She takes note of the places he points out, and tenses very briefly when she spots the cop. She relaxes when the guy gives a friendly nod and keeps on his way. That was a good thing, in her opinion. Cops were dangerous.

"Northeast, mostly, though I spent time all over. Osborn, Denby, and Crockett. Those areas". Which likely don't mean much to someone if you haven't been to the city. "And yeah, there are a few places that would fit that name. They're not terribly pleasant, but I'd take them over a few other spots". She shrugs a little bit at that. "I'd have moved a long time ago, if I'd had the money and means, you know? Was working on that up until recently, and ironically that's how I end up moving out of there". She shakes her head at that comment.

"To each dere own," agrees Kwabena. He deftly notices Jocelyn's reaction to the police officer, and though he doesn't speak of it, he does eye her with a surreptitious look. It would seem that these two mutants are more similar than either of them may yet realize.

"No shortage of irony around here," he murmurs quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the occasional passing car or din of pedestrian gaggle. "Dat motorcycle? Bought it with money stolen from a drug lord. I -used- to be on his hook. When I took him down and got him arrested, I decided a bit of dope money was fair trade." He glances her way again, finding it easier to talk about his shady past, especially after the remark she'd made regarding his old addiction.

The ease with which he shares briefly surprises him.

"Would I do it again? Probably not. But I am not disappointed in myself, eithah."

While she doesn't show outward surprise, Jocelyn is a little surprised Kwabena is that open about sharing that information. Most people aren't. She gives him a brief nod. "You have to play the hand you're dealt at the time you're dealt it. No sense being disappointed or upset about what happened in the past," she agrees. She walks for a little bit before she speaks again. "I tried a fair bit of that stuff. Whatever I could steal or beat out of someone," she explains, keeping her voice low in that way someone who has had to make some quiet deals knows how to do. "Not my most shining moments, but it means I won't get locked out of my room I suppose. Most of that was before Mr. Clark took me in". She hadn't mentioned him really since her arrival, just in vague terms really.

A simple nod of agreement is given. "I did not know any oddah way," he offers. "But dat's all different, now." A grin curls one side of his mouth before they come upon the record store, one of those small town gems that would fit in any of the gritter, trendier urban districts.

A bright red neon sign on the window reads, "Shake It Records!"

Pulling open the door, Kwabena lets the student enter first, before motioning about the place. "Lots of good stuff in here! I keep a record player back home, but dey have discs too." He decidedly makes a bee-line for the 'Ethnic' section, his eyes and ears already hungry for some music from back home. "Who is Mistah Clark?" he asks, wondering if this was someone back in Detroit.

Oh boy. Actual records? Jocelyn starts doing a bit of browsing. "I think I need to find myself something a bit more portable than that," she comments with a smile. She heads over not to the music section first, but to where there are some used portable CD players. She starts looking them over and picks one out that looks sturdy, along with a clip accessory so she can hook it around her waist when running. Yeah, she could burn stuff to mp3 and put it on her phone, but she has no idea how.

"Mr. Clark? He was the one who thought I'd be able to make it as a professional fighter," Jocelyn says as she drifts over to Kwabena again. "Took me in and put me through my training. Helped clean me up a bit from the urchin I was before," she explains, keeping her voice low enough to avoid being overheard. On the opposite side of the Ethnic section is the Jazz section, and the girl starts browsing through some of those selections as she talks.

"What, you don't have a portable forty-five playah?" asks Kwabena with mock surprise. "We are going to have to work on priorities, Miss Stream!"

While she is scurrying about to find herself a portable CD player, Kwabena seems to have come across something. An album comes out, and he blurts out a surprised phrase in his native tongue. The album is eyeballed, then promptly stowed under his arm by the time she rejoins him on the other side of the aisle. "What is 'urchin'?" he asks for clarity, having never actually heard that specific term used. "I suppose I owe it to Domino for getting me out of my bad spot. Her, and Logan." There is a pause, and he seems briefly distracted. "I don't suppose you have met Miss Braddock yet." A lower tone is utilized, as if he were spiteful, or perhaps sad, that her presence has been missing from the institute.

Domino? Jocelyn doesn't really know that name, does she? She's trying to remember, but she files that up there with the list of names that make no sense. Wolverine. Iceman. Now Domino. "Well, all we have to do is find one, and I'll make sure to wear it on my morning runs, Kwabena. Though I think Gloria would roll her eyes at me if I ran into her wearing that," the teen points out. Gloria? Who was Gloria? "In this case, it means a street kid," Jocelyn explains. "I think it used to mean something else, but I don't know what. Some small creature in the sea". She has no idea that it used to mean hedgehog. She pulls out some Coltrane, some McGhee, and a couple others before she starts drifting towards the Rock section.

"I haven't met her, no. Is she a teacher?" Jocelyn asks. "I'm glad they were able to help you out of your problem though. From what I've seen, I imagine Mr. Logan is rather good at problem-solving". To put it one way.

"Mistah John Coltrane," notes Kwabena studiously, before leveling an approving look toward the teen. "Perhaps you can teach some of your fellow students about -real- music." He moves along through the Ethnic section, snatching two more albums up and tucking them under his arm before finding his way toward a section filled with an assortment of soundtracks. "She was once a student, but once she graduated, she... no, she is not a teachah." One day, Jocelyn will surely know of the X-Men.

Perhaps one day soon.

For now, he keeps the nature of 'Psylocke' to himself. "He has his own unique way. I don't know a thing about his history." For that matter, who does? "But we tend to see eye to eye on some few things." He shoots Jocelyn a grin and adds, "But don't let dat fool you. I am -much- friendlier, and considering I am not one of de full time teachah's, I won't be passing out Danger Room hours any time soon."

Jocelyn isn't buying that many CDs. She's really looking for a lot of the 'Best of' collections and those CDs with a lot of variety on them. She does not have a huge discretionary budget. She's picking up a good mix of 'Classic' Rock. "Ah. A bit like Doug then," Jocelyn responds. "An alumni". She's met Doug a few times already.

"History and I don't get along very well," Jocelyn comments as she continues working through the mix of cheap CDs. "He has seemed a little bit rough around the edges, to put it one way". She recalls the way he filled a room and made her feel rather crowded, even in the atrium. At mention of the Danger Room, she frowns slightly, but doesn't comment on it. She remembers how well her previous inquiries went.

"Find anything interesting?" she asks, gesturing to the music.

"That's right," answers Kwabena. "If anyone, I owe my life to her. One day I hope you will meet her. Just be careful." His mis-matched eyes flash mirthfully. "She reads minds."

There is a brief moment when Kwabena comes up with the vinyl record of the 'Shaft' film soundtrack. He eyes it briefly, smirking slowly as he imagines the theme music sung by Isaac Hayes, except changing one very important 'a' syllable for the 'i' syllable. However, he slips the record away without further mention, and comes around to join Jocelyn at the other side.

"Just some few things, but -dis- one." He raises one of the records for her to see. "Adeemra. An entatainah from my home village. He made it big in de city and went on to become a movie star in South Africa and Bollywood." He tucks the record away with a grin. "I have been trying to find dis for -years-."

Presumably, they are nearly finished. And so, Kwabena leads the way toward the clerk, an older graying man with a portly stomach.

"Hey hey, Mr. Odame!" He looks past Kwabena, eyeing Jocelyn. "Who's this, one of the students?"

Kwabena gives the owner a very slow and stoic nod. "Jocelyn, meet Hayes Floyd."

While letting Jocelyn make her purchases, Kwabena's voice lowers to a more conversational tone again. "Remembah, anyone who is rough around de edges has a reason for being dat way. Logan is as welcome as anyone else, so... dere are reasons."

"Good to know," Jocelyn says to Kwabena. She takes note of the man's purchases, and nods. "Got a few from my home too. Glad you could find it, though I'm afraid I've never heard of him," the teenager explains with a shrug. Just not her style of music perhaps?

She starts making her way up with Kwabena, and nods to the man. "Good to meet you, Mr. Floyd," she says to the man as she digs some money out of her purse to pay for the purchases. A nod is given to Kwabena regarding his comments about Logan. "I know". It's a simple statement, stated simply. She figures that was the case, even if he gave her the creeps. "I get along fine with Laura, but I know some of the students are bothered by her". And by some, from what she's seen and heard, you could say most. Not that she knows that Laura is related to Logan yet, but still, it is the same principle.

"You ready to go? Grab something to eat before we head back, or you need to get back?" she asks.