| I think you should shut your face | |||||
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| What: X-men at the bar. | |||||
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The mixture of a stressful few months, the arrival of spring, and it being a Friday night has led a group of the X-men out to drown their struggles in ethyl alcohol. It's been a long, long winter and the arrival of spring represents a turning of the page.
At least hopefully. Let's be honest. Danger has never been far away from these Children of the Atom.
At a table in the back part of the bar, away from the mayhem of Friday night, a group of friends sit with shots in front of them. When Scott purses his lips and considers, he's fairly sure this is going to be a bad idea, but sometimes bad ideas are the best ones.
Amanda doesn't have nearly the same hang-ups Scott does about indulging in a little bit of sauce once in a while. Although, to be fair, the bender she, Kurt, and Domino went on the other night should really be enough to last her for a while. Nevertheless, tanked up on water, earlier, to avoid the worst effects of a hangover, Amanda is willing to join the X-team's "fearless leader" in a shot -- though don't be surprise if she goes light on the drink the rest of the night. No sense pushing her luck.
She flashes Scott a grin, fingertips lightly on her glass. "On three?"
It may be easiest on Scott's sensibilities never to think about Kitty Pryde being old enough to drink legally -- not when he's forever got the mental image of a curly-haired thirteen-year-old with eyes practically bigger than her face associated with that name. So it may also be a good thing that Kitty wasn't initially one of the group heading out this evening. She's caught up fast, though ... but not so fast that she can't use, you know. The actual door. Opening it with her hand and everything. She focuses in on Amanda and heads straight thataway, with that slightly tensely focused expression that suggests some nebulous Problem somewhere.
It'd been the first real occasion that Doug'd had to be sitting at the 'big boys' table with the X-Men. Oh, there was SHIELD, certainly, but a bar with -the- Scott Summers?
Doug was only too happy to come along.
Having a hard cider was probably easier on -him-, but damn it, it was the big boys' tables, and he was going to hold up his end of the deal, especially in front of Scott and the others. "Three," Doug says, taking a deep breath, and holding up his shot. C'mon, Ramsey, you'd done this before with SHIELD agents. Why not with Mr. Summers and Ms. Sefton...?
The door opens into Harry's and Alex Summers comes into the bar. He is dressed in a simple tshirt with the logo of the Arizona State Sundevils and a pair of jeans. He had heard that Scott and fellows were coming to the bar. He had been going over some science papers up at the school and thought a drink sounded good. He heads back towards the table where his friends are. He smiles as he approaches. "Hey guys. Let me pull up a seat and I've got the next round." He plops down into a chair next to his older brother and relaxes into it.
"Blondes and tequila go together like peanut butter and jelly." Scott raises an eyebrow at Amanda and gives her a short nod before bringing the glass towards his lips. He stops short as Doug makes his comment, and can't help but give just a hint of a grin.
"Three." He downs the shot and holds it in his mouth for a handful of seconds before swallowing. He sets the glass on the table and grimaces only slightly. As Kitty and Alex come in, he does not appear to have any outward sense of discomfort at the former coming into the bar. But that being said, He doesn't often show much outward discomfort.
"Hey, little brother. Your shot, your call."
Amanda laughs lightly in response to Scott's words. "It's all about the salt and lemon," she tells him. Performing the ritual in the sequence expected, she echoes "Three!" on cue and tosses her blonde head back to swallow the clear liquid down. As it courses down, she shakes her head and clears her throat. "Hey, Alex," she greets the younger Summers brother lightly.
It's Kitty's intensity, however, that steals her attention. Setting her shot glass down, she cants her head at the younger brunette. "Hey, Kitty. What's wrong?" She frowns faintly. "You have a look on your face that says something's wrong."
"I'm seriously sorry to interrupt," Kitty says to Amanda. Her hand comes up uselessly to shove hair back out of her face, but her hair's already back in a tight tail, so that goes nowhere except to show that none of the *guys* at the table have registered to her any more than her own hair not being in her eyes has. "But I ... kinda ran across something I think you need to see." She snags what passes for her cellphone with her other hand, offering it over to Amanda; there's a grainy, grayscale image on it, a video in freezeframe. Her lower lip gets pulled between her teeth as she braces afterward. Old habits.
Following Amanda's example, Doug swigs down the drink, setting the glass down, before he blinks at Kitty's appearance.
"Kitty!" Doug exclaims. "What's the rush...? Sit down, unless there's an emergency...?" The blonde linguist cocks an eyebrow at Kitty, to communicate that whatever was wrong, she might want to explain it a bit more, before greeting Alex with a polite "Mr. Summers."
Alex nods to the table as they greet him in return. He is leaning back in his seat to signal the waitress when Kitty speaks. He lifts one eyebrow up and gives the young X-Man a quizzical look and then over to Amanda as the phone is passed. "That sounds rather ominious. You don't have a picture of the end of the world starting up outside?" As the waitress begins to approach the table, he holds up one finger and offers an apologetic smile. "One sec, please."
"Salt and lemons just take up space," Scott responds to Amanda as he slides the glass towards the middle of the table. But when Kitty approaches, he shares Doug's concern. He watches the interchange between the two women with interest, but does not pry. Yet.
He shoots Alex a look as the younger makes his joke, but remains quiet; eager to hear what is happening.
Amanda blinks, shoving her own glass away and taking the cell from Kitty. She peers at the grainy frame and inhales a deep breath. "Ah," says shortly. She moves her thumb over the play button and lets it play for a bit. She also, however, slides her thumb over the mute button -- especially when the grainy figure of Mystique starts going ballistic as the grainy figure of Nightcrawler explodes in flame and the twisted steel of a very bloody, very gruesome death and the grainy figure of Margali swells into a two-storey demon.
The blonde sorceress has the good grace to wince and avert her eyes at that sight. "Okay. That's gotta get taken down"
Remarkably, however, she doesn't have nearly the same conniption fit Kitty must have had when she first saw the footage. Instead, letting the video run out, she passes the mini computer back to its owner with a rueful, apologetic grimace. "It's not real, Kitty. I promise you it's not real. That wasn't Kurt. It was an illusion. I know. I cast it. The demonic witch there?" She doesn't reveal aloud that it looks like her own mother. "That was me in disguise. For Mystique's benefit." Another beat. "Is it at all something you can hack and get rid of?"
Whereupon Kitty quite literally goes down on one knee by Amanda's seat, hands clasped over her heart, and says earnestly up to the other woman, "Please never ever ever freak me out that badly again unless you *really have to*? With .... salt and lemon on top, apparently, oh God." That's right: Kitty just audibly parsed the rest of everything going on all at once. Hastily, she bounces back to her feet. "Uh, yeah, sure, I can wipe it out or if Doug's willing to lend a hand we can cover it over with something nobody'll ever tell from the real thing. It hasn't shown up on any news services yet so probably it doesn't get checked real often or anything." Gadget: shoved back in pocket. "-- Hi, Doug! Hi, Scott! Hi, Alex! I am /so/ sorry for interrupting." And probably so tempted to steal somebody's glass right off the table if they're not careful.
"What's got to be taken down?" asks Doug curiously. No, he doesn't reach out for the phone, as it would be quite rude to take it from Ms. Sefton, but Doug does tilt his head, asking wordlessly with his expression whether he could. "It shouldn't be too hard to take down anything, and I'm sure we can track down any copy of whatever it was."
Tilting his head back to Kitty, Doug grins, a confident, almost cocky smile, his body language going as to say 'Piece of cake.' "Team Supreme again, eh? It's been a while..."
Almost -tempted- to execute the highest of high-fives move, Doug nonethelessly holds his hands back, looking back towards Amanda. Can he? Can he?
"So sounds like everything is alright then?" Alex looks from Amanda to Kitty to Doug and back again. "I was looking forward to a calm evening as I drink my brother here under the table." He offers a smile as he tries to lighten the mood again. He waves to the waitress to come on back over. "Sorry about that. Round of Citron shots for the table, please." He looks back at the group as the waitress heads back towards the bar.
Scott coughs at the exchange between Kitty and Amanda and raises his eyebrows expectantly. "Have something to share, ladies?" A chuckle can't help but come out as his brother makes his jab. "There's a first time for everything, I imagine, Alex. But today is not that day."
Amanda glances between Doug and Kitty. "I don't care if it's overwritten or hacked out of existence. It's worth my life to have it buried." Quite literally. If her mother see it, Amanda's life is going to get very, very uncomfortable very, very quickly.
She glances at Scott as he insinuates his leaderly presence and gives him a tight smile. "Let's just say it's been a hellish week and give thanks to whatever benevolent gods care to listen that it's over, hmm? It's not a story for around this table. Ask me again, when we're back at home."
It's up to Kitty if she lets Doug see it here, or waits until later when they're hacking. Personally? Amanda would prefer they wait. The fewer that see the 'Death of the Amazing Nightcrawler' spread across the interwebs, the better. Even if they are teammates.
As Alex orders Citron, however, she regains some of her former humour. "That, I'll drink. Yes." Though, truthfully, she's no intention of a second night of drunken oblivion. Sets a bad precedent, that does.
%r"Just the usual 'I'd be skinning somebody for a carpet if I weren't so relieved,'" Kitty promises Scott, as she pulls a chair over from another table. Apparently she's joining them! "Except I'm used to that being /Logan/, not /Kurt/. Which is totally why Alex is getting tech support from me without any bitching attached, this week, because I /really/ need a drink right now." She flashes a grin back at Doug: tenseness gone and a matching confidence back in its place. "You have no idea how much of a pain it's been to do my /own/ coding. Jerk."
"And you have no idea how much of a pain it's been to figure out how to rewire circuitry without you," Doug rejoins, as he takes the refill. "I've got some ideas on how to upgrade a lot of things, but I haven't got the hardware to make it work."
Nudging Kitty, taking Amanda's plead to discuss it later, Doug glances back up towards the Summers brothers. "So, are we making a bet over which brother reigns supreme? Because there's no way the rest of us can keep up with either of you." Kitty is excluded automatically, but Doug glances at Amanda. Could -she-?
The round of drinks arrive and a shot glass is set next to everyone. Alex picks his up, rolling it slightly with his index finger and thumb. "That would be a sucker bet, Doug. We know Scott here can't drink much. Not with that stick up his you know where," he says with a chuckle. He pauses as he looks to the drink and then raises it for a toast. "To not having to skin someone into a carpet!" he proclaims with a laugh.
It's clear that Scott does not necessarily agree with waiting on the information. In the end, however, he decides to trust Amanda's judgment and refrains from making much of a fuss over it. "If you need a drink, Kitty, you've come to the right place." Beat. "But if you get sick, get sick on Doug."
"Brother supreme?" Scott says with a chuckle as Alex adds his two cents. "I can feel the jealousy emanating from your skin. Or you forgot deodorant again."
Amanda's sole reason for refraining from telling the story here and now is that they're sitting in a public place. As friendly as Harry's is to them, she's taking no chances. And the grateful, apologetic look she gives Scott as he accepts her delay might convey some of that.
Relaxing once more into the comraderie of the group, she settles back in her chair and lets the warmth of the tequila help her unwind. Truth be told, she's no intention of getting drunk again tonight, but a little to release tension is acceptable.
Given that Amanda handed back a technical task with some urgency attached, and Doug dangled the possibility of more, Kitty's probably right there with Amanda where intentions are concerned. On the other hand: Citron, /right there/. And a toast that Kitty can laugh and lift her own glass to. "May every day go so well," she agrees to Alex. "And just for that crack about my getting sick on Doug, I'm backing you in the 'able to walk out of here' stakes. Even if it winds up giving Scott mocking rights later."
The Cintron is lifted, clinked all about, and then chugged. "Right. What Kitty said," Doug grins. "Although I wouldn't care if Mr. Summers... er, Scott," Doug flashes the older brother an apologetic smile, "... drank enough to loosen up. Because I really think if that happened, the universe would end."
"It probably would indeed," Alex says with a nod to Doug before downing the shot himself. He gives a shiver as the liquor hits him and then he breaths in deeply. "Wow. Going to need a chaser after that one." He orders a beer which is soon brought over to him. He takes a sip as he listens to the rest of the group.
"Seems like the bets are all being lined up," Scott says before throwing down his shot. "You ready to go toe to toe, little brother?" He looks to Amanda, "You have transportation tonight if this gets ugly?"
Amanda downs her Citron and sets the glass back on the table.She laughs appreciatively at Scott's offer. "Thanks," she says, "but I've had my limit for the night. I OD'ed a little on the stout, last night. Two nights in a row would be bad." Though, she agrees. It does feel like a chaser's in order. Hers, however, will be water. Or maybe a coke. When Alex flags the waitress down, she adds her order to his.
"I think Scott was asking if you'd be willing to haul Alex back if he passed out," Kitty volunteers innocently. Whose side is she actually on, here?
"I'll drive," Doug says, pushing the glass back. "Water, please!" he chimes in when Amanda adds her order to Alex's.
Glancing at Kitty, Doug leans forward. "So what's been going on, Kitty? Getting in trouble with the latest... oh, who are you mooning over now, Prince Harry?"
Alex takes a drink from his beer and stifles a burp with his back of his hand. "Excuse me there. Guess I'm drinking a bit too fast there." He rocks back slightly in his chair, keeping his feet on the ground, but two legs just off the ground. As the waitress comes back with the sodas and water, he gestures towards Scott and mouths "Another beer for him," to the waitress so she goes to get Slim another drink so he won't fall behind already.
"Make it a shot and a beer, ma'am. We'd better pick up the pace, here," Scott's head turns and he seems to look over to his brother as he smiles. "Actually, Kitty, I was referring more to myself. I'm choosing between you and Doug on who gets to drive my Mustang home, so watch yourself."
He then looks to Amanda, "Taking yourself out of the running already? Survival of the fittest, and all that."
Amanda glances at Kitty as she clarifies. Glances back to Scott, and then to Alex. "Hey. Last night, I kept up with a blue-furred elf and a crazy albino mercenary. You wanna talk survival of the fittest? Ha! Don't worry, fearless leader," she winks. "We'll get you guys home in one piece." She grins at Doug and points at him. "You can drive the loser." She, on the other hand, will likely be sober enough to 'port.
She may also stick an illusion on each of them come the end of the night... just so that the next morning everyone knows who beat whom. Winner gets elf ears. Loser? Gimli's beard.
Bet on it.
There is such a thing as an amiably obscene gesture, and Kitty makes one across the table at Doug (with the hand not occupied in downing her own shot, somewhat belatedly due to not previously having actually shut up long enough). "Water for me, too, please. God, we're all wussing out, this is so sad. I blame Kurt. Twice. The crazy can get blamed one-half. -- Doug, I will /never/ moon over Prince Harry, because his grandma would /kill/ me. With a disapproving look. Just one. It'd be enough, I'd wither and keel over and die on the spot. Nah, I'm between bad ideas right now, like a responsible adult. Who can totally drive a Mustang." She bats eyelashes merrily at Scott.
"Oh c'mon, you've stared down so many -different- aliens. Unless Queen Elizabeth is possessed by the Brood, I don't see what you're so worried about," Doug grins at Kitty. "Wait... in between bad ideas...? What was the last one?"
Wincing at Amanda, Doug shakes his head. "Can't I at least drive the winner? The loser's probably going to make a mess of himself. No offend, sirs."
"I'm betting it is the Corgis that really scare folks," Alex says over the beer in his hand. "Saw some show talking about what would happen if people disappeared. London would be ruled by feral corgis that could get in and out of all the nooks and crannies." He grins at the thought of packs of Corgis running through London. "And he," Alex says with a sideways nod of his head towards Scott, "definitely would. I have heard a couple stories from Bobby and Hank."
"Pipe down and keep drinking, Blondie," Scott says, presumably to Alex and not to Doug or Amanda. The shot is gone in no time before he begins on the beer. He chuckles as he looks around the table, "This was an invite to party, perhaps the only time this group may ever see me in such a way, and 60 percent of us have chickened out. I'm proud to say the only other that hasn't is my brother." Scott's snarkiness and grin aren't normally associated with him. Are the drinks already beginning to take hold?
"Nope," Amanda tells Doug decisively. "You get the loser." Whomever that may be. She won't actually lay odds one way or another. She'll leave that to Domino... wherever she is.
And, yes. 60% of the table is wussing out. Or, at least, they appear to be. But, let's be honest, now. How often do they get to see their fearless leader get completely shitfaced? Seldom enough that it's worth staying sober to watch the show.
"I foresee a need for drunken billiards, later," she decides. "We'll see just how well you really do hold your liquor, hmm?"
Unless Queen Elizabeth is possessed by the Brood? Kitty tips back her head and addresses the ceiling. "He didn't mean it, God, you don't have to put that one on your to-do list." Alex's commentary she doesn't try to intercede on; Corgi London is thankfully too weird even for this universe. (Yet.) And then Scott ... well. Then Scott. And Kitty arches her eyebrows and turns to Amanda. "What he hasn't figured out is," she says solemnly, "once there's a crack in the armor ... it'll happen again. Oh, yes. It'll happen again. I vote we keep a sharp eye out for a time when nobody's had crazy the night before, and nobody has to go be a responsible techie after, and then we drag Scott out here and we don't stop till there's dancing on the tables. It's been /way/ too long." A pause. And then a long, long sigh. "Responnnnnsible. Right. Right. Let me go arrange a convenient technical difficulty on behalf of a cute blonde." Kitty pushes herself up from the table, snagging Alex around the shoulders in a one-armed hug en route. "I so owe you."
"Don't want the loser," Doug replies, perhaps being a bit more resistant to the idea after a few drinks than he might have been otherwise.
Nudging Kitty, Doug comments, "Isn't this how you got in trouble before? I mean, the one who usually ended up dancing on the tables was you..."
Abruptly realizing that he was referring to underaged drinking exploits, Doug offers a sheepish grin to Scott. "But we were responsible. Really." They just did it at home.
"Don't let Scott play pool. He cheats something fierce. He will start with shooting pool, have an itch at that temple, and suddenly red light and all the balls are in the hole." Alex laughs and does order another shot. "In fact, just leave the bottle if you could." Alex pours himself and Scott another shot and downs his followed by the chaser of beer.
As Kitty gets up with the one arm hug, he pats Kitty on the arm with a friendly motion. "Just remember that when the two of us break into song after the next couple of shots."
Scott's voice is a little bit louder, for some reason. "Listen here, Douglas," he says in response to the underage drinking tell. "I don't want to know. It's better if I don't know." And then he points a finger at Alex, "She never said we couldn't use powers. If the girl wants to play billiards, we're going to play billiards. I know you know where the table is at the mansion; it's where I've wiped the floor with you many times before." Swip. Chug. Then more beer.
Amanda laughs at Kitty's suggestion. "I want you to go back and think about what you just said, Kitty," she tells the girl. She starts ticking off on her fingers. "When no one's had crazy the night before, and no one has to go be responsible after. Personally, I think Hell will freeze over long before that happens." Of course, the fact she's actually seen a frozen hell or two might have something to do with that opinion.
She eyes Doug as he tries desperately to cover up his faux pas. Lightweight. Wow. "Uh-huh," she says dryly, no doubt expressing in that skeptical tone what the whole table's thinking. "I just bet you were." Responsible. Sure. The real question is: Responsible for what?
She watches Scott with some amusement, now, however. A slow smile spreads over her lovely face. "Mutant ball," she says softly after a moment, her eyes glimmering. "Midnight mutant ball." Now, her finger jabs between the Summers boys. "IF you guys don't pass out, first."
"It /happens/!" Kitty protests to Amanda. "It happens! I've /seen/ it! We just have to watch. Really close." A pause as she considers Scott's addition. "And bring earplugs. Doug, see, the thing is," and she grins across at him, "I /can/ dance." And off she goes, possibly to try to code fast enough to be able to hunt the pool table at midnight.
Flushing at Amanda's look, Doug shrugs sheepishly, before running a hand through his hair. "Well, it does happen. It's just that the school's a magnet for trouble." Glancing back at Scott, Doug grins. "Life was easier -at- SHIELD than here, sir. At least I went to trouble, instead of having it find me."
He looks towards Amanda, quirking an eyebrow. "Mutant ball?" he asks, not being terribly conversant with whatever -that- is.
"Yeah, yeah, you can beat me at pool. Not my fault that what *I* try to shoot usually falls apart instead of bouncing off of walls," Alex says with a shake of his head. He looks over his shoulder, scanning for the pool table in Harry's. "How do I know you haven't rigged that one, Slim?" He pours them another shot, slams it down, and then picks up his beer again. Definitely trying to win this one.
"I don't," Scott responds flatly to his brother. "But as you can tell, I'm not really afraid." His attention goes back to Amanda, "Midnight? I thought, given your new propensity for being a goodie goodie, you'd be in bed long before midnight." He slams the shot shortly after his brother does, and then grabs for the bottle to pour two more.
Amanda chuckles now. "Scott, Scott, Scott, Scott..." she smiles, shaking her head. "I'm a witch, remember? We almost never go to bed before the witching hour. It's against union rules, you know."
She flashes a grin at Doug. "Mutant ball," she repeats. "You'll just have wait to experience it, my friend. It's better that way."
"And if you're so concerned with making sure she's in bed before midnight, sir, I can always volunteer to make sure she's in bed," Doug replies cheekily, flashing a grin, before coughing, "Unless you'd rather do that yourself"
The young mutant smiles at Amanda, nodding, before glancing towards Alex, examining his beer. "You know, I'm not much of a drinker, but is that really the best beer you can get for this sort of thing? Why not get something stronger? Like, uh..." What was the trivia question for world's strongest beverage? "Bacardi Rum?"
"Pacing myself, Doug. Can't go too strong out of the gate or you just flash and die out in the long stretch." Alex glances at his beer but takes the poured shot that Scott had just done. He downs the drink and then it is his turn to pour out the next round for the two brothers. "And I think you are just trying to get someone in trouble, Doug," he laughs as he sits back after pouring the shot. "Either we drinkers or Amanda over there."
Scott gives Doug a flat, forced, fake, and somewhat silly smile. "If you've come for competition, Ramsey, you've come to the right place." His head turns to Alex, but then he remembers he has something to add to Doug, "If you got something to say, son, pick a language and say it."
The next shot goes down after Alex pours, just as soon as the younger one pulls the bottle away. "We're mutants," he says to no one in particular. "A world of trouble is where we come from."
He peers at Amanda, "Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?"
"More likely himself," Amanda says dryly to Alex, also commenting on Doug. She flicks her fingers at Doug, a brush of magic whispering from her. There's a thump on the back of his head -- an invisible Gibbs-smack.
She laughs, then, at Scott's comment. "I have flying monkeys," she tells him with a wink, "I'm not afraid to use them."
"I'm not much of a competitor, sir..." Doug begins, before his head is thumped forward by a smack. "Ah, er... yeah, I deserved that," Doug smiles at Amanda, rubbing the back of his head.
Tilting his head at Alex, Doug grins, placing his chin on his hand, elbow on the table. "In vino veritas, Alex."
"I skipped Latin in school, but I will trust that means something good," Alex says with a good natured laugh. He blinks several times as the liquor they have been consuming is getting that buzzed feeling around the eyes and possibly more. "Yeah, we are mutants, Scott. Trust me. I think we are all aware of *that* one. I like to think that it doesn't automaticlly mean trouble."
"I like to think you're going to shut your face, little brother. Drink." Scott throws back another and is visibly beginning to look worse for wear. He holds the glass close to his face as he downs the shot and takes a moment to compose himself. Then, almost as if he's sober, he looks to Amanda, "What a coincidence. So do I." Then, as a total after thought, he points to Doug, "If you don't like competition, you lose by fiat."
Amanda leans back in her seat, now, and flashes a grin at Scott. She watches him sway as he looks at his glass, and imagines his eyes crossing behind those ruby glasses. She turns her attention then to Alex. It's about time a winner was declared.
Oh, and the reason she appointed Doug the caretaker of the loser? She figures the loser will be a heavier deadweight to have to lug about. With any luck, the winner will still be able to lurch upright at least a few steps.
"Hey I like competition. Just not one where you're gonna lose even when you win. It's a total Kobayashi Maru. No thanks," Doug replies, as he watches the drinking contest go down.
Rubbing his temples, Doug chugs the rest of the glass of water, then orders another. "Hey Amanda...?" He comments as he watches them drink. "I've got an idea for something you can do with computers, but I need to talk to Kitty to see if it's doable."
"Bragging rights are not losing before you win. Apparently, you are an only child with no over bearing older brother." Alex is slurring is words now and aims a slight jab of his elbow at Scott with jovial intent. "Watch yoursel..watch...Oh, I don't remember what to watch."
"I have some ideas as to what to do with the computer, too," Scott interjects as he grabs the bottle and takes a pull from it. He shakes his head, mocking disdain at Doug. "Oh come on, man. You gotta live a little. And if I am telling you that, you know there's an issue."
Amanda arches a brow at Doug. "Something I can do with computers?" She laughs outright. "Lemme tell you what I can do with computers, Dougie. I can turn 'em on. I can look at my email and surf the web. I can turn 'em off again when I'm done. That's what I can do with computers. Anything more than that? I'll leave it to you technogeek types."
She flashes Scott a grin as he tells Doug to loosen up. Yeah. It's rich, coming from him. But mostly, she just grins at Dough, cheshire cat smug. "You're takin' the loser home." And she points to Alex, who appears to be swooning. "Which I'm thinking could end up being him." She flips a palm up and open before Scott. "Keys to the 'stang, man. Keys to the 'stang. I'm drivin'."
"Hey, -tonight- I get to be responsible so that -you- can ditch it," Doug grins, running a hand through his hair, looking towards Alex, and sighing. Looks like -he- got Alex. Great. The guy with the plasma bursts. He glances at Amanda. "If he explodes while I'm driving, I'm coming back to haunt you," Doug mutters. "Don't think I won't, I already came back from the dead once..."