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 Err'body In the Club Gettin' Tipsy, [ IceMan ]
Posted: Feb 17 2012, 08:57 PM


There were perks to being a New Mutant. An extended curfew, greater involvement in world-wide affairs and the occasional life-threatening-but-awesome mission – these only numbered among the most rudimentary advantages to being counted as that awkward group of mutants that were no longer X-Students but not quite X-Men. In a way, it was liberating. Most of the freedom of the latter, but without the insanely high expectations and responsibilities? Robert could appreciate that. He could appreciate that a lot.

But really, the best part of being a New Mutant was that he was no longer underaged. And therefore, his superiors could no longer hoard the alcohol away from him. Granted, beer at the Mansion still remained virtually untouchable (you did not want to piss off Logan by finishing off his stash), but now at the ripe young age of Twenty-two, Roberto was ready and able to party all night long.

He didn’t do so excessively often, but he was known to go a bit…overboard whenever he did decide to go out. Not out of malice or ill will, but when the drinks started to flow…well, they flew all right. By the time the New Mutant registered that he should probably slow his roll some, the world would typically be spinning beneath his unsteady feet – the result of an addictive personality. Recognizing this, he often went out of his way to encourage those at the Mansion to accompany him. Partially to know that there would always be a friendly face around, if needed. But also because he found that the Manor could be a rather somber affair at times, and that he wasn’t the only one who needed to be reminded that they were young, unique, and in the prime of their lives. To a certain extent, Roberto felt it was his duty to drag as many people into having a good time as he possibly could. And therefore, when the Iceman himself showed interest in tagging along the Brazilian’s latest bar-hopping exploits, Roberto grabbed the opportunity with both hands.

And so, there they were. At one of the hottest nightclubs in New York proper. The dark, atmospheric room was flashing with color and fog. Bodies collided together on the dance floor, moving in perfect syncronization with the heavy, thumping base of the music. The air was thick with sweat and sin and youth. And Roberto?

Well, the younger Bobby was loving it.

Slouched up at the bar, he sipped at his Tanqueray and tonic that was much more gin than tonic. His brain was fuzzy – lost within that pleasant effervescence that often characterized inebriation. And as his eyes scanned the crowds, almost shyly curious, they finally fell upon a young woman.

Hey long, lustrous blonde hair fell upon slim exposed shoulders. Her skin was flawless, and her top dipped quite low in front. There was no doubting her attractiveness, and she very much knew it. It was with disinterest that she turned down wave after wave of admirers, a general malaise that seemed to infect her mood in a quite negative way. Idly, Roberto wondered who exactly she reminded him of…

His opportunity came after the unnamed woman turned down her most recent victim and slipped onto an empty bar stool delicately. Immediately, Roberto pounced – sliding his way over to her with confidence…and much more steadily than he would have thought himself capable at this point.

“Hey,” he greeted her with. Slowly, she cocked her head in his direction, appraising him with her cool blue eyes. And, ever so imperceptibly, the corners of her lips curled into a smile. She had given him implicit permission to continue. Her long lashes were lowered slightly, inviting. This was it. This was his chance to act. This was his opportunity – it was time for the Bobby to make his move.

As he opened his mouth, he realized he had no idea what to say. And so, he decided to wing it. “You have, like, a super awesome rack. Want something to drink?”

Immediately, she wrinkled her nose in distaste before slipping back onto her feet and abandoning Roberto there, rejected. And the worst part was, the Brazilian couldn’t even blame her. Seriously? What was wrong with him? That’s what happened to come out of his mouth, out of every possible configuration of words?

“I – I didn’t mean that! I mean, that's a lie, I totally meant that, but I didn’t mean to say it out loud!” He called out with a groan, raising his voice in the hopes that it would carry over the din of the club crowd. Dejected, he found himself slumping into the stool the mystery girl had just vacated.

“…Did I mention I’m rich?”
Posted: Feb 17 2012, 10:28 PM


Bobby had been around the Institute for just long enough to get away with any kind of shenanigans, even those concerning the more dangerous of the X-Men, without much hesitation. They knew that it was all in jest if Bobby was the one committing the acts, and even then Bobby was careful not to go overboard. He knew his boundaries. He knew the exact point to which he could push the other mutants, making them teeter over the edge of funny and humorous and entertaining towards the threatening rocks below. But then, Bobby would make things better, bringing his charm and a lying guise of innocence to the forefront to make his friends roll their eyes and smile every so often.

Hey, with all those strait-laced types running the place, someone had to do it. Bobby was just a willing volunteer to bring some Iceman-brand humor to the school. He ignored the thought that he was simply doing this because he was immature for the much more ego-boosting idea that Bobby was bringing happiness to a place filled with mutants who already had enough on their plates. He was a distraction, a handsome albeit slightly vertically-challenged distraction, at least in comparison to Scott and Sean and Cross and Piotr and Hank, but not the newly returned Professor Xavier. And Bobby wasn't sure that even counted when he was comparing height difference between a man who'd been formerly confined to a wheelchair for most of his life. That just seemed mean to claim that as his one big win.


Anyways, Bobby was one of the free-spirits of the X-Men crew, and that meant that he was practically required by law to go paint the town as often as possible. When the other Bobby suggested bar-hopping, the Iceman was all in. There was a definite lack of alcohol on the Institute premises, with the only remaining stash being the beer Logan had left in the fridge when he'd... gone on vacation. There had been others, but Bobby had applied himself to finishing off the rest (and more that he'd bought) during the Superbowl. Of course, other Bobby had helped after he'd been convinced to watch American football, and there was much rejoicing.

Tonight would be different, much different. They weren't under the restrictions of the Institute here, save for the "don't tell anyone about our mutant school, okay?" kind of rule, and Bobby was loving it. He'd lost track of his wing man a while ago, somewhere between snagging a Jack and Coke and smooth-talking his way into the attention of a pretty, young thing that had been looking his direction. Odds are that she had been looking for a friend of hers, because another girl, this one an obviously bleached-blonde to the original's auburn, showed up shortly with drinks in tow.

Of course, Bobby did what he did best. He played it cool. Puns aside, Bobby was pretty decent at not saying stupid things, or at least stupid things that compromised the integrity of the conversation. He knew well enough to stay charming and keep the girls attention and not comment on the size of a girl's rack like the failing younger Bobby was doing. At least not at first and certainly not in that fashion.

So, when he wandered over to other Bobby, who was looking desolate and seemingly reminding thin air that he was rich (and probably famous, but Iceman had missed that part), he was in possession of a phone number, and therefore a winner. He plopped down next to his firey counterpart, an expression of amusement on his face as he glanced at the mutant before looking back over the club. "Oh, please do continue." He began, nursing his drink and carefully eyeing the low-backed dress passing by filled to perfection with a sexy red-head, who ended up clinging to another man. Oh, well. Bobby made a small noise in the back of his throat, vaguely disappointed, but his attention turned back to the brooding Sunspot who seemed to be falling out of in dismay. "Your name is Steve, by the way. Or Steven. What about Stefan? I think you could rock Stefan."

To the victor went the spoils. And the rights to choose the name of the losing Bobby, because, hey, it didn't make sense for your wing man to have the same name as you did.
Posted: Feb 21 2012, 07:40 PM


Roberto’s head was still swimming, his heart was still dejected, when he heard the voice of his companion ringing loud and clear beside him. With a groggy blink, the latin boy glanced curiously over to Bobby’s direction, drinking in the X-Man visually as his inebriated brain sloshed through the haze he had drunk himself into and worked, tirelessly, to attempt and comprehend the words his elder companion had spoken. And slowly, a wry smile began to tug at ‘Berto’s lips.

“Want me to continue, eh?” He slurred out casually. “Why…you interested, slugger?” There was a playful sort of suggestion in his voice, pretending at interest. A wink, making it look as though he was hitting on the Iceman himself. It was a natural reaction the young Bobby had – after all, deflecting the attention from his own lameness with his acute and troublesome sense of humour was a staple for the New Mutant. Idly, he threw back the rest of his cocktail, releasing a low hiss as he placed the glass back on the bar counter in a somewhat sloppy fashion. “Okay…man, I’m drunk. Y’gotta help me out, yeah? No more stuff for me…only beer.” Yeah. Because at this point in the night beer barely counted as alcohol, right?

Lifting his hand into the air, he flagged over the bartender. “Two! Two Stellas, please! One for me an’ one for my brother, Bobby!” With a grin, he attempted to loop an arm around the Iceman’s shoulder. “I’m Steve, apparently, even though Steve’s totally a lame accounting name. So lame.” It took him a little while to register that one of the other guys sitting at the bar was glaring at him as well now. “…’M guessin’ your name is Steve too, ain’t it? No offense, bro.” Recognizing that perhaps loitering around after this wouldn’t likely win him any friends, he gestured over to the offended party. “Get him ‘nother drink too! On me! I’m rich!”

Never did it occur to him that such liberal declarations of his wealth could possibly be inviting danger. But then again, this was Bobby’s problem. He very rarely thought ahead, whenever he didn’t absolutely need to.

With the beers delivered, he turned to beam at his companion for the evening. “So…you goin’ to call the chick?” He inquired, curious. Oblivious to the set of eyes that were now trained on him in the background; cold, calculating…opportunistic.
Posted: Mar 2 2012, 03:58 PM


Bobby very nearly snorted into his drink as Steve-for-the-night took his sarcastic commentary concerning exactly how rich and exactly how intelligent he thought the new mutant was for a feigned flirt and ran with it. Ran was not the right word of choice, however, seeing as the most "running" Sunspot was probably going to be doing in the future was a running battle against himself to keep from running his ship straight into the rocks and acting more the fool than usual. But, hey, that was the fun of things, right? You had to be a little crazy in order to have fun.

So, Bobby just rolled his eyes and went back to watching the room, keeping "Steve" in his line of sight to catch the reactions as he spoke. "Cool it, hothead." He began, a grin hinting at the corners of his mouth. "The only thing I'm interested in, other than the lovely ladies we have here," A group of girls passed by, and Bobby paused mid-sentence to send a charming smile their way. "And there are some very lovely ladies here," he continued, watching with interest as the focus(es) of his attention walked away before turning to look at the other Bobby with another grin. "Is to have some fun."

Sunspot's admission to being drunk really didn't surprise Bobby. The only reason he wasn't doing the same was because being sloppy was a pretty big turn off and, well, someone had to make sure Roberto didn't decide to go all "look at me" flamey in his drunken confidence. Or, at least, someone had to make sure that if he did, things wouldn't go up in smoke in more than the obvious mutant outing way. Ugh, responsibility was a real bitch sometimes, but Bobby could be satisfied that later he'd drop a bit of ice down Roberto's shirt if he ended up chatting with any females without running them off with boob commentary.

Speaking of. "Yeah, sure, as long as you promise not to scare any girls off with your drooling, buddy." There were rules to these kind of engagements. Keep the focus on the girl, make it about her, and don't make weak-wristed requests - make statements. Bobby assumed that the whole "I'm rich" thing fell somewhere in the rest of the rules. Somewhere around "don't be an idiot", if he had to guess.

"Steve isn't a terrible name," said the Robert to the Roberto in an amusing circumstance of name criticism. "And what's wrong with being an accountant?" Bobby began, trying to defend the honor of some poor defenseless accounting Steve somewhere in the world as well as his own, trying to settle his ego a little. "I mean, there's Steve Jobs, and well, okay, it's a nerd name then." He paused and tried to think of more. "Oh, hey, what about Stephen King? Stephen Colbert? Steve Carrell? At least now you're an accountant / dead billionaire nerd / author / talk show host / comedic actor?" Another pause occurred, this time a little longer as Bobby gave up and turned back to his drink. "Oh, shut up, Steve. I won. You lost, hothead."

Accountants weren't all that bad, right? Hrm, right.

Sunspot's next question brought Bobby back to a more friendly temperature, and he shrugged (the metaphorical ice falling off of his shoulders) before settling back into a grin. "Dunno. Night's still young, anything can happen."
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