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Caritas- Saturday

The place was open tonight, and hopefully people had actually heard about or seen the signs for the Over 18 party. Otherwise... this was going to be lame, oops.

The bar was open in case anyone wanted to drink (imagine that), and the floor in the back room had been mostly cleared with the tables pushed back so people could mingle or eventually sleep if they ended up not wanting to trudge home later.

And there was a sign out.

PARTYGOERS GET THE FIRST ROUND FREE!
(Must be over 18)

Hello, incentive.

[So I am off to drive the sidestreets up to LA on a spare tire and will be trying to ping from my phone, LJ permitting. If not, I will ping back as soon as I get back omg.]

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"Well can I just point out something in my defense?" Jamie said with a sip of his beer. "In the entire time I've been here not one person has warned me about what's going to happen to me. No one told me I was going to get a tattoo on my face. No one warned me that a twelve year old was going to shove a grenade down my pants. So... Well sorry about your life, Jono but at least you can floss now."

Jono grit his teeth for a moment, balling his hands into fists. Taking a deep breath. Shaking his head.

"I was going to go on to say that with what did happen, I could see why nobody would warn me," he ground out. "There's nothing I could do about most of it, about Sean and M-Day. And the rest was my own damn fault. But if you're keeping things like that to yourself because you're bitter, then I'm almost tempted to go for a January swim regardless."

He turned and shook his head, making a reach for his own drink.

"Nobody's going to have an easy time of it, Madrox. Nobody. And we can't save everyone, and I'm mostly convinced that we can't save anyone. But, whatever. At least I can floss now, indeed."

"There's nothing I could have done about my future anyway," Jamie replied with a bit of a chagrin. "Because if I hadn't done all that crap? Well..."

Jamie jabbed a thumb over at Jan. "Well she might not have been around. Or something worse would have happened to someone else. You ever meet Layla Miller? She knew what was going to happen. She knows what's going to happen and she doesn't tell me squat. You know why? Because if we know... we'll screw it up worse. Maybe."

"So... I'm not bitter. I just have to deal with the consequences of my own choices. No matter how pre-ordained they might be."

...

"And isn't this a party? Let me get you shitfaced drunk . Especially since you have a face."

Jono glanced back toward Jamie, looking at Jan as he pointed to her, and then taking a deep breath and nodding. He still looked fairly irritated. The flossing comment had rubbed him the wrong way, and now it was going to rankle for days.

But shitfaced drunk sounded like a pretty good option right about then, too.

"... I think I can live with that," he decided. "But if it's American, I'm not touching it."

"... Okay, what's wrong with Jack Daniels, Johnny Walker or Jim Beam?"

And there, Jono met that statement with a sharp little smirk.

"They're American."

Duh, Jamie. Duh.

Jamie rolled his eyes. "Fine. How about Russian vodka?"

"Vodka will do, I suppose," Jonothon settled on, giving his shoulders a shrug. "After all, the point is getting drunk."

Still, he'd prefer a good British lager, or if it had to be whisky, at least something European. But at this point, beggars couldn't be choosers, could they?

"Fine," Jamie said rolling his eyes again. "Pick your own poison. Your bar tab is being covered by X-Factor Investigations tonight."

Jonothon's honour (and his perfect new teeth) had been insulted tonight, and so he was absolutely shooting Jamie a little smirk before flagging Tino down for those import lagers that he was so fond of.

"Ever so thankful, mate. Truly." No, really, he was! He was just also a dick when he was in a mood! "One of my goals in life is to see just how many people who have ever worn an X I can get to buy me drinks, you know."

So far his tally was at... Logan. And Jamie. He was on a roll.

"Well, technically I'm only X-Factor. Not X-man. Big difference, y'know."

Jonothon waved a hand dismissively at that.

"Still an X. Close enough." Clearly it was the letter that counted, after all. "The X-Men weren't really all that big a deal anyhow, if you ask me."

Because they were all jerks. All of them. Except for the short hairy Canadian.

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