fandomhigh | BWI Airport, Portalocity Lounge, Saturday Morning

So everyone else had, like, dramatic backstories and reasons to show up here and stuff. Which was fine, you know, if you were emotionally in the zone enough to go to those kinda lengths. Denise had just been, you know, chilling with her dad last night watching some hockey guys really pound in on each other - no, seriously, really get into it. One of them broke a rib or something, which was kinda cool.

Then she'd been dropped off at the airport, gotten a ticket stuffed into her hands, and that was that. No reason to get all dramatic and touchy-feely about it.

And now it was Saturday morning and she was on the airport. Sitting around. Chugging water and listening to her discman while watching the kids down the hall, trying to figure out how they were gonna croak. Sure, there was some kind of shuttle supposed to show up, but it wasn't there yet. A girl had to keep herself busy.

She figured the dweebs starting to mill around the terminal were probably classmates or something. Lame.

[[ ~~wait for the~~ ocd up! ]]

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"A what?"

Right. She officially sucked at undercover.

"...sir?"

Damnit.

"Feed?" Deadpool repeated slower. "Is this a Candid Camera thing? Or maybe a Chris Hansen thing? Because I'm preeeetty sure you got the wrong guy."

Scully stared at him a moment, and said, "If anyone is being tricked, sir, I'd think it was me." And now she was glancing around, trying to be surreptitious in her scan for the cameras. "Are you claiming to be the driver of our bus? Is this some kind of... welcoming attire?"

And damnit, she still sounded like she was straight out of Quantico.

"Hell no. I'm makin' Anakin drive. I'm just here for the funsies."

Um?

"You're the school mascot?"

Wouldn't that be a good thing? ... a better thing than him being the driver?

"Try again," Deadpool sang cheerfully.

"School..." Really, Scully was at a loss. She paused, folded her arms, and said, "Okay, I give up. What are you supposed to be?"

Edited 2010-05-08 02:15 (UTC)

"You're no fun," Deadpool replied. "It rhymes with ice incipal."

A real teenager of Scully's personality would have said No way!

Instead, Scully's jaw dropped and she spluttered, "Are you kidding me? You can't be serious!"

"Yes. I'm totally joking. Go ask Anakin."

DOOO IIIIIT.

"Fine. I will."

In her usual body she would not have immediately stormed over to Anakin. (http://community.livejournal.com/fandomhigh/2461859.html?thread=158993571#t158993571)
Scully wasn't yet fully aware of how teenage brain chemistry was monkeying with her. And her impulse control.

Well. She'd done it. And wasn't she sorry now?

Scully came back over to Mr. Deadpool with a looming sense of dread, instead of the temper-fueled stomping of earlier.

"It appears I owe you an apology, Mr. Deadpool." Scully really couldn't believe that was his professional teaching name, but. Okay. "Master Skywalker confirmed your assertion that you are, in fact, the vice principal." She paused. Which wasn't a guarantee, but aside from his questionable fashion sense and interesting choice of title, the other teacher had seemed relatively sane. "He also confirmed that you were messing with me."

BWI Airport, Portalocity Lounge, Saturday Morning

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