Yeah, yeah, I know I haven't updated in ages. Berate and poke me with your sporks of rage in your reviews, plz? :3
Awfully short, I know; only 230 on Word Count. I just had an idea pop into my head, and tons of little plot bunnies' spawned off of it - this is soooo not going to be the only chapter, trust me. Most will have to do with Scott, and all with have to do with pool/billiards, so, uh...be ready?
I, uh, also have no idea why I put this in Evo!verse; mostly because I wanted some Evo-canon characterization for some peoples. And some soley Evo-verse people, come to that...
Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, whatever my dreams and loving of plot may have shown otherwise.
"Daaaaang, Summers, I didn't know you kicked ass!", says Evan, suitably impressed, as Scott stares across the table at Logan, who only raises an eyebrow in return.
"Yeah, well, I haven't played in years.", the tall man says, brushing it off with a light laugh, reaching in with long fingers to pull the pool balls nearest him out, rolling towards the opposite end of the table, where the que has been set up again by the shorter Logan, whose cigar smoke was floating around the room.
"I didn'n know y' played at all, homme.", says Remy, and his voice is amused and taunting; a challenge, for which Logan resiegnedly hands over his pool stick - in lieu of using his now-free hand to grab a beer from the kitchen, for which none of them are surprised. Smoke, blue and etheral and smelly faintly of cherrywood, trails behind the Canadian.
"I haven't played since - actually, I don't really remember. I don't think we've had a pool table in here since before I came...", Scott replies, looking a little surprised and slightly amused at that fact. Of everything not to have, it is surprising that someone like Xavier never obtained a pool table for his students and staff. Not for himself, of course, since Scott doesn't think he's ever know the Professor to have played anything but chess, and yet.
Although he tried to brush it off, Scott supposed that muscle memory and friendly rivalry couldn't be helped - he and Remy played, and played again; ending, finally, in a tie, to be continued whenever Scott supposed that he wasn't off chasing after Rogues' skirts. (Or gloves, as the case may be.)