A/N: Enjoy

Jubilee walked back to the bar with her messenger bag slung over on shoulder. She plopped onto a barstool and started rummaging around the duct tape covered bag. "Aha! BOOYA!" was what she said when a blow dryer popped out of the bag. With this jerking motion, the power cord popped out as well and the blunt metal tips of the plug whipped Mark right across the face. Jubilee followed the power chord with her eyes until she found where the plug had gone. Noticing that Mark had it lodged in his headphone cord, Jubilee said, "Oo-wee, there's my plug. Be a doll and put it into an outlet back there."

Mark couldn't hear her, but quickly got the picture once Jubes started waving the plug in his face. Sighing, he pushed aside some cheap plastic tumblers and blew off the dust covering the outlet. He grabbed the plug from Jubilee in mid-wave and plugged it in. Immediately, the blow dryer came to life and shot Jubilee's face with a blast of heat. Mark couldn't help himself and began laughing at the sight the tough cookie made with her hair askew. Jubilee just chucked the glass her daiquiri came in at his face and smiled at the ensuing silence. She slung her booted feet on top of the ice blob and aimed the blow dryer on high towards the head of the crazy pyromaniac trapped in the ice. Mark, bored out of his head, addressed Jubilee with, "If you are so omnipotent, why don't you use your mutant powers to defreeze him?"

Jubilee swiveled her lithe waist to her torso was facing Mark and aimed the blow dryer onto his iPod. In her usual sugary tone, she said, "iPod's are made of plastic. Blow dryers produce heat. Plastic melts. Heat melts plastic. Do all of us a favor and shut up."

They, as in Mark, Jubilee, and John, were driving back to the mansion. For reasons unknown to me, Microsoft, or the encyclopedia, Xavier's faithful stick-up-ass minion, a.k.a. Scott, completely "forgot" about Jubes and John and left them at the club. Mark, being the quirky and somewhat below par logic guy that he is, offered to give them a ride back in his new purple Mustang. John who was fuming and trying to dry off by angling himself right in front of the vent kept asking way to loud for an inside car voice, even with Danish power-goth screaming out from the speakers, "Explain to me why the little bitch didn't unfreezinate me when she had her boyfriend's powers. Will someone explain this to me?"

For the umpteenth time, Jubes assertively replied, "Because she's a little bitch?"

Out of the blue, Mark said softly, "What your friend's last name?"

"What's it to you?" Jubilee said aggressively.

Mark just tilted his head and said, "I think I know him."

John yelled out, "Why would Bobby hang around someone like you? You are way too weird for him!"

Jubilee rolled her eyes and muttered, "Have you looked in the mirror recently bimbo?"

The purple leather gave a protesting squeak as John attempted to get a better angle at the source of drying air. He would have dried himself off with his favorite lighter, but Jubilee took that one away. She also took the one hiding in his shoe, back pocket, inside hem of his jeans, and the one stashed in his inside jacket pocket. According to Jubes, it wouldn't be proper to set Mark's car on fire. John just thought it was because she was hopelessly in love with the purple monstrosity.

As the purple Mustang hit a pothole head-on, the lighters, which were innocently lying in a heap on Jubilee's lap, flew into the air. John stretched out his cold, clammy fingers to attempt to reclaim his friend, but Jubilee's elbow caught him in the nose as she was trying to recapture the lighters. Being else wise occupied with blood and all that jazz, John couldn't stop Jubes from picking up all the lighters and unceremoniously shoving them into her bra.

Over the noise of the clinking lighters contacting each other each time the car went over a bump and a screeching singing guitar playing Dane, John rose his voice and plaintively yelled out, "MARK! DO you have a KLEENEX?" Mark's crayon colored hair made a halo of sharp gelled spikes as he shook his head. Jubilee pulled something out of her sleeve and matter-of-factly said, "I have a tampon, want to use it to stop the blood?"

Jubilee cackled and Mark snorted as they heard a very girly voice go "EWWWWwwwWWW" in the back seat. Under the ever present noise the speakers were emitting, John muttered something about that explaining a lot. Giving up on all hope of a civilized way of stopping the blood, John peeled off his jacket and with difficulty pulled his plastered shirt over his head; therefore he destroyed his over-gelled hairstyle. The jacket was put on again, exposing John's fair midriff, and the shirt was hurriedly applied to his aching nose. The car made a sharp turn, slamming John against the window, as Jubilee with her jangling arm pointed out that he, Mark, was about to miss the turn.

Mark whistled appreciatively at the manor as he braked abruptly in front of it. Jubilee opened the door and slid out, thanking Mark along the way, as gracefully as any person with little rectangles showing through her shirt. Halfway up the stairs, she noticed that she was forgetting something and went back down to the slowly moving purple car and opened the passenger rear door. Formerly plastered to the once spotless glass, John tumbled out of the car and imbedded his face with small pieces of gravel. Jubilee reached into the front seat and grabbed her duct tape sporting bag and slung it onto her shoulder. With her hips jutting out more than usual with a godly amount of weight on one side, she dragged the clammy, abused, and bleeding pyro to his feet. The purple Mustang sped off as a block of light from a now open door framed the two forgotten mutants. Looking into the light, both of them groaned as the stiff frame of Mr. Stick-Up-Posterior appeared in the open doorway.

"Oo-wee," Jubilee whistled, "You are so screwed."

John propped himself on one arm with his other arm still holding his once virgin white t-shirt (except for the occasional burn) now covered in blood splotches up to his nose. Giving Jubilee a look that if he didn't need his lighters to toast objects would have definitely have made Jubes go up in flames, he asked as dangerously as a guy on the ground with gravel in his disheveled hair can, "What do you mean, I am so screwed?"