2013.06.25 - On the Turnpike

Pennsylvania Turnpike
2:37 AM
To start off the trip, and to get to Chicago at a reasonable time allowing for some rest before dinner and the baseball game, Scott decided to get started at midnight.
If worst comes to worser, he can always let Jean drive when it gets light, if he gets tired. While allowing someone else to drive the Stang is something that's never happened-ever--, Jean is probably the best candidate to do such a thing.
The royal blue car is hurdling westward at 85 in a 70 through the darkness below a clear sky full of stars. It's all very peaceful at night, with little traffic. Peaceful, that is, until the boys in blue flash their red and azures at him.
"Damn," Scott says as he begins to slow and pull the car over towards the right.
Jean has managed, actually, to stay at least semi-awake during the midnight run. Thus, as the lights flash and the brief bloop of a siren is heard, she rolls her head against the headrest and eyes Scott. What she hasn't been doing is clocking his lead foot at all. It's his car. His licence. His points.
Still, as the car comes to a stop and the trooper can be seen emerging from the vehicle, his partner covering him, behind them, she gives her friend a wry smile.
Tactfully, however, she doesn't actually say anything. No sense rubbing his nose in it. For the moment, anyway.
Scott seems to be looking up in his rearview, but his voice is towards Jean.
"It's okay. You can say it. I'm not a telepath, but I know what you're thinking."
Scott puts his hands up on the steering wheel because he hears they feel safer when people do that because it means that they don't have weapons.
*ClinkClink*
The window is tapped upon by the officer.
Scott reaches over to depress the switch, which lowers the window. "Good evening, Officer."
"License and registration," he says in monotone.
After a few moments of digging, Scott finds the registration, hands over the license and the cop disappears.
Jean chuckles softly. "We're on vacation," she says, after the cop has retreated with Scott's identification. "I'm not saying a word." Her green eyes dance a little in the moonlight.
Apparently, a ticket isn't enough to dampen her spirits, though it might rankle his. She takes a more philosophical view. Pennsy Turnpike, out-of-state plates... it was bound to happen. And, who knows, it may again? Most state troopers like to hunt out-of-state and foreign plates, in her experience. Though, she might be able to get him off with just a warning, if he asks nicely.
Scott sighs and looks over to her, giving his stoic, stone-faced grimace. It doesn't last long, however and is replaced by a chuckle and a shake of the head. "Great start."
It takes the officer a while, but he returns soon enough.
"Sir, do you know how fast you were going?"
"About 80, I think, sir." Scott responds.
"You do realize that it exceeds the speed limit here on this turnpike."
"Yes sir. I'm sorry about that. We have a long drive ahead of us and I was trying to make up some time. It was a mistake."
The officer's face twists as he continues to inspect the license plate.
"Where are you headed?"
"Chicago. We're taking a trip out west for a couple of weeks."
"That you wife?" The officer smiles to Jean, and then looks back at the card. What Scott doesn't know is this route is heavy with drug runs, especially out of state. Especially at night. Especially coming and going from out west.
"No sir."
"Girlfriend?"
"No sir. We're friends."
"Two friends taking a trip across the country." The officer doesn't seem to be buying it.
"Yes sir."
"I'd like you to take off the glasses, Mr. Summers."
Jean's head cants some as the officer smiles to her. She returns his smile with a small one of her own -- a greeting of sorts. Nevertheless, the officer's demeanor, the fact he's not buying what Scott has to say, isn't lost on her.
And when the officer asks him to remove his glasses?
~ Mime it. ~ Jean sends to Scott. ~ I'll make sure he sees you complying. We don't want any more trouble than is strictly necessary. ~
She never manipulates minds lightly, particularly not those of law-enforcement officers just doing their job. (Though, yes, she's been known to use it to get out of a ticket or two before now.) But, it's either that or she has to hold Scott's power in. It's a whole helluva lot easier for her to make the cop believe Scott's removed his glasses.
She smiles again to the officer, adjusting her telepathic shields to better focus on both him and his partner. With any luck, the cop car's dashboard cam won't pick up the details of the deception. If he's careful about how he turns his head, it shouldn't.
Careful is Scott's middle name. Except, apparently, when it comes to driving.
He nods to Jean and then looks to the officer. "Of course, sir." Scott 'removes' his glasses, or mimes doing so, and the response seems to placate the officer.
"I'm going to need you to pop the trunk," he says to Scott. "Standard procedure here at night. Lots of drug runners in the area."
Scott exhales and reaches towards the trunk release.
"You don't mind if I look around the trunk, do you?" asks the Officer, seeing if he can avoid the messiness of needing a warrant.
Jean continues to monitor the man's perceptions. She knows there's nothing untoward in that trunk. Except, perhaps, their X-gear. But, most of that's kept at the bottom of everything else. And, again, he's not going to perceive that, if she doesn't want him to. At best, it will be seen as athletic equipment -- wetsuits, perhaps, or maybe extra climbing gear. She did say she wanted to go rock climbing, after all.
"No," Scott says as he shakes his head. "That should be fine."
But inside, Jean will feel Scott's apprehension. Not only does he have his X-equipment, he's also got some pretty serious files and computer work back there. Scott bites his lip, obviously worried.
Jean gives Scott as reassuring a smile as she can, as the officer stalks around to the back of the car to start poking around. It's not like he's filming that, after all. So, she leans back on the headrest again and closes her eyes. In this case, however, it's not so much relaxing as it is concentrating. She wants to perceive what that man perceives so that she can alter it accordingly. Regardless, the one image she sends to him above all is that there's nothing in that trunk but what you'd expect to find in the trunk of a young couple on vacation.
Nothing to see here... Move along. These are not the droids you're looking for.
The officer comes back and nods, "Alright, Mr. Summers. I'll just need you to wait a few more minutes while I prepare your ticket." He gives another nod to Jean and strides back to the Police Cruiser.
Scott exhales, "That was all pretty close, there."
"Yeah," Jean agrees. She gives him a lopsided smile. "But, we're good." As far as she can tell, anyway. She won't really release her hold on the men's minds until she's sure they're free and clear.
Wow, what the drug runners up and down this stretch would pay for someone with her talents.
Scott chuckles and nods, just as the officer gets there. "Have a nice night," the officer says as he hands the ticket over to Scott and heads back to his car.
"$400!" Scott exclaims.
"250 for the speeding and a hundred fifty more for wearing sunglasses while driving at night?!"
Jean blinks at that. "Wow..." she breathes. "That's... impressive."
She glances back at the troopers and reaches out to gives Scott's hand a squeeze. "Sorry. Next time," she promises, "I'll just nudge them for a warning."
Scott shakes his head, shocked as he waits to pull the car back out onto the road after the cops leave.
"Oh. /Next/ time." A wry grin slides across his mouth. "Well, /this/ time you're going to have to eat ballpark hotdogs instead of a fancy dinner. I hope you've learned your lesson."
Jean laughs, now. "You sure about that?" she asks. Firstly, it's not like she can't pay for dinner. Secondly... "Can we even afford to get into the ballparks, now?" Her green eyes dance.
In any case, she's a New Yorker. Nothing wrong with street dogs.
"Yes, I think I'll be able to manage," Scott says as he shakes his head. The pair pull out onto the highway again, this time at a slower pace.
Category:Log