Mr. Sinister Moves to Savannah
OOC: I've based Sinister's house in Savannah on the Eliza Thompson House in the Historic District. It's a bed-and-breakfast, but it looked very Essex-esque :)
I've borrowed Iron_Tony just a bit in this; Tony!Mun, let me know if anything in here doesn't work for you. It's all very minor; sending an email and leaving a note, basically.
-___________________________________________
They found him a house in Savannah, near Green Square. The note which accompanied his set of keys (did they really think he needed those?) said the following:
Greene Square was named in honor of American Revolutionary War General Nathanael Greene, who had a Savannah River plantation at Mulberry Grove. We found the similarities to your name and your wife's family name rather striking, considering her family were the owners of the Milbury Estate in England. At any rate, this home is located in the center of the Savannah Historic District. If you cause any public spectacles, you will be relocated to a remote location on Tybee Island.
Nathaniel knew he'd not mentioned Rebecca's family had owned a country estate--Milbury--so he figured this was some quiet reminder that SHIELD knew things about him. Nathaniel didn't much care about that--he would have told them about the estate if he thought he mattered. He was, actually, the owner--the Milburys were all dead, as far as he knew, and he was technically the inheritor of the estate since his wife was no longer living and had been the only Milbury heir when she'd married him.
Nathaniel wondered how that might hold up, in a court of law. Were there contingencies on the books for immortals? Probably. The English were very thorough.
As for the recriminations about public spectacles, Nathaniel wondered idly what would count. Unfurling a Nazi flag during the filming of a commercial? He'd read Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil on the plane ride to the States. Nathaniel despised flying, and he'd spent most of the flight reading his book, the information Dr. Pym had sent to him in a packet called Rules and Regulations for New SHIELD Agents--most of which made him laugh--and talking himself out of teleporting off of the plane. It would probably not be good to break his first official assignment, which was to catch the airplane to Atlanta, Georgia, and then pick up his car and drive to Savannah.
All of these things were pointless, really, to a man who could teleport. Which they knew he could do, so perhaps they were just anxious to see if he would follow directions? The entire flight had been rather horrible (he had been clueless at the small package they'd given him--peanuts? What on earth was that about?), though he suppose it could have been worse. He could have been relegated to coach. Still, he was six-foot-five and the seat was hardly comfortable, even with the extra room. By the time the plane landed in Atlanta, Nathaniel was convinced they had done this to gauge his temper and how easily he would kill someone for being annoyed. He never had done such a thing before (what would the point of that be?) but he was almost enticed into starting by every single person who worked for the airport, the airlines, and the tiresome customs officials (answering "Mayhem" to the question of "What is your business in the States, Dr. Essex?" would have been very bad. It was still rather tempting.) However, scanning the thoughts of the travelers around him, he found he was hardly alone in that thought.
The drive to Savannah was mostly uneventful, after he figured out how to drive the automobile. He'd not driven a car since 1936, and they were substantially different--he spent a good five minutes pressing buttons just to see what they did. Luckily, he had the car figured out before he drove into a tree, and managed to stay on the right side of the road. A success, then. There was a GPS system in the car, which spoke to him in a very nice American accent, was rather insistent he go the route she was suggesting. A few times, he was tempted to turn off the carriageway (which was not, as he learned, what they were called in America) just to see what she would do. He fancied perhaps it would retaliate with a laser beam. Maybe that was just what he would have had the system do, had he been the one in charge of the design.
He had been to Savannah, before, in the fifties. It was a fair sight more crowded now, and there was a lot of traffic. He switched the GPS system off (that woman's voice would have given him a migraine if it were still possible for him to get them) and found his own way to his new home. The house was a large, flat-faced structure with bright red shutters around the window. It seemed very nice, from the outside. He had to parallel park--what a dreadful concept--and then took the only bag he'd packed and went inside.
The house was well-furnished, and far more spacious than he really needed. The adjacent carriage house had been turned into a laboratory, though he learned from his reading on the plane that he had access to the SHIELD facilities in Savannah as well as the central lab in Atlanta. He even had clearance at the Center for Disease Control. All of this was rather surreal, considering if he'd shown his face around most of these people, they would have tried to kill him. How strange life was.
Nathaniel had also read his SHIELD file, on the plane, which they had nicely sent him (he was certain it could not possibly be the original). Most of the notes about him said to "incapacitate him" or to "remove his head", though that was "not guaranteed to work". All of that made him feel rather like a vampire, though he spent a good deal of time wondering if would work. Probably not. He wasn't about to test it. He wondered if he was supposed to feel badly about the things in the file. If so, they had completely overestimated the extent to which he was able to feel emotions. It wasn't as if he didn't already know the things he had done.
There were too many bedrooms in his new house, but he found one he liked, with darker colors on the wall and a large king-sized four-poster bed. There was a fireplace he would likely never use, and a very large flat-screen--was that a television? Being rather interested in gadgets, he turned it on. The sound seemed to come from everywhere all at once, which made him jump and then feel a bit silly. He switched off the television and looked over at the bed. He thought idly of Rachel. Would she like the house? The bedroom across the hall from his had three floor-to-ceiling windows, and was painted a rich dark blue with white trim. All of the wood was a deep mahogany. It reminded him of her, so perhaps she would like that room for when she visited. There were two more guest rooms and a small upstairs office.
There was another room on the first floor, which was painted a bright cheerful red. There seemed to be an awful lot of reds, dark blues, and almost purple hues throughout the house, which smelled strongly of new paint. Nathaniel started laughing. Tony Stark had a sense of humor.
The rest of the house featured a sizable, well-equipped kitchen, a formal dining room he would never use (unless, and this was a horrifying thought, he had to give dinner parties as a requirement?) a study with a lot of leather that made him feel like smoking a pipe and arguing politics like he used to do as a young man at Oxford, and a music room with a very nice grand piano. In tune, even. Nathaniel smiled. That was good. He felt rather out of sorts without a piano.
The laboratory was located in the backyard, in the refurnished carriage house. He was startled by the swimming pool in the back--that was an unexpected addition. Nathaniel could not remember the last time he'd been swimming. Well, no, he was fairly sure someone had thrown him into a large body of water in the recent past. All right, then, the last time he went swimming willingly. It had to have been when he was still mortal. He didn't have time for such leisure activities, for the most part.
The laboratory had a fairly rudimentary security system prohibiting access. Without knowing the code, Nathaniel managed to get inside in under two minutes. He'd have to make a note to have that improved. The space was mostly filled with gleaming stainless steel laboratory equipment, but there was a small kitchen and a bedroom with an adjoining bath on the top floor. There was note taped to the bedroom door.
In case Rachel gets smart and kicks you out. AES
Nathaniel snorted.
There were several neat files on the desk in his laboratory, which he would have to read, so he took them with him back into the main house. Nathaniel sat down and started reading, focusing on the information in the files, and forgot about most everything else. It was good to have a project to concentrate on, again.
Six hours later, he pushed the papers away and stood up, stretching. It was past eleven-thirty, according to the clock. He was jet-lagged and tired, and starving. His mind was already working, thinking through the things he would need to start his research, but he should probably try and sleep. He had taken a great many notes while reading, in his very neat script, and those would have to be transcribed at some point. The only thing Nathaniel had asked for, when Stark had sent his query about what sort of amenities he needed, had been a lot of paper and fine black calligraphy pens, since that was what he was used to using in the past. Stark had agreed, but there were protocols for putting his notes into the computer that he would have to follow.
Speaking of...
Nathaniel switched on the CPU and checked his email. The background on the computer was a large SHIELD emblem. Nathaniel decided he'd have to change that. Possibly a nice picture of the Tower of London or some such, in case he became homesick. He found the icon that led to his official SHIELD email program, Microsoft Outlook (Windows? Good lord, he'd have to switch this bloody thing to LINUX in the morning) and found several emails already. Apparently he was on some sort of list-serve? They all had his name in the subject heading.
Nathaniel spent twenty minutes gleefully reading the flurry of emails which announced his new assignment to SHIELD and the Initiative--red eyed demonic monster?--and resisted sending them all a computer virus as an attachment. There was one email, however, that made him laugh out loud. It was from Norman Osborne, and said simply, "My sympathies, Dr. Essex. This was me, a month ago. Welcome to SHIELD."
He read the--entirely too long--email from Tony Stark, full once again of things he was not to do, and mentally comprised a response in his head--Oh, but I'd already adjusted the temperature in the swimming pool to boiling for all the children I stole from the neighbours--until he realized that Stark would probably actually believe that. There was also a surprising admonition to be nice to your assistant, Isobel Chambers, which left him momentarily stumped. Of course, they would send someone to look after him. He sent back a very short email.
I have arrived, all is in order, the house is fine, thank you, and I shall await the arrival of Ms. Chambers on the morrow. After a bit of thought, he added, And I shall be perfectly nice to her. I am a gentleman, even if I am, according to the list-serve, "the embodiment of evil and all that is wrong with the world today."
Nathaniel sent one more email, after that. To Rachel.
To: R_Grey@x-corp.org
From: Essex@shield.org
Subject: My new email address
Rachel--
As you might have ascertained from this message, I have arrived in Savannah. The house is entirely too large but quite lovely. It must have been repainted, as everything is red, blue, or some shade of purple. Anthony Stark is a clever man. (That was sarcasm, though I suppose he is smart enough, only I do not know how to make this clear in an email. About the sarcasm, not Stark's intelligence.)
The house has a swimming pool, set into the ground, in the back. I have no idea why, other than the house used to be a bed-and-breakfast, apparently. I am hopeful you shall make some use of this amenity. I am not entirely certain I wish to do so. I have nothing in which to swim, for one thing, and I do not know where such garments are purchased.
My laboratory is very nice, state of the art, and in a separate building beyond the swimming pool. It also has a bedroom. I am unsure why Stark feels I need this many guest rooms? Apparently, I am to sleep there if you become cross with me (not my suggestion--he actually left me a note. I suppose he does think he is very funny. Does your mother find that sort of thing amusing? You would likely toss something at my head). It is much nicer than my laboratory in London. That is quite a nice discovery. There is a gene sequencer as well, which I did not have in London.
Tomorrow, I am to meet my assistant, Isobel Chambers. I am unsure if by "assistant" Stark means "watchdog", or if this person is actually intending to be an assistant in matters of science. I do hope they are not stupid. That would be a tiresome waste of time, if so.
I received a great many emails to my new address, as there is apparently some sort of "list-serve". Stark added my email address and I was able to see my warm welcome (again, this remark was intended as sarcastic--terribly sorry, there is no good way to allude to that in a printed medium, and I did look in the Netspeak book to no avail). The only pleasant email I received was from Norman Osborne. Perhaps I shall have him to dinner one night. If he becomes intoxicated, he shall have one of my six-thousand guest rooms to chose from if he wishes to stay.
(Hyperbole, I do believe there are four. One is very lovely, and I think you shall like it. There is a large television in my room with a frightening array of buttons. Perhaps you could explain them. I have no notion of what HDTV might be, but apparently, the television is equipped with such a thing. I do have the Discovery Channel, and that channel you enjoy watching, with the animated programmes? The name escapes me at the moment)
I drove myself here from the airport. I had not realized there are radios in automobiles now. The previous driver had unfortunately left the radio turned up very loud, so that when I started the car, it started playing something (I cannot in good conscience call it "music") and I nearly drove off of the road. I do not think this addition of a stereo in the car is a benefit. You Yanks drive on the wrong side of the road, which is confusing enough, not to have that horrible cacophony blaring when one is trying to concentrate. No-one died so I suppose all went well enough.
At any rate, you now have my email address, and I am almost certain that Stark is reading every single word I am sending to you. I could possibly endeavour to make him uncomfortable by saying something racy, however, we both know that it is not quite in my nature to do such a thing. If he has security cameras (perhaps a bit naive of me to say "if") installed, possibly we shall shock him enough when next you visit? I feel this is a good time to incorporate the light-hearted use of the :-) emoticon. Please correct me if that is not so.
I hope you are well. I am...looking forward...to seeing you again. The town of Savannah has a number of scenic attractions, according to the literature I have read prior to my arrival, and there seems to be a great many things to do. It was very boring to go visit historical sites in London, as I was alive when a great many of them were built.
There is a large cemetery very close by, which I can see from my bedroom window. Perhaps I shall go and hide behind monuments, and frighten passers-by, for a bit of fun.
(Only joking, Stark)
Yours, (obviously, you, Rachel, as I would not end an email to Tony Stark in this fashion)
Nathaniel
He hit send and then went to the kitchen. There wasn't any food. He sighed. Nathaniel was too tired to go and find any that evening, so he went upstairs to have a shower and go to bed. Apocalypse had once forced him to endure three weeks with no food or water, so one evening should not hurt.
I've borrowed Iron_Tony just a bit in this; Tony!Mun, let me know if anything in here doesn't work for you. It's all very minor; sending an email and leaving a note, basically.
-___________________________________________
They found him a house in Savannah, near Green Square. The note which accompanied his set of keys (did they really think he needed those?) said the following:
Greene Square was named in honor of American Revolutionary War General Nathanael Greene, who had a Savannah River plantation at Mulberry Grove. We found the similarities to your name and your wife's family name rather striking, considering her family were the owners of the Milbury Estate in England. At any rate, this home is located in the center of the Savannah Historic District. If you cause any public spectacles, you will be relocated to a remote location on Tybee Island.
Nathaniel knew he'd not mentioned Rebecca's family had owned a country estate--Milbury--so he figured this was some quiet reminder that SHIELD knew things about him. Nathaniel didn't much care about that--he would have told them about the estate if he thought he mattered. He was, actually, the owner--the Milburys were all dead, as far as he knew, and he was technically the inheritor of the estate since his wife was no longer living and had been the only Milbury heir when she'd married him.
Nathaniel wondered how that might hold up, in a court of law. Were there contingencies on the books for immortals? Probably. The English were very thorough.
As for the recriminations about public spectacles, Nathaniel wondered idly what would count. Unfurling a Nazi flag during the filming of a commercial? He'd read Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil on the plane ride to the States. Nathaniel despised flying, and he'd spent most of the flight reading his book, the information Dr. Pym had sent to him in a packet called Rules and Regulations for New SHIELD Agents--most of which made him laugh--and talking himself out of teleporting off of the plane. It would probably not be good to break his first official assignment, which was to catch the airplane to Atlanta, Georgia, and then pick up his car and drive to Savannah.
All of these things were pointless, really, to a man who could teleport. Which they knew he could do, so perhaps they were just anxious to see if he would follow directions? The entire flight had been rather horrible (he had been clueless at the small package they'd given him--peanuts? What on earth was that about?), though he suppose it could have been worse. He could have been relegated to coach. Still, he was six-foot-five and the seat was hardly comfortable, even with the extra room. By the time the plane landed in Atlanta, Nathaniel was convinced they had done this to gauge his temper and how easily he would kill someone for being annoyed. He never had done such a thing before (what would the point of that be?) but he was almost enticed into starting by every single person who worked for the airport, the airlines, and the tiresome customs officials (answering "Mayhem" to the question of "What is your business in the States, Dr. Essex?" would have been very bad. It was still rather tempting.) However, scanning the thoughts of the travelers around him, he found he was hardly alone in that thought.
The drive to Savannah was mostly uneventful, after he figured out how to drive the automobile. He'd not driven a car since 1936, and they were substantially different--he spent a good five minutes pressing buttons just to see what they did. Luckily, he had the car figured out before he drove into a tree, and managed to stay on the right side of the road. A success, then. There was a GPS system in the car, which spoke to him in a very nice American accent, was rather insistent he go the route she was suggesting. A few times, he was tempted to turn off the carriageway (which was not, as he learned, what they were called in America) just to see what she would do. He fancied perhaps it would retaliate with a laser beam. Maybe that was just what he would have had the system do, had he been the one in charge of the design.
He had been to Savannah, before, in the fifties. It was a fair sight more crowded now, and there was a lot of traffic. He switched the GPS system off (that woman's voice would have given him a migraine if it were still possible for him to get them) and found his own way to his new home. The house was a large, flat-faced structure with bright red shutters around the window. It seemed very nice, from the outside. He had to parallel park--what a dreadful concept--and then took the only bag he'd packed and went inside.
The house was well-furnished, and far more spacious than he really needed. The adjacent carriage house had been turned into a laboratory, though he learned from his reading on the plane that he had access to the SHIELD facilities in Savannah as well as the central lab in Atlanta. He even had clearance at the Center for Disease Control. All of this was rather surreal, considering if he'd shown his face around most of these people, they would have tried to kill him. How strange life was.
Nathaniel had also read his SHIELD file, on the plane, which they had nicely sent him (he was certain it could not possibly be the original). Most of the notes about him said to "incapacitate him" or to "remove his head", though that was "not guaranteed to work". All of that made him feel rather like a vampire, though he spent a good deal of time wondering if would work. Probably not. He wasn't about to test it. He wondered if he was supposed to feel badly about the things in the file. If so, they had completely overestimated the extent to which he was able to feel emotions. It wasn't as if he didn't already know the things he had done.
There were too many bedrooms in his new house, but he found one he liked, with darker colors on the wall and a large king-sized four-poster bed. There was a fireplace he would likely never use, and a very large flat-screen--was that a television? Being rather interested in gadgets, he turned it on. The sound seemed to come from everywhere all at once, which made him jump and then feel a bit silly. He switched off the television and looked over at the bed. He thought idly of Rachel. Would she like the house? The bedroom across the hall from his had three floor-to-ceiling windows, and was painted a rich dark blue with white trim. All of the wood was a deep mahogany. It reminded him of her, so perhaps she would like that room for when she visited. There were two more guest rooms and a small upstairs office.
There was another room on the first floor, which was painted a bright cheerful red. There seemed to be an awful lot of reds, dark blues, and almost purple hues throughout the house, which smelled strongly of new paint. Nathaniel started laughing. Tony Stark had a sense of humor.
The rest of the house featured a sizable, well-equipped kitchen, a formal dining room he would never use (unless, and this was a horrifying thought, he had to give dinner parties as a requirement?) a study with a lot of leather that made him feel like smoking a pipe and arguing politics like he used to do as a young man at Oxford, and a music room with a very nice grand piano. In tune, even. Nathaniel smiled. That was good. He felt rather out of sorts without a piano.
The laboratory was located in the backyard, in the refurnished carriage house. He was startled by the swimming pool in the back--that was an unexpected addition. Nathaniel could not remember the last time he'd been swimming. Well, no, he was fairly sure someone had thrown him into a large body of water in the recent past. All right, then, the last time he went swimming willingly. It had to have been when he was still mortal. He didn't have time for such leisure activities, for the most part.
The laboratory had a fairly rudimentary security system prohibiting access. Without knowing the code, Nathaniel managed to get inside in under two minutes. He'd have to make a note to have that improved. The space was mostly filled with gleaming stainless steel laboratory equipment, but there was a small kitchen and a bedroom with an adjoining bath on the top floor. There was note taped to the bedroom door.
In case Rachel gets smart and kicks you out. AES
Nathaniel snorted.
There were several neat files on the desk in his laboratory, which he would have to read, so he took them with him back into the main house. Nathaniel sat down and started reading, focusing on the information in the files, and forgot about most everything else. It was good to have a project to concentrate on, again.
Six hours later, he pushed the papers away and stood up, stretching. It was past eleven-thirty, according to the clock. He was jet-lagged and tired, and starving. His mind was already working, thinking through the things he would need to start his research, but he should probably try and sleep. He had taken a great many notes while reading, in his very neat script, and those would have to be transcribed at some point. The only thing Nathaniel had asked for, when Stark had sent his query about what sort of amenities he needed, had been a lot of paper and fine black calligraphy pens, since that was what he was used to using in the past. Stark had agreed, but there were protocols for putting his notes into the computer that he would have to follow.
Speaking of...
Nathaniel switched on the CPU and checked his email. The background on the computer was a large SHIELD emblem. Nathaniel decided he'd have to change that. Possibly a nice picture of the Tower of London or some such, in case he became homesick. He found the icon that led to his official SHIELD email program, Microsoft Outlook (Windows? Good lord, he'd have to switch this bloody thing to LINUX in the morning) and found several emails already. Apparently he was on some sort of list-serve? They all had his name in the subject heading.
Nathaniel spent twenty minutes gleefully reading the flurry of emails which announced his new assignment to SHIELD and the Initiative--red eyed demonic monster?--and resisted sending them all a computer virus as an attachment. There was one email, however, that made him laugh out loud. It was from Norman Osborne, and said simply, "My sympathies, Dr. Essex. This was me, a month ago. Welcome to SHIELD."
He read the--entirely too long--email from Tony Stark, full once again of things he was not to do, and mentally comprised a response in his head--Oh, but I'd already adjusted the temperature in the swimming pool to boiling for all the children I stole from the neighbours--until he realized that Stark would probably actually believe that. There was also a surprising admonition to be nice to your assistant, Isobel Chambers, which left him momentarily stumped. Of course, they would send someone to look after him. He sent back a very short email.
I have arrived, all is in order, the house is fine, thank you, and I shall await the arrival of Ms. Chambers on the morrow. After a bit of thought, he added, And I shall be perfectly nice to her. I am a gentleman, even if I am, according to the list-serve, "the embodiment of evil and all that is wrong with the world today."
Nathaniel sent one more email, after that. To Rachel.
To: R_Grey@x-corp.org
From: Essex@shield.org
Subject: My new email address
Rachel--
As you might have ascertained from this message, I have arrived in Savannah. The house is entirely too large but quite lovely. It must have been repainted, as everything is red, blue, or some shade of purple. Anthony Stark is a clever man. (That was sarcasm, though I suppose he is smart enough, only I do not know how to make this clear in an email. About the sarcasm, not Stark's intelligence.)
The house has a swimming pool, set into the ground, in the back. I have no idea why, other than the house used to be a bed-and-breakfast, apparently. I am hopeful you shall make some use of this amenity. I am not entirely certain I wish to do so. I have nothing in which to swim, for one thing, and I do not know where such garments are purchased.
My laboratory is very nice, state of the art, and in a separate building beyond the swimming pool. It also has a bedroom. I am unsure why Stark feels I need this many guest rooms? Apparently, I am to sleep there if you become cross with me (not my suggestion--he actually left me a note. I suppose he does think he is very funny. Does your mother find that sort of thing amusing? You would likely toss something at my head). It is much nicer than my laboratory in London. That is quite a nice discovery. There is a gene sequencer as well, which I did not have in London.
Tomorrow, I am to meet my assistant, Isobel Chambers. I am unsure if by "assistant" Stark means "watchdog", or if this person is actually intending to be an assistant in matters of science. I do hope they are not stupid. That would be a tiresome waste of time, if so.
I received a great many emails to my new address, as there is apparently some sort of "list-serve". Stark added my email address and I was able to see my warm welcome (again, this remark was intended as sarcastic--terribly sorry, there is no good way to allude to that in a printed medium, and I did look in the Netspeak book to no avail). The only pleasant email I received was from Norman Osborne. Perhaps I shall have him to dinner one night. If he becomes intoxicated, he shall have one of my six-thousand guest rooms to chose from if he wishes to stay.
(Hyperbole, I do believe there are four. One is very lovely, and I think you shall like it. There is a large television in my room with a frightening array of buttons. Perhaps you could explain them. I have no notion of what HDTV might be, but apparently, the television is equipped with such a thing. I do have the Discovery Channel, and that channel you enjoy watching, with the animated programmes? The name escapes me at the moment)
I drove myself here from the airport. I had not realized there are radios in automobiles now. The previous driver had unfortunately left the radio turned up very loud, so that when I started the car, it started playing something (I cannot in good conscience call it "music") and I nearly drove off of the road. I do not think this addition of a stereo in the car is a benefit. You Yanks drive on the wrong side of the road, which is confusing enough, not to have that horrible cacophony blaring when one is trying to concentrate. No-one died so I suppose all went well enough.
At any rate, you now have my email address, and I am almost certain that Stark is reading every single word I am sending to you. I could possibly endeavour to make him uncomfortable by saying something racy, however, we both know that it is not quite in my nature to do such a thing. If he has security cameras (perhaps a bit naive of me to say "if") installed, possibly we shall shock him enough when next you visit? I feel this is a good time to incorporate the light-hearted use of the :-) emoticon. Please correct me if that is not so.
I hope you are well. I am...looking forward...to seeing you again. The town of Savannah has a number of scenic attractions, according to the literature I have read prior to my arrival, and there seems to be a great many things to do. It was very boring to go visit historical sites in London, as I was alive when a great many of them were built.
There is a large cemetery very close by, which I can see from my bedroom window. Perhaps I shall go and hide behind monuments, and frighten passers-by, for a bit of fun.
(Only joking, Stark)
Yours, (obviously, you, Rachel, as I would not end an email to Tony Stark in this fashion)
Nathaniel
He hit send and then went to the kitchen. There wasn't any food. He sighed. Nathaniel was too tired to go and find any that evening, so he went upstairs to have a shower and go to bed. Apocalypse had once forced him to endure three weeks with no food or water, so one evening should not hurt.