Essex and Isobel arrive at Disney
"I think this entire thing is going to end in disaster," Nathaniel informed Isobel with utter seriousness. "And the moment it does, I am teleporting back to Savannah."
"You can't," Isobel said, looking around the hotel lobby with wide eyes. "No powers, remember?"
Nathaniel crossed his arms. He wasn't used to being in public without disguising his appearance. A small child looked at him and burst into terrified tears. Another asked his mother if he was some chap named Jafar.
Nathaniel looked up at the ceiling. "Isobel. Do you honestly believe that would stop me?"
"Yes. Because we work for SHIELD, and you're reformed." Isobel smiled very brightly at him. She looked entirely too pleased to be here. "Dr. Essex, when was the last time you had a vacation?"
"Nineteen fifty-two. I went to Cuba." He pressed his fingers to his temples. "If I could still get a headache, I think I would have one."
"Well, see, you're past due for one, aren't you?" It was their turn at the check-in desk. The clerk smiled at Isobel, but she was trying very hard not to look at Nathaniel. Nathaniel almost asked Isobel if she meant he was due for a headache or a vacation, but at the moment, they seemed to be the same thing.
What kind of freak convention is this?
Nathaniel almost answered, until he remembered he wasn't supposed to be hearing thoughts because he wasn't supposed to use his powers. They should all think quietly, he thought irrationally, standing behind Isobel.
"Isobel Chambers...here you are. Ms. Darkholme checked in already. Do you need a bellboy to help you with your luggage?"
"No, thanks," Isobel said brightly. She took her room key and stepped aside. His glowering bad mood was not enough to dampen her excitement. He would have to try harder, apparently.
"Nathaniel Essex," he said, showing the woman at the desk the ID badge. The woman stumbled a bit getting his room key.
"You, um, have a nice accent," she said somewhat desperately, handing him the key very quickly. She did not offer to call him a bellman. It was either because he was terrifying her, or because he was six-foot-five and a physically large man obviously capable of carrying his one suitcase.
"Thank you," Nathaniel said politely. He followed Isobel through the lobby. His fingers were twitching. He had nothing to work on, no piano, and Rachel was somewhere in the immediate vicinity--he could feel her.
They were going to see each other again. He wasn't looking forward to it. Also, half her family was here, and they wanted to kill him. Bloody fabulous.
"Everyone here wishes me dead," he said waspishly to Isobel, as the elevator carried them upwards. No one had joined them on the elevator, despite the crowds in the lobby.
"Well, you know, that's kind of your fault? Um." Isobel bit her lip. "But you're reformed now! Maybe you could make friends!" She patted him on the arm, took one look at his face, and stopped. "Or...not. No one can kill you, you know, it's a violation of--"
"Isobel, if you say that phrase to me one more time, I am going to do something unpleasant."
Isobel glared at him. "Nuh uh. There are two people here that don't want you dead. Well, three. Beatrice and I are all you got at the moment, buddy." She tapped her foot and arched a brow at him.
He was a bad influence on her. "And the third? Who is that? The small cartoonish mouse? Give him four minutes, and I guarantee he shall wish to kill me, too. I do have sort of an immediate effect on people."
"Well, don't try and clone him and you should be fine."
Nathaniel narrowed his eyes. "Why cannot I frighten you anymore?"
"Because. It's just the way it works, Dr. E. This is my floor. And the third--you know who it is. She doesn't want you dead." Isobel's smile faded. She looked worried. "If you see her--"
Nathaniel turned his head. "Have a pleasant day, Isobel."
"Dr. Essex--"
He looked back at her. "What?"
She shook her head. "Never mind." Isobel disappeared down the hall, and Nathaniel rode the elevator up to his room. It was a nice room. He drew the curtains and went to the mini-fridge. There was alcohol there. Thank God.
He was probably going to have to spend most of this trip pissed in order to tolerate it. Bloody hell. Here was a torture Apocalypse had never dreamed of, and Nathaniel was almost a bit impressed.
Though really, he'd prefer someone break his spine and leave him alone to heal. Something told him that was going to be much more enjoyable than Mr. Sinister's Disneyworld Vacation.
Nathaniel groaned and tossed back the small bottle of gin. He was going to have to find some more. Immediately.
"You can't," Isobel said, looking around the hotel lobby with wide eyes. "No powers, remember?"
Nathaniel crossed his arms. He wasn't used to being in public without disguising his appearance. A small child looked at him and burst into terrified tears. Another asked his mother if he was some chap named Jafar.
Nathaniel looked up at the ceiling. "Isobel. Do you honestly believe that would stop me?"
"Yes. Because we work for SHIELD, and you're reformed." Isobel smiled very brightly at him. She looked entirely too pleased to be here. "Dr. Essex, when was the last time you had a vacation?"
"Nineteen fifty-two. I went to Cuba." He pressed his fingers to his temples. "If I could still get a headache, I think I would have one."
"Well, see, you're past due for one, aren't you?" It was their turn at the check-in desk. The clerk smiled at Isobel, but she was trying very hard not to look at Nathaniel. Nathaniel almost asked Isobel if she meant he was due for a headache or a vacation, but at the moment, they seemed to be the same thing.
What kind of freak convention is this?
Nathaniel almost answered, until he remembered he wasn't supposed to be hearing thoughts because he wasn't supposed to use his powers. They should all think quietly, he thought irrationally, standing behind Isobel.
"Isobel Chambers...here you are. Ms. Darkholme checked in already. Do you need a bellboy to help you with your luggage?"
"No, thanks," Isobel said brightly. She took her room key and stepped aside. His glowering bad mood was not enough to dampen her excitement. He would have to try harder, apparently.
"Nathaniel Essex," he said, showing the woman at the desk the ID badge. The woman stumbled a bit getting his room key.
"You, um, have a nice accent," she said somewhat desperately, handing him the key very quickly. She did not offer to call him a bellman. It was either because he was terrifying her, or because he was six-foot-five and a physically large man obviously capable of carrying his one suitcase.
"Thank you," Nathaniel said politely. He followed Isobel through the lobby. His fingers were twitching. He had nothing to work on, no piano, and Rachel was somewhere in the immediate vicinity--he could feel her.
They were going to see each other again. He wasn't looking forward to it. Also, half her family was here, and they wanted to kill him. Bloody fabulous.
"Everyone here wishes me dead," he said waspishly to Isobel, as the elevator carried them upwards. No one had joined them on the elevator, despite the crowds in the lobby.
"Well, you know, that's kind of your fault? Um." Isobel bit her lip. "But you're reformed now! Maybe you could make friends!" She patted him on the arm, took one look at his face, and stopped. "Or...not. No one can kill you, you know, it's a violation of--"
"Isobel, if you say that phrase to me one more time, I am going to do something unpleasant."
Isobel glared at him. "Nuh uh. There are two people here that don't want you dead. Well, three. Beatrice and I are all you got at the moment, buddy." She tapped her foot and arched a brow at him.
He was a bad influence on her. "And the third? Who is that? The small cartoonish mouse? Give him four minutes, and I guarantee he shall wish to kill me, too. I do have sort of an immediate effect on people."
"Well, don't try and clone him and you should be fine."
Nathaniel narrowed his eyes. "Why cannot I frighten you anymore?"
"Because. It's just the way it works, Dr. E. This is my floor. And the third--you know who it is. She doesn't want you dead." Isobel's smile faded. She looked worried. "If you see her--"
Nathaniel turned his head. "Have a pleasant day, Isobel."
"Dr. Essex--"
He looked back at her. "What?"
She shook her head. "Never mind." Isobel disappeared down the hall, and Nathaniel rode the elevator up to his room. It was a nice room. He drew the curtains and went to the mini-fridge. There was alcohol there. Thank God.
He was probably going to have to spend most of this trip pissed in order to tolerate it. Bloody hell. Here was a torture Apocalypse had never dreamed of, and Nathaniel was almost a bit impressed.
Though really, he'd prefer someone break his spine and leave him alone to heal. Something told him that was going to be much more enjoyable than Mr. Sinister's Disneyworld Vacation.
Nathaniel groaned and tossed back the small bottle of gin. He was going to have to find some more. Immediately.