(no subject)
The Sanctuary
Accessible through one of the nondescript doorways from the filthy, unpopulated alleyway outside, those who find their way
to The Sanctuary usually have been pointed in the right direction. The single room of the coffee joint is deceptively
large, despite the only natural lighting being from a pair of windows almost too grimy to see through. The remaining
dimness is cured effectively, however, by a series of well-placed wall sconces amidst bookshelves and abstract paintings by
little-known local artists. The main counter with its impressive menu of caffeinated goodness dominates most of one wall,
but arranged in the still plentiful leftover space are any number of seating arrangements from small, iron-wrought tables
and chairs to a battered old couch and stained table as well as patched and repatched beanbag furniture.
But the focus of The Sanctuary is not so much its comfortable atmosphere as the eccentric crowd it runs with. A crowd so
eccentric, in fact, that it's no secret to the patrons of this joint that the majority of them are mutants. No doubt the
owners and operators of the shop are mutants themselves, and in this easygoing crowd it's not uncommon to have your double
espresso served to you by a fellow with three eyes and a tail.
As the day draws into evenings, those who linger in the shop at this hour may begin to detect a rhythmic pulse of music
from underfoot. Not loud or obtrusive, per say, but present nonetheless, and wanting of investigation.
[Exits : [D]ownstairs, and [B]ack [O]utside ]
[Players : Piotr ]
[Things : Cork Messageboard ]
It's taking some growing accustomed to--the fact that Pete will be teaching at Xavier's come the fall. And along with
that, a rethinking of his relationships with all his old teachers and mentors. Not exactly equality, but some attempts at
comraderie. Which brings Peter and Jareth to The Sanctuary this Friday night, at Peter's slightly hesitant suggestion.
And same Peter, quite relieved that Jareth agreed, now pushes the door open, stepping in. "Busy place," he comments over
his shoulder, stepping aside to allow entry.
It takes some adjusting, indeed. Jareth might not have expected the big guy to end up as one of the teachers, but voila. He
certainly wouldn't have called up Vegas to put bets on Pete, the shy Russian. Still, that's the way it's gone, surprising
as it may be. He casts a glance around, partly also to check for a table. "I guess that's a Friday night for you." He spies
something available and gestures toward it, setting off in that direction.
Piotr nods at the tables. Life is full of little surprises, in'nit? "You place claim on the seats, and I will go get some
drinks?" he offers. Because it /was/ his idea after all. "What can I get for you?"
Around the table Jareth goes to amble toward a chair which provides a view of the room, because people are entertaining
things to watch. He gives a concurring thumbs up as he slides into a chair, then taps his fingers on the table. "How
about..." He peers up at the menu, then points toward a fruit smoothie type of drink. "Ah, that sounds good."
Fruit drink it is. Peter joins the queue, forking over a few bucks for the drink and an iced coffee. Night, but it's
basically summer, and it /never/ gets cool in New York until come November. Or at least it feels like that sometimes.
Peter returns a few minutes later, falling into the opposite seat and sliding Jareth's drink across the table to him. "I
am glad for more time now. I enjoy coming here just to meet and watch the people," he comments, stirring his drink quickly
with the straw before starting in on it.
Jareth reaches over to take the drink, quickly taking a swallow through the straw. "Thanks. It may not be summer yet, but
it sure feels like it. Oy gevalt." He takes another swig, then picks up the drink to hold it briefly against his forehead.
"Oh, that's better. Ice is a wonderful thing." He puts the drink back down and nods. "People are almost endless sources of
entertainment sometimes." After looking around at just those people, he turns back to Peter. "So what are you going to be
teaching?"
"Science," Peter says, barely holding back the pride behind a grin. "For the 7/8 and Junior science. I am very looking
forward to it. "I have missed being at the school so much with my college classes. And I want to give something back
too."
Jareth also smiles a moment later, but rather more with mischief lurking in it. "I guess my books on physics and electrical
engineering are safe, then." He leans back and taps at his chin, peering over at Peter. "Hmm. You know, I think you've got
an inherent ace up your teaching sleeve, come to think of it. If the students are being rowdy, you can just shift to
metallic form and tell them to pay attention or HULK SMASH!"
Piotr raises an eyebrow at that, then relaxes into a smile. Humor in English still sometimes takes a moment to settle in.
"Yes, I suppose that just might get them to pay attention," he nods. "Although it might be rather... ah, disruptive...
for some of the class." Yes, that is a definite redness to his face there. Apparantly, teacher-status hasn't overcome
some of his personality quirks.
Jareth smiles again, accompanied by a distinct gleam in his eyes. "Oh, I'm pretty sure they'd be paying attention after
that. I have the advantage that if someone in the computer lab is daydreaming, I can open a text editor and tell them 'Wake
up' in 72 point font, hardly missing a beat in the lecture." It's good to be the technopath. He pulls out another impish
smile for a moment. "So, do you know what sort of science you're teaching?"
Piotr grins at that. "That would be very much more effective, I am thinking," he decides. See, a time and place for every
power under the sky. "Dr. G-- Jean sent me copies of the lessons," he continues, "But I have just started reading through
it all. It is basic science topics. Scientific Theory and Method, explanations of the different branches of studies.
These type of things."
Computers lend themselves to all sorts of other attention-getting tactics, such as... "They also seem to perk up nicely
when it turns deep, blinking red." Jareth looks off in another direction and coughs. He has, of course, never actually used
this tactic. What would possess someone to think otherwise? He looks back and nods. "Are you grasping it all right? I
wouldn't expect you to walk up to a chalkboard and start writing out the equations for the Unified Field Theory."
Then there's always the Blue Screen of Death for particularly challenging students. "Oh, this is not difficult," Peter
nods. "Or at least the 7 and 8 will not be. I have not looked at the Junior science yet. This I may be asking for help,"
he admits, shrugging slightly. Okay, so he's at least not a know-it-all. But hopefully knows enough to teach, at least.
"But I have taken all of the classes once, so I should hopefully be able to remember and explain it all."
Or, even more than the Blue Screen of Death, there are images of lampreys or other such toothy creatures latching onto the
inside of the screen, wriggling toward the user. "Nah, that level of science is the easy stuff. If you get stuck, there are
plenty of people around who can give you a hand. I knew that little piece of paper from MIT would come in handy somehow..."
And then, quite abruptly, Jareth's brain comes to a screeching, derailed halt. He blinks at Peter. "Hold on. You paid
attention in sophomore year biology?" He blinks again, then pulls out his cell phone and pretends to dial before raising it
to his ear. "Yeah, stop the presses. We found one."
"Oh, I don't have to teach /that/," Peter says with a grin. Because, /honestly/, can you imagine Peter trying to teach
those last chapters of human biology? Be real now. "That is Hank now, while Jean is on sabbatical." He quiets a bit,
though, skipping back to the part before. "I hope though that me not having such a 'piece of paper' will not be a
problem."
Jareth spends a moment trying to imagine Peter teaching biology without becoming cousin to a tomato, not to mention
becoming moreso as easily amused teenagers try to keep from snickering at words like 'cloaca,' 'genitalia,' or
'inseminate.' The mental image fails. Jareth tries not to snicker himself. "I wouldn't imagine so. So long as you can pass
on things you know, that's the important part. People also like firsthand demonstrations of things, and it makes a more
memorable impression. If you see what looks like a catapult's big brother launching things across the lawn while physics is
in session, well..." He turns up his hands and fails at appearing in way innocent.
"And with science, even the students who do not like to study," Peter stops a minute, thinking through the phrasing.
"Well, we all have such a strong tie to science, that most every student can find something that will interest them, since
it is so close to them. But I see I may be coming to you for suggestions for these real-life examples." He adds witha
grin
Jareth spends a moment mulling that over. "You might be right. I think most people find some sort of science or another
that they like. It sometimes takes something to coax it out of them, though, especially if they don't realize it." He
chuckles. "Well, I didn't spend many an evening in the MIT labs without getting something out of it. Like certain robotic
Alien-cats, who might be doing God knows what to the curtains."
Piotr sips at his drink for a minute before setting it back on the table and looking around. "So many of us all in one
place," he comments, trying not to let his gaze linger on any one mutant for too long. "I am looking forward to helping
students learn more about... themselves. It makes it easier to find a place to fit."
Jareth takes another long drink of his - blessed ice-containing drink - and mms so as not to answer with a mouthful of
smoothie. "Yeah. And you think Central Park is interesting enough for people watching." He nods agreement. "I think that's
the other satisfying thing about teaching there. You can help other people avoid awkwardness you might have had at the same
age." Not that this is so long ago for many of them, but still.
Not too long for Peter. Although that just makes it all the clearer. Quite reinforced by his sister's recent experiences
as well. "It is good to have a place to belong," he notes. "You have to wonder how many of these people have that."
It's not exactly time for Jareth to go shopping for canes, either. At least, not for any that are more than a touch of
style, as exemplified in what he already has. "It is. I think especially at that age, when life is already uncertain enough
under ordinary circumstances, it's very helpful to feel like there's some stability and that someone knows what's going
on." He shakes his head and frowns. "Probably a depressingly low number, but we can't say we didn't do what we can."
Piotr brightens a bit at that 'we.' Because it's nice to be included in that number. Or to be about to be included, at
least. "Yes, I suppose we can say that, hmm," he replies. His straw reaches the last of the coffe then, and he stirs the
ice about.
Jareth thumps his hands together mock-menacingly. "And if they say otherwise, we have more than one way of convincing them
that they're a bunch of birdseed in the middle of the set for 'The Birds.'" He leisurely guzzles more of his drink, staring
off into the room for a while before looking back toward Peter. "You think we should start heading back?"
Piotr grins at that. "Ah, Hitchcock," he says, proving some knowledge of classic films. "Yes, ve have vays of these
tings," he says, throwing the natural Russian accent on quite heavily, before glancing around at the room. "Getting
crowded," he nods, pushing his chair back from the table. "And I suppose we have claimed this table for long enough."
Jareth leans forward and stares intently at Peter, motionless for several moments. "Caw." He smiles wryly before looking
around the room. "Yeah, back to the problem of Friday night crowds." He stands up and gestures toward the door. "Let's
vamoose before any frat boys come along to start the weekend."
Piotr grins, then pushes off from the table, depositing the empty cup in the waste bin on his way to the door. "Back to
the real world then," he says crossing the room.