Logs: Scott, Piotr, asteroids and coffee
X-Men: Movieverse 2 - Monday, November 19, 2007, 5:34 PM
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=XS= ComSys Room - Lv B3 - Xavier's School
The Communications Systems are located just off to the side of the infamous Danger Room, a plethora of beeping, flashing, ever-working computers used as the X-Men's unofficial headquarters and briefing room, as well as linking into the Danger Room master control. A well-oiled grid of collected global information concerning and helpful to the mutant activist team, and even mutants themselves, displayed in enormous monitors stretched across the walls linked into television broadcasts, with smaller rows of viewscreens stationed between them for relaying security camera images. The whole of the unit seems to run just fine on its own, although occasionally a staff member runs to and fro checking the systems with the area being totally off-limits to students, and most anyone but the X-Men.
[Exits : [M]ain [H]allway and [D]anger [R]oom]
"And to think," mutters one Jean Grey to herself, staring through the windows of the comsys room into what appears to be interplanetary space, "That I was thinking things were going -well-." Through the windows, the ghost-pale and pockmarked surface of an asteroid looms, pregnant with potential. And potential energy as well. A computer screen blinks before her, and Jean turns away to stare at it instead, tweaking variables to see Just What Might Happen if given circumstance Y or Z.
The doors open and Scott comes in, hands stuffed into the pockets of his khakis in a casual manner as he comes in. The view outside the windows makes him arch an eyebrow over the upper boundary of his shades, "Perhaps we should start with a good rousing soundtrack by Aerosmith?" Scott offers as he looks at Jean. His mind is a bit off balance at the moment, hence the attempt at humor. Finding, very possibly, a brother you thought was lost to you will tend to disturb your equalibrium a bit. "Hello, Jean," Scott says as a more normal greeting besides comment.
"I liked Deep Impact better," Jean answers, absent-mindedly as she twiddles at some setting on the computer screen with a click and drag of her mouse. Outside, the sun rises over the asteroid, and she turns her focus to studying a projection of temperature when nickel-iron meets the full force of solar radiation. But even a mind as wrapped up in trying to pretend she's an astrophysicist as Jean's isn't entirely shielded, and less so from a mond as near and dear to her as Scott's. Looking up, trying for casual herself, she admits that "On the other hand, things didn't go so well for New York in that one. How's things?" she asks, tone light but eyes more serious and more searching.
"I suppose I would be 'Fish'," Scott says as he walks over to next to her, looking out at the asteroid. "If only things were as easy as they make them out to be in the movies. Within fifteen minutes they suddenly have some last minute plan to save the world that always barely works, but it does," Scott says, a slow shake of his head. "I need a favor," Scott asks finally, not an easy admission for him to make. Scott's head turns and settles his gaze firmly upon Jean's.
Jean lifts a hand, settling it lightly on Scott's arm as she studies their reflections in the screen with a small and crooked smile. "Hey," she murmurs. "We're a team of mutant superheroes. If anyone can pull off a last minute plan, it's got to be us..." But the nascent attempts at humour and hope wink away at Scott's request, and she looks up at him with a light squeeze of the hand on his arm. "What's up?"
A few long moments, the hand noticed and it can't help but tug at memories. "I got a visit this morning between classes from a man named Alex Masters. Two years younger than I. Adopted when he was six after the death of his parents..." Scott trails off, figuring that she won't have to follow the trail much further in his mind to figure out where it's going, if she doesn't figure it out on her own without accessing his mind. He's unsure, hopeful, and more than a little mysified at the possibility.
"Oh... wow," is Jean's response, a breath of a sound as she gets to her feet and slips herself into a hug with eyes wide and viewing other vistas than the spacefield behind them. "That's... are you all right?" she asks, pulling herself together and tipping her head slightly to look up and meet Scott's glasses. "I know Alex, he came to me to check out some reports of earthquakes, and then he came to me to get some tests run."
"I..." the word fades as Scott looks away from her for a moment, out at the simulated stars beyond the glass. "I don't know what to think, Jean. I really don't. I gave up finding Alex years ago. The records were sealed and they wouldn't budge on it. So I let it go," Scott says slowly, the thoughts slow in making themselves vocal and understandable so that he can vocalize it. "Did you get a blood sample when you did those tests?" Scott asks after a moment of silence, his gaze turning back to her from the distance of the stars and the years that his mind was mulling over.
Jean rubs a gentle hand against Scott's back, and gives a little nod. "I did. You understand that I can't just walk down there and pull up his DNA to run against yours, but if he consented to it, I'd have an answer for you as soon as the database could run it."
"I told him I would ask you, said it might take a few weeks because I didn't know what your schedule was like," a slow, tremulous smile. "In a way, I'm almost afraid to know." At least he's honest with himself and her. No sense lying to someone who almost knows you better than you know yourself. "Anyway, enough about me. Any ideas on the asteroid?" Scott asks, trying to force his mind away from personal matters to the simulation outside.
"It... well, actually, I have both of you in my database," Jean admits, with a crooked smile as she fesses up to the state of scientific affairs beneath the mansion. "If he'll give me a call and confirm that he's all right with it, I can have the results within hours... but you know the drill," she assures, stepping back with a final pat of the Scott. "If, at any point, you decide you don't want to know, I'll keep my own counsel. And so far, I have a lot of very bad ideas, and a lot of very impractical ideas."
"Can we put Ben Afleck and Jennifer Lopez and others of that ilk on a shuttle and launch them at it? Maybe it will run in distaste," Scott tries to add some humor, a small part of his brain adding names like Magneto to the list. "How sure are they about the composition of the asteroid?" Scott asks, not sure that the suspected composition was in the file.
"Send up Monet St. Croix and the asteroid will fall into orbit around that young woman's ego," Jean offers her own little bit of humour, with a smile more rueful than humorous. "And yeah, they can do a thing with analyzing the wavelengths of light or something else that's a little above my level of understanding. I already thought about the Loony Toons solution of waving a big magnet at the thing," she admits. "Modification R5-Acme 1."
"Perhaps launching a satellite to fire some sort of probe at it as they did an asteroid in the belt not too long ago," Scott says, looking at the asteroid in the simulation. "I seem to recall doing that gave them some idea of what the outer crust of the asteroid consisted of," Scott says. "Perhaps have the government build some long distance nukes to send out to it?" Scott adds as another suggestion. A mental snort and disbelief at the suggestions, obviously he doesn't think much of them. Other thoughts continue to niggle at him and that's why he keeps voicing his thoughts.
"Apparently they reviewed that," Jean admits, with a crooked twist of her lips as she settles back in her chair and brings up her computer screen again. "If I got the gist of it, they figure it would be bad because it would result in multiple smaller impacts. Although..." she trails off, and nibbles furiously at her lower lip. "With us along, we could try and redirect the larger chunks, maybe? I mean, from what I understand, if they make contact with it far enough out, it only takes a small amount of change to get it to miss the earth."
"Smaller pieces might be easier to deal with, if there were some way to control how it broke up," Scott muses. "If there were some way perhaps..." he drifts and shakes his head, "I don't know of any ideas that could make a significant difference that wouldn't immediately result in the death of the team trying it and not making any difference in the asteroid," Scott says, turning to face her, arms crossed. Other things are on his mind but he tries to keep them down for now, "Anyone else have any useful ideas?" he asks
"Pool balls," Jean reflects. "Hit it with something else big...?" But visions of not one, but two asteroids hitting the planet should the biggest scratch in the history of pool happen soon trail that idea out into nothingness. "Not that I've heard. We should probably call a proper meeting and let everyone sit around and arm-wrestle with it," she reflects, before her eyes drift up and over to settle on Scott. "Anything else on your mind?" she wonders. "Or is the asteroid a good distraction."
"Piotr would win, and all of us would have dislocated shoulders," Scott says as Tim appears in his brain. "Tim asked me a question that has had me thinkint the last few days. He asked me if I was like my father. Made me wonder what kind of father I am," Scott says as he looks down at the floor, away from Jean. Look, floor plates, interesting! Kinda shiny! "And then to have Alex show up. I've just had too many family questions in 24 hours."
"If you're wondering what kind of father you are," Jean murmurs, and although she doesn't rise again, as the previous hug had engendered no response, there's the mental equivalent of one, a brief brush of her thoughts against his, gentle and warm like a banked hearthfire. "Just take a look at the smile on our boy's face when he sees you."
The mental hug is acknowledged with a hint of a smile. "I guess you're right, just makes me wonder. The same questions that've plagued me for years," Scott says as he smiles a little more at her. "Thanks, Jean. I just hope that he still looks at me some of the same way twnety years from now," Scott says finally, resting a hand on her arm. He didn't exactly mean to ignore the hug earlier, just kind of lost in the mass of thoughts and all of what is going on. "I hope that Nate never associates 'Dad' and 'Father' the same way Tim does."
Twenty years. A mental calculation and a slight unhappy stiffening are all that escape her as medical supposings briefly overtake maternal pride. Her smile up at Scott is all the more firm for it, a stubborn latching on to his optimism as she reflects that "He'll probably be as much a handful as any teenager. And having met Detective Hall..." Her smile slides briefly into a dark displeasure. "Well, I think you'd shoot yourself before you turned into that. And if you didn't, I would."
"If I ever get that bad, just let Logan do it. He won't look at it as duty, he'll actually enjoy it," Scott says darkly, then berates himself for the comment. He's better than that, he shouldn't be sinking to saying such things, no matter his mood. "How is Nate? I know I've been pretty busy lately," Scott says, more than a little guilty at that admission.
"No," says Jean, censure present in the simple weight of the words and the slight, serious darkness to her green eyes. "He wouldn't." Scott, however, is doing a good enough job of berating himself that Jean sees no reason to add to it beyond this, and instead allows a small smile to blossom, along with a little sigh. "You and me both. It's been a real effort just to make storytime -- not that I don't mind making it. But he's doing good. I was worried about things getting close to December, the anniversary of the raid... but kids are resilient."
"Anything in particular you're getting him for Christmas, just so I don't get him the same thing?" Scott asks. What little he has in the ability to block telepaths is put to all the use it can, after all, don't want her finding out what her gift is by accident. Which would be his luck and ruin all of the surprise.
How fortunate that Jean is both an ethical telepath and fond of surprises. At the shift in Scott's thoughts, her own shields lift and settle into place, the mental equivalent of fingers stuck into her ears. "I was considering obedience lessons for Pancake after the dog got into my shoe rack... but I was thinking I'd get him a set of wooden Thomas trains."
"You think it's too early for the Playstation 3?" Scott jokes lightly, watching his ex as he smiles just slightly, "Anyway, that at least takes out one thing that I was considering," Scott notes, striking it off the mental list. "Do you know if Dr. Grey has anything in particular that she would like?"
Turned back to her computer, mental curtains drawn against overhearing about presents, Jean presents a rare opportunity for study, being for a moment entirely unaware of Scott's eyes on her. Faint crows feet at the corners of her eyes, auburn hair pulled back and stabbed through with a pencil to keep it out of her face, she studies data both soft and hard on the end of the world, and still manages a smile. "Dr. Grey would like about a month's worth of time at a spa," she admits. "But would settle for a really -good- cheesecake and some bubble bath."
"Really good cheesecake. Such a small request," Scott says, not able to resist gazing at her and going over the small details that he still remembers so well. A slight ache, both at the fact that they're no longer together due to his own issues and problems and also the fact that he's alone. Again, his fault and no one elses. "I'll probably still manage to not get the right kind," Scott jokes, looking away from her.
Jean's player would point out, in the interests of fairness, that Scott doesn't own -all- the issues. Jean herself remains outwardly oblivious to the study, even if a small widening of her smile at nothing in particular might suggest that her mental shields, raised temporarily, are slipping back to baseline levels again. "There's no such thing as a wrong kind of cheesecake, Slim," she murmurs in reply. "But on that note, have you heard anything about what Professor Summers might be wanting?"
"A time machine would be nice, or perhaps an antiasteroid gun," Scott says, obviously having no clue that there's anything that he wants. Nothing really tugging at him. "I should probably get back, between Alex and a discussion with Walter, it left me behind in my grading," Scott says. Oh yes, such an important thing in comparison to asteroids and Christmas presents.
"It's a shame Charles has us under a communications blackout," Jean muses, turning back to Scott to give him a crinkle-eyed smile. "Papers will be delayed due to imminant asteroid impact."
"Ah yes, give them a vacation because we have to work harder. Doesn't seem exactly fair to me," Scott says, starting for the door, the image of the smile burned into his brain like the afterimage one gets from a flash bulb or looking for a moment into the sun. "I'll talk to you later," Scott says
"Count on it," Jean promises, another smile following Scott out, before it vanishes as she turns once more to the screens and to the Danger Room, and hopefully to ideas. A few moments later, a sigh escapes. And Jean goes to see if Wikipedia has any ideas.
Wool socks and cufflinks are apparently not on the list of Top Ten Gifts For X-Men.
X-Men: Movieverse 2 - Tuesday, November 20, 2007, 4:23 PM
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=XS= Kitchen - Lv 1 - Xavier's School
A relic of Victorian times, this kitchen is vast, with more than one oven and several stainless steel work surfaces taking the space once claimed by coal hoppers, cooking hearths and cast-iron stoves. Walls still done in period plaster and tile, and the floor still the original fieldstone, fluorescent lights have been installed overhead to bring the lighting up to modern level. At meal times, kitchen workers scurry to and fro with pans and food and various other sundry items, under the watchful eye of the aging head cook, but once past, order is restored, with copper-bottomed pans hanging above the kitchen island, and a tray of cold snacks left out for foraging students and staff alike. Folding wood doors screen off a pantry capable of holding food for an large household's weekly meals -- or three days' worth of teenager food.
[This room is set watchable. Use alias XSKitchen to watch here.]
[Exits : [H]allway and [B]ack [P]atio]
The weather is grey and rainy, with the damp chill to the air that speaks of November. The students are inside, today, and thus the noise level, both physical and mental, of the house on the hill is somewhat exponentially increased. One particular specimen of the genus educatus stressicus has taken refuge in the kitchen, the coffee machine claimed as territory and a watchpost set up on one of the tall stools with a view of the patio and the grounds beyond. Mug clutched in one hand, the other lifted to rub gently at her temples, Jean Grey admires the still-pretty woods in the distance, and contemplates escape.
Piotr comes walking into the kitchen, although given his size and footwear, he can be heard approaching about 2 rooms away. He gives a smile and a nood to Jean as he heads towards the fridge to grab something to drink. "Hello, Dr. Grey."
"Mm?" Caught in that moment's reverie, it takes another moment for Jean to turn and focus on Piotr, easily-audible arrival notwithstanding, and to bestow a warm smile upon him, crinkling the corners of her eyes. "Piotr, hello," she greets more properly, a lift of her coffee cup a vague and easy sort of toast. "All teenagers safely accounted for?"
Piotr nods as he pulls out a bottle of orange juice and looks for a glass. "Yes. MOst of them are in the Rec Room watching a movie. Shrek 3, I think."
Jean blinks once. "There's a third Shrek movie?" she wonders, words just lightly touched by the querulous tone of one who is Out Of The Loop. "I just saw the second one a couple weeks ago," she admits with a rueful chuckle, before moving on past the topic with a little nod of her head and a motion to one of the free seats at the island, once Piotr has fetched his juice. "So," she wonders. "How is Piotr Rasputin?"
Piotr chuckles ruefully as he pours the juice into the glass. "Well, at least you're only a few years behind the times...." There is a sigh as he thinks about the second question. He answers with a non-commital shrug and, "Fine, I suppose."
**I lost a pose here due to over-hasty editing**
There's a pause as Piotr takes a long drink from the glass. "Well, I suppose it is a good thing that I didn't go on a rampage when I found out that my sister ahs a boyfriend that she's about to move in with."
"Ah, yes, the mysterious yet inestimable Doug," Jean sums up, with the comfortable air of some feminine conspiracy revealed, and a regrettable lack of surprise. "I really must meet him soon, I think. But would you really have rampaged?" she wonders, green eyes searching Piotr's face for a moment.
Piotr shakes his head. "No. But I was hurt a bit. Illyana and I straightened things out but still..." He finishes the glass of juice and places it in the sink. "People around here accept that I wasn't in control. Not fully, at least. But I can still see some caution in them from time to time. Just that lingering question of will I go off again. I know Illyana doesn't believe I would do something like that, but having Doug kept a secret from me did hurt some."
Jean hums understandingly at that, and takes a sip of her coffee. "If it helps, I don't think she intended the secret to be so much a secret, as a thing kept to herself until she was sure of just what it was. Illyana's grown up far faster than many young women her age... but her adventures in 'her place' have left her very sheltered in other ways." With a soft self-directed snort, Jean sets down her coffee cup and admits that "That wouldn't make a secret bother you any less, of course. And I have no real advice at all about caution in others, except to say that that, too, shall pass. And that a lot of it is concern for -you-."
Piotr shrugs and leans back against the counter. "Maybe. In some cases, I know for a fact that not everyone has 'forgiven' me. I guess I'm bothered because I can't find my focus for art. I thought going into the city, a diferent space and environment, would help, but nothing so far."
"Mmm," replies Jean, although this time the sound is understanding, rather than startled. "I'm pretty far from an artist myself, but if your workload is interfering, just say the word," she encourages. "You're RAing here, as well as commuting to Emerson for your own classes, as well as the work with the team... that's a lot on anyone's plate."
Piotr rapidly shakes his head. "No, no...that's not it. It's...." He looks down at the flloor and shrugs. "Everything here has changed. I've changed."
Jean purses her lips slightly, thoughts lifting and straining against the mental barriers holding them back, curiosity to simply see what's on Piotr's mind in a more literal sense being ruthlessly sat upon. "Change happens to everything, Piotr. Without it, even the most ugly and brutal change, there would be no growth."
Piotr stands at the counter, still looking down. "I know change is life. But change takes getting used to. And it can be painful. As sson as I get a handle on things, everything changes again."
"Welcome to the adult world," Jean offers, with a crooked smile over her coffee cup, retrieved with an absent and automatic gesture. The caffeine reflex. "I swear, what I wouldn't give to go back to being 15 and having my life all meticulously planned out ahead of me."
Piotr rinses out his glass and sets it in the dishwasher. "I suppose. I never wanted anything so complex. I was happy with how things were back on the farm. I'm not saying there's nothing good here. I have some friends and Kitty and a diferent kind of purpose now. But I guess what they say is true: ignorance is bliss."
"I'm sure if you had stayed on the farm, you'd still have come to a time when the changes came faster than you were ready," Jean suggests, head tipped slightly sideways and one lock of auburn hair escaping confinement behind her head to wisp gently against her cheek. "It happens to us all... but I'm glad you've still got things to value here, even if things change too fast. How -are- things with Kitty?" she wonders, in a casual segue designed to work past Piotr-blushes.
Piotr blushes anyways. Not that you need much to make him blush. "Things are fine. We've gone on dates, nothing too serious. I've been trying to keep a lower profile around here recently, so we've gone out more than stayed in. Maybe we can...start doing more together now. For the holidays."
Jean snorts with soft amusement at the blush, but her smile is simply soft. "I'm sure she'd like that," she murmurs. "In fact, if you don't, I might have to buy you both embarassing Christmas presents to encourage you."
Piotr coughs and turns beet red. "That's not what I ment! I meant going to good restaurants, carriage rides. Things like that...."
"I -meant- tickets for mushy romantic outings with violinists and candles," Jean points out, with a fine impression of upper middle class white primness. It dissolves into an outright chuckle as the blushing threatens to reach critical mass, however. "On the other hand..."
Piotr closes his eyes and puts his hands out in a defensive posture. "Dr. Grey, please....it's bad enough that my sister is moving in with her boyfriend...."
Jean laughs and sighs at once, and rises to bus her coffee cup over to the dishwasher. In passing, she rests one hand on Piotr's arm, and assures him that "I'm only teasing, Piotr," with a fair grasp of the Russian pronouciation of the name. "I know that you and Kitty will move at your own pace, and to suit your own sensibilities. I'd never want you to feel pressured otherwise."
Piotr looks back down at the floor. "I know. And I guess I need to stop being so sensitive about all this kind of talk." He looks back up and his face brightens immensely. "I mean, I love Kitty and I want everything to be special and perfect for her. I want to be the kind of man that she deserves and I hope I'm doing these things."
"I'm sure she'll let you know if you're ever not," Jean assures with a smile. "And so far, the Network of Women has heard no complaints."
Piotr snorts and chuckles. "You know, Ialways wondered about that organization..."
Jean grins at Piotr over one shoulder, tapping a finger beside her nose. "Ah, but if I told you about it, that would be against the rules of the Network. We'd have to change them all."
Piotr shakes his head. "Well, I had better get going. I need to finish some classwork for college."
Jean nods, making for the coffee maker for a refil. "Don't let me keep you from it, then. I'm just making a brief stop before I get back to downstairs and running some numbers." << And it's a little bit sad that Wikipedia is proving a better source of ideas than the documents on the asteroid. >> she finishes, in a silent projection meant to keep the impending doom for X-Man minds alone.
Piotr nods and heads off, a silent << Good Luck >> thought back to Jean.
Meanwhile, Mama Rasputin's boy is growing up.