X-Factor Log: Tim
X-Men: Movieverse 2 - Thursday, February 12, 2009, 8:48 PM
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=XS= Jean's Office - Lv 1 - Xavier's School
Just another step in the grand tradition of renovation that dogs all great and old houses, Jean's office has been snuck nearly seamlessly into the footprint of the mansion library. Despite the headmistress' taste for clean lines and light colours, rich oak panelling and footstep-muffling carpet in a venerable shade of forest green are the order of the day. Light is freely admitted by a large leaded glass window that looks out over the Victorian garden and its fountain, although hanging curtains in the same emerald as the carpeting can be drawn to turn the room dark enough for presentations to be shown. The central feature of the room is an imposing desk, stained dark to match the paneled walls. A modern ergonomic office chair is positioned behind it, with two upholstered chairs in front. A laptop rules the desk, two filing cabinets, several framed diplomas and a bookshelf hug the side wall behind it. One corner holds a thriving ficus plant, and the central piece of art in the office is a framed representation of DNArt, a small brass plaque informing observers that this is the genome of Dr. Jean Grey.
(Exits : [Li]brary )
The dark circles around his eyes and cherry red noes and cheeks say everything that needs to be said about Tim's mood at the moment. The fact that the ceiling of the grand hallway now has a rather large skylight up into Tim and Walt's bedroom help give a couple of clues, too, however. This is an old dance. Tim knows the steps. He's lead, and he's followed.
Jean's door handle jiggles briefly as Tim's hand lands heavy onto it, the teen needing time to gather up a breath of strength before pushing forward. When the door swings open, Tim's face is pointed downwards, focusing on the carpet, and it isn't until he closes it behind him that he tilts it up to look for Jean: "Dr. Grey? Any news?" To the point and detached. But hopeful.
"Still pulling in what I can," is Jean's offer. Her office is as it always is... except in the ways that it's not. The paperwork has the look of being at least partially in boxes, and Jean herself is studying Tim with rather more intensity than just her usual concern. There's a faint air of energy in motion about her, temporarily constrained to stillness as she sits behind the desk. "But actually... come in and close the door behind you. I've got something that's not just for school consumption."
The door fastens closed. Tim steps forward with slow measured steps. Jean's first answer was expected, but the rest... the rest catches him completely off guard. His eyes mark the boxes and the difference in Jean's own eyes, quirking curious and worried at this change in tempo. "What... is this?"
"Classified," is Jean's answer, and despite the seriousness and stress, there's a faint hint of a smile, as she admits that "I've been waiting to use that line... but are you interested in potentially helping to find them?"
The slow paces continue, until Tim is only a foot away from Jean's desk. If he were taller it might have had more of a dramatic effect. "Of course..." is his answer dedication forming in his eyes and voice, that touch of hope returns as well. "I'll do whatever you need me to do, if it'll help. What do you need me to find out?" The question comes out familiar as he resumes the dance again with a familiar step, assuming he will be asked to research gopher again. There is almost a tangible strand of energy that forms between him and the room outside as his mind begins to organize his information sources and begin plans to hit them full bore.
A gently lifted hand is his first answer, paired with a "Wait," from Jean. She shuffles through a few of the boxed papers, before coming up with a file folder that she doesn't yet share with him. "What I'm offering is more than just helping find them, or even helping to stop the entire kidnapping ring. It's big, it's legit, it's from the government, and it would mean some pretty big changes to your life. You'd have to finish your degree through correspondance, for one. I want you to think about that first."
That is a thought that is a little beyond Timothy Hall Jr. What could be bigger than getting his friends back? Getting his /best/ friend back? His head tilts to the side and his hand reaches up to brush through his hair as he puts that hamster in his head to work tryin' to piece this one together. "I... don't understand." He admits, before grasping for something that his mind can at least figure out: "Uncle Sam and the boys in blue already made it pretty clear they don't want me. Got the rejection letters to prove it."
"Let's just say that governments are large, and made up of many people," is Jean's reply, fingers steepling over the file folder. "Not all of whom have their heads located up--" A moment's pause alters that choice of phrasing into a simple answer of "There's a team being assembled, specifically to try and make use of mutants and their abilities. Like the X-Men, but fully government, instead of just allied."
Serious thinking time, and Tim needs to sit down. And so he does so, slowly sitting down into one of the upholstered chairs instead of the hard flop he would usually give it. "So this is more than just my last semester we are talkin' 'bout. This is kissing my scholarship goodbye, too, isn't it?"
"It would be, if not a job for life, most definitely a career on the level of military or police service," Jean answers, resuming her course of advanced Tim-study from across the desk. "I think it's something you could be good at -- you come from a line of service, after all, and I know that was a goal for you. I'd be happy to recommend you, but I don't want you going into this blind."
"If I did it... it could help find Walt?. And the others?" While they are questions, their tone doesn't suggest that he's looking for an answer from Jean, more likely from himself. And while Jean is busy studying the Tim, Tim is doing likewise, holding his hand out in front of him beneath flannel, flexing it and studying every wrinkle, ever hint of the scars hidden by cloth and makeup. "You know what I want, Dr. Grey. I wanna... I wanna make a difference, I wanna do something to help. Be something... this school..." the school is a substitution, the headmistress in front of him the obvious original target of the sentence. " could be proud of. Are these guys... are these the right kind of guys?" When he asks the last question, his green eyes glance up to lock into Jean's, searching for something.
"I have no doubt of that," is Jean's answer, quiet but firm in her convictions as she smiles slightly at him. The last question is met with a thoughtful silence, however, and her answer is thus slow in coming. "I believe that they're not incapable of rolling the hard six if they have to. And that they will be walking and working in a world that's a lot more grey than it ever is black or white. But I also know that two Xavier's grads are already among them. And I'm working with them myself, on this."
There is a wrinkle in his brow, taking Jean's answers in. It wiggles back and forth, a wave of deep thought that doesn't require telepathy to read. Eventually it sets in, though. Settles in serious. "If... if I just keep hiding in here talking 'bout changing things and making a difference while you go out there and... do it, then that's all I'm ever gonna do." The face that looks up to Jean's isn't without its doubts and fears, isn't without its intimidation or panic or worry. All of that dances in his eyes, but those eyes are also determined. "What do I need to know?"
"A fair amount," Jean confirms, and at last slides over the file folder. "A summary of what's known so far is in there -- read it while you pack, if you can, I'd like to get you out to their base as soon as possible, and they're in California."
Tim's fingers are shaking when they pick up the folder, he doesn't crack it yet. He'll need a few more steading breaths before he can manage that one later in his room. "You really should have told me that first." he forces a bit of a joke before he fully realizes exactly what he's done. "I really hope they have good air conditioners." And he stands to get ready to go, pacing to the door without a word until he opens it. That is when it hits him, looking at the stacks, and books that he's tended to so lovingly for years. "This is home... this is... this is family. Everything I know... just like that? I knew I would have to say goodbye sometime... but I thought I would actually have time to say it." He leaves before he can get a response, or his brain talks him out of it.
An unlikely but determined new recruit (who is totally 18 now, through the magic of the internet) decides to sign up with X-Factor.