hand a pain. can't type lyrics

[xmm_jeangrey]

so i finally got cornered by moira when i was slinking down to the medical bay to get myself some t3 after the party wound down. sneaky woman... then again, i learned a lot of the tricks of the medical trade from her that you don't find in textbooks.

accordingly, i'm stuck with a stupid brace on my left wrist for the next five days, unless i go corner one of the school's supply of healers, and it's a pain in the ass because i can't hit the shift key without SEVERE PAIN involved. caps lock, fortunately, is easier. still, no fun typing like a 12 year old in a chatroom.

on the other hand, the fact that i need help to brush my hair and button my blouses has led to some... interesting possibilities regarding getting logan to help me... although i think unbuttoning blouses is more the part he likes. wink wink, nudge nudge and all that, to borrow from monty python.

good time at the party yesterday. siryn seemed a little jet lagged and left early, and jubilee seems to be suffering more and more from the effects of the fairytale syndrome, but still a lot of fun. the faculty dressed up as star wars characters, jedi in specific. i was in a traditional jedi knight outfit, maddy borrowed my spare workout suit to pull off an awesome mara jade, and scott, aptly enough, showed up as luke skywalker. and i dresed nate up as yoda, 'cause that's just too cute. i think several of the students are convinced their teachers are crazy now.

OOC: Ye gads, it's nice to use the shift key again! Have logs: The log of the Halloween/Welcome Home Siryn party
X-Men MUCK - Sunday, October 05, 2003, 1:06 PM
----------------------------------------------

<< XS >> Classroom and Arboretum - Lv1
A cross between a garden and a hall, this room serves dual purposes as a room of learning, and a room of growing plant life. The majority of the room is clear, a patterned floor polished carefully, and with tables spaced out at regular intervals, facing a blackboard, wiped clean for the moment. The rest of the room is taken up with large trees, reaching from the floor to almost the ceiling, as well as several, not as high reaching plants, filling the air with that indefineable feeling that is living things. Large windows allow light to stream in, allowing the plants to grow even further.
[Exits : [H]allway, and [R]ecreation [R]oom ]
[Players : Siryn ]

The desks-and-blackboard arrangement in the open area midpoint in the Arboretum has been broken apart and rearranged to sit on the sidelines of a space now perfect for mingling and dancing. The chairs are stacked, but the desks have been lined up into one long table, and the blackboard shoved off to one side with cheesy paper pumpkins pinned to it. Mini-lights are blinking brightly from the tropical trees, and in the middle of the room stands a tall, lean, Jedi Knight with her hood up and an un-Jedi-like ace bandage wrapped around one wrist. This, apparently, is why Jean's stuck using 'The Force' to float bowls and bowls of party snacks over to rest on the aforementioned sideboard.

Siryn was too tired upon her return yesterday to put together anything resembling a decent Hallowe'en costume, but rather than not come dressed up at all, she decided to don the old outfit she used to wear while 'cavorting' (ahem, that's what we'll call it, yes) around with her Uncle Tom during her days as a professional thief. A green and yellow spandex suit intimately wraps itself around her youthful body, though the elasticity of the material shows that she's grown quite a bit over the last couple of months - and we're not talking height here either. Her hair is loose and let to its own volition to flow down her back in cascades of shining strawberry blonde locks. Gloves and boots match the suit, though she's presently not wearing the gloves - instead, she's twisting them rather nervously. "H'lo Jean," she greets from the doorway, not even taking a moment to look around at all the lovely decorations. Seems like her mind's preoccupied with something else, at the moment.

Jean twists her wrist a little in unconscious physical accompaniement to mental cues, as she lowers a large punch bowl into place. This causes a wince, which causes a flinch in her concentration, which causes the bowl to drop alarmingly and slosh a little punch over the edge. Which, of course, causes a little not-quite-muffled-enough cursing as Jean rescues the beverage. Which is what Siryn walks in on. A little sheepish, Jean places the thing carefully, and then turns to give the young Miss Cassidy a warm smile, letting her hood fall back to expose bruises and scrapes well on their way to healing that she couldn't be bothered to cover over, all along one side of her face and around her neck. "Terry." she greets warmly, sliding over to offer a welcoming hug, should Siryn do anything less than turn and flee. "It's good to see you home again." is murmured, before Jean steps back to arms' length to just look at the girl.

Like with Ceta, Siryn allows for the hug, and returns it warmly, though somewhat gently, considering the extent of Jean's bruising. As the doctor looks her over, Terry applies the same steady gaze to the older woman. "When ye told me o'er the phone that ye had hurt ye'r wrist, ye didn'a say that it had come from being in a fight'o some sort," she chides, before offering a slight wince. "But I do hope ye gave as good as ye got..." But even Siryn's light banter appears to be lacking somewhat, as she ponders over other situations that involve her friend. "Perhaps this had somethin' te do with that doctor' fello who abused you some while back?" She can certainly hope, because then it would mean that maybe - just maybe - Jean had already extracted revenge from Essex over the malicious biology experiment he had pulled on her and Mr. Summers.

"Well," Jean replies somewhat evasively, "You didn't ask... and I could've given better and gotten less if there hadn't been so many people around at the time who know me as Dr. Grey, but not as a mutant." She looks for a moment as if she's about to twitch the hood back up and hide the side of her face again, then shrugs and lets it lie. "And alas, no. Essex's day is coming, but this was just Sabretooth out and about with anger issues and a hate on for the X-Men. I'll make a fur rug out of him next time, eh?" she jokes, trying to lighten the mood, even if the smile doesn't -quite- make it up to her eyes. "So, did James behave himself on the drive up here?" she wonders, ruthlessly changing the topic and going back to moving food off a cart and onto the table.

Siryn remembers Sabretooth from when Professor X was kidnapped by Sabella, and she shudders at the thought of that behemoth attacking Jean in plains view - leaving the doctor nearly defenceless as she tried to save her mutant identity from public knowledge. "I s'pose that means that we'll be hearing more and more from the Brotherhood now, if things are startin' te heat up the way it sounds they are," she comments idly, seeing far more into that whole conversation than most teenagers would. But seeing how Jean has changed the topic, Siryn too decides to let that pile of worries lie. "Aye. He was a good lad. No need f'er ye to worry 'bout whether or not I wore a helmet though, 'cause he brought some fancy limo 'round instead. Said he got it on lown from some sorority at the school he's attendin'." She smiles softly, remembering how the young man tucked her in with blankets during the ride, while she was falling asleep from jet lag. Her smile falter's however, as she remembers him saying something about Sabella missing, and that reminds her of the reason she wanted to talk to Jean in the first place. "Um.. But Jean, I 'eard some news yesterday and ... I thought that I'd as ye'r advice on something..." So much for levity - the party mood's going to have to wait for the actual party, it would seem.

Jean catches the shudder and manages to give Siryn a more genuinely reassuring smile as she finishes setting out the food trays, and levitates them a pair of chairs over from the stacks of them, arranging her robes as she takes a seat and a handful of Halloween candy by way of example. "Hey now, he didn't leave totally unscathed, you know. No obvious teke just meant that I had to kick him in the nether regions the old fashioned way, and then poke his pain centers good and hard..." The smile actually transmutes briefly to a mildly wicked grin at the memory of booting one Victor Creed 'inna rocks', to borrow from Pratchett. But since it seems that they're destined to be serious, Jean attempts to open a candy bar with one hand and her teeth while nodding. "Go on, Terry."

Siryn reaches out for the candy bar, offering to open it for the older, injured woman as she asks her question. "Well, Ceta told me... About Nate. I mean, who his real parents are..." She stops there for a moment, allowing that to sink it, before moving on. "I'm gonna hav'te tell me father 'bout this, ye know. That's all he talked about the first week I was there wit'him, about who the mum and 'da were of the little boy he thought was'is..." She sighs and moves to sit beside Jean, not bothering to take any candy for herself. "How am I s'posed to tell him now? What happens if he turns 'round and goes back into that 'funk' o'his?" She'd have to return to Cassidy Keep and play nursemaid all over again.

Jean snorts in gentle irritation at her own temporary handicap, and surrenders the Kit-Kat with a wry expression, before she smooths her features into a somewhat fittingly Jedi-like calm as she stills herself to listen and process. Worrying her lower lip gently in her teeth, she gives a little nod. "I didn't expect you'd be at the Mansion long without hearing... you'll get to meet him later at the party. I think I might dress him up as Yoda or something, since he's already showing signs of having my powers..." Hooray for sllightly-inane chatter. She falls silent again as the teen continues. "Well..." she offers thoughtfully. "You might consider letting Scott or I, or even the Professor or Moira, do the telling."

Now why Siryn hadn't thought of that simple answer... is beyond understanding. Perhaps her 'bonding' time with her father made her forget that there are other people out there who care for him just as deeply as she does. "Would ye? Be willing te tell'im, I mean?" And would she be willing to do something about his possible depression if he takes the news non to gently? As for meeting Nate, the Irish lass has to smile at the thought. "Ye know, I think it's about time I meet the lad who was, for a short time, my brother, don't ye think?"
Magneto pages, "Well, you'll be able to read mine and Creed's log later on, and see where we came up with this idea. Really, it's mostly just something that Magneto can used as an example to show Victor that not all situations need to be resolved with unleashed amounts of violence - just enough to get the other side to bend, and voila. ;>" to you.

"Of course I would." Jean replies without hesitation, eyeing the Kit-Kat bar as if considering whether her normal levels of telekinesis are enough to snap the snack with a thought, and without accidentally pulverizing it if her control slips. Darn fine control. "Sean Cassidy's a good friend of mine and of the rest of the faculty too. We care about him, and so of course I'd be willing to talk to him. And handle any... repercussions of the talk too." she offers, not missing the nuances of Siryn's tone, although she lets the topic change away once again, giving a crooked smile. "Oh, I'd say so. It's his naptime now, but he's a pretty darn cute little bug. Of course, with his genetic parents, I wouldn't expect anything else, as immodest as that may be of me."

Seeing that her worries have been more or less cleared up for the time being concerning her father, Siryn turns her attention back to opening that silly candy bar for the doctor. "Here ye'go," she states, after tearing open the top and handing back the chocolate to Jean without hardly any effort at all. The comment about Nate's inheritent cuteness drags another small smile from the lass, and she says, "Well, perhaps from ye, I could understand. But Mr. Summers? I jus' dunno. I hope the lad's more... easy going when he gets older..." Obviously, Siryn has also missed the recent change in Scott, thanks to one Madelyne Pryor.

Jean favours the candy bar with a bit of a headshake and a glower, offering a wryly amused "Thanks." before putting the chocolate out of the misery of waiting for the inevitable with a much happier crunching. The other half of the Kit-Kat is offered to Siryn. "And you didn't know Professor Summers when he was younger, Terry." she allows with a slightly nostalgic smile. Yeah, so she's Over It. And yeah, so she's quite happy with Logan. But one always remembers first loves. Particularly when they're still, y'know, living in the same house as you and stuff. And when you still have feelings of a sort for 'em. "In any case," she drags herself out of her reverie. "You missed him and Madelyne getting together while you were gone, I think. He's definitely more... relaxed... than he's been in four years." Ahem.

Since she helped to open it, Siryn takes the proferred candy bar gladly. As she munches, she listens to Jean speak about the 'young' Scott Summers, but even then, she can't quite see how he was ever anything but an old stick in the mud... So it's with a bit of a doubtful smile that she takes in the fact that he's supposedly 'relaxed' now with Madelyne.

Scott has arrived.

There's a slightly dinged up Jedi Knight and a classic superheroine sitting around in the only two chairs not stacked up and out of the way in an Arboretum that's been transformed from classroom into as close to a ballroom as a houseful of high school students will let any room get. Mini-lights decorate the trees, paper pumpkins and streamers and things, and a long sideboard table made of all the desks lines up and shoved together is practically creaking under big bowls of halloween candy, trays of appetizers and bowls of as yet unspiked fizzy punch. A stereo system's standing by, but as yet silent, and it looks like one little sprained wrist hasn't kept a certain telekinetic from decorating.

Jean snorts softly at the disbelief writ patently on Siryn's features, and nibbles a little more of her chocolate bar, tsking under her breath as some of it smears on her ace bandage, and tugging the brown sleeve of her cloak further down to try and hide the thing. "Terry... he -cancelled- Sunday morning training sessions." she offers up as irrefutable evidence.

And who should enter then but the lightsaber weilding Scott Summers. "The Force is strong with this one," he says playfully lunging with the plastic light up toy at Jean. He even is wearing khaki's and a white tee shirt to play the part. He didn't get the memo about the wrist. Either that or he was too busy stealin whipp...err... having se...err... he was just busy. Right. Busy. And is it scary that the staff are all themed for this party? Yes. Yes it is.

Jubilee pirouettes into the room a mere moment after Mr. Summers, skirts swirling and bells jangling gratingly. But the asian-gypsey-mutant-teenager-gymnast doesn't seem fazed by her costuming anymore. Rather, she seems to enjoy it a little too much as she wiggles her way across the room, straight for the guest of honor. "Terry, dahling," she purrs in a heavily eastern accented tone, draping herself over a conveintly placed bit of furniture. "Don't stay away so long again. You been missed."

Crossing her green and gold spandex clad legs, Siryn gives in to the shock that Jean's statement has wrought from her. "No way!" she exclaims, sounding a bit more like your average teenager than before. When Scott strides in wearing his costume, the lass just can't help but giggle. Ok, so maybe things _have_ changed around here then. Jubilee's entrance gets another smile, and the Irish teen opens her arms to her gypsy-clad Asian friend. "Aye. And I missed ye' in return, Jubes." She eyes the costume then, and gives a head shake. "But couldn'a ye 'ave come up with something a little more... to ye'r style than that?" Obviously, she doesn't know that the other teen had no choice in costume.

"Mhmmm." Jean confirms, wriggling a little to get comfortable in her seat, and keeping her bruised and scraped side of her face carefully away from view of folks entering the room. Moira'll be on her case enough as it is for not resting. "And I must say it's a nice change, to be able to spend one morning a week just lazing in bed... and not alone." Ahem. Jean does not, of course, elabourate beyond that, because who should stroll in but Scott Summers himself. With a lightsaber. "Aha!" cries the doctor, one hand dipping to the belt of her uniform and unhooking a similar toy. Clack, clack, clack. Jean parries the lunge and banters back that "Impressive... most impressive. But you are not a Jedi yet." Yes, the faculty has lost it. Getting to her feet, she gestures at the table of foodage, and notes that "You can all help yourselves, you know..."

*Clack* *Clack* *Clack* *Vrooom* And Scott swooshes his plastic hydrolic lightsaber back to the 'Off' position, clicking it to his belt. "I'll be a Jedi one day! And I am the best pilot around..." Cough. A look over at the food. "Not really hungry to be honest. But Maddy did check her email this morning so we all knew to do the Star Wars thing. She'll be here in a little while." Siryn gets offered a smile. "It's good to have you back Terry. We missed you around here. It's a shame your father left. He was a good man. A good friend." Jubilation gets a look, and Scott takes a step closer to Jean. "Have you figured out when this is going to stop yet?"

Jubilee bats lashes that -anyone'd- swear had grown thicker, especially if one hadn't seen her in some time. "Vat? You don't like? Oh, I know... You just have not seen in action," she replies, pushing up and rolling off the furniture she'd draped herself over. "You vant to see?" she offers brightly, hands and hips locking into position. At least until attentio is drawn to the food table. "Ooo!" she squeals, flouncing towards the table. Obviously the old Jubilee is not -quite- buried yet.

Siryn raises a brow at the staff's actions and Jubilee's presentation, but once her friend takes off en lieu of food, she just laughs and turns to nod back in Scott's direction. "Thank you, Mr. Summers." She also catches wind of that 'going to stop' comment and slowly puts two and two together. "Is Jubilee one of those mutants who were affected by th'a dreamweaver thing?" she asks curiously, not quite sure what's going on, apart from what Ceta had told her.

Jean raises her lightsaber in a neat one-handed salute, and then thumbs the button to let the telescoping plastic blade slide back away again, tugging her cloak's hood back up to screen her features. "Wasn't that Han's line?" she wonders. "The best pilot? Or... no, wait, I know this..." Drumming her fingers thoughtfully against one thigh, the card-carrying Chic Geek, Dr. Grey places her quote. "Obi-Wan Kenobi, talking to Luke about Anakin. 'He was the best star pilot in the galaxy." Giving a nod to herself, she sidles over to a proper range to chat covertly with Scott as she uses her teke as a replacement hand to pour a couple glasses of punch. "It'll stop when the Professor or I stops it, it's starting to look like." she murmurs sidelong. "I managed to avoid a full-out catfight with Emma Frost, another telepath, to get a little telepathic filesharing going over a lunch a couple days ago, though, so I think I've got a good start on a psi-print to track the Dreamweaver with..." Ah. And Siryn's now asking about said Dreamweaver. Jean replies with a confirming nod.

Scott snorts softly at Siryn. "You think? I guess you haven't seen Drake running around then either yet," he says with a chuckle. He follows Jean over, and frowns. "This Emma Frost. I met her yesterday when I was trying to eat lunch. Just invited herself to my table. Started trying to ask questions about you. I got up and left. I was going to ask you about her last night, but I got distracted." And then Jean gets a look. "What the hell happened to you?" It took Scott a minute, yes, but he finally saw it.

Jubilee pushes a few plates of goodies out of the way, clearing room for her butt as she hops up and onto the table, crossing her legs and bouncing a foot, offering the tinkling golden anklet an admiring look. She lifts a brownie from one of the trays and lets half of the gooey mess fall into her mouth, exclaiming, "Oh, dahling!" in breathless appreciation. She slides off and patters back over to Terry, eyes gleaming. "Now... Let us talk. You vant your fortune read?" she asks before breaking off into a peal of laughter. Whoa... psycho chick.

Siryn hasn't seen hardly _anyone_ running around, let alone Drake. Deciding to leave the adults to their conversation, Terry slides off her seat and is about to go and grab a plate of snacks, that is, until Jubilee jumps in front of her and offers to read her fortune. "Um.. Aye. Sure, if'n ye want to..." Why not? She can't remember the last time she had someone tell her something about her future - usually, it's always been complaints about her past.

"Sounds like typical Emma." Jean rolls her eyes and snorts softly at Scott's description of his own lunch with the White Queen as she hovers over a glass of punch for him, and sips at her own, leaning one hip against the table and watching the two girls casually. "What do you need to know about her? Rich, educated, high order telepath, although not quite an omega level like myself, and certainly not the Professor. Considers telepathic ethics, or for that matter an other kind, to be an amusingly quaint custom best followed by other people. In with the Hellfire Club, I think. I've had to take her toys away from her a couple times in the past," she recalss, giving a more definite glance over at Jubilee. "But she's sufficiently motivated by her own self-interest that I've also had her work together with me a few times in the past. Still... 'Bitch' is putting it mildly." Her mini-briefing given, she unconsciously tries to pull her hood a little farther over her face as Scott twigs to things, then glances self-consciously at the bandaged hand she's trying to use to do it. "Um. Would you believe Sabretooth?" she offers. "I'm OK, just minor injuries, really."

Scott let's his eyes narrow a bit. No one can see it, but Jean can most likely sense it. "Sabretooth? Are you insane woman? We all have those buttons for a reason you know." Then he takes a deep breath and a sip of his punch. Breathe in, breathe out. "You're lucky you're ok Jean. And you better have someone look at that. I'll be asking Moira in the morning how you're doing just to make sure you do get it looked at." The leaderish part done, Scott snorts. "Bitch is a term I'd use freely with that woman." He shakes his head, then eyes the snacks. "Actually... now that I think about it, I am sorta hungry. I'm going to grab something. Didn't get a chance for breakfast this morning."

Jubilee lowers her voice dramatically (Of course she does. Have you ever had your fortune read by a squealing gypsy? I thought not.) and leans in, grabbing for Terry's hand with one hand, the other stuffing the second half of the brownie into her mouth, her knees buckling slightly in enjoyment. "Oh, snaps.. that's good..." she mumbles, before "Gypsey Jubi" takes back over and she flips Terry's hand over. Peering closely at it, she traces a set of lines over her palm, mumbling incoherently as she follows their path. "Oh... I see... I see... Hmm... I see a tall, mysterious stranger in your life riding with a two-faced lady," Jubilee says, glancing up with a sharp, shrewd look, her face pinched into haggard lines.

Siryn continues to chuckle at Jube's antics, until, that is, she gets down to work and starts talking about tall strangers and two-faced ladies. Well, that one was easy to guess. The other teen must have heard about her friend Jimmy, and the fact that he works for Sabella... "Ooh, really now? Ye do?" she teases, idly reaching over to steal a cheese puff from her friend's plate. "And what 'bout this stranger?" she then asks, urging along the whole 'joke'.

Madelyne has arrived.

"Scott..." Jean counters in her 'reasonable' tone which is clear Jean-speak for 'Yes, I was stupid, but I'm not going to -admit- it, you know.' to those like one Professor Summers who happen to know her well. "I was out working with the other volunteers on the Medicine Without Prejudice route through Hell's Kitchen. Having a bunch of people in leather show up to save me would -not- help my public cover. Besides, if he'd been doing anything more than toying with me, I would've used my powers publically, cover or no cover. I don't have a death, wish, OK?" The last is gentler, more of a reassurance as she tips her chin up to look at him from under the hood. The topic change wins a knowing look from her, though, and the redhead endeavours to return to the party mood she's been trying to create as Scott heads off in search of his snack. "Don't let me keep you... and I'll fill you the rest of the way in on Emma later." And so, with a suitably dramatic final brandish of her toy lightsaber, she wanders over to see what Jubilee and Siryn are up to.

"Wait!" Jubilee breathes, bringing the palm up almost to to her nose, lightly inhaling Terry's scent. "The two-faced woman..." she mutters under her breath, tilting Terry's palm sideways and giving it a slightly shake. "One side cold and proud, the other trembles... vibrates... like glass about to shatter..." she mumbles on and on, fleshing out whatever it is she is pulling out of the multitudes of dancing lines. She looks up into Terry's eyes and hisses, "You lie..." before giving her head a shake and bouncing back, straightening out of the stoop she'd hunched herself into.

Madelyne's rather delayed arrival could have been in an effort to make some sort of grand entrance, but in all reality, it probably had more to do with the length of time that it took her to get into her costume. It's not all that complicated, admittedly: just a scuffed old sleeveless black uniform of Jean's but let's face it: Madelyne and Jean are no longer the same size. Besides which, it took a while to track down a pair of short black gloves plus something to cover her neck. Fortunately, a bit of carefully tucked black fabric simulates a hood, and a pair of goggles draped around her neck help add to the effect. The person she went to? Not many people would recognize her on sight, she's not a /popular/ character - but in keeping with the Star Wars theme, Madelyne has come as none other than Mara Jade. A belt with holster for her 'blaster' (okay, so it's a small travel hair dryer, what did you /expect/ her to find in Chateau de Pacifist?) as well as a clip for her lightsaber helps add to the look. Of course it doesn't help that her 'lightsaber' is really just a silver Mag-lite. It's called improvisation, folks. She /has/ managed to tease her red hair up into a slightly more Mara-esque 'do, and as she walks in, offers a smile and wave to Jean, heading over that way. "Like the costume," she comments with a silent, ~How's your wrist?~ telepathically.

Siryn blinks. Okkkay... Then, it slowly dawns on her... The two-faced woman is supposedly - herself? Retrieving her hand rather quickly, the teen shakes off the shivers that suddenly crawl up her spine before fixing Jubilee with a cold look. "I don't lie," she states, softly, her voice dangerous. However, before her anger can escalate into anything serious, Siryn remembers that her friend is under the sway of some... force... or something, so her words are necessarily her own. So, applying a rather fake but happy smile on her face, she laughs and says, "I think ye need more brownies there, Jubes. Ye' seem te be confusin' y'er predictions..." Madelyne's entrance gets a glance and another, more truthful smile is dragged out of her when she sees yet another Jedi-staff member. Meanwhile, she appears to be the only 'super hero' around, though her spandex suit is a throw back to her theiving days... Which technically means that she's dressed up as a bad guy... no?

Well, Xavier -does- have that pistol he carries that no-one knows about... And then there's that safe of the odd handful of weapons shaken down off the odd student. But hairdryers are good too. Jean definitely approves as she sweeps over to Madelyne, and hovers her a glass of punch, not trying to rub in that she's got teke, but rather trying to compensate for the lack of use of one of her hands. "Ah, the Emperor's Hand, I see. Very nice, Miss Jade. You'll need to steal 'Luke' over there's lightsaber, and we can have a duel." she jokes, although her mental tone is a little more wry and honest. << The wrist hurts like a bitch, but I'm going to hold off on the anti-inflammatories 'til I've had a chance to mingle and convince everyone I'm fine. Scott twigged, so I bet you five dollars Moira's going to hear soon enough. >> A fondly exasperated glance back at the Leader, and Jean shakes her head.

Jubilee furrows her forehead, giving her head another gentle shake as she fights to clear the cobwebs. "Brownies... yeah..." she murmers, finally looking up and giving a truly focused look at her friend. "Jeez, Terry... It's good ta have ya back. Things have been really kooked 'round here," she replies, before back pedaling slightly toward the food and out of conversation range.

Siryn is a little weirded out by the sudden change in her friend, but seeing how she appears to be 'back to normal', Terry just shrugs it off and joins Jubilee near the snack table. There they sit, catching up on gossip and the like. It _is_ nice to be home....

Madelyne gives a little bow to aknowledge the compliment as she takes the offered glass of punch. She'd give a more full bow, but she's afraid it might split the jumpsuit. "Ah, I see the Force is strong with you," she says with a smirk as she has a sip. She also glances towards 'Luke' and one can almost /see/ the comment that's forming with regard to her interest in his lightsaber. But no, there are students here, and she'll be good. Honest. She gives a little wave towards the others as she wisely sticks to just mental commentary. ~Maybe I'll see if I can calm him down,~ Madelyne offers. She sips the punch and glances around the room. "Wow," she says aloud, "I've gotta say, it's still a little weird to be on the responsible grown-up side of things."

"And also with you... although I think that's more church service than Star Wars quote." replies Jean, absently rubbing at her wrist beneath the ace bandage, prodding at the swelling and quitting when she hisses slightly. Plucking her punch glass from the edge of a big ol' terra cotta pot holding a rubber tree, she sips and then glances around at the milling teens, looking wryly amused. "Trust me, I've been at this for years now, and it's -still- wierd. Maybe when I'm forty I won't feel so much like I just graduated a couple years ago myself." << And from the amount of shields I had to keep up to avoid 'hearing' your methods for relaxing Scott... >> she continues mentally, sounding rather puckish. << I'm surprised he's not melted to the floor. >> Ahem. A discreet glance at Madelyne's neck, one eyebrow lifted.

Madelyne clears her throat a little as she sips her punch glass, adjusting the cloth around her neck slightly. And look she's blushing, that's so adorable! ~Yeah, well...~ is as far as she gets with that counter-argument. What's she gonna do, apologize for it? She doesn't feel at all guilty. Well, maybe a little for lapses in shielding and the like. ~I can't help but worry, though,~ she says. ~Y'know... I can't help but sort of wait for the other shoe to drop. Tell me I'm just being paranoid, though. I mean just because things are going good for me doesn't mean they have to suddenly start going horribly wrong, right?~ She glances towards her robed friend, and actually looks rather concerned. Of course this doesn't make it look any less strange to anyone else, since this whole conversation is happening well outside of the range of waht the students could overhear. Sneaky telepaths.

Jean laughs amusedly, getting the odd look from the nearer students, who are hearing that laugh in the middle of a whole lot of nothing conversationally from the two Jedi. Sneaky telepaths indeed. << Don't aplogize, Maddy, I'm just teasing. >> Jean assures, smirking slightly at the younger redhead's fidgeting. << Besides, if your own shields weren't so scarily developed, you'd probably be overhearing -me-. I know I've had to make apologies to the Professor a few times, and if you think -I'm- embarassing... >> A wry look, and another sip of her juice, before she reaches over and clumbsily pats Madelyne on the arm with her bandaged hand, the good one holding the cup. "Of course not." she switches back to vocal speech. "We're living, breathing people, not characters in some Greek tragedy, bound to the Wheel of Fortune."

Madelyne chuckles a little at the idea of having to apologize to the Professor for... well. And she nods to Jean's words, though she still looks a little a bit nervous. "I know that rationally," she says, "I just can't help but worry. I sometimes almost with he'd make a move so I could stop being so nervous about it." He? Given the amount of time she and Scott have spent shacking up, she's obviously talking about 'Luke' over there. No, she's referring to none other than Sinister: the Palpatine to her Mara Jade, the one who's name she still can't say. The fact that Sinister is trying to get his hands on Nate still is very upsetting, and the fact that she doesn't know what Sinister would be able to make her do even moreso.

"The rational versus the emotional," Jean allows with a crooked smile. "Now there's a battle I fight every day. Where's the Jedi Code when you need it, huh?" she jokes, sweeping her ace'd left hand down to take in their respective costumes. "Although the whole 'Jedi do not love' thing is crap. As is most of the new movies, bar a few scenes and characters." There, small talk. Which nicely covers a return to the serious as she offers another careful, clumsy pat with her non-juice-holding hand. << Afraid of a 'Last Command' of your own, Maddy? >> she wonders. << You've got some pretty intense shields, as said before, but if I notice a change in your behavior that's not explained by a change in your love life, I'll surely let you know. And let me know if you get any wierd dreams, hmm? >>

Scott is finally done gorging himself on brownies. So he was hungry. And he scared off all who dared to come get one by smacking them with his light saber. Muhahaha. And now? Well now he's going to see whats up with Jean and Maddy. Since he's ignorant of all their telepathic talk.

~Exactly,~ Madelyne sends, sounding wry. ~I just don't want anyone getting hurt because of something I don't even remember.~ Least of all Scott. ~But I'll keep you posted~ she promises. As Scott approaches, however, any signs of her earlier worry are completely erased and replaced by that huge frekaing grin. Yes, okay, it's not exactly the most Mara-esque thing to be sporting, but she doesn't exactly care. "Hey, you," she says with a simle. "So what do you think, huh?" she asks, giving a little twirl in the jury-rigged Mara Jade costume, courtesy of one of Jean's old training uniforms.

<< Good. Do that. >> requests Jean in a mental tone of aggressively good cheer and confidence. And then Scott's showing up, so, with a finishing of her juice and a salute with her own lightsaber which makes some of the younger kids giggle, it's back to chatting aloud. "Got tired of hoarding the brownies there, Scott?" she wonders, casting an eye back towards the demolished plate and winking. "Of course, carbs are better for keeping up long-term energy reserves... I think I should probably go get the music on before the kids start complaining, and go see if Nate's up yet. You guys have any favourites you want to hear?" And Jean also needs to slink off and make urgent contact with her bottle of NSAIDs, but she'll just keep -that- to herself. And, well, Maddy, since the occasional mental 'ouch!' is hard to shield.

Talk about a loaded question to ask in front of the ex-girlfriend. Scott can't help but smile at that huge grin on Maddy's face. It's all him and he knows it. "Hello Madelyne. I think it looks nice. Still don't think it was worth you struggling upstairs for an hour to get it on though. Why do you think I went with the khakis and the white tee shirt? You get the Luke idea. 5 minute costume." But he gets to peel her out of the leather later. Mmmmm. Almost as good as a catsuit.

Madelyne hmphs. "It wasn't an /hour/," she protests. It was forty-five minutes. "But hey, now I'm a step ahead of the game when it comes time for Halloween, at least." That's how she justifies making Scott wait, anyway. She reaches out and lightly pokes at one of Scott's hands, mentioning, "And Luke had an artificial hand, you'd need a glove." ... Yes, alright, the truth finally comes out: Madelyne's a Star Wars geek. Not too much of one, but enough that she should bow her head in shame for the rest of eternity. At Jean's question, she just laughs a little and shakes her head. "No, not me," she says. "Somehow I don't think Manson or Nine Inch Nails would be entirely appropriate." Or appreciated.

"Oh, it's not like Madelyne's that much the wrong shape for my uniform." Jean demurs. "Besides, she's much more Emperor's Hand Asskicking Mara than the one in the bizarre pink cape that they stuck on those trading cards a couple years back." Apparently Maddy isn't alone in her geekdom. If Jean's uncomfortable around Scott and Maddy with this much romantic contentment floating off them, she's doing a wonderful job of not letting it show. Which is, of course, not to be unexpected. "And what's wrong with Nine Inch Nails? I was planning to put some Rammstein on later and embarass Kurt and whoever else knows enough German to understand the lyrics." she jokes.

Scott chuckles. "I never said her shape was wrong. Don't put words in my mouth. But yes, you look nice Maddy. Even if it took an hour." Scott makes a slight grimace at the mention of Manson, Nine Inch Nails and anything in a different language. "Can't we put on some George Straight or Garth Brooks?"

Garth Brooks? Goodness, it's a good thing Maddy's already in love with him. "Whatever you want to put on is fine by me, Jean," Madelyne says as she steps over to Scott and offers a smile to him, reaching for his hand. She's just, uh, getting into the spirit of the character. Right. Well it's better than going all Last Command and trying to kill him. "And don't worry, I swear there will be no stupid pink towel capes on Halloween, provided you let me borrow the jumpsuit again for it."

"I'll see if I can slip on a bit of country when the less inner-city kids have been properly distracted with food." Jean promises Scott with a twinkle in her eye. "And hey, I bet we could probably pass off 'The River' as a slow-dance." Patting her robes, she allows that "These things are surprisingly comfortable... and practical." as she comes up with a notepad and pencil which she props against one of the tree trunks and tries to write on without one hand to steady it. "So, Manson and the Nails for Maddy, Garth for Scott... -no-, no Milli Vanilli." is called to one hopeful looking student. "That's not retro, that's an abomination up there with Latoya Jackson." The second name just gets a blank look from the teen, who shrugs and mingles back into their group. "And the uniform's yours, Maddy. Heck, if you want to eventually work up to doing some training in the Danger Room or something, we could probably get you your own to work out in, right...?" A glance to Leader Scott.

Timothy Zahn. Sooo good. Eh hem. "No pink capes pleeeease," he states, looking from Jean to Maddy. "And Jean, I don't want you showing up for practice tomorrow morning. Take a break and let that heal up. I'll talk to Moira later about how long before you're back to full workout regiment," he states. And yes, Scott is mushy and takes Madelyne's hand in his own, squeezing it. Jean gets a look and a slight shake of the head from Scott. "No Danger Room work yet. Maddy started working out with me in the evening, but she just isn't ready for the harder core stuff."

Madelyne also shakes her head at the suggestion of Danger Room training. "When I can manage five pull-ups in a row," Madelyne says, "/Maybe/ I'll think about it." She's actually not in /too/ much of a hurry to do the hardcore training. "Plus I don't think my powers would be all that good in a Danger Room simulation. You know, if some sort of practice dummy comes after me I'll make sure it Definitely Can't Read My Mind." It's said with a smirk, though, so at least it's self-depricating /humor/ and not just self-depricating.

Jean rolls her eyes at Scott and notes that "I've got a moderately sprained wrist and two sprained fingers, not a broken leg or something." in a tone that suggests that this 'Jedi' knows full well she's not going to be able to mind-trick her way out of this one. "Seriously, I could go see Drake or Jenny or someone and get it fixed in a jiff." Except that she wouldn't ask that of her students, so she's... not. "And I'll quit getting ahead of myself in dragging you to the Danger Room then, Maddy," she promises, with a self-deprecating laugh of her own. "But seriously, it's not just for folks with offensive powers. Rogue's trained down there, and if you think telepathy's useless against machinery, try life-draining."

Scott snorts at Jean. "You aren't going to talk me out of it Jean. If you show up tomorrow I'm going to throw you out. So don't bother." Maddy gets a smile and another hand squeeze. "You can play in my mind all you want. Just don't break me." Another look at Jean. "So are you going to turn the music on so we can get this party started?"

Madelyne grins big over at Scott. "Scout's honor," she tells him, giving his hand a squeeze. Yeesh, they're practically bleeding HappyNewCoupleVibes. They should come with a disclaimer that prolonged exposure to MaddyScott could result in diabetic shock. Madelyne nods to Jean. "Maybe I'll give it a shot when I'm ready," she says. And she'll trust Scott to make that call: fearless leader and all.

Gyah. HappyNewCoupleVibes? Jean and Logan aren't putting out any quite so saccharine. Then again, it's the difference between HappyNearlyHighschoolGiddiness and, well... Wolverines and Phoenixes. Perhaps to spare herself from needing an early root canal, or perhaps to keep the kids from getting creative with the playlists she's whipped up earlier, Jean gives a nod, a smile and excuses herself. "Well, I'll be happy to spar with you some time when you are ready... you're actually one of the few folks around the School other than Storm who's in my weight class unaided." She pretends not to hear Scott's threat, since she's pretty sure he'd make good on it, and just settles herself with the audio equipment. Evanescence is soon blaring away rockingly, and the students begin to groove in actual high school fashion.

and the log, later on, of Moira and Jean in the medical bay is up for perusal
X-Men MUCK - Sunday, October 05, 2003, 10:38 PM
-----------------------------------------------

<< XS >> Lab/Medbay - LvB2
Walls are sterile white and surfaces gleam in polished stainless steel, the large room a vision of cool science tinged with the faint medical smell of antiseptic and filled with the soft whirring of autoclaves, refrigeration units, and various medical scanners and devices. Four hospital beds are present near the entrance, curtains rigged to allow for privacy, but pulled back when not in use. In shielded alcoves off the back wall are the resident doctor's pride and joy: A full-body X-Ray machine, as well as an MRI unit and other heavy-duty imagery equipment. Between the alcoves, through a thick glass window, a small operating theatre can be glimpsed. In the lab section, an electron microscope and a pair of gene-sequencers take place of pride, glassware and smaller equipment kept securely locked away in the cabinets underneath and above the work surfaces.
[Exits : [H]allway ]
[Players : Moira]

While the rest of the mansion dances the night away above the sterile corridors of the underground 'secret' side of Xavier's School, there's at least one warm body keeping the lower halls occupied. A lot of recent traveling has kept Moira well and busy the past few days, things seem to have slowed down for the Scottish doc as she sits in an ergonomically designed chair, flipping through a heavy stack of papers in quiet concentration. The sounds of a light classical piece plays lightly in the background, just audible in the silence...

The party upstairs has slowed down enough, as various of the kids are shoo'd off to bed in view of the school day tomorrow, that the self-appointed DJ and party organizer has decided that she can turn over her post to someone else. Accordingly, Jean's a Jedi no more, instead comfortable in scrubs, slippers and a fuzzy cable knit sweater, reading glasses settled on her nose as she moves stealthily through the warrens under the school. The fact that she's clutching her ace-bandaged left wrist and wincing somewhat pitifully as she advances on the medical bay tends to ruin the image of stealth, of course. Sensing Moira within, there's a murmured "Dammit!" as the redhead's plan to abscond with a couple T3s and a lot of ice packs runs into a bit of a snag. Tapping a code into the panel by the door with her right hand, she cues the doors to open without their trademark whoosh, and rolls around the entrance and into what shadows might exist, slinking around exam beds and a crash cart or two, trying to make it to her dispensary sight unseen. Whether her l33t combat training is a match for a sharp-eyed Scottish doc used to such foolishness is another matter, of course.

Despite the vast technology permeating the Medbay, it's a small room. And Moira has been keeping herself by the door, as old medical student habits die hard. The movement of the doors opening is enough to catch her attention, hoping it's just company and not an injury of some sort... and instead, it's a bit of both. "Och, Jean!," she says with hushed concern, slowly starting to put down her paperwork. "If I didn' ken better, I'd say ye were avoidin' me since ye sent word aboot Sabretooth..."

Jean will firmly deny that she's a patient to her last breath... or at least as long as Scott and Ororo continue to inform her that she is. Or she gives up. Wryly smiling to herself at Moira's ID, she turns around slowly with her hands held up in surrender, letting the older doctor see for herself. "Well, that depends..." she replies, gingerly poking at her wrist again. "Are you going to let me get myself a painkiller and keep applying RICE treatment for my wrist, or are you going to fuss over minor injuries that I got by being stupid, like everyone else seems to be doing?"

Moira tut tuts, getting up from her chair with a sigh and steps closer. "Jean, I'm nae th' ememy here," she says in a motherly tone, eyes looking over the healing scab with a clinical air ... from a distance. Jean *is* a big girl now, something Moira surely knows from her more recent occupation of the labs, but that doesn't mean she may not need help. "I'm just here tae help ye, along with *all* of Charles' students." There's an honest concern in her voice, measured and calm; sure, she's already displeased with her bandagings and may even have something for that scab, but Moira remains respectfull of Jean's professional dignity... and wounded pride. "If doing somethin' ye thought was foolish got ye in tae these scrapes, then bein' short tryin' tae get out isn't gonnae make things any easier..."

"I know, Moira. I know..." replies Jean with a sigh, and another prod at her wrist. And another wince. "You've been more than a mentor to me, and I do appreciate it... I just don't want -anyone- making a fuss over this. People have gotten -far- worse injured than this around here." And... Jean doesn't feel she's earned the right to the same concern and attention they got? How very Jean. She looks at Moira taking in and triaging her injuries with that peculiar expression of doctors and decides to bow to the inevitable while there's still some grace left to do it with, though, and hops up on the nearest exam table. "You can take a look, if you'd like. I've been treating myself since I got home."

Moira nods, keeping the 'now there's a good lass' to just a stray thought and a smile in her eyes. Gentle fingers turn Jean's head for a closer look on that abrasion, taking two steps to grab an anti-bacterial ointment and a cotton swab. "Aye, indeed many students and X-Men alike hae taken plenty o' tumbles that make yuirs look like a pretty parade," she agrees in a cheerful tone, "but tha' doesnae make ye expemt from th' proper treatment an' care." She smirks as she recaps the tube and gives Jean a quick sly look. "Ever wondered why Charles Xavier spent so much time around a medical student?" Conversationally, she steadies Jean's arm in a comfortable postion and begins to unravel the bandage with practiced care. "I won't say that he was a rather clumsy oaf in school, but..."

One of Jean's eyebrows raises just a little at catching that stray thought, her barriers a little off thanks to the parade of 'I hurt!' thoughts trotting through her brain with the wearing-off of her painkillers. But since it wouldn't be polite to comment, she refrains. "Well, I was taking care of myself," she points out, a little stiffly, but hey, she's at least letting herself be prodded at now. "Until this wrist is healed, I'm not as much use in the medbay as I could be, so I wouldn't want to take your time away from someone who'd need it more." she offers a little lamely, but continuing to hold her arm out so that Moira can unwrap it. The bandage is arranged properly to give support, but not as neatly as Jean usually manages. Underneath it, the first joints of two of her fingers are black and purple and swollen, and the wrist itself shows heavy bruising in the shape of large finger marks. Probably bone bruises as well as just a sprain. "I realized too late that kicking an enemy in the groin and then poking him sharply in the pain centers to make him back off is really better done when they -aren't- holding your wrist." she explains more wryly still, before the sly look teases a look of amused inquiry out of her, despite herself. "Sure he wasn't doing it on purpose? I thought he was a good dancer?"

Moira's simple attempts to distract Jean from her ego as purple as the bruising on her wrist and fingers seems to have worked; sure, it's a *little* fudging of the truth and leading to a great deal of embarassment of a good friend, but it's for the betterment of a patient, really.... "Oh, aye, an excellent dancer," she agrees, looking over the swelling and handling her wrist delicately while still placing light pressure on areas away from the joint where the muscle is thinest. "I'm surprised he could keep step what with tha' turned knee he got while trying oot rugby..." A chuckled sigh, and a shake of her head, "The things men do tae turn a girl's head..." A click of her tongue. "I'm gonnae get ye a brace for yuir wrist..."

Embarassment? Tsk. Jean's the very soul of discretion! Although undoubtedly the idea of the dignified Charles Xavier playing rugby in his younger days will be giggled over with Storm later. "Ah, ah ahhh... Rugby?" she wonders between wincing, since despite Moira's gentleness, it still hurts, and since pain's a useful diagnostic, she can't try poking her brain to release some endorphins. "The Professor tried out for rugby? I wouldn't think he'd have the build for it. European football, perhaps. Cricket, definitely..." A shake of her head which grows more emphatic at the mention of a brace, and Jean lets out an almost Scott-worthy whine. "A -brace-? It's just a minor sprain with some bruising! You know I hate braces..." Mutter. "How long?" is asked next.

Moira purses her lips at the whine and counters, "Ye're not gonnae risk th' stress fracture tha' wuild come withoot a brace." The proper size is selected and Moira begins the task of setting it in place with a far better wrapping job this time... "It's a bone bruise, Jean. Ye should only havetae suffer through five little days. Ye knew tha' before ye asked." Back to sufficiently distracting conversation... "And I said th' same tae him a' th' time, but he was young and as stubborn as he is noo... back when he was tryin' tae be somethin' he wasn't..." A melancholy mental cloud sets in for a moment, tinged with lighting strikes of sharper, less pleansant memories unreadable, before Moira's more cheery bedside manner breaks through. "Cambridge had some farily burly lads as well. It was right foolish of him tae believe he could think he way oot of a sidelong tackle fr'm a man named 'Lars'..."

"... so going to find Statton... ...get -him- to fix me... Got control over his powers now anyways..." mutters Jean merrily. Five days is apparently five days too many for the doctor who's only happy when up to her neck in Things To Do. Not to mention there's a large psychotic lion-wannabe out there who needs to be introduced to a dumpster at high speed. She lets Moira brace her wrist, though, holding steady and making small movements to help her position the brace more easily, working practically on autopilot. A glance over at Moira as her mood falters a bit, and Jean reaches over to pat the older woman on the arm with her good hand, offering reassurance even though she doesn't pry into why Moira would need it. "Well, at least the stubbornness is tempered with wisdom now, right?" she offers, before wincing in sympathy at the mention of 'Lars'. "Ouch, let me guess, his knee ligaments didn't approve of that?"

Whatever it was that floated darkly through Moira's thoughts passes quickly, apparently one of those sore memories you get used to, like an old ache in the bones on a wet day. A proper 'hrmf' at the thought of getting a second opinion, she refrains herself from making further comment than that, letting the young lady make her own decisions on medical treatment... just not while Moira's got hold of her. "Nae, not in the least. Even the best an' brightest students get ground intae the mud when they try tae take words against Bayern-Munchen... even when they're right..." A bemused chuckle, Moira wraps the arm in record time, snug and warm. "Still, he did take me dancin' as promised... and ne'er stepped on a toe th' whole night..."

Jean isn't interested in a second opinion so much as finding one Mr. Drake Statton and his healing abilities, and leaning on him as his deputy headmistress 'til he fixes her. Although he probably would anyways, and such leaning would be against Jean's personal code of ethics. "Hrm... except that healing tires him out. I could ask BlueGremlin, but... eww." she continues to muse to herself, moving her fingers one by one with the brace now secure, and giving a smile around the winces as she moves the two damaged ones. "So, any plans for you two to revisit the old days?" she wonders, drawing her feet up on the exam table and settling cross-legged. "I know a few nice clubs in town where they've got good dance floors..."

Moira's smile is nostalgic, maybe a bit weary, even more reluctant... "Aye, or ye can just let nature take it's course and sit through a terrible whole five days anna let yuirself heal soundly, hrm?" The young and their quick fixes. "And... maybe it's best tae let nature take it's course on that too." Moira pats the X-(wo)Man on the shoulder gently in a last bit of care before letting her run off to play however she likes.

Jean takes the hint and doesn't press further, although she seems about to say something more before closing her mouth on the words left unspoken. "Hey, it's five whole days for me to get out of shape without the Danger Room, since Scott's told me he'll toss me out himself if he catches me in there. Mind if I get myself a couple anti-inflammatories before I head off, Dr. MacTaggart?" she wonders, giving a smile and sliding off the exam table to go pad towards her dispensary. "And you ought to go out to dinner some time, Moira, with or without the Professor. I haven't seen you go anwhere but Muir or here, or the odd conference in an age."

Moira notes Jean's hesitation and doesn't press either; her mind is still unsettled on the issue, but now's not the time to be hashing it out with the younger folk. "It's whit ye came in here tae get, nae?," she replies. "Ye dinnae need my askin' f'r tha'. And tha's five whole days f'r ye tae get the proper rest ye'd be tellin' anyone else who'd come in here like ye..." She turns back to take up her chair again, fingers flicking through the pages of her paperwork idly. At mention of her own recreation, she gives a hiss of dismissive breath. "Och, now tell me, where else wuild I need to go?," she says with a cheery smile. Ah, yes, Jean, this is what becomes of the Workaholic. Look upon yourself in twenty years and despair...

World-reknowned Nobel Laureate, respected and well-loved mother hen of a research station and a school which doubles as another research station in and of itself... Not such a bad future vision, really. "Can't argue with that... and I'm sure Logan'll gladly help me out if the brace gives troubles with regards to dressing and bathing." Or, by the somewhat off-colour look to the younger doctor's thoughtful expression, perhaps she'll have to make up a few troubles. Mercifully, Jean's default state as a telepath seems to be receptive rather than projective. Ahem. Topic change. "Where else? What about a nice dinner at Tavern on the Green, or even coffee out at one of the cafes in the city... you really need to see The Sanctuary some time. Or even a couple rounds down at Harry's with the faculty on a Friday night. Something." a pause. "Besides research. For an hour or two."

Moira says, "Oh, aye, I'm sure you'll find somethin' f'r him tae help with...." Was that a wink? Heavens, is the old girl being coy?? The rest is met with another sigh and an honest shrug, "Well... we'll see once muh work is done, but right noo... the lab's here an' at home need muh attention far more than a coffeehouse."

"The labs," Jean points out with her head poked around the door to the dispensary just long enough to catch that possible wink and return one. "Will always need your attention. You've got lab assistants coming out your ears," she points out further, re-emerging with a pair of pills in her hand, which she soon swallows with the aid of some water. "Let them run it for a couple hours and go get some R&R. Even -I- know enough to take a break now and again," she points out with a more definite wink. "Well, mostly. I'm going to go curl up and try and turn pages with this," the dinged-up doctor lifts the braced hand. "But consider yourself on notice that I'm kidnapping you, possibly with Ororo and Madelyne's help, for a break at some point soon."

Moira chuckles. "I'll keep muh doors locked an' my windows well closed," she responds in kind. The gesture is nice, but... there's just so much to do. And lab assistants do have to get their instruction from someone... As Doctor the Younger makes her exit, Moira does take the time cross back to her and see her to the door in a motherly gesture. "Do get some rest yuirself, dearie?," she asks humbly in a quiet tone. "And, fr'm time tae time, let some of us give ye hand when ye need one, aye?"

"I will if you will." counters Jean at the doors, which are paused half open as she pauses between them to give an impish grin over her shoulder. And, that, it seems, is Jean's final word on the matter, one hand supporting the wrist brace and her face still definitely sore and bruised on one side, but with the quick, determined strides of her footsteps unchanged.