This Entry Actually An Email
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From: drgrey@x-school.edu
To: xavier@x-school.edu
Subject: News From The Homefront
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Morning sir,
I was going to try and raise you over the mindlink, but one of the students fell foul of one of the Rambo Madrox's man-traps set out in the perimeter woods as they tried to sneak in this morning after a night on the town, and cutting them down from that tree and settling their concussion and the inevitable whining about still getting grounded really shot my plans for meditation to pieces. So, you get an email to read in between long-winded senators instead.
Aside from the usual small stupidities of students in spring, the medical bay has been fairly empty, so I've been able to advance a few of our other goals.
I met with Detective James Archer down at the NYPD's mutant affairs division, and I'm pleased to report we've got a definite friendly contact there. I've offered to act as an advisor for cases of young mutant troublemakers coming in, and told him that we're a place for some of them. Naturally, he'd like a tour to see that we're not some mutant madrasa, which I won't schedule without your say-so, and they're busily running a background check on me, but I anticipate no problems on either of those scores.
Problems continue however, with regards to Scott and Emma. He seems to have patched things up with her, as he brought her right up to the school to drop off Nate. Admittedly she was only in the car, and not inside, but Scott's no fool, and really should've figured out why we haven't invited her in for cucumber sandwiches. No worries, as I was home at the time, and able to toss a mental barrier around the place (And she was scanning, too.) but it was very likely that I wouldn't have been, and with you away sir...
Oh, it's a long story. I told him I'd let you deal with him, as grade-school as that was, and he seems to be quite comfortably assured again that we all see him as untrustworthy, childish and stupid, and completely unworthy of respect. All the usual things Scott seems to keep around about his self-image. And of course the fact that Logan was sitting around on the front steps at the time didn't help matters. He's told me previously he wants honesty from me, and not hiding my feelings in consideration for his, but as a result, I think you'd better talk to him, since my feelings are that he's once again playing blind to any faults in the woman he's with, and that he's projecting his own hang-ups onto the rest of us.
I continue my clandestine contact with Tessa Lesair. Emma's playing hardball with her, and the girl's having a rough time, but she's strong and smart and subtle, and if anyone can do what she's planning, it'll be her. No doubt Sebastian Shaw is feeling somewhat injured in the ego by Emma's fascination with Scott, so I might see what I can turn up there.
How go things in Washington? Senator Lowe is due to speak at Emerson in a couple weeks' time unless his schedule is changed. I'm pondering organizing protest rallies, so long as we can keep them peaceful, and not play into his hands. Are you actually managing to rest now and again? Moira says, in her inimitable way, that you'd better be pausing for sleep and feeding, or she'll be flying over to clunk you on the head and make you.
I think she'll do it, too.
Jean
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OOC: Logs! Jean and Archer,
X-Men MUCK - Monday, March 29, 2004, 10:19 PM
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< NYC > New York Police Department - Mutant Affairs
After one passes the door with 'Mutant Affairs' written on it in brass letters, is the home office of said officers. The room is slightly dingy with a coat of fresh paint on the walls to liven the place up a bit. And to add color to the room are some plants, located at the windows, most of them are just ivies. The floor is a standard black and white checkerboard pattern for a classic feel. On the walls are pictures of wanted mutants and newspaper clippings of those who don't have a name yet. There are five desks here, one in the corner next to the window, one on the opposite side of that window, one next to the door, and two in the middle pressed together. Each desk has a computer on it and numerous papers, sometimes you might even find an officer at the desk, but don't count on it.
[Exits : [B]ack [O]ut ]
[Players : James ]
James
James is an average looking guy with a medium build and rugged facial fetures. From head to toe he stands somewhere around six foot one and looks to be weighing in around one hundered and eighty eight pounds. His thick red hair shows no signs of gray, but there are a few wrinkles around his green eyes. His face however does show signs of aging, but it adds to his character along with the five o'clock shadow. He tends to smoke on occastion so every so often you might see him with a cigarette in his mouth or smell it on him.
Currently James is dressed in a nice suit as is the custom clothing for New York Police Detectives. The slacks and jacket are black. His shirt is light green and is a standard button up long sleeve shirt that fits very comfortably to him. The tie is in a standard knot and is the same color as the shirt, but has little white dots over it, to help offset the green. His shoes are the the standard black dress shoes as are his black socks. On his left hip is a flash of something shiney. It's his sidearm, a .45 cal sig sidearm. The gun is black with a nice chrome finish, very nice and very deadly.
Jean
Beautiful in a slight and academic way, Jean is hardly one to go too far out of her way for her looks. The straight, shoulder length fall of her auburn hair is tied back out of her face in a messy sort of bun, sections too fine and wispy to be considered sidelocks falling loose to soften the line of her jaw. Green eyes are sharply intelligent beneath sculpted eyebrows, observing the world with a scientist's cool gaze softened and humanized by deep rooted convictions and passions that lend mobility and expression to a regally cast face with its aquiline nose and a mouth often slightly pursed in concentration or thought. She stands five feet, eleven inches and no spare change, muscles lean and a whipcord strength belying her slim frame with its almost anime-long legs.
Straight leg jeans in classic denim blue are broken in to a comfortable fit, showing off the good doctor's considerable amount of leg, but with a casual air suggesting she'd be rather surprised if anyone remarked on that fact. A black button-down shirt is worn open over a black tank top, either tucked in or left loose to suit her fancy, but combining with an old-fashioned choker to give a general impression of dressed-down class. Jean's also wearing black leather boots with a two inch platform heel, but don't let that fool you into thinking she can't run in them.
Usually the police station is a busy place with people coming to report crimes and officers pushing their way past people with suspects in cuffs. The mutant affairs offices is a whole other story, the only sound is from detectives talking on the phone or the tapping of keys from the keyboard. "Yah?" James says as he sits at his desk which is in the middle of the room, "Okay...so....what you want more money?" His face is pained as he leans back in his chair, which creaks. "Can I at least speak to her....." He pauses, "She's my dau...." He frowns and slams the phone down grumbling as he goes back to his paper work. The other people in the room know who he was on the phone with and just leave him be.
No doubt the mutant affairs division would be a whole lot busier, if it weren't in part for the clandestine actions of the woman who's just walked in the door. But the whole point of 'clandestine' is that one just doesn't go around -talking- about it, and there's nothing so evasive as a trained telepath. Jean Grey arrives, a neat attache case in hand, but her clothing casual, tall and slim and poised as a model, but with a surgeon's intensity in her movements. The secret to getting past secretaries is to walk with purpose, after all, and she walks with said purpose right over to near James's desk, shortly after the end of the phone call. "Divorces can be hell on earth." she offers. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Detective Archer, but I was wondering if we could talk."
James is currently thumbing through a file when he hears Jean's voice, "Uhm yeah...please take a seat." He motions towards a chair next to his desk. "Yeah well it doesn't help when I married a demoness." He offers Jean a light smile and nods, "So ma'am what can I help you with?" Wait? How did this lady know he was going through a divorce? Oh well...maybe she's gone through one herself.
Jean wasn't actually eavesdropping in anything more than just a traditional sense. 'Money' and an abbreviated 'daughter' just happen to be big, fat clues. She takes a seat and settles her attache case on her lap, giving an understanding, if crooked, smile. "In today's brave new world, some people might end up doing that literally. Or at least someone who looks like one. And my name is Jean Grey, Detective," she identifies herself, offering over a handshake. "Donna Karan and looking like a preppy is good for addressing the Senate, but I'd rather be comfortable when I've come to talk business. You know who I am, you know my field of expertise. I want to offer my services to try and make things a little easier for you boys in blue."
James nods at Jean and offers her a belated smile and a firm handshake, "Yeah I know about you and I know that you believe in peace between mutants and humans." He takes his hand back and adjusts his tie, "Services huh? If you can offer up guys like him." He points at a photo of Magneto, "Eric Lensherr or Mortimer Toynbee." He points to another picture of Toad. Both pictures are on a board with Wanted above it. "Those guys make my job a lot harder. Thanks to them there are other mutants running around who share those ideals and hurt, kill, and steal from inncent people."
"If I could just wave my hand and have them trussed up with, well, in Mr. Lensherr's case, I guess it would have to be plastic chains, I'd have them left on your front door in a jiffy." Jean replies, eyes intent. "Eric Lensherr was a teacher of mine before he went off the deep end and started forgetting the history he lived through, but I've got no loyalty to him. I'm sure you fellows have a file on him a few boxes thick, but I brought you something you might not know about the Toad there." And, finally, the attache case opens, and Jean removes a computer disk and a printout. "He's able to spit a very sticky saliva with surprising accuracy. If you get it over your mouth and nose, you're likely to suffocate. I managed to take a sample of it back to my lab, and I've got the chemical formula for a solvent in there. Your techs might want to have a look at that." Her gesture of good faith offered, the tall redhead moves on to her request. "In exchange, I was wondering if you might be willing to give me a call when you get a young mutant brought in. A lot of these kids are runaways, as you know. I want to try and stop these kids and give them a chance to turn things around before they can get really hardened."
James takes the disk and the printout offered to him. He places the disk on his desk as he flips through the printout. "I see....." A long drawn out pause as he places the paper next to the disk. "Miss Grey I do thank you for this information and now we have a little secret defense." He pauses again, thinking about the deal offered before him. "I can't promise much for these other guys, but if I run into any of them out there that don't have any kind of record then I will call you. In fact if I get the chiefs okay on the matter then I'll even turn them over to you." He nods, "Frankly I'm tired of going to crime scenes where mutants have been killed by humans or vise verse. So you are indeed a breath of fresh air."
"Please, call me Jean," the owner of that name encourages with one of her warmer smiles, spared from the hollowness of a politician's charisma by the fact that, wonder of wonders in New York City, it's actually completely genuine. This, after all, is exactly what Xavier's Dream is all about. "I may be a professor in my day job, but the 'miss' always makes me feel like an old-fashioned schoolmarm. And if it would help my case to meet with any of your colleagues, I'm certainly willing. If kids are our future, and most mutants are kids, then this is the critical period to make sure our future's as good as it can be. I want in on that." she states frankly, meeting the detective's nod and giving a matching one of her own. "I'd been sitting on the idea for a while, but the recent news reports about all the anti-mutant violence cropping up in the wake of Senator Lowe spurred me to make a decision. If hate's going to show no qualms about acting, it's about time that those of us who stand for peace and tolerance get out and start doing what we can... but you don't need to hear speeches." she trails off, a touch apologetically.
James just leans back as he listens to Jean's little speach, "Miss....I mean Jean. I do think you've spent far to much time with the politicians and senators." A light shake of his head, "I'll think about your offer Jean, after all it does sounds like a good deal. Although you do know that I have to run it by my Chief first before I can make any promises. Though I'm sure he'll okay it. After all look what we get in exchange."
"One thing about political bullshit is that you have to keep in practice," Jean quips, with a dry smile. "My first outing, old Senator Kelly ran right over me, and I didn't have a clue how to cope. Never again, I said. Even if my boyfriend occasionally has to chuck a pillow at my head to get me to shut up. But here, I'll give you my card." And with a rummaging through the attache case, Jean soon does just that, an expensive thing, embossed and inked, and printed on heavy stock. With the only inscription reading 'Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters - Dr. Jean Grey, MD, Hon. B.Sc. - Deputy Headmistress' she turns it over, nicks a pen from James' desk, and write her personal cell phone number on the back, the one for private calls of a public nature. "That's my private number on the back. It'll either go through to me, or to my pager. And again, I'm anxious to help out with anything I can."
James chuckles a bit at Jean, "Yeah I read the papers I know that many of those political types love to play hardball, my only advice for you is don't get hurt." He shrugs and takes the card in his hand glancing over it and nodding, "School for gifted kids huh...Political activist by day and Headmistress by night." He nods and slides the card in his top pocket. "So I find someone and I call you. What will you do with them? Most of the kids that come in here don't have a cent to their name."
"Well now, that's when I call in you boys, if watching my back turns up something behind me I can't handle," Jean recounts further, half-joking, but with a steady eye that's perhaps a little at odds with an idealistic researcher. But then again, who knows the private lives of the talking heads seen on TV? She presses on regardless. "Oh, more like headmistress by day, political activist on the weekends, doctor whenever someone does something stupid trying to impress a girl, and researcher whenever I can chase everyone out of my lab and lock the door. Keeps the dust off you. And if you do a little checking, you'll see that Xavier's is fully accredited to act as a government-sponsored foster home. Charles Xavier's one of the wealthiest men in upstate New York, so we can house a few strays while we teach them how to get their lives straightened out and their abilities under control."
James leans back and rests his hands behind his head. "So you mean to tell me that the school will take in these runaway and often dangerous kids,no questions asked? I don't know if I can do that then Jean, after all I wouldn't want to be responsible for the deaths of some kids because some kid who can shoot lasers out of his eyes gets made." He sighs, "Maybe we can bring you in as an adviser. Help us talk to these kids and maybe locate their families."
"Not exactly no questions asked, Detective Archer." Jean counters calmly. "And you'll note that I never said no questions asked. No government foster home would operate that way, and neither do we. I take my job seriously, so does my staff, and safety comes first to our faculty." Except when some of the faculty dresses up in leather and kevlar and goes out to save the world... but Archer doesn't need to know that. "But, I can understand if you don't feel comfortable just handing off kids off the street to some, to you, mysterious and unknown school out in the Westchester hills. I'd be happy to start as a simple adviser, whatever your department would feel comfortable with."
James smiles and offers Jean a light nod. She may be a certified hottie, but she's got a damn fine head on her shoulders. "I think I'm really starting to like you Jean." He leans forward so he can look a little bit more professional. "Yeah I think we can do that. If you are accepted as an adviser then all you'll really do is sit behind the glass with the rest of us and offer us...well advice. Not all of us humans are heartless mutant haters Jean. For all I know my daughter could be a mutant." In the back of his mind he starts wondering what would happen if she was really a mutant, whoa back to reality. "So I'll run this by the chief...maybe we could take a tour of the school and for an agreement. If you think you can help us with these kids then I'd be more than happy to share some of this weight."
Jean picks up on the edges of that unspoken thought, but doesn't show it with anything more than a smile that could mean anything as she leans forward as well. "I think I could handle that. I can't spare you a hell of a lot of time, but I can spare some. And my colleagues might well be interested in helping out too, some of them at least." There's a bit of a funny look as it becomes clear that Archer's assuming that she's got some mutation too, but since he can't know what kind and doesn't seem to be interested in making an issue of it, she sees no reason to be evasive. Even if she also sees no reason to be informative either. "Well, if you're curious, I could always check your DNA for X-Factor precursors," she jokes. "But a tour would be easy enough to arrange. Just call ahead to book a time, since unexpected guests tend to make our gate guard nervous. I'm sure you can understand why."
James chuckles and waves his hand at Jean, "No thank you. I'd like to keep it a secret you know. If I do then I do...if I don't then I don't. After all if my daughter is a mutant then I'll use what I've learned here to better help her. She'll be loved either way." He hmms and jots down a note or two on his notepad. Remember to ask chief about Jean Grey being an adviser and look into the school, also check up on Dr. Grey. Why is she so intent on helping out. He places some files on the notepad and smiles at her. "Okay well I'll give you a call when I hear something from the chief, I'm sure you'll just have to come in and sign a few papers."
Jean's public records will detail a charge through higher education starting with entering college at the age of sixteen, and emerging with a medical doctorate at twenty-three, close ties to both Charles Xavier, philanthropist and activist, and Drs. Moira MacTaggart and Henry McCoy, mutant researchers and the former a Nobel laureate. Jean herself has published papers, an on-call specialist's position at Lennox Hill hospital with regards to mutant medicine, membership in mutant rights lobby groups, and all in all, a background of peaceful do-gooding with only some speeding tickets and traffic violations on record. And should they take a look at the DMV records of what she drives, even those become understandable. Gossip columnists record various speculations about her personal life and ties. Should one look very close indeed, only then would one stumble across a hint that the FBI and the CIA know a little about her that they're not telling. But even that's not flagged with anything risky. Even for suspicious NYPD officers, Jean Grey is quite simply one of the Good Guys. Almost disgustingly so. The Divine Dr. Jean smiles in return and gets to her feet, offering another handshake. "Then I'll be looking forward to hearing from you, Detective Archer. Thank you for your time."
James takes her hand and returns a firm handshake. "Well Dr. Jean Grey it was a pleasure to meet you and believe me we will be in touch." He draws his hand back and shakes his head, "I totally forgot.." He takes out his wallet and pulls out a card of his own. Seems many detectives have 'em to follow up on leads and such. His card isn't as nice as hers, just has his name, number, and the NYPD logo on it. "That number there is for here...and the one under it is my cellphone. If you need anything just call me up. Believe me all I do is work and thats it."
Jean takes the card and pulls out a small card holder from her case, sliding it into a storage slot, then snapping it closed and making it vanish again into the black hole that is the average female bag. "Will do, Detective. Will do. I get a certain amount of information that comes my way, in my line of work, so if it's something you boys -- and girls," A glance over at a female officer at her own desk. "Could use, I'll be sure to pass it along." So long as it won't entail the good officers getting in over their heads, of course. "Have a good night, and I wish you inspiration and good coffee." And with that, she lets herself back out, boot heels clicking rhythmically on the tiles.
James chuckles and watches her go, "Inspiration is one thing." He glances at the coffee pot, "The coffee is a whole other story."
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and Jean, Logan, Scott and Emma (And Nate.)
X-Men MUCK - Tuesday, March 30, 2004, 8:46 PM
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<< XS >> The Drive
The half-mile drive exploits the beauty found within these guarded walls. An expanse of yard is capped around the back edges by a semi-dense forest, and the drive itself makies a solid loop around an angelic marble figurine that has her back towards the mansion. This home is an example of old meets new, with bay windows present. From the drive a small pathway of slate-gray stone leads you up on to the front porch while another leads you towards the woods.
[Exits : [F]ront [Y]ard, and [F]ront [G]ates ]
A certain blue Mazda enters the Gates, and begins to make its way up the drive towards the mansion. The car pauses near the front yard, and Scott blinks. "Stay here, ok?"
Emma rolls her eyes and nods, blue eyes flicking this way and that while still trying to maintain that air of disintrest. "What? Are you afraid I'm going to sneak off and find you still sleep on superman sheets?" she retorts in an acerbic tone.
Of course, one of the interesting little facts about Jean pulling a shift down in the Comsys Room is that the scans being run aren't simply mechanical and electronic. And upon picking up a certain red-flagged brain heading up the driveway, there was a series of muttered curses, and a redhead suddenly vacating her station chair to take up a position on the front porch, arms folded, chin tipped, and looking Not Very Amused. "I can't believe he's doing this." she mutters to the man beside her.
Logan rests against the steps, a few down from Jean, a fresh cigar resting between fingers on his right hand. Having already been outside, he could hear the car coming up anyways, and was just waiting for Jean to rush out in the mean time. "You had to figure he'd try something like this one day right? Sides, I thought they broke up?"
Scott snorts. "Don't get flippant with me Emma. It's not very attractive. I get enough shit from Jean. I don't need it from you too." And then he opens his door, and gets out, then removes Nate from the carseat in the backseat of the Mazda. He then takes Nate and carries him up the steps. He pauses and gives Logan a look. "Not around my son." And he reaches out and takes the cigar crushing it as Logan holds it in his hand. And then he looks at Jean. "I'm brought back Nate before I head out."
Jean somehow manages to remain looking stern even as she walks down the stairs and reaches for Nate, green eyes sharp and looking like she's quite ready to start some of the 'shit' Scott's just snorted to Emma about. "Thank you. Now have you taken -complete- leave of your senses, as well as disregarding an order from the -Professor-?" she murmurs to him. Cue a frostily polite smile Emma-wards. "She's not supposed to be in the house, and you know -why-, so don't tell me she's not in the house, she's in the car. She's an omega telepath." A sharp shake of her head and she steps back up to stand beside Logan.
Emma blinks and turns to give the man a rather surprised look, though the reason quickly becomes apparent as her almost unconscious lowlevel scanning runs up hard against formidable mental shields. "Jean..." she hisses, pulling her shoulders back and pasting a bored frown on her face before Scott is out of the car. It doesn't take empathic powers to sense the tension in the encounter between the three Xers, though of course returns Jean's ever-so-polite nod with one of her own, adding a tiny smirk. Oh, aren't her nails ever-so interesting?
Logan stands up, as his 'sitting out in the evening, having a smoke' break is interupted. "That'll cost you $20 bucks boy scout. They ain't corner store cigars. Sides, I was here first. So deal with it." Not even bothering to glance carwards, Logan moves up to the top step of the mansion doorway, /downwind/, and lights up another cigar, taking a smug puff to make sure the thing is lit properly. Finally, after Jean's little rant, Logan looks back to Scott and smirks, "So fraternizing with the enemy isn't enough, you need to bring her back here too to spy on us?"
Scott doesn't hand Nate to Jean right away. "Please Jean. Like you don't have this placed guarded like a fortress knowing she's here. She's here for five minutes while I drop off -my- son, before she and I go out to dinner. The Professor taught me there something known as respect too. Screw this." He then hands over Nate. "You aren't in charge of me Jean, so don't talk down to me like I'm five. You know, it's ironic. I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't with you. I'm either the uptight bastard when I try to earn respect, or I'm nothing because I give in. I'm done with it Jean." He looks up at Logan. "You're a bastard you know that? I don't take orders from you either Logan. Only reason you're so damned cocky is because Jean likes you better." And he turns to walk back to his car.
Emma...has nothing to say.
"I shouldn't -have- to toss up the mental walls in my own -home-, Scott Summers." Jean counters, choosing a smouldering fire in the face of all that ice sitting in the car. "I shouldn't -have- to be on the bloody defensive just because you... ooooh, I'm going to leave the Professor to deal with you." she decides, snuggling Nate defiantly and ignoring the immediate baby-reflex of grabbing at her hair. "You didn't want me holding back around you, or hiding my thoughts, congratulations, you've got what you wanted. Have a nice dinner." she bids, grabbing at a mantle of civility before pointedly taking a seat beside Logan, and resting her head on his shoulder as Scott stalks away, a teke-screen keeping any pooling smoke away from herself and her son.
Scott doesn't even bother to respond to Jean as he walks back to the Mazda. He gets into the car, slams the door. "Not a word." And then starts the engine, turning the car around and leaving the mansion grounds. Jean may grab at the mantle of civility, but she never actually reaches it when it comes to Scott.
Well, not any more, anyways. After all, he -did- ask for honesty.
Logan was gonna say, "Yes, I already know that, and it's definately not some cock fight with you Scott. I'm arrogant cause I can be." But that would only be if Scott didn't sulk and run away back to his car. Turning to Jean, he grins, watching Nate happy to be back in 'mothers' arms, before he makes a face at the kid to try and make Nate laugh. "We should talk to Kitty about putting Superman sheets on his bed."
Scott has left.
Emma has at least learned when silence is the prudent course of action. Which would be now, it seems. Bye?
Emma has left.
Jean seems to release a great weight as soon as the Mazda has sped Emma out of eavesdropping distance, the heavy mental shield wall wrapped protectively around the School's minds being dropped. Her shoulders straighten from a slump previously unnoticed, and she shakes her head. "I have no idea why he's getting so upset. If you were another telepath and on the far side of ethical, he'd enforce the same rules on me... and yeah. Or I think I've got some old My Little Pony ones from when I was a kid." she muses, pouncing on the humour and bleeding off her irritation in a sudden rippling of the waters in the koi pond that make Nate perk up and look around before going back to flailing his hands and trying to grab Logan's shirt with a giggle. "Aww. You like Uncle Logan, don't you little bug, don't you?" Nate responds with something rather like "Goo!"
Logan says, "I think that stick we thought he pulled out has only lodged itself further up his ass than usual." Of course, it doesn't help that his flannel shirt is composed of bright easy to differentiate colours and wide collars. As well, now that Scott's gone, he obligingly butts out his cigar, and pops a mint in his mouth for close to Jean safe breath.
"He's upset that everyone's telling him to watch his back, so I think he re-grew the stick." is Jean's opinion, leaning sideways to let Nate cling to Logan more easily, infant mouth unerringly finding his hand and starting to teeth on his knuckles with complete unconcern about what lurks underneath. Jean smiles benevolently, if not -quite- like a madonna with her child, and ruffles Nate's fuzz of curly red Grey Family hair. "It's almost endearing, the way Scott can find no fault in whoever he's in love with, but right now, it's a danger to all of us. I think she really does care about him, in some twisted way I don't want to think about," A pause, Jean attempts to envision what Emma must be like in bed, cringes after a few vague thoughts about whips and leather, and then resumes that "But that hardly means she's not going to sell the rest of us out if it gets her ahead. But now it's just you, me, Nate, and I bet he's probably not going to be seen 'til tomorrow." And from the contented look on Jean's face as she surveys her man and her son, she's quite happy with that prospect.
Logan says, "Having the professor talk with him about getting his priorities straight is probably the best idea. I think this little fling of his has been tolerated long enough." Reminded of the scene from the Cell, at the end, with Jennifer literally dressed up as the Madonna, holding the young murderer's boy psyche in her arms, Logan double takes for a moment, before he peers down at Nate. "You hungry or what? Daddy not feed you while he's fawning over his girlfriend?" Finally he smiles, looking back up to Jean. "I still say we actually put Superman sheets on his bed, and send Emma the pictures."
"Oh, the Professor's been talking," Jean reveals, shifting Nate in her arms as his leaning pinches off a couple nerves in the arm trapped between him and "Woah-ga." Which might -possibly-, with enough interpretation, be Logan's name. If one's good at wishful thinking. Jean seems charmed regardless, and gives her accidental genetic offspring a kiss on the forehead for his obvious intelligence and lightning wit. "But if I was allowed to date a random guy in college, we have to allow Scott to make his own choices too. Otherwise, we're no better than the Brotherhood. And he's not -thinking- hungry, but I am, and I guess it's about time to break out the applesauce for him." she muses, prying Nate off Logan's hand and prompting an indignant squawk and a sudden frown from the child to which she just shakes her head before grinning. "Definitely. And tuck him in with the teddybear Sketch made him too."
Logan says, "Well, doesn't seem like it's making any difference. Besides, randomly dating, and then dating powerful omega level telepaths are two different things." Logan pauses for a moment, giving a goofy grin, and then correcting himself. "Dating powerful omega level telepaths who aren't on your side. Don't ever think we're not better than the Brotherhood. We give these kids a place to go, give them food shelter, and an education to boot. Put them on the right path." Looking down at the little knuckle biter, Logan's stomach growls now, as he clutches it pre-emptively. "Darn it kid, now you got me hungry too." Standing up, he offers a hand down to Jean to help her up and nods. "Sounds like a plan sister. Let's eat."
From: drgrey@x-school.edu
To: xavier@x-school.edu
Subject: News From The Homefront
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Morning sir,
I was going to try and raise you over the mindlink, but one of the students fell foul of one of the Rambo Madrox's man-traps set out in the perimeter woods as they tried to sneak in this morning after a night on the town, and cutting them down from that tree and settling their concussion and the inevitable whining about still getting grounded really shot my plans for meditation to pieces. So, you get an email to read in between long-winded senators instead.
Aside from the usual small stupidities of students in spring, the medical bay has been fairly empty, so I've been able to advance a few of our other goals.
I met with Detective James Archer down at the NYPD's mutant affairs division, and I'm pleased to report we've got a definite friendly contact there. I've offered to act as an advisor for cases of young mutant troublemakers coming in, and told him that we're a place for some of them. Naturally, he'd like a tour to see that we're not some mutant madrasa, which I won't schedule without your say-so, and they're busily running a background check on me, but I anticipate no problems on either of those scores.
Problems continue however, with regards to Scott and Emma. He seems to have patched things up with her, as he brought her right up to the school to drop off Nate. Admittedly she was only in the car, and not inside, but Scott's no fool, and really should've figured out why we haven't invited her in for cucumber sandwiches. No worries, as I was home at the time, and able to toss a mental barrier around the place (And she was scanning, too.) but it was very likely that I wouldn't have been, and with you away sir...
Oh, it's a long story. I told him I'd let you deal with him, as grade-school as that was, and he seems to be quite comfortably assured again that we all see him as untrustworthy, childish and stupid, and completely unworthy of respect. All the usual things Scott seems to keep around about his self-image. And of course the fact that Logan was sitting around on the front steps at the time didn't help matters. He's told me previously he wants honesty from me, and not hiding my feelings in consideration for his, but as a result, I think you'd better talk to him, since my feelings are that he's once again playing blind to any faults in the woman he's with, and that he's projecting his own hang-ups onto the rest of us.
I continue my clandestine contact with Tessa Lesair. Emma's playing hardball with her, and the girl's having a rough time, but she's strong and smart and subtle, and if anyone can do what she's planning, it'll be her. No doubt Sebastian Shaw is feeling somewhat injured in the ego by Emma's fascination with Scott, so I might see what I can turn up there.
How go things in Washington? Senator Lowe is due to speak at Emerson in a couple weeks' time unless his schedule is changed. I'm pondering organizing protest rallies, so long as we can keep them peaceful, and not play into his hands. Are you actually managing to rest now and again? Moira says, in her inimitable way, that you'd better be pausing for sleep and feeding, or she'll be flying over to clunk you on the head and make you.
I think she'll do it, too.
Jean
-------------
OOC: Logs! Jean and Archer,
X-Men MUCK - Monday, March 29, 2004, 10:19 PM
---------------------------------------------
< NYC > New York Police Department - Mutant Affairs
After one passes the door with 'Mutant Affairs' written on it in brass letters, is the home office of said officers. The room is slightly dingy with a coat of fresh paint on the walls to liven the place up a bit. And to add color to the room are some plants, located at the windows, most of them are just ivies. The floor is a standard black and white checkerboard pattern for a classic feel. On the walls are pictures of wanted mutants and newspaper clippings of those who don't have a name yet. There are five desks here, one in the corner next to the window, one on the opposite side of that window, one next to the door, and two in the middle pressed together. Each desk has a computer on it and numerous papers, sometimes you might even find an officer at the desk, but don't count on it.
[Exits : [B]ack [O]ut ]
[Players : James ]
James
James is an average looking guy with a medium build and rugged facial fetures. From head to toe he stands somewhere around six foot one and looks to be weighing in around one hundered and eighty eight pounds. His thick red hair shows no signs of gray, but there are a few wrinkles around his green eyes. His face however does show signs of aging, but it adds to his character along with the five o'clock shadow. He tends to smoke on occastion so every so often you might see him with a cigarette in his mouth or smell it on him.
Currently James is dressed in a nice suit as is the custom clothing for New York Police Detectives. The slacks and jacket are black. His shirt is light green and is a standard button up long sleeve shirt that fits very comfortably to him. The tie is in a standard knot and is the same color as the shirt, but has little white dots over it, to help offset the green. His shoes are the the standard black dress shoes as are his black socks. On his left hip is a flash of something shiney. It's his sidearm, a .45 cal sig sidearm. The gun is black with a nice chrome finish, very nice and very deadly.
Jean
Beautiful in a slight and academic way, Jean is hardly one to go too far out of her way for her looks. The straight, shoulder length fall of her auburn hair is tied back out of her face in a messy sort of bun, sections too fine and wispy to be considered sidelocks falling loose to soften the line of her jaw. Green eyes are sharply intelligent beneath sculpted eyebrows, observing the world with a scientist's cool gaze softened and humanized by deep rooted convictions and passions that lend mobility and expression to a regally cast face with its aquiline nose and a mouth often slightly pursed in concentration or thought. She stands five feet, eleven inches and no spare change, muscles lean and a whipcord strength belying her slim frame with its almost anime-long legs.
Straight leg jeans in classic denim blue are broken in to a comfortable fit, showing off the good doctor's considerable amount of leg, but with a casual air suggesting she'd be rather surprised if anyone remarked on that fact. A black button-down shirt is worn open over a black tank top, either tucked in or left loose to suit her fancy, but combining with an old-fashioned choker to give a general impression of dressed-down class. Jean's also wearing black leather boots with a two inch platform heel, but don't let that fool you into thinking she can't run in them.
Usually the police station is a busy place with people coming to report crimes and officers pushing their way past people with suspects in cuffs. The mutant affairs offices is a whole other story, the only sound is from detectives talking on the phone or the tapping of keys from the keyboard. "Yah?" James says as he sits at his desk which is in the middle of the room, "Okay...so....what you want more money?" His face is pained as he leans back in his chair, which creaks. "Can I at least speak to her....." He pauses, "She's my dau...." He frowns and slams the phone down grumbling as he goes back to his paper work. The other people in the room know who he was on the phone with and just leave him be.
No doubt the mutant affairs division would be a whole lot busier, if it weren't in part for the clandestine actions of the woman who's just walked in the door. But the whole point of 'clandestine' is that one just doesn't go around -talking- about it, and there's nothing so evasive as a trained telepath. Jean Grey arrives, a neat attache case in hand, but her clothing casual, tall and slim and poised as a model, but with a surgeon's intensity in her movements. The secret to getting past secretaries is to walk with purpose, after all, and she walks with said purpose right over to near James's desk, shortly after the end of the phone call. "Divorces can be hell on earth." she offers. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Detective Archer, but I was wondering if we could talk."
James is currently thumbing through a file when he hears Jean's voice, "Uhm yeah...please take a seat." He motions towards a chair next to his desk. "Yeah well it doesn't help when I married a demoness." He offers Jean a light smile and nods, "So ma'am what can I help you with?" Wait? How did this lady know he was going through a divorce? Oh well...maybe she's gone through one herself.
Jean wasn't actually eavesdropping in anything more than just a traditional sense. 'Money' and an abbreviated 'daughter' just happen to be big, fat clues. She takes a seat and settles her attache case on her lap, giving an understanding, if crooked, smile. "In today's brave new world, some people might end up doing that literally. Or at least someone who looks like one. And my name is Jean Grey, Detective," she identifies herself, offering over a handshake. "Donna Karan and looking like a preppy is good for addressing the Senate, but I'd rather be comfortable when I've come to talk business. You know who I am, you know my field of expertise. I want to offer my services to try and make things a little easier for you boys in blue."
James nods at Jean and offers her a belated smile and a firm handshake, "Yeah I know about you and I know that you believe in peace between mutants and humans." He takes his hand back and adjusts his tie, "Services huh? If you can offer up guys like him." He points at a photo of Magneto, "Eric Lensherr or Mortimer Toynbee." He points to another picture of Toad. Both pictures are on a board with Wanted above it. "Those guys make my job a lot harder. Thanks to them there are other mutants running around who share those ideals and hurt, kill, and steal from inncent people."
"If I could just wave my hand and have them trussed up with, well, in Mr. Lensherr's case, I guess it would have to be plastic chains, I'd have them left on your front door in a jiffy." Jean replies, eyes intent. "Eric Lensherr was a teacher of mine before he went off the deep end and started forgetting the history he lived through, but I've got no loyalty to him. I'm sure you fellows have a file on him a few boxes thick, but I brought you something you might not know about the Toad there." And, finally, the attache case opens, and Jean removes a computer disk and a printout. "He's able to spit a very sticky saliva with surprising accuracy. If you get it over your mouth and nose, you're likely to suffocate. I managed to take a sample of it back to my lab, and I've got the chemical formula for a solvent in there. Your techs might want to have a look at that." Her gesture of good faith offered, the tall redhead moves on to her request. "In exchange, I was wondering if you might be willing to give me a call when you get a young mutant brought in. A lot of these kids are runaways, as you know. I want to try and stop these kids and give them a chance to turn things around before they can get really hardened."
James takes the disk and the printout offered to him. He places the disk on his desk as he flips through the printout. "I see....." A long drawn out pause as he places the paper next to the disk. "Miss Grey I do thank you for this information and now we have a little secret defense." He pauses again, thinking about the deal offered before him. "I can't promise much for these other guys, but if I run into any of them out there that don't have any kind of record then I will call you. In fact if I get the chiefs okay on the matter then I'll even turn them over to you." He nods, "Frankly I'm tired of going to crime scenes where mutants have been killed by humans or vise verse. So you are indeed a breath of fresh air."
"Please, call me Jean," the owner of that name encourages with one of her warmer smiles, spared from the hollowness of a politician's charisma by the fact that, wonder of wonders in New York City, it's actually completely genuine. This, after all, is exactly what Xavier's Dream is all about. "I may be a professor in my day job, but the 'miss' always makes me feel like an old-fashioned schoolmarm. And if it would help my case to meet with any of your colleagues, I'm certainly willing. If kids are our future, and most mutants are kids, then this is the critical period to make sure our future's as good as it can be. I want in on that." she states frankly, meeting the detective's nod and giving a matching one of her own. "I'd been sitting on the idea for a while, but the recent news reports about all the anti-mutant violence cropping up in the wake of Senator Lowe spurred me to make a decision. If hate's going to show no qualms about acting, it's about time that those of us who stand for peace and tolerance get out and start doing what we can... but you don't need to hear speeches." she trails off, a touch apologetically.
James just leans back as he listens to Jean's little speach, "Miss....I mean Jean. I do think you've spent far to much time with the politicians and senators." A light shake of his head, "I'll think about your offer Jean, after all it does sounds like a good deal. Although you do know that I have to run it by my Chief first before I can make any promises. Though I'm sure he'll okay it. After all look what we get in exchange."
"One thing about political bullshit is that you have to keep in practice," Jean quips, with a dry smile. "My first outing, old Senator Kelly ran right over me, and I didn't have a clue how to cope. Never again, I said. Even if my boyfriend occasionally has to chuck a pillow at my head to get me to shut up. But here, I'll give you my card." And with a rummaging through the attache case, Jean soon does just that, an expensive thing, embossed and inked, and printed on heavy stock. With the only inscription reading 'Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters - Dr. Jean Grey, MD, Hon. B.Sc. - Deputy Headmistress' she turns it over, nicks a pen from James' desk, and write her personal cell phone number on the back, the one for private calls of a public nature. "That's my private number on the back. It'll either go through to me, or to my pager. And again, I'm anxious to help out with anything I can."
James chuckles a bit at Jean, "Yeah I read the papers I know that many of those political types love to play hardball, my only advice for you is don't get hurt." He shrugs and takes the card in his hand glancing over it and nodding, "School for gifted kids huh...Political activist by day and Headmistress by night." He nods and slides the card in his top pocket. "So I find someone and I call you. What will you do with them? Most of the kids that come in here don't have a cent to their name."
"Well now, that's when I call in you boys, if watching my back turns up something behind me I can't handle," Jean recounts further, half-joking, but with a steady eye that's perhaps a little at odds with an idealistic researcher. But then again, who knows the private lives of the talking heads seen on TV? She presses on regardless. "Oh, more like headmistress by day, political activist on the weekends, doctor whenever someone does something stupid trying to impress a girl, and researcher whenever I can chase everyone out of my lab and lock the door. Keeps the dust off you. And if you do a little checking, you'll see that Xavier's is fully accredited to act as a government-sponsored foster home. Charles Xavier's one of the wealthiest men in upstate New York, so we can house a few strays while we teach them how to get their lives straightened out and their abilities under control."
James leans back and rests his hands behind his head. "So you mean to tell me that the school will take in these runaway and often dangerous kids,no questions asked? I don't know if I can do that then Jean, after all I wouldn't want to be responsible for the deaths of some kids because some kid who can shoot lasers out of his eyes gets made." He sighs, "Maybe we can bring you in as an adviser. Help us talk to these kids and maybe locate their families."
"Not exactly no questions asked, Detective Archer." Jean counters calmly. "And you'll note that I never said no questions asked. No government foster home would operate that way, and neither do we. I take my job seriously, so does my staff, and safety comes first to our faculty." Except when some of the faculty dresses up in leather and kevlar and goes out to save the world... but Archer doesn't need to know that. "But, I can understand if you don't feel comfortable just handing off kids off the street to some, to you, mysterious and unknown school out in the Westchester hills. I'd be happy to start as a simple adviser, whatever your department would feel comfortable with."
James smiles and offers Jean a light nod. She may be a certified hottie, but she's got a damn fine head on her shoulders. "I think I'm really starting to like you Jean." He leans forward so he can look a little bit more professional. "Yeah I think we can do that. If you are accepted as an adviser then all you'll really do is sit behind the glass with the rest of us and offer us...well advice. Not all of us humans are heartless mutant haters Jean. For all I know my daughter could be a mutant." In the back of his mind he starts wondering what would happen if she was really a mutant, whoa back to reality. "So I'll run this by the chief...maybe we could take a tour of the school and for an agreement. If you think you can help us with these kids then I'd be more than happy to share some of this weight."
Jean picks up on the edges of that unspoken thought, but doesn't show it with anything more than a smile that could mean anything as she leans forward as well. "I think I could handle that. I can't spare you a hell of a lot of time, but I can spare some. And my colleagues might well be interested in helping out too, some of them at least." There's a bit of a funny look as it becomes clear that Archer's assuming that she's got some mutation too, but since he can't know what kind and doesn't seem to be interested in making an issue of it, she sees no reason to be evasive. Even if she also sees no reason to be informative either. "Well, if you're curious, I could always check your DNA for X-Factor precursors," she jokes. "But a tour would be easy enough to arrange. Just call ahead to book a time, since unexpected guests tend to make our gate guard nervous. I'm sure you can understand why."
James chuckles and waves his hand at Jean, "No thank you. I'd like to keep it a secret you know. If I do then I do...if I don't then I don't. After all if my daughter is a mutant then I'll use what I've learned here to better help her. She'll be loved either way." He hmms and jots down a note or two on his notepad. Remember to ask chief about Jean Grey being an adviser and look into the school, also check up on Dr. Grey. Why is she so intent on helping out. He places some files on the notepad and smiles at her. "Okay well I'll give you a call when I hear something from the chief, I'm sure you'll just have to come in and sign a few papers."
Jean's public records will detail a charge through higher education starting with entering college at the age of sixteen, and emerging with a medical doctorate at twenty-three, close ties to both Charles Xavier, philanthropist and activist, and Drs. Moira MacTaggart and Henry McCoy, mutant researchers and the former a Nobel laureate. Jean herself has published papers, an on-call specialist's position at Lennox Hill hospital with regards to mutant medicine, membership in mutant rights lobby groups, and all in all, a background of peaceful do-gooding with only some speeding tickets and traffic violations on record. And should they take a look at the DMV records of what she drives, even those become understandable. Gossip columnists record various speculations about her personal life and ties. Should one look very close indeed, only then would one stumble across a hint that the FBI and the CIA know a little about her that they're not telling. But even that's not flagged with anything risky. Even for suspicious NYPD officers, Jean Grey is quite simply one of the Good Guys. Almost disgustingly so. The Divine Dr. Jean smiles in return and gets to her feet, offering another handshake. "Then I'll be looking forward to hearing from you, Detective Archer. Thank you for your time."
James takes her hand and returns a firm handshake. "Well Dr. Jean Grey it was a pleasure to meet you and believe me we will be in touch." He draws his hand back and shakes his head, "I totally forgot.." He takes out his wallet and pulls out a card of his own. Seems many detectives have 'em to follow up on leads and such. His card isn't as nice as hers, just has his name, number, and the NYPD logo on it. "That number there is for here...and the one under it is my cellphone. If you need anything just call me up. Believe me all I do is work and thats it."
Jean takes the card and pulls out a small card holder from her case, sliding it into a storage slot, then snapping it closed and making it vanish again into the black hole that is the average female bag. "Will do, Detective. Will do. I get a certain amount of information that comes my way, in my line of work, so if it's something you boys -- and girls," A glance over at a female officer at her own desk. "Could use, I'll be sure to pass it along." So long as it won't entail the good officers getting in over their heads, of course. "Have a good night, and I wish you inspiration and good coffee." And with that, she lets herself back out, boot heels clicking rhythmically on the tiles.
James chuckles and watches her go, "Inspiration is one thing." He glances at the coffee pot, "The coffee is a whole other story."
-----------------
and Jean, Logan, Scott and Emma (And Nate.)
X-Men MUCK - Tuesday, March 30, 2004, 8:46 PM
---------------------------------------------
<< XS >> The Drive
The half-mile drive exploits the beauty found within these guarded walls. An expanse of yard is capped around the back edges by a semi-dense forest, and the drive itself makies a solid loop around an angelic marble figurine that has her back towards the mansion. This home is an example of old meets new, with bay windows present. From the drive a small pathway of slate-gray stone leads you up on to the front porch while another leads you towards the woods.
[Exits : [F]ront [Y]ard, and [F]ront [G]ates ]
A certain blue Mazda enters the Gates, and begins to make its way up the drive towards the mansion. The car pauses near the front yard, and Scott blinks. "Stay here, ok?"
Emma rolls her eyes and nods, blue eyes flicking this way and that while still trying to maintain that air of disintrest. "What? Are you afraid I'm going to sneak off and find you still sleep on superman sheets?" she retorts in an acerbic tone.
Of course, one of the interesting little facts about Jean pulling a shift down in the Comsys Room is that the scans being run aren't simply mechanical and electronic. And upon picking up a certain red-flagged brain heading up the driveway, there was a series of muttered curses, and a redhead suddenly vacating her station chair to take up a position on the front porch, arms folded, chin tipped, and looking Not Very Amused. "I can't believe he's doing this." she mutters to the man beside her.
Logan rests against the steps, a few down from Jean, a fresh cigar resting between fingers on his right hand. Having already been outside, he could hear the car coming up anyways, and was just waiting for Jean to rush out in the mean time. "You had to figure he'd try something like this one day right? Sides, I thought they broke up?"
Scott snorts. "Don't get flippant with me Emma. It's not very attractive. I get enough shit from Jean. I don't need it from you too." And then he opens his door, and gets out, then removes Nate from the carseat in the backseat of the Mazda. He then takes Nate and carries him up the steps. He pauses and gives Logan a look. "Not around my son." And he reaches out and takes the cigar crushing it as Logan holds it in his hand. And then he looks at Jean. "I'm brought back Nate before I head out."
Jean somehow manages to remain looking stern even as she walks down the stairs and reaches for Nate, green eyes sharp and looking like she's quite ready to start some of the 'shit' Scott's just snorted to Emma about. "Thank you. Now have you taken -complete- leave of your senses, as well as disregarding an order from the -Professor-?" she murmurs to him. Cue a frostily polite smile Emma-wards. "She's not supposed to be in the house, and you know -why-, so don't tell me she's not in the house, she's in the car. She's an omega telepath." A sharp shake of her head and she steps back up to stand beside Logan.
Emma blinks and turns to give the man a rather surprised look, though the reason quickly becomes apparent as her almost unconscious lowlevel scanning runs up hard against formidable mental shields. "Jean..." she hisses, pulling her shoulders back and pasting a bored frown on her face before Scott is out of the car. It doesn't take empathic powers to sense the tension in the encounter between the three Xers, though of course returns Jean's ever-so-polite nod with one of her own, adding a tiny smirk. Oh, aren't her nails ever-so interesting?
Logan stands up, as his 'sitting out in the evening, having a smoke' break is interupted. "That'll cost you $20 bucks boy scout. They ain't corner store cigars. Sides, I was here first. So deal with it." Not even bothering to glance carwards, Logan moves up to the top step of the mansion doorway, /downwind/, and lights up another cigar, taking a smug puff to make sure the thing is lit properly. Finally, after Jean's little rant, Logan looks back to Scott and smirks, "So fraternizing with the enemy isn't enough, you need to bring her back here too to spy on us?"
Scott doesn't hand Nate to Jean right away. "Please Jean. Like you don't have this placed guarded like a fortress knowing she's here. She's here for five minutes while I drop off -my- son, before she and I go out to dinner. The Professor taught me there something known as respect too. Screw this." He then hands over Nate. "You aren't in charge of me Jean, so don't talk down to me like I'm five. You know, it's ironic. I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't with you. I'm either the uptight bastard when I try to earn respect, or I'm nothing because I give in. I'm done with it Jean." He looks up at Logan. "You're a bastard you know that? I don't take orders from you either Logan. Only reason you're so damned cocky is because Jean likes you better." And he turns to walk back to his car.
Emma...has nothing to say.
"I shouldn't -have- to toss up the mental walls in my own -home-, Scott Summers." Jean counters, choosing a smouldering fire in the face of all that ice sitting in the car. "I shouldn't -have- to be on the bloody defensive just because you... ooooh, I'm going to leave the Professor to deal with you." she decides, snuggling Nate defiantly and ignoring the immediate baby-reflex of grabbing at her hair. "You didn't want me holding back around you, or hiding my thoughts, congratulations, you've got what you wanted. Have a nice dinner." she bids, grabbing at a mantle of civility before pointedly taking a seat beside Logan, and resting her head on his shoulder as Scott stalks away, a teke-screen keeping any pooling smoke away from herself and her son.
Scott doesn't even bother to respond to Jean as he walks back to the Mazda. He gets into the car, slams the door. "Not a word." And then starts the engine, turning the car around and leaving the mansion grounds. Jean may grab at the mantle of civility, but she never actually reaches it when it comes to Scott.
Well, not any more, anyways. After all, he -did- ask for honesty.
Logan was gonna say, "Yes, I already know that, and it's definately not some cock fight with you Scott. I'm arrogant cause I can be." But that would only be if Scott didn't sulk and run away back to his car. Turning to Jean, he grins, watching Nate happy to be back in 'mothers' arms, before he makes a face at the kid to try and make Nate laugh. "We should talk to Kitty about putting Superman sheets on his bed."
Scott has left.
Emma has at least learned when silence is the prudent course of action. Which would be now, it seems. Bye?
Emma has left.
Jean seems to release a great weight as soon as the Mazda has sped Emma out of eavesdropping distance, the heavy mental shield wall wrapped protectively around the School's minds being dropped. Her shoulders straighten from a slump previously unnoticed, and she shakes her head. "I have no idea why he's getting so upset. If you were another telepath and on the far side of ethical, he'd enforce the same rules on me... and yeah. Or I think I've got some old My Little Pony ones from when I was a kid." she muses, pouncing on the humour and bleeding off her irritation in a sudden rippling of the waters in the koi pond that make Nate perk up and look around before going back to flailing his hands and trying to grab Logan's shirt with a giggle. "Aww. You like Uncle Logan, don't you little bug, don't you?" Nate responds with something rather like "Goo!"
Logan says, "I think that stick we thought he pulled out has only lodged itself further up his ass than usual." Of course, it doesn't help that his flannel shirt is composed of bright easy to differentiate colours and wide collars. As well, now that Scott's gone, he obligingly butts out his cigar, and pops a mint in his mouth for close to Jean safe breath.
"He's upset that everyone's telling him to watch his back, so I think he re-grew the stick." is Jean's opinion, leaning sideways to let Nate cling to Logan more easily, infant mouth unerringly finding his hand and starting to teeth on his knuckles with complete unconcern about what lurks underneath. Jean smiles benevolently, if not -quite- like a madonna with her child, and ruffles Nate's fuzz of curly red Grey Family hair. "It's almost endearing, the way Scott can find no fault in whoever he's in love with, but right now, it's a danger to all of us. I think she really does care about him, in some twisted way I don't want to think about," A pause, Jean attempts to envision what Emma must be like in bed, cringes after a few vague thoughts about whips and leather, and then resumes that "But that hardly means she's not going to sell the rest of us out if it gets her ahead. But now it's just you, me, Nate, and I bet he's probably not going to be seen 'til tomorrow." And from the contented look on Jean's face as she surveys her man and her son, she's quite happy with that prospect.
Logan says, "Having the professor talk with him about getting his priorities straight is probably the best idea. I think this little fling of his has been tolerated long enough." Reminded of the scene from the Cell, at the end, with Jennifer literally dressed up as the Madonna, holding the young murderer's boy psyche in her arms, Logan double takes for a moment, before he peers down at Nate. "You hungry or what? Daddy not feed you while he's fawning over his girlfriend?" Finally he smiles, looking back up to Jean. "I still say we actually put Superman sheets on his bed, and send Emma the pictures."
"Oh, the Professor's been talking," Jean reveals, shifting Nate in her arms as his leaning pinches off a couple nerves in the arm trapped between him and "Woah-ga." Which might -possibly-, with enough interpretation, be Logan's name. If one's good at wishful thinking. Jean seems charmed regardless, and gives her accidental genetic offspring a kiss on the forehead for his obvious intelligence and lightning wit. "But if I was allowed to date a random guy in college, we have to allow Scott to make his own choices too. Otherwise, we're no better than the Brotherhood. And he's not -thinking- hungry, but I am, and I guess it's about time to break out the applesauce for him." she muses, prying Nate off Logan's hand and prompting an indignant squawk and a sudden frown from the child to which she just shakes her head before grinning. "Definitely. And tuck him in with the teddybear Sketch made him too."
Logan says, "Well, doesn't seem like it's making any difference. Besides, randomly dating, and then dating powerful omega level telepaths are two different things." Logan pauses for a moment, giving a goofy grin, and then correcting himself. "Dating powerful omega level telepaths who aren't on your side. Don't ever think we're not better than the Brotherhood. We give these kids a place to go, give them food shelter, and an education to boot. Put them on the right path." Looking down at the little knuckle biter, Logan's stomach growls now, as he clutches it pre-emptively. "Darn it kid, now you got me hungry too." Standing up, he offers a hand down to Jean to help her up and nods. "Sounds like a plan sister. Let's eat."