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=XS= Medbay and Lab - Lv B2 - Xavier's School
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.
Neatly folded on a counter surface, the offensive orange of Erik's prison uniform has been folded into a neat square. Arguably not /much/ more dignified in a navy set of Xavier's sweats (complete with circle X logo) over a white undershirt, Erik sits on the end of the medical cot that he has temporarily claimed as his own, and reads a copy of the Times in silence. Photos of the Grand Central Station disaster litter the front page.
There's a joke to be made in the fresh deliveries of dog, clothing, and company: something about Magneto's hounds, perhaps, since it is the wrong twin for a sly comment about bitches and, besides, Achilles would be offended. Adel carries a small valise of assorted effects including several changes of clothing, leaving Xavier's man to manage the dog's herding. Achilles first, /then/ Adel through the door. One surely slobbers on Erik. The other does not. Adel regards him a trifle blankly, making no pretense of verifying identity with a tangible touch of telepathy across his mind if brief knock. 'Scuze me, that you? "Dr. Lensherr."
Aware of the passage of some form of company or another through the basement corridor, Erik uses the time it takes them to get from there to here to fold over and toss aside his paper. The push to his feet that follows is stiff, and his appearance is unquestionably that of an old man who has spent several weeks in a room by himself eating terrible food. But he is alive, and seems present enough on the telepathic surface, if the stability of understructure may seem more questionable. "Mr. al-Razi." In track shoes, he is not quite six-foot in the attempt he makes to stand tall and proud. Fortunately said attempt is brief, as he stoops with speed to intercept the galumphing approach of Achilles. Who slobbers.
Adel keeps his fingers well back from understructure, telepathy's light brush folding away soon enough. His expression twists in a slight smile, somewhat stiff. He shakes his head, once, and reaches over to set the bag down. "I brought some of your things," he says, taking refuge in banality.
The tail of Achilles swings like a thick length of cable, back and forth, back and forth, thumping audibly against anything that should happen to get in its way. Aside from that, however, and the beast's dopy grin, he is subdued, and Erik is allowed to straighten enough to rest a hand upon his head in the wake of the more vigorous scruffing of fur that came first. For a few spare seconds, he is happy. Relieved, even. But back to business. "Clothes," he supposes after a moment, regathering dignity about himself. "Thank you."
"Clothes. One of the inhibitors," he adds, dry. "A few other things you left." Adel lifts his hand in a slight, aborted wave. He continues to watch Erik, as if not quite sure what to make of him.
Magneto's brows twitch at mention of the inhibitor, and he looks to the bag as if to confirm that one is indeed in there. Faint bafflement is still written into his forehead when he looks back to Adel, as if he isn't sure what to make of /him/ in return, and the older mutant merely nods.
"One of yours," Adel further clarifies. "Not one of the Frost inhibitors." His hands fold at the small of his back, and he returns the regard with a certain reservation. "Are you, uh, staying--." He breaks off with an exasperated noise and glances around the room. "I have a hard time imagining that the X-Men dirtied their hands and broke you out of prison, no matter your prior history with Dr. Xavier." Winknudge, amirite? "But I can't think of anything else to explain this."
"The Government," with a capital G to allow for maximum irony to be ground into it, "has requested that I take part in a mission to save the world." Erik speaks slowly, as if the words sound strange in the hollow ring of his own voice. "I will be moved here periodically to assist in training exercises leading up to the main event."
Adel looks very blank. "--oh." He blinks, and then he blinks twice more, head tipping as he frowns in a puzzled way. "Really?" he asks, gaze sharpening on Erik. "Asking how you were would be stupid, and likely insulting. I will ask, instead, if there is anything else you need and anything we need to know. Also, what do you want us to tell Ms. Dramstadt?"
Magneto tips his head in dry acknowledgement of the non-question, if with an air of somewhat strained tolerance for passing over the issue entirely. Achilles continues to wag his tail, and lolls his big tongue out at Adel, pant pant pant, grin, etc. So happee. "The government," no capslock this time, "has offered me amnesty in return for my service. I have also been granted the allowance of a single free day to sort out my affairs prior to launch. As for Ellen..." Unhelpful ellipses.
Adel gives Achilles no more than a glance before flapping his hand at him in a 'go drool on Magneto' sort of way. Dog telepathy. If only he had it. "Amnesty," he says doubtfully. "Make sure you get that in writing. If you have no specific instruction, she will be informed you are free and at Xavier's pending the upcoming mission. Do you require anything from us on that? Your old notes?"
Achilles obeys, trotting back to Magneto to grin at him instead. Then he lies down. On his foot. At mention of getting amnesty in writing, Erik merely tips a brow. It won't matter. "Do not tell Ellen that I will be here. I am not yet so mad that I wish to see her in a school full of children. Tell her that I will call her, when I am able. Tell her to be patient."
Adel looks wounded to have his humor so turned aside. "Ah. Well," he says, agreeing to the variation in Ellen's message with a tip of his head. Sobering, he adds, "Again: there's nothing you need and nothing we need to know or concern ourselves over as a result of this latest--?" He hates to say the word.
Magneto does not look like he finds most things to be very funny, lately. His eyes meet Adel's without blinking away, fish cold, and at length, he tips Achilles off of his foot and begins a deliberate advance. Fortunately aggression (if it was aggression) ends only in a reach for the bag that has been brought, and Erik turns his attention to it rather than his bishop. "Everything is fine."
Steady enough in Erik's advance, Adel can't help but flick a glance toward all that nice metal in the vicinity. Sure is a lot! He says, "Good," and his voice doesn't even crack. "Would you like us to forward the notes you'd previously written on the asteroid? Is there anything else you might want that Xavier and his lot can't see you get?" Say, hookers or drugs, maybe!
"The notes may be of some help, if you have them." Erik peers down into the contents of the bag, expression fallen back into distracted vacancy. "Charles has been accomodating, otherwise."
"All right," Adel says, agreeable as he always is. "Good to see you again, Dr. Lensherr, and -- good luck." With a last tip of his head and a glance at Achilles, he heads for the door. One hopes he finds his way out and doesn't 'accidentally' end up anywhere he shouldn't. Surely, there will be someone there to help him.
Suuurely. Erik nods to Adel's well wishes, and slings the weight of the bag over into one hand so that he can use the other to unzip his Xavier's jacket. Clearly it is time to put on real clothes while he still can. "It is good to see you as well. Give Emma my regards."
"Of course," Adel calls airly back over his shoulder, and goes to poke at things he shouldn't until someone slaps his wrist.