Now I understand why he's the Shop teacher.
This entry ICly private.
Sometimes, I think I'm too nosey for my own good. Certainly, I used to bug Forge a bunch. Now I wonder if Scott's going to be the next victim of my incessant prying.
Why is it that I feel compelled to satiate my curiosity of other people's problems? I'm not a psychiatrist--why do I expect to think that I possess the uncanny ability to make everyone around me feel suddenly happy, feel better about themselves? I'm not even that good at it, really. So why do I pretend?
Alright, so I'm usually pretty good at sensing when other people are upset. And being (generally) optimistic can rub off on other people, at least for a while. I helped Alyssa calm down a few days ago about John--well, at least until the news of the jail break came on. And I seemed to have successfully consoled Paige over the whole Justin--Chrome--thing. Even if that didn't turn out the way I expected.
Paige. Good God...what am I doing? Or rather, what are you doing to me? Before Noren, I thought high school dating was pointless, that there's no way I would ever find someone mature enough to be beyond 'clingy' teenage drama. And then I kind of screwed that perfect relationship myself. So how is it that her leaving can shatter me in so many pieces, if it's my fault? Guilt? That makes sense. The same goes for Paige, I guess--she thought things with Justin were great. Too bad he's with the Brotherhood. As it is, I responed to her the way I did because I wanted to make her feel better. I didn't expect she'd turn to me like that. Not that I mind.
She probably feels a bit guilty for using me for her rebound relationship. And yet, I can't really complain...maybe I'm doing the same thing. Either way, we're going out now, officially. Even if no one else knows it, nor probably will for a while. Which makes the 'official' part ironically pointless.
After a brief interview with Scott, in which I confirmed that, yes, I want and am prepared to fight to protect the ones I love, he promised me some more Danger Room time. Things should be getting interesting, now, at least. I still didn't get the guts to ask about a student-based team thing, but...we'll worry about that some other day. Maybe I should run it by Logan, first, since I seem to know him a bit better. Scott seems very neutral, restrained. He has a sense of mechanical efficiency. Of course, with all the shit he's been through in the last year, I don't blame him. He's been hurt, just like so many of us, and recoil is one of the most logical responses to that.
...And there I go, trying to play the psychiatrist again. I think I need someone to slap me back into my normal sense. Or something.
I have a feeling this upcoming semester is going to become very, very interesting. Or miserable. I'm not quite sure which, yet. Guess I'll have to find out.
<< XS >> Recreation Room - Lv1
This, my friends, is a place for people to come and relax. Broad wide screen television in one area of the room with various other sofas and chairs around. Vivid walls of pale green and embossed gold wallpaper add a friendly air to this place. Tables, whether coffee or card, line the room, as well as an air-hockey table and fooze ball table for games. Closets support various items for fun, large bay windows give light to the room.
[Exits : [H]allway, [C]lassroom and [A]rboretum, and [G]reat [H]all ]
[Players : Scott ]
The evening is finally starting to set in--which means another long summer work day is over for one particular dark-haired teenager. Quark is currently sprawled out on a sofa in the otherwise empty recreation room, relaxing. And reading, of course. He has traded his Starbucks uniform in for a comfortable sleeping shirt and pajama pants, and has removed his contacts in favor of his glasses. He looks thoroughly happy, focused, and calm.
He will look so no longer. Or, perhaps he will, if he has great fortitude and emotional control. One cannot judge such things until the testing has been made. There are Scott's firm footsteps against the carpet, there are Scott's glasses set in red, there is Scott on the end of the sofa that is housing Quark's feet. "Are you busy, Quark?" is said in steady tone that is casual enough, but conveys little else.
Quark blinks, as if coming out of a trance. Aw, this is a really good part, too! He reaches over to the nearby table where his book mark is lying, places it to save his page, and sits up with a curious grin in Scott's direction before he replies. "No, Professor Summers. Just relaxing after a long day at work." He arches an eyebrow, giving Scott a quick look-over as if expecting to better understand why on earth he might be looking for him. "...Can I help you with something?"
"No. Not necessarily. I wondered if I might help you," Scott says, and no longer is the tone completely casual, for there is a layer of mild amusement to it. Scott's hands go behind his back like a drill sergeant and the glasses on his face tilt downward on his nose so that the eyes behind them are regarding Quark very directly. "I've heard, now and again, that you have an interest in being a hero, Quark."
Quark's eyebrows furrow into his forehead, corners of this mouth twitching into a hint of a frown. He ponders this for a moment, running it through his mind. A hero? Once, he was tempted with those delusions of grandeur; now, he hopes to believe that what he pursues is a more noble goal. There's a slight difference, at least. Slowly, he replies with a small shake of his head, "...Not necessarily a hero, per se." He raises his chin, a hint of defiant confidence in his tone. "Now, I just want to protect the ones I love."
A slight quirk to the side of Scott's lip. "You'll find they're one and the same in most instances." Scott folds himself into the seat next to Quark. It is almost fatherly. Never mind that the man is 26 and somewhat more like some distant mentor figure that shows up every once in a while than any kind of father. This is to change. The "show up once in a while" aspect, anyway. "When you say you want to protect your loved ones, Quark, what exactly do you mean?"
Quark can use any kind of fatherly figure in his life he can, no matter how absent. Even 'showing up once in a while' is a far step above being seperated by death. He pauses for another long moment, then replies in a quiet yet firm voice, "I mean that I am willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that the people I care about are never hurt again." He glances down, and then over at the blank TV, as if recalling that news cast he saw just the other day about the Brotherhood's newest dark act. In a tone that speaks of latent determination and strength, he continues, "Things have happened that made me realize I can't just sit back and let the world fly by. I can't let people like the Brotherhood harm the people I care about." His focused gaze swivels to Scott, hazel eyes trying to match his ruby intensity. "And if I have to fight to stop them, to do something about it, then I will." How more specific can he be?
In his mind, and with a certain dubiously self mocking, if private, air Scott takes out a mental clipboard and puts a solid check next to a pre-existing check . . . next to "Hero." Confirmed, Quark, you are among the few, the proud, the would-be proactive and potentially mighty and bad-guy whupping. Thank you, Superman, thank you, Batman, thank you . . . X-Men. Scott can make no judgement about such dreams. "How prepared do you feel to do that?" he asks, simply, the amusement giving way to the purely casual tone again.
Quark blinks again in partial surprise. What on earth is he getting at? Is there even a point to all this. At Scott's comment, Quark finds his eyes narrowing slightly, crossing his arms across his chest. His gaze intensifies, a mixture of cold determination and knife-sharp focus. If only Scott had normal vision, so glaring at him would be easier. Either way, the expression on his face speaks volumes of his answer. And just in case Scott doesn't catch that, he replies, "You already said that you've heard before how I want to be a hero. How more prepared could I be?"
Scott's tone goes down a notch, but it is almost as conciliatory as it is faintly warning. Scott's head tilts slightly to again bring Quark into better focus. "Quark, I am not in any way attacking or demeaning you. I am asking if you feel like the school has prepared you sufficiently. And I would help fix any deficiencies. I'm sorry that was not clear." Scott is immediately, again, privately, embarrassed at the lightness at the beginning of the conversation. Note. This does not go over well.
Quark wishes this conversation didn't feel like so much of a test; perhaps, then, he wouldn't seem so defensive. At Scott's tone and apology, his gaze visibly softens, and he shifts in his seat. A pause, and then he replies in a soft tone, "...Oh." A sheepish grin makes its way onto his face. "Classes went great for me. I've learned a lot of advanced things here about the sciences that have more than prepared me for further academic studying. Although, as I mentioned to Professor Xavier the other day, I was kind of disappointed by the fact that I didn't get a large amount of Danger Room time. Some of my teachers didn't necessarily believe that, with my academic talent and all, that I should pursue the further development of my powers," he finishes dryly.
"We can arrange more Danger Room time, Quark. This would not be a problem." Scott finds his footing on old and solid ground and determines to stay there. "Although I must insist on the balance between academics and power use. The first is more important. It is about you becoming you, rather than existing as a mutant power. The teachers who told you what they did were acting from experience, but you should have the opportunity to train based on your desires. I can help you with that."
Quark has become familiar with that lecture, himself. He nods knowingly, only a hint of a smirk on his face. "Trust me, I've always concerned myself with my academics. That's why I was one of the top of my class," he points out. "I just want to make sure that I develop the /entire/ me, and not just the normal human side. I have these gifts for a reason, and refusing to use them just wouldn't do myself justice. But the Professor did say that I should talk to you about it, so...thank you." He still doesn't fall into that sense of comfort like he did when he had his chat with Xavier, as he's hardly been around Scott in the last few years. And, perhaps he is still slightly worried that Scott isn't back to his normal self, yet. He hopes his forced neutrality doesn't show too much.
"I don't think anyone is asking you to ignore your gifts," Scott says, his own neutrality like a hat worn indoors, most hours of the day. Has been cultivated for years, this neutrality. He almost starts into a quiet lecture about perspective and teachers doing what they consider best and to keep this in mind, but residually ill as he feels, he decides to stop meandering as much as a Scott meanders. One remembers that one has not been around much and one should deal as lightly (but not too light! Balance) as possible. Transitions. Cultivate student/teacher relationships. Press onward. "You will be scheduled for the Danger Room. You will train with me sometimes. You will train with other teachers sometimes. But you will be scheduled."
Quark nods, duly noting that promise. And he will hold him to it, if he must. Although, Scott doesn't seem to be the kind to break those kind of promises--not those about his job. Because this is definitely treated like a part of his job, not a personal conversation. Biting his lower lip in thought for a brief moment, he replies inquisitively, "...Is this why you came to look for me, then? To see if I wanted more Danger Room time?" He studies Scott again, trying to read past that unflexible ruby gaze for a higher motive. Too bad he isn't a telepath. But then, if he was, he expects he would find no more than the systematic, mechanical workings that mirrored his personality. That, and Scott seems to have had enough trouble with telepaths lately as it is. Poor Scott. In a gentle tone, he asks in a (hopefully) non-prying way, "...How are you doing? The Professor said that these last few weeks have been...a bit rough for you." Simple enough, yet presented in an open-ended way that implies 'if you'd like to talk about it, that is.'
"Yes." Scott may not be literally wired and re-wired but, well, this is his job. (Neglected, neglected. Poor neglected job.) There are other teachers that act as confidants. Scott has this odd tendency to scare, upset, or otherwise discomfit or offend students when attempting such things. One cannot imagine why. And there is the edge of finality to this yes. Enough that Quark's question gets a low lift of the eyebrows. "There will be a briefing about any odd behavior I might have exhibited, Quark. You and the rest of the students will be privy to it." Scott stands up.Paige pages, "Having fun?" to you.
Quark mentally sighs. So, this is how it's going to be between them, then. It is unfortunate that, no matter how much effort Scott places in his job, he limits himself to that resigned neutrality. No, he won't explain it personally; he's going to have a 'briefing'. Granted, the news that Scott has been host to an oppressive telepathic entity probably deserves a briefing of that sort...but some kind of friendly response would've reassured him that he's back to himself. An arched eyebrow, and he replies, "Well...alright, then. If you say so. I won't pry." Yet. He blinks as Scott stands, perhaps getting ready to leave as suddenly as he had arrived. "Is that it, then? That's all you wanted to know?" Or is this some other kind of test? He idly wonders if Scott's about to blast him with his powers, to see if Quark really /is/ prepared for what's to come. Heh.
"Yes." Scott gives this even more weight of finality, as if more than slightly unnerved by the idea of having a conversation. What are these conversation things? He begins to walk away from the couch. "I will, of course, be in contact with you later," he says, in some uncomfortably stiff attempt to be ameliorating.
Quark pauses for a moment, then shrugs. Very well, then. "I'll see you later then," he offers with a friendly wave. "And I'll take on your Danger Room simulations anytime," he grins. Even if that is a bit more confident than he figures he is. "Until later, Professor Summers."
"Of course. Good evening, Quark," And Scott transfers himself out with slight speed. Only slight. Scheduling. There is much scheduling to be done.
(edit)Hah...figures it might help if I post the log, too. Right. Anyway, here is a scene in which Quark is thoroughly confused by Scott's motives for talking to him, and fails at trying to make Scott open up a bit around him. At least he gets more Danger Room time out of it.
Sometimes, I think I'm too nosey for my own good. Certainly, I used to bug Forge a bunch. Now I wonder if Scott's going to be the next victim of my incessant prying.
Why is it that I feel compelled to satiate my curiosity of other people's problems? I'm not a psychiatrist--why do I expect to think that I possess the uncanny ability to make everyone around me feel suddenly happy, feel better about themselves? I'm not even that good at it, really. So why do I pretend?
Alright, so I'm usually pretty good at sensing when other people are upset. And being (generally) optimistic can rub off on other people, at least for a while. I helped Alyssa calm down a few days ago about John--well, at least until the news of the jail break came on. And I seemed to have successfully consoled Paige over the whole Justin--Chrome--thing. Even if that didn't turn out the way I expected.
Paige. Good God...what am I doing? Or rather, what are you doing to me? Before Noren, I thought high school dating was pointless, that there's no way I would ever find someone mature enough to be beyond 'clingy' teenage drama. And then I kind of screwed that perfect relationship myself. So how is it that her leaving can shatter me in so many pieces, if it's my fault? Guilt? That makes sense. The same goes for Paige, I guess--she thought things with Justin were great. Too bad he's with the Brotherhood. As it is, I responed to her the way I did because I wanted to make her feel better. I didn't expect she'd turn to me like that. Not that I mind.
She probably feels a bit guilty for using me for her rebound relationship. And yet, I can't really complain...maybe I'm doing the same thing. Either way, we're going out now, officially. Even if no one else knows it, nor probably will for a while. Which makes the 'official' part ironically pointless.
After a brief interview with Scott, in which I confirmed that, yes, I want and am prepared to fight to protect the ones I love, he promised me some more Danger Room time. Things should be getting interesting, now, at least. I still didn't get the guts to ask about a student-based team thing, but...we'll worry about that some other day. Maybe I should run it by Logan, first, since I seem to know him a bit better. Scott seems very neutral, restrained. He has a sense of mechanical efficiency. Of course, with all the shit he's been through in the last year, I don't blame him. He's been hurt, just like so many of us, and recoil is one of the most logical responses to that.
...And there I go, trying to play the psychiatrist again. I think I need someone to slap me back into my normal sense. Or something.
I have a feeling this upcoming semester is going to become very, very interesting. Or miserable. I'm not quite sure which, yet. Guess I'll have to find out.
<< XS >> Recreation Room - Lv1
This, my friends, is a place for people to come and relax. Broad wide screen television in one area of the room with various other sofas and chairs around. Vivid walls of pale green and embossed gold wallpaper add a friendly air to this place. Tables, whether coffee or card, line the room, as well as an air-hockey table and fooze ball table for games. Closets support various items for fun, large bay windows give light to the room.
[Exits : [H]allway, [C]lassroom and [A]rboretum, and [G]reat [H]all ]
[Players : Scott ]
The evening is finally starting to set in--which means another long summer work day is over for one particular dark-haired teenager. Quark is currently sprawled out on a sofa in the otherwise empty recreation room, relaxing. And reading, of course. He has traded his Starbucks uniform in for a comfortable sleeping shirt and pajama pants, and has removed his contacts in favor of his glasses. He looks thoroughly happy, focused, and calm.
He will look so no longer. Or, perhaps he will, if he has great fortitude and emotional control. One cannot judge such things until the testing has been made. There are Scott's firm footsteps against the carpet, there are Scott's glasses set in red, there is Scott on the end of the sofa that is housing Quark's feet. "Are you busy, Quark?" is said in steady tone that is casual enough, but conveys little else.
Quark blinks, as if coming out of a trance. Aw, this is a really good part, too! He reaches over to the nearby table where his book mark is lying, places it to save his page, and sits up with a curious grin in Scott's direction before he replies. "No, Professor Summers. Just relaxing after a long day at work." He arches an eyebrow, giving Scott a quick look-over as if expecting to better understand why on earth he might be looking for him. "...Can I help you with something?"
"No. Not necessarily. I wondered if I might help you," Scott says, and no longer is the tone completely casual, for there is a layer of mild amusement to it. Scott's hands go behind his back like a drill sergeant and the glasses on his face tilt downward on his nose so that the eyes behind them are regarding Quark very directly. "I've heard, now and again, that you have an interest in being a hero, Quark."
Quark's eyebrows furrow into his forehead, corners of this mouth twitching into a hint of a frown. He ponders this for a moment, running it through his mind. A hero? Once, he was tempted with those delusions of grandeur; now, he hopes to believe that what he pursues is a more noble goal. There's a slight difference, at least. Slowly, he replies with a small shake of his head, "...Not necessarily a hero, per se." He raises his chin, a hint of defiant confidence in his tone. "Now, I just want to protect the ones I love."
A slight quirk to the side of Scott's lip. "You'll find they're one and the same in most instances." Scott folds himself into the seat next to Quark. It is almost fatherly. Never mind that the man is 26 and somewhat more like some distant mentor figure that shows up every once in a while than any kind of father. This is to change. The "show up once in a while" aspect, anyway. "When you say you want to protect your loved ones, Quark, what exactly do you mean?"
Quark can use any kind of fatherly figure in his life he can, no matter how absent. Even 'showing up once in a while' is a far step above being seperated by death. He pauses for another long moment, then replies in a quiet yet firm voice, "I mean that I am willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that the people I care about are never hurt again." He glances down, and then over at the blank TV, as if recalling that news cast he saw just the other day about the Brotherhood's newest dark act. In a tone that speaks of latent determination and strength, he continues, "Things have happened that made me realize I can't just sit back and let the world fly by. I can't let people like the Brotherhood harm the people I care about." His focused gaze swivels to Scott, hazel eyes trying to match his ruby intensity. "And if I have to fight to stop them, to do something about it, then I will." How more specific can he be?
In his mind, and with a certain dubiously self mocking, if private, air Scott takes out a mental clipboard and puts a solid check next to a pre-existing check . . . next to "Hero." Confirmed, Quark, you are among the few, the proud, the would-be proactive and potentially mighty and bad-guy whupping. Thank you, Superman, thank you, Batman, thank you . . . X-Men. Scott can make no judgement about such dreams. "How prepared do you feel to do that?" he asks, simply, the amusement giving way to the purely casual tone again.
Quark blinks again in partial surprise. What on earth is he getting at? Is there even a point to all this. At Scott's comment, Quark finds his eyes narrowing slightly, crossing his arms across his chest. His gaze intensifies, a mixture of cold determination and knife-sharp focus. If only Scott had normal vision, so glaring at him would be easier. Either way, the expression on his face speaks volumes of his answer. And just in case Scott doesn't catch that, he replies, "You already said that you've heard before how I want to be a hero. How more prepared could I be?"
Scott's tone goes down a notch, but it is almost as conciliatory as it is faintly warning. Scott's head tilts slightly to again bring Quark into better focus. "Quark, I am not in any way attacking or demeaning you. I am asking if you feel like the school has prepared you sufficiently. And I would help fix any deficiencies. I'm sorry that was not clear." Scott is immediately, again, privately, embarrassed at the lightness at the beginning of the conversation. Note. This does not go over well.
Quark wishes this conversation didn't feel like so much of a test; perhaps, then, he wouldn't seem so defensive. At Scott's tone and apology, his gaze visibly softens, and he shifts in his seat. A pause, and then he replies in a soft tone, "...Oh." A sheepish grin makes its way onto his face. "Classes went great for me. I've learned a lot of advanced things here about the sciences that have more than prepared me for further academic studying. Although, as I mentioned to Professor Xavier the other day, I was kind of disappointed by the fact that I didn't get a large amount of Danger Room time. Some of my teachers didn't necessarily believe that, with my academic talent and all, that I should pursue the further development of my powers," he finishes dryly.
"We can arrange more Danger Room time, Quark. This would not be a problem." Scott finds his footing on old and solid ground and determines to stay there. "Although I must insist on the balance between academics and power use. The first is more important. It is about you becoming you, rather than existing as a mutant power. The teachers who told you what they did were acting from experience, but you should have the opportunity to train based on your desires. I can help you with that."
Quark has become familiar with that lecture, himself. He nods knowingly, only a hint of a smirk on his face. "Trust me, I've always concerned myself with my academics. That's why I was one of the top of my class," he points out. "I just want to make sure that I develop the /entire/ me, and not just the normal human side. I have these gifts for a reason, and refusing to use them just wouldn't do myself justice. But the Professor did say that I should talk to you about it, so...thank you." He still doesn't fall into that sense of comfort like he did when he had his chat with Xavier, as he's hardly been around Scott in the last few years. And, perhaps he is still slightly worried that Scott isn't back to his normal self, yet. He hopes his forced neutrality doesn't show too much.
"I don't think anyone is asking you to ignore your gifts," Scott says, his own neutrality like a hat worn indoors, most hours of the day. Has been cultivated for years, this neutrality. He almost starts into a quiet lecture about perspective and teachers doing what they consider best and to keep this in mind, but residually ill as he feels, he decides to stop meandering as much as a Scott meanders. One remembers that one has not been around much and one should deal as lightly (but not too light! Balance) as possible. Transitions. Cultivate student/teacher relationships. Press onward. "You will be scheduled for the Danger Room. You will train with me sometimes. You will train with other teachers sometimes. But you will be scheduled."
Quark nods, duly noting that promise. And he will hold him to it, if he must. Although, Scott doesn't seem to be the kind to break those kind of promises--not those about his job. Because this is definitely treated like a part of his job, not a personal conversation. Biting his lower lip in thought for a brief moment, he replies inquisitively, "...Is this why you came to look for me, then? To see if I wanted more Danger Room time?" He studies Scott again, trying to read past that unflexible ruby gaze for a higher motive. Too bad he isn't a telepath. But then, if he was, he expects he would find no more than the systematic, mechanical workings that mirrored his personality. That, and Scott seems to have had enough trouble with telepaths lately as it is. Poor Scott. In a gentle tone, he asks in a (hopefully) non-prying way, "...How are you doing? The Professor said that these last few weeks have been...a bit rough for you." Simple enough, yet presented in an open-ended way that implies 'if you'd like to talk about it, that is.'
"Yes." Scott may not be literally wired and re-wired but, well, this is his job. (Neglected, neglected. Poor neglected job.) There are other teachers that act as confidants. Scott has this odd tendency to scare, upset, or otherwise discomfit or offend students when attempting such things. One cannot imagine why. And there is the edge of finality to this yes. Enough that Quark's question gets a low lift of the eyebrows. "There will be a briefing about any odd behavior I might have exhibited, Quark. You and the rest of the students will be privy to it." Scott stands up.Paige pages, "Having fun?" to you.
Quark mentally sighs. So, this is how it's going to be between them, then. It is unfortunate that, no matter how much effort Scott places in his job, he limits himself to that resigned neutrality. No, he won't explain it personally; he's going to have a 'briefing'. Granted, the news that Scott has been host to an oppressive telepathic entity probably deserves a briefing of that sort...but some kind of friendly response would've reassured him that he's back to himself. An arched eyebrow, and he replies, "Well...alright, then. If you say so. I won't pry." Yet. He blinks as Scott stands, perhaps getting ready to leave as suddenly as he had arrived. "Is that it, then? That's all you wanted to know?" Or is this some other kind of test? He idly wonders if Scott's about to blast him with his powers, to see if Quark really /is/ prepared for what's to come. Heh.
"Yes." Scott gives this even more weight of finality, as if more than slightly unnerved by the idea of having a conversation. What are these conversation things? He begins to walk away from the couch. "I will, of course, be in contact with you later," he says, in some uncomfortably stiff attempt to be ameliorating.
Quark pauses for a moment, then shrugs. Very well, then. "I'll see you later then," he offers with a friendly wave. "And I'll take on your Danger Room simulations anytime," he grins. Even if that is a bit more confident than he figures he is. "Until later, Professor Summers."
"Of course. Good evening, Quark," And Scott transfers himself out with slight speed. Only slight. Scheduling. There is much scheduling to be done.
(edit)Hah...figures it might help if I post the log, too. Right. Anyway, here is a scene in which Quark is thoroughly confused by Scott's motives for talking to him, and fails at trying to make Scott open up a bit around him. At least he gets more Danger Room time out of it.