10/9/06 - Cassy
---
=XS= Kitchen - Lv 1 - Xavier's School
A relic of Victorian times, this kitchen is vast, with more than one oven and several stainless steel work surfaces taking the space once claimed by coal hoppers, cooking hearths and cast-iron stoves. Walls still done in period plaster and tile, and the floor still the original fieldstone, fluorescent lights have been installed overhead to bring the lighting up to modern level. At meal times, kitchen workers scurry to and fro with pans and food and various other sundry items, under the watchful eye of the aging head cook, but once past, order is restored, with copper-bottomed pans hanging above the kitchen island, and a tray of cold snacks left out for foraging students and staff alike. Folding wood doors screen off a pantry capable of holding food for an large household's weekly meals -- or three days' worth of teenager food.
Though lunch has come and gone, and the Xavier School cook has passed her cleansing hand over the kitchen (counters gleam; appliances stand rigidly in their places) there is, in one part of the large room at least, a Mess. Personified by Charles Xavier, crumbs collect in the gleaming circle of a plate, itself settled on the tidy expanse of a large table. The Professor eats a sandwich, and an unexciting one at that; he works through it with determined dignity, eyes fixed blankly on the middle air.
Dancing her way into the room with energetic leaps and bounds, Cassy advances towards the refrigerator. The teenage red head has a cd player blasting away and her singing fills the room several moments before she even reaches the door. "Our ambition got cast aside, Thrown away when the batteries died, And you'll start to compromise, Just to get to the other side!"
The singing sharpens Xavier's attention, pulling it from the distractions of the inner world to the clamor of the outer. If he winces, bracing himself for imminent encounter, there are no witnesses to betray him: the strong face is tranquil enough when the girl arrives, gaze turned in pleasant inquiry over the curve of his teacup. The polished head inclines to welcome. "Good afternoon, Cassy."
Cassy does a sideways bound, then freezes in place. "I haven't done anything wrong," she declares earnestly. "And also, hello!" One of the earphones is pulled loose, still blasting out music at full volume. "I have a most serious concern I need to speak to you about," she adds solemnly.
It is an appropriate moment for the expression of rue that crosses Xavier's face, and so he makes no attempt to hide it, though amusement and attentive interest are swift to chase it down. "Indeed?" he asks with noncommital courtesy. The sandwich, nearly finished, is returned to its plate; the long, graceful fingers disappear into the folds of a napkin. "Of a most serious concern?"
"Namely that Walter is an idiot," Cassy replies with utmost seriousness. "He seems to think just because he's got a mutant gift that he should act like a hero, I'm worried it'll get him or someone else killed." The dancing renews as she advances on the refrigerator again, finally reaching it and peeking inside. "Which isn't a major thing I guess, except Nisa is my friend and it'd make her sad for a bit and yah know how she's already a bit loopy and stuff."
"Ah," says Xavier, adding with a delicacy that tactfully bypasses Nisa's mental capacity, "perhaps -- 'imprudent zeal' is a better way of describing his enthusiasm. I understand. It is understandable," he notes, rediscovering his fingers to reclaim his teacup. Its steam fuzzes around the grave features, wreathing his skull in Delphic smoke. "Times being what they are. The desire to help others is a commendable trait, when accompanied by intelligence."
"And that's where we hit our first hurdle," Cassy adds helpfully as she pilfers a carton of mango and apple juice, then heads in search of a cup of some sorts. "I mean, I seriously worry that we'll end up with school funerals or something. Which would suck, yah know?"
Professor Xavier's eyes twinkle through the rising spiral of steam. "One way of describing it," he commends gravely. "It would, indeed, 'suck.' Do you have any suggestions for heading off such an eventuality?"
Cassy digs around in a cabinet, then pulls out a large soup bowl. Which is promptly filled with juice. "Lock all the boys in cages, that stops them getting out into the city to cause trouble," she suggests as she puts the carton back. "Or you could put some kind of medication in their food?"
"Both interesting suggestions," the Professor observes without congratulations, looking on with quiet fascination. He settles back in his chair, elbows resting on the wheelchair's padded arms so fingertips can cradle the shell of his cup. "However, they border on the -- shall we say, 'illegal' side? Have you any other suggestions that might not infringe on their basic human rights?"
"It wouldn't be illegal if Doctor Grey prescribed them drugs!" Cassy says with an impish grin. "And I guess electro shock therapy is out huh?" The bowl is lifted and juice drained, in a surprisingly graceful manner - all things considered. "How about you show them video's and stuff, which'll show them why it'd be bad? Like maybe a talk from a police officer about how dangerous it is for have a go hero's?"
The corner of Xavier's mouth does not curl up; nor do those solemn hazel eyes, so changeable with weather and attire, reflect the smile that warms the rich baritone. "A notion," he grants, "and one that is certainly achievable, once the current situation has resolved itself. And what of you, Miss Villeneuve? Have you no inclinations towards heroism?"
Balancing juice bowl on one hand and twirling the headphone cord around the fingers of her other hand, Cassy frowns thoughtfully. "Which situation? The one with the black out, or the whole 'our President is a big dumb doody head' thing?" she asks curiously.
Xavier's lips twitch. "I suspect that the former is far more likely to resolve itself in the near future than the latter," he advises with the solemnity of a man who has processed -- and chosen to reject forever -- the addition of the phrase 'doody head' to his vocabulary. "The President's role in things to come will, I suspect, be resolved in times to come."
"Do you think we should do a school canned food drive for former students?" Cassy asks with a smile. "I found a whole bunch of massive tins of creamed corn in this out the way cabinet, I bet Rogue and Jubilee would totally appreciate them."
"Heroism?" Xavier wonders, and there again is the reclusive twinkle, the smile that lurks just beyond expression. The tea lowers to his lap. "Or have our alumni offended you in some fashion?"
Cassy waves her hand dismissively, almost spilling juice all over in the process. "Well, I don't think most of them can cook more than tinned soup," she explains seriously. "Especially not like Jubilee or Bobby, I wouldn't dare eat /toast/ they'd made. Let alone anything else."
Xavier's gaze follows the juice bowl. "I imagine it would be a risky venture," he murmurs. "Shall we add a class to the curriculum? 'Survival in the real world, 101'? Classes to cover the basic necessities of budgeting, utilities, cooking, and housekeeping?"
"Sounds good, except I don't need it 'coz I was always doing that sort of thing back home," Cassy replies with a sullen sigh, before taking a slurp of her juice. "You could have it as the follow up to 'Basic survival instinct 101'!"
"An instinct for survival is not, unfortunately, something that can be truly taught," Xavier observes with a touch of grimness in the pleasant voice, England's timbres giving way to more continental directness. The chime of porcelain on porcelain sounds over the tip of the teapot; the Professor takes up a spoon to stir his tea. "The skills for those who are interested, we can provide. Sadly, this has not been our greatest bar, in my experience."
"Oh well," Cassy says with a sigh. "Maybe a school trip to a morgue might be an idea? That would /totally/ scare some sense into people!" < < Plus it'd be like totally funny > > With one last swig the teenage red head finishes off her drink and bounds towards the sink. "I bet they have those outside of the blackout zone."
"Fear is not my teaching tool of choice," Xavier says dryly, patiently shepherding wayward crumbs into the palm of his hand so they can be dispensed with atop his sandwich. "And you must remember, Cassy, that what your classmates experience, you must as well. It is not 'you' versus 'them.' It is, now as ever, 'us, united.'"
Cassy grins impishly. "But forewarned is forearmed! So I'd be like totally ok with it," she informs sagely. "Besides it's not fear, it's enlightenment. Fear would be letting Professor Logan chase them around the woods at night with a chainsaw." She blinks a few times. "Now /that/ sounds like a cool idea!"
Xavier smiles briefly, the expression warming the carved, stern features. "You do not think a chainsaw might be somewhat redundant, given the man involved?"
"Professor Logan doesn't make a loud whirring noise," Cassy proclaims. "At least not anytime I've heard, so you'd never hear him coming and thus it'd make the chase a lot less terrifying."
"Ah," says Xavier, and lifts his brows in wry acknowledgment. "The movie generation. At my age, I have learned that the things one cannot hear coming are the things to fear. Speaking of which -- have you laid plans for Halloween this year, my child? Plans that figures of authority should be aware of?"
Cassy shakes her head. "Well I kinda did, but I couldn't get hold of a Zeppelin at such short notice," she says with an unhappy pout. "I was going to fill it with bee's you see."
Age and experience have also taught Professor Xavier when the way of prudence is not to ask. "A less -- expensive alternative plan may be in order," he suggests, refolding his napkin across his lap. "Given the resource of the students at the mansion, I am certain you can produce something appropriate. And suitably safe."
"I don't know, the last time I tried to get people to help me buy a U-Boat for the lake it didn't go so well," Cassy advises sincerely. "Maybe we could have an all night ghost hunt? Would that be ok, we could totally investigate all the places where spooky things have happened. Like the infamous wailing women, unless that was just like Rogue in need of some sun."
Smile lines crinkle at the corners of the Professor's mouth, and he inclines his head. "I think that might be possible," he grants. "Given the abilities of the people on campus, I think it may even be possible to fabricate some ghosts, if not of the authentic type. A project to distract your classmates with?"
Cassy scratches her chin thoughtfully. "Ah, but to distract them from what?" she asks, deep in thought. "Hey I've got it, I just need to find an occult bookstore and pick up some things. Although it'd be helpful to know where the nearest consecrated ground is, just uhm in case."
"Research," Xavier says firmly, "does the mind good. You had best begin immediately. Halloween is fast approaching, and it requires some planning to carry off a suitably impressive experience for your guests. Perhaps some of your older classmates will have ideas?"
"You really think they've studied necromancy before? Like did I miss out on that course option?" Cassy asks hopefully. "As it'd be /way/ cool if you had something suitable in the library here."
Professor Xavier's sandwich is waiting. "It is an extensive library," he points out with duplicitous kindness. "No doubt there are a vast number of subjects represented there that are yet to be explored. I believe the catalog is up to date, if you care to explore it."
Cassy deposits her bowl in the sink, fills it with some water in a half hearted attempt at cleaning. Then with a giggle she begins skipping towards the library. "Zombies for me, zombies for you, zombies for everyone!" she sings eagerly. "Well, thanks for the suggestions. I shall leave you to your snack!"
Left behind in the kitchen, the aging Professor shakes his head over his tea and takes a soothing sip. It requires no mutant power for premonition to shake a man of years and experience by the nape. Charles Xavier closes his eyes and smiles.
[Log ends]
Xavier suffers. Martyr to the cause, that's our bald hero. Nobody knows the troubles he endures. (In other words: scene with Cassy. Hello, small and evil!)
=XS= Kitchen - Lv 1 - Xavier's School
A relic of Victorian times, this kitchen is vast, with more than one oven and several stainless steel work surfaces taking the space once claimed by coal hoppers, cooking hearths and cast-iron stoves. Walls still done in period plaster and tile, and the floor still the original fieldstone, fluorescent lights have been installed overhead to bring the lighting up to modern level. At meal times, kitchen workers scurry to and fro with pans and food and various other sundry items, under the watchful eye of the aging head cook, but once past, order is restored, with copper-bottomed pans hanging above the kitchen island, and a tray of cold snacks left out for foraging students and staff alike. Folding wood doors screen off a pantry capable of holding food for an large household's weekly meals -- or three days' worth of teenager food.
Though lunch has come and gone, and the Xavier School cook has passed her cleansing hand over the kitchen (counters gleam; appliances stand rigidly in their places) there is, in one part of the large room at least, a Mess. Personified by Charles Xavier, crumbs collect in the gleaming circle of a plate, itself settled on the tidy expanse of a large table. The Professor eats a sandwich, and an unexciting one at that; he works through it with determined dignity, eyes fixed blankly on the middle air.
Dancing her way into the room with energetic leaps and bounds, Cassy advances towards the refrigerator. The teenage red head has a cd player blasting away and her singing fills the room several moments before she even reaches the door. "Our ambition got cast aside, Thrown away when the batteries died, And you'll start to compromise, Just to get to the other side!"
The singing sharpens Xavier's attention, pulling it from the distractions of the inner world to the clamor of the outer. If he winces, bracing himself for imminent encounter, there are no witnesses to betray him: the strong face is tranquil enough when the girl arrives, gaze turned in pleasant inquiry over the curve of his teacup. The polished head inclines to welcome. "Good afternoon, Cassy."
Cassy does a sideways bound, then freezes in place. "I haven't done anything wrong," she declares earnestly. "And also, hello!" One of the earphones is pulled loose, still blasting out music at full volume. "I have a most serious concern I need to speak to you about," she adds solemnly.
It is an appropriate moment for the expression of rue that crosses Xavier's face, and so he makes no attempt to hide it, though amusement and attentive interest are swift to chase it down. "Indeed?" he asks with noncommital courtesy. The sandwich, nearly finished, is returned to its plate; the long, graceful fingers disappear into the folds of a napkin. "Of a most serious concern?"
"Namely that Walter is an idiot," Cassy replies with utmost seriousness. "He seems to think just because he's got a mutant gift that he should act like a hero, I'm worried it'll get him or someone else killed." The dancing renews as she advances on the refrigerator again, finally reaching it and peeking inside. "Which isn't a major thing I guess, except Nisa is my friend and it'd make her sad for a bit and yah know how she's already a bit loopy and stuff."
"Ah," says Xavier, adding with a delicacy that tactfully bypasses Nisa's mental capacity, "perhaps -- 'imprudent zeal' is a better way of describing his enthusiasm. I understand. It is understandable," he notes, rediscovering his fingers to reclaim his teacup. Its steam fuzzes around the grave features, wreathing his skull in Delphic smoke. "Times being what they are. The desire to help others is a commendable trait, when accompanied by intelligence."
"And that's where we hit our first hurdle," Cassy adds helpfully as she pilfers a carton of mango and apple juice, then heads in search of a cup of some sorts. "I mean, I seriously worry that we'll end up with school funerals or something. Which would suck, yah know?"
Professor Xavier's eyes twinkle through the rising spiral of steam. "One way of describing it," he commends gravely. "It would, indeed, 'suck.' Do you have any suggestions for heading off such an eventuality?"
Cassy digs around in a cabinet, then pulls out a large soup bowl. Which is promptly filled with juice. "Lock all the boys in cages, that stops them getting out into the city to cause trouble," she suggests as she puts the carton back. "Or you could put some kind of medication in their food?"
"Both interesting suggestions," the Professor observes without congratulations, looking on with quiet fascination. He settles back in his chair, elbows resting on the wheelchair's padded arms so fingertips can cradle the shell of his cup. "However, they border on the -- shall we say, 'illegal' side? Have you any other suggestions that might not infringe on their basic human rights?"
"It wouldn't be illegal if Doctor Grey prescribed them drugs!" Cassy says with an impish grin. "And I guess electro shock therapy is out huh?" The bowl is lifted and juice drained, in a surprisingly graceful manner - all things considered. "How about you show them video's and stuff, which'll show them why it'd be bad? Like maybe a talk from a police officer about how dangerous it is for have a go hero's?"
The corner of Xavier's mouth does not curl up; nor do those solemn hazel eyes, so changeable with weather and attire, reflect the smile that warms the rich baritone. "A notion," he grants, "and one that is certainly achievable, once the current situation has resolved itself. And what of you, Miss Villeneuve? Have you no inclinations towards heroism?"
Balancing juice bowl on one hand and twirling the headphone cord around the fingers of her other hand, Cassy frowns thoughtfully. "Which situation? The one with the black out, or the whole 'our President is a big dumb doody head' thing?" she asks curiously.
Xavier's lips twitch. "I suspect that the former is far more likely to resolve itself in the near future than the latter," he advises with the solemnity of a man who has processed -- and chosen to reject forever -- the addition of the phrase 'doody head' to his vocabulary. "The President's role in things to come will, I suspect, be resolved in times to come."
"Do you think we should do a school canned food drive for former students?" Cassy asks with a smile. "I found a whole bunch of massive tins of creamed corn in this out the way cabinet, I bet Rogue and Jubilee would totally appreciate them."
"Heroism?" Xavier wonders, and there again is the reclusive twinkle, the smile that lurks just beyond expression. The tea lowers to his lap. "Or have our alumni offended you in some fashion?"
Cassy waves her hand dismissively, almost spilling juice all over in the process. "Well, I don't think most of them can cook more than tinned soup," she explains seriously. "Especially not like Jubilee or Bobby, I wouldn't dare eat /toast/ they'd made. Let alone anything else."
Xavier's gaze follows the juice bowl. "I imagine it would be a risky venture," he murmurs. "Shall we add a class to the curriculum? 'Survival in the real world, 101'? Classes to cover the basic necessities of budgeting, utilities, cooking, and housekeeping?"
"Sounds good, except I don't need it 'coz I was always doing that sort of thing back home," Cassy replies with a sullen sigh, before taking a slurp of her juice. "You could have it as the follow up to 'Basic survival instinct 101'!"
"An instinct for survival is not, unfortunately, something that can be truly taught," Xavier observes with a touch of grimness in the pleasant voice, England's timbres giving way to more continental directness. The chime of porcelain on porcelain sounds over the tip of the teapot; the Professor takes up a spoon to stir his tea. "The skills for those who are interested, we can provide. Sadly, this has not been our greatest bar, in my experience."
"Oh well," Cassy says with a sigh. "Maybe a school trip to a morgue might be an idea? That would /totally/ scare some sense into people!" < < Plus it'd be like totally funny > > With one last swig the teenage red head finishes off her drink and bounds towards the sink. "I bet they have those outside of the blackout zone."
"Fear is not my teaching tool of choice," Xavier says dryly, patiently shepherding wayward crumbs into the palm of his hand so they can be dispensed with atop his sandwich. "And you must remember, Cassy, that what your classmates experience, you must as well. It is not 'you' versus 'them.' It is, now as ever, 'us, united.'"
Cassy grins impishly. "But forewarned is forearmed! So I'd be like totally ok with it," she informs sagely. "Besides it's not fear, it's enlightenment. Fear would be letting Professor Logan chase them around the woods at night with a chainsaw." She blinks a few times. "Now /that/ sounds like a cool idea!"
Xavier smiles briefly, the expression warming the carved, stern features. "You do not think a chainsaw might be somewhat redundant, given the man involved?"
"Professor Logan doesn't make a loud whirring noise," Cassy proclaims. "At least not anytime I've heard, so you'd never hear him coming and thus it'd make the chase a lot less terrifying."
"Ah," says Xavier, and lifts his brows in wry acknowledgment. "The movie generation. At my age, I have learned that the things one cannot hear coming are the things to fear. Speaking of which -- have you laid plans for Halloween this year, my child? Plans that figures of authority should be aware of?"
Cassy shakes her head. "Well I kinda did, but I couldn't get hold of a Zeppelin at such short notice," she says with an unhappy pout. "I was going to fill it with bee's you see."
Age and experience have also taught Professor Xavier when the way of prudence is not to ask. "A less -- expensive alternative plan may be in order," he suggests, refolding his napkin across his lap. "Given the resource of the students at the mansion, I am certain you can produce something appropriate. And suitably safe."
"I don't know, the last time I tried to get people to help me buy a U-Boat for the lake it didn't go so well," Cassy advises sincerely. "Maybe we could have an all night ghost hunt? Would that be ok, we could totally investigate all the places where spooky things have happened. Like the infamous wailing women, unless that was just like Rogue in need of some sun."
Smile lines crinkle at the corners of the Professor's mouth, and he inclines his head. "I think that might be possible," he grants. "Given the abilities of the people on campus, I think it may even be possible to fabricate some ghosts, if not of the authentic type. A project to distract your classmates with?"
Cassy scratches her chin thoughtfully. "Ah, but to distract them from what?" she asks, deep in thought. "Hey I've got it, I just need to find an occult bookstore and pick up some things. Although it'd be helpful to know where the nearest consecrated ground is, just uhm in case."
"Research," Xavier says firmly, "does the mind good. You had best begin immediately. Halloween is fast approaching, and it requires some planning to carry off a suitably impressive experience for your guests. Perhaps some of your older classmates will have ideas?"
"You really think they've studied necromancy before? Like did I miss out on that course option?" Cassy asks hopefully. "As it'd be /way/ cool if you had something suitable in the library here."
Professor Xavier's sandwich is waiting. "It is an extensive library," he points out with duplicitous kindness. "No doubt there are a vast number of subjects represented there that are yet to be explored. I believe the catalog is up to date, if you care to explore it."
Cassy deposits her bowl in the sink, fills it with some water in a half hearted attempt at cleaning. Then with a giggle she begins skipping towards the library. "Zombies for me, zombies for you, zombies for everyone!" she sings eagerly. "Well, thanks for the suggestions. I shall leave you to your snack!"
Left behind in the kitchen, the aging Professor shakes his head over his tea and takes a soothing sip. It requires no mutant power for premonition to shake a man of years and experience by the nape. Charles Xavier closes his eyes and smiles.
[Log ends]
Xavier suffers. Martyr to the cause, that's our bald hero. Nobody knows the troubles he endures. (In other words: scene with Cassy. Hello, small and evil!)