| While you're sleeping... |
[07 Feb 2008|05:44pm] |
Actually, it was more while you're at work. So sometime between the hours of 9 in the morning and 5 in the afternoon, Jubilee sneaked around to Shiro's room on the second floor, distributing the objects she had bought the previous day, about 20 in all. She even dangled one from the door frame, so that when her friend opened the door, he would be met with the sight of ( this )
Some people might say that she needed to grow up, but she'd argue that she was grown up, she just tended to relapse every once in a while.
[Closed]
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| Sometimes I find myself a little uncomfortable [Jean] |
[07 Feb 2008|09:38pm] |
Hank knocked on the door of the med labs. His hair was especially ruffled today and his shirt needed ironing in addition to being untucked from his slacks. About 40 minutes earlier he'd fallen asleep at his desk. Thankfully he lacked the imprint of computer keys on his face.
"Uh, Jean..?"
Hank cleared his throat and entered the room. It closed behind him with a lock, which flooded Hank with memories of the school's security detail and floor plans. The logistics then brought up a working directory of known contact information for everyone on the team. Hank wondered somedays if maybe he was a security risk. That would be left to stress about for another day.
"...you here?"
Hank shoved his hands into the front pockets of his slacks. He whistled to fill the momentary silence.
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[07 Feb 2008|11:25pm] |
"Nothing's changed, Scott," Moira McTaggert said, running her hands across the controls that ran the large scanner in the small medical area located beneath the mansion. "It's the same diagnosis: degeneration of the cells around the thalamus and scarring on the hindbrain, but instead of seizures you're –"
"Broken," Scott finished for the older woman as he sat up on the scratchy white sheets laid over the table.
"Your medical vocabulary has increased tenfold. Your fiancée must be so proud." She walked past, giving Scott a pat on the shoulder as she did. "Broken isn't quite the term I'd use. I was going to say that instead of seizures your brain has reacted to the scarring by essentially not allowing your mutation to develop the way it was supposed to. Not to mention with how early you manifested, it's no surprise that things didn't do what they were supposed to."
"'Things?'" Scott repeated. He slipped down from the bed and took his shirt from the counter. "Your vocabulary astounds."
"'Things'. I wouldn't want to bore you with the details. Button up before you catch a cold." Moira tapped his shoulder again as she crossed the room yet again, going back to look at the computer screen which connected with the machine. She stared at the screen again before nodded her head. "Mmhmm. It's the scarring. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'd be thanking God, if I were you, that you had the mutation to counteract the seizures."
He didn't look at her at first, still concentrating on finishing off the buttons on his shirt. It had been embarrassing enough, being shirtless in front of Moira to begin with. He disliked visits to the doctor in general, and especially hated full physicals. He was pretty sure that he was one of the few people whose full physicals involved CAT scans.
Scott did like Moira –he'd known her since the age of eleven– he just wished that he didn't only have to see her when it came time for poking and prodding. "How long are you staying this time?" He finally looked up, scratching his hair in a very dog-like manner.
"Don't worry. Jean's going to get her lab back," Moira teased, still looking up at the screen. "I won't be staying very long. I'm presenting to a group in DC later this week and I should be back on Muir by next Saturday. Shoes too, Scott."
Sometimes she still treated him like he was eleven. "I meant, how long are you staying here?" he asked, avoiding her gaze has he reached for socks. "I heard about the conference – it's a big deal. Congratulations."
"Thank you, dear." Moira passed him a smile before bringing her fingers to her lips and staring once more at the computer. "I'll just print these for Jean and she can have a look before she sticks them in your file, alright?"
Scott nodded, hiding a smirk. "If I said 'no, hide them from her', she'd load her gun with silver bullets."
"It would take much less than a silver bullet," she said quite seriously, pursing her lips and very nearly glaring at him. "Please remember that? I'm leaving the printouts in her office on her desk. Let her know they're there."
"Yes ma'am. I'll tell her." And then he stopped once her glare turned a bit harsher and he realized he was close to annoying her. Scott smiled, though perhaps the charming affect was dulled slightly by the fact that he was once again scratching at the hair around his temples. "What are you presenting?"
Moira hit the print button and almost instantly the whirring sounds of a printer started from somewhere underneath a desk. Moira's heels clacked across the floor as she went over to meet the scans as they came out. "The usual sort; genetics. I'm presenting new research on possible therapeutic treatments for – well, it's a rather long explanation. It's just new research." She turned around to look at him and give him what was perhaps a kinder look than the glare she'd been giving him before. "Go on. Get out of here. I'm going to clean up and give Jean back her rooms. I'll see you for dinner with Charles."
Scott had almost forgotten about their dinner tonight, to be honest, and it probably for the best that Moira had reminded him before Jean had been forced to ten minutes beforehand. He smiled at her in thanks, though she might not have known it and looked back down at his shirt. His fingers started playing at the buttons on his shirt again. "I'll see you at dinner."
"Mmhmm– Scott, I told you to button up."
There was nothing left for Moira to do on that front, for even before she'd finished speaking Scott had removed his shirt and kicked off his shoes. The painful transformation was through quickly and Scott was a few feet closer to the ground than he had been. He purposely rubbed his snout up against Moira's leg on his way out of the room. His claws clacked across the sterile, white, tile floor on his way out of the door and echoed on the stairs up from the basement.
He was thinking a run would be nice
[Open w/Scott- Xavier's People]
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