InsaneJournal

Who: Charles & Moira
What: Talk about the plans for Xavier's school remodel
When: As soon as Charles was released from medical observation (aka after this one)
Notes/Warnings: No warnings, but a potted plant alert!!



“I understand Jennifer, but I agree with you, I cannot allow my good name to be ruined in this fashion…. Yes, I expect you have several paralegals working on precedent as we speak, just keep me updated. Have you spoken to the contractor? The scope of the project has changed significantly, and I would like to assure they can complete the necessary repairs discreetly and quickly before we draw up a new contract.” He smiled at Moira as she walked into his apartment with two steaming teacups. “Yes, I know a sub-sub basement is unorthodox, but I will not be changing my specifications, so if he is not the contractor for us, then we’ll put it out for other bids.” Charles rolled up to the table in the temporary guest room Stark had arranged for him, admiring the foliage of the potted fern near the window. He appreciated the small details to make the room comfortable, but was anxious to get back to his own home, and the right contractor could make that happen much more quickly.

He ended the call with his lawyer and gestured to the seat across from him. “I know I wasn’t certain about finding new legal counsel when Steadman Rutherford retired, but Jennifer is probably the most tenacious human I have ever met. She has already filed several defamation lawsuits on my behalf and has been overseeing the repairs on the school in my absence. And has taken it upon herself to start a search for a new publicist, since she says mine was useless when the arrest happened. I was honestly expecting things to be far worse.”

Moira set the two mugs down on the table between the two chairs, “I do apologize, Charles, there isn’t a proper teapot in the place.” She sat down in the seat indicated and then continued, “Although, I believe the tea itself will do nicely until Alastair’s shipment arrives. Milk and one sugar, correct?”

She settled herself more comfortably in the chair, discreetly assessing the man who was, for the moment both friend and patient. Satisfied that he was progressing quite well, she relaxed and picked up her cup.

“She sounds like an excellent choice. Were you able to speak with the gentleman Alastair recommended?” Moira paused, realizing that they had spoken late into the prior evening about numerous people who would be needed to provide resources for the expanded program she and Charles envisioned. “The one with the lovely aeroplane?”

“Yes,” Charles took a sip and smiled. He was finally beginning to feel properly civilised again. “The SR-71 is a classic, but I think it can be properly overhauled for our purposes with the right technology. I also have a courier coming with my chair today, so that I can properly get around.”

Charles checked an item off the list in front of him. “I think we need to begin meeting with the other escapees from Genosha. I would like to start cataloguing and understanding the variety of phenotypes we are seeing. This may affect the needs of our security system. Also, I am concerned about psychological trauma, and how to build resilience.”

“I would agree it’s critical that we prioritize collecting data about both the physiological and psychological state of all of the Genosha survivors,” She took a sip of her tea, allowing the warmth of the cup to seep into the joints of her long fingers.

A few moments of companionable silence passed, before Moira spoke again, “Charles, I need to know. Was it Milbury?”

“I,” Charles paused, taking a sip, and counted his breaths. “I am not certain of anything. I had a very severe dissociative response to the man’s presence, so much so that testing was far less effective when he was in the room. It was as if all the meditation trainings, all the trauma work, evaporated when he was in my proximity. I just felt small.”

Charles set down his cup and stared at the lists he had been making. “The only reason I was able to escape was that they had decided that an underling needed to perform the testing to really push me to my limits. He seemed familiar though, I just couldn’t place it. It was as if he was the only person I couldn’t read. And it certainly seems to match up to his hypotheses nearly exactly.”

He tapped his pen against the notepad. “I would like to propose this to Stark as something of a safehouse and training center. I have a feeling our numbers will be growing more rapidly than this building can handle. The rest of our ideas…” He shook his head. He would like to get to know their hosts a little better before trusting them completely. “Let’s just start with ‘safehouse’.”

It still rankled Moira a bit that she had not known that Charles had been here when she set out from Heathrow. She couldn’t put her finger on why, but she also couldn’t deny that it made her edgy. “I think safehouse is an extremely good description, considering that no matter how confident a refugee or newly manifested person may feel in their ability to control their new,” Moira took another sip of tea before continuing, “....skills, the possibility of the slightest miscalculation could prove catastrophic, not only for the individual, but for the entire community.”

She noticed that Charles seemed a bit paler than he had seemed when she’d entered the room, but resisted the urge to ask him how he was feeling. Instead, she broached a subject that had been on her mind from the moment Charles had made it clear he intended to reopen the estate, albeit with a very different mission than it had had previously, “Shall I wait for you to invite me to assist in the administration and operation, or shall I show up on the front door like a fish wife shriekin’ and bangin’ on the door till ye let an old woman so as not to frighten the neighbors?”

“Moira, you know quite well that you’ve been a silent partner by your choice. But, if you’d rather shriek and bang on the door, I assure you that there are no neighbors in earshot.” Charles shuffled his papers around, pulling out a hand drawn schematic of what would clearly be a genetics lab and handed it to her across the table. “I believe the size is comparable to your space at home. I have placed it in the sub-basement for security purposes. Near the medical wing and training center.” Charles smiled, knowing that the lab he had requested in his updated renovation proposal was bigger than hers in Scotland. “I trust that you have preferred vendors for the equipment you need, so I didn’t bother to research those details.”

“I am also struggling to find a perimeter security system that I find sufficient to our purposes without endangering our students. I initially thought I would go with the heat seeking laser option, but if I know anything about young adults, I know that sneaking out and back in is a rite of passage, and we will have to find quite a medical staff to manage that many laser burns. I will have to ask Stark for a recommendation.”

Charles put down his pen, steepled his fingers and looked at his best friend. After their coursework with Dr. Milbury, he had inexplicably left his PhD in Genetics unfinished, that “ABD” the only tiny blight on his perfect academic record. “How is your other project coming? It is highly coincidental that they needed a specialist with your particular qualifications.”

Smiling at Charles’s affirmation of his intent for her to take a more active role in the administration of the school, Moira placed the teacup down on the table. It wasn’t unexpected, especially given the need for someone of her qualifications, but she preferred to be asked. It made things much more emotionally tidy. Moira’s singular experience with emotional dishevelment had been sufficient to last a lifetime.

“As to the current circumstances regarding Dr. Banner and Mr. Rogers, I asked Dr. Banner if he would be so kind as to stop by. Perhaps if the three of us put our heads together, we may be find if not a solution, at least a better understanding.”