Scott Summers (seesred) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2013-03-22 22:14:00 |
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The diner had served a similar purpose when Jean first arrived. It was quiet, outside of the tower, and the corner booth provided enough privacy that there wasn’t any worries about people overhearing personal information. It also allowed her some version of normalcy. Dinner with her boyfriend at a diner was normal. What they would likely talk about wasn’t, but Jean was a look at the bright side type as much as she could be. Taking a sip of soda, she smiled half-heartedly around the rim. “Do me a favor and don’t just push your food around your plate, okay?” Jean was remembering the breakfast with his alternate, so the joke was likely lost on her Scott. “They have great food and it’s a waste,” she amended. Bringing up what was really on her mind, why they’d gotten out of the telepath-heavy tower at that, was harder than making small talk. How was she supposed to ask the man she loves how he feels about finding out any version of himself killed his mentor? It wasn’t natural, and Jean faltered, taking another absent-minded sip as she mulled over how to broach the subject. Scott turned his attention up from an uncooperative ketchup bottle, brows lifted so they were raised over his ruby-colored glasses. There was a brief moment spent wondering where the request came from, but he had enough of an idea, and his return was a short smile and a shake of his head. “Food art’s out of the question? I can live with that.” After the ketchup finally loosed from the bottle in a ridiculous avalanche, half atop a pile of fries, Scott could only sigh and replace the cap. “He’s a lot more sullen, isn’t he? I never thought I’d meet someone more straight-laced, but I have. And it’s myself.” He turned his plate around, nodding towards the obnoxious puddle of ketchup, just in case Jean wanted to use some, as opposed to dealing with the bottle herself. Jean covered her quietly laughing mouth with a hand as she watched the ketchup bottle turn on him. Reaching out to grab her spoon, she relieved his plate of some ketchup and smiled. “It does seem that way. I’m not sure Emma is the best influe--” Jean frown at where that absent-minded thought had lead. She hadn’t set out to insult Emma or judge their relationship, and she didn’t care to be that kind of person. Grimacing, she set her spoon down and huffed out a breath. “Scratch that thought. What I really meant to say is that, from what I’ve heard, he’s been through a lot more awful things. And...” The pertinent subject matter was looming, so Jean swallowed her hesitance and barrelled on. “...And apparently he still has more to look forward to.” A small smile tugged at Scott’s lips for a second at Jean’s near slip with Emma’s name. It wasn’t as if there was any love lost between the two of them and an alternate reality version of a woman they never met. It also wasn’t as if the thought hadn’t seized that Emma was, for lack of better word, difficult in personality. But the mild upturn of Scott’s mouth smoothed out with the continued remarks. He prodded a french fry into the remaining pool of ketchup and idly stared at it. “I saw that comment. I didn’t dig, but... not sure anyone’s about to tell us what exactly happened there.” He was prodding his food around. There was a mental push to make himself take a bite, but not before he added, “I’ve been mind-controlled before.” It was almost as if a half-hearted excuse, maybe for himself as much as the other Scott. Jean lifted an eyebrow at him for fiddling with his food but the last sentence earned a sympathetic smile. Reaching over to put her hand over the one he was using to eat, she glanced around to make sure the privacy the diner afforded was still intact before speaking. Reassured, she turned that grim smile back on him and lowered her voice slightly. “I know. Look, I talked to Alex. The older one that just showed up. I know I probably should have asked you first or let you do it, but I wanted to see how bad it was before anyone said anything else.” Jean paused to collect her thoughts and let go of his hand to reach for her soda once more. “He gave me a general idea of what happened. Not a lot of detail, but it’s enough. Would you prefer I kept it to myself or...?” At least they were in the back of the diner in a booth. At least they weren’t in the Tower. No one watching, no one listening in. Still, Scott set his mouth in a careful line as he considered Jean’s words almost as much as he was focused on her hand over his, right up until she pulled back. “No, I’m listening. I want to understand this. Doesn’t exactly help to bury my head because I don’t like what I’m hearing.” He looked up to Jean, leaving his food alone for the moment. “What happened in their world?” “Okay. I just wanted to be sure.” Jean tried for a reassuring smile, and it only fell a little flat. She was clinging a little hard to the possibility that the Phoenix Force didn’t really exist in their world. That only her own power was a danger, and with her death, not even that. But if this place had proven anything, it was that nothing was really impossible. Straightening in her booth, she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and kept her voice at a carefully quiet level. “Apparently, the Phoenix Force is this cosmic being. Not something just tied to me. And it split itself between a few people, you included.” Taking a pause, she dipped a fry in some ketchup and ate it, but the effort was distracted. “I guess things got ugly after that. Alex would only say that power is corrupting, and that when one of the individuals...died, their power was split between those that remained. Eventually, y--Scott was convinced he was godlike and...killed the Professor. I didn’t ask for more details. It seemed inconsiderate to force him to talk about it when it only just happened in his world.” Scott leaned in, even though the general murmur within the diner would stop even the next booth over from hearing them. He’d bowed his head, as if to listen more intently, but kept Jean in his view. “Cosmic being?” It was easier to sink a hold around than the rest. The idea that even the other Scott was led down a destructive, murderous path, by his will or not, seemed so lacking in sense that he didn’t try to unfold it yet. “As in you have this other something in you right now? I’m not getting -- I thought the Xavier here was helping?” Jean grimaced as he zeroed in on the fear that often crept up on her when she least expected it. She tried to shake her head, but the motion turned into a half-hearted shrug mid-denial. “I don’t know. I want to say no. That it’s different there. But...there were times when the blocks were coming apart that I could sense--I don’t know, something dark. Something I couldn’t control, lurking inside of me.” Sighing, she forced herself to take a bite of her hamburger and kept her gaze looked on the placemat beneath her plate. “Anyway, Xavier has helped. If it is something in me, it shouldn’t be a problem here.” Shouldn’t was the key word, obviously, but Jean was fairly confident she was in control. “I don’t know if losing their Jean played a part in what happened or not.” There was trust in what Jean was saying, and she never had to ask for it. Scott gave a nod, even as the words sank in. At least they weren’t going into this blind, and if Jean hadn’t lost control yet, then he had faith in her abilities. In her, it went without saying. “Just as long as you’re not going anywhere on me,” he returned. Losing her once had been a personal hell -- he wasn’t about to start thinking about that again. “If you feel anything changing, we’ll flip this place upside down and get someone who can help. It’s not getting you, and it’s not getting me.” She managed a more genuine smile at his conviction and reached across the table to grip his forearm supportively. “Sounds like a good plan to me. I’m not worried.” While that wasn’t entirely true, she said it with as much determination as she could muster. If he was going to focus on this aspect of what she’d told him, Jean wasn’t going to stop him. The rest was the distant worry of a future that probably wouldn’t happen to him but, as much as she was holding on to that, she couldn’t ignore it completely. “But...if you do notice anything off, say something. Do something. Talk to Xavier, the others, whatever you need to do. With or without my consent,” Jean insisted, tightening her grip on his arm momentarily. “I want to trust that none of this is any of our concern, but blind trust is too risky. Eventually...I may ask for more details. For now, caution should suffice.” He slipped his other hand over Jean’s, once again pulling up a small smile as he looked across the short gap the table between them created. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” An impossible promise, but not because he wouldn’t do everything in his power to make sure of it. Especially not if this cosmic force could potentially seek him out one day. Scott pushed the thought aside, though. Maybe Jean would sense it, but she knew his habits. She knew how he worked. “And next time you ask for details, maybe we can get those answers together,” he added, sights returning to his dinner, which was getting cold fast. Jean flashed a smile and followed his lead in turning her attention back to her food. Scott had always been good at making bold promises that she wanted to believe. It was probably what made him such a good leader. All that determination and faith on the outside, when she knew he couldn’t possibly always carry it on the inside. “Absolutely. Now what do you say we set aside all this grim talk and try to enjoy this makeshift date? Maybe when we’re done here, we can go see a movie. That’s the kind of thing normal couples do, right? Maybe I’ll even let you get to second base later,” she teased, tossing him an off-kilter smirk as she took a bite. There was an almost affirming nod as Scott retracted his hands, reluctantly straightening back up against the booth’s cushion. It was a closed matter for now -- more than that, this was a second chance with Jean. It made it easier to follow her lighter turn of conversation. She’d always made it easier for him, but this time... Well, this time might be borrowed. “You know, I think you told me that same thing about seven years ago.” He reached for his hamburger, and then paused to add one more thing. “Just... no singing Logan look-alikes this time. That’s all I’m asking.” Covering her chewing mouth, Jean stifled a laugh. She knew she had a tendency to roll with the punches and drag him along with her, and she appreciated his willingness to take the joke and run with it, despite the seriousness of the conversation that preceded it. “I think you’re right,” she smirked, before pretending to think on his request for a long quiet moment. Eventually, Jean gave him a regal nod. “Those are acceptable terms. Who knows? Throw in a smile and I might just let you pick altogether.” |