Looking for a new flame (Pyro)

[Bobby Drake]

Well, whoever my mystery student is, it seems promptness isn’t one of their mutant abilities. Bob has been waiting in the Danger Room for several minutes for whoever-it-is to show, increasingly impatiently. And it’s not like I can start planning without knowing who it is.

Ororo had been pretty tightlipped about that… all she’d told him was she wanted him to work with one of the new arrivals on creative uses of their mutant ability. She’d seemed amused by the idea, a little, though Bob might have been imagining that. He’d also been surprised by the assignment – since when was he anybody’s power-coach? – but on second thought it made some sense… he’d worked on ways to use his own powers creatively more than a lot of students.

Of course, that was back when I had powers. He cuts that line of thought off fast, not wanting to descend back into self-pity… he’s had quite enough of that. Instead, he opens up a holoscreen and browses the simulation-elements database, checking for new elements configured since the last time he looked. No point in letting the time go to waste, after all.

Hm… Warren’s been a busy bee! Lots of new aerial-combat sim elements… heh, we might have to get Hank or one of the other heavy hitters to refactor the basic aerodynamics simulator. Makes sense, though, now that we have a bunch of fliers. What we have is good enough for plane-flight sim, but that's a whole different problem...

He gives a tight, involuntary smile at the updated Brotherhood database, with Pyro’s membership terminated, and pokes through Madrox’s tactical entries to make sure it jibes with what he actually did during his rescue… that whole one-man army stunt was more impressive than I’d expected, really…

His own entry, he realizes, hasn’t yet been updated to reflect his non-powered status… well, no better time than the present. He figures he’ll cross-reference it to the stored analysis of his recorded target-practice and martial-arts sessions, while he’s at it, since having his sim seem completely helpless just rankles.

He’s sufficiently engrossed by this that he doesn’t notice when the doors slide open.

[Pyro]

Storm, John’s realized, has a sick sense of humor, from the little things - starting this bloody debacle at some god-awful hour which means he has to crawl out of bed at an even more inhumane one in order to be semi-alive for it - to the big ones, like, erm...

… oh, that’s right. Making Bob his tutor/coach/whatever... which is why this has to be a sick, twisted joke rather than just the punishment he probably deserves. Because… shit, what the hell is this doing to Bob’s head? John has just long enough to remind himself he doesn’t care (because two can play at that game… seems Bob’s forgotten about not being Iceman any more) and attempt to come up with a plausible excuse for why he’s late beyond not wanting to be there (he had set out with plenty of time… but it’s funny what becomes important when you’d rather not get to the genuinely important stuff) before the door slides open and all that… evaporates.

He’s insanely grateful (again, because these random stabs of gratitude just keep hitting) that Rogue gave him that Zippo back on the first night out of med bay, because not only does having it in his palm help, obviously, the way it always does, but the way that hiding that requires him to bury his hands in his pockets looks comfortably reminiscent of the old nonchalant John, and for some reason projecting that whole refusal to care about anything is suddenly weirdly important. Instinct is, after all, pretty much all he has to go on here, without any clue as to where Bob’s coming from seeing as how he hasn’t mentioned anything about this… which isn’t a sign of anything, he reminds himself; he’s been busy with Rogue, Bob’s been stuck in Med Lab… yeah, it means nothing. And any awkwardness or, god forbid, nervousness (he's not nervous, dammit, this is... erm... excitement, or something. Neutral-excitement? Whatever) is down to this being the legendary Danger Room and his official first semi-outing as a good guy and everything... yeah.

He surprises himself with how well the casually indifferent thing works out, still more at the slight disdainful edge (which can’t really be there, can it? Nope. Obviously not. This is his neutral tone)… or at least, he would surprise himself if that didn’t contradict the persona. ”Hey… S’good to see you, erm, up… What’s the plan?”

[Pyro]

Bob turns around at John's arrival, a little surprised. "Hey, John... actually, I'm kinda busy. Have an appointment with one of the new -- oh. Um... that's you, isn't it." He flushes slightly with embarrassment at that not having been obvious, and tries not to let it show. In retrospect, he realizes he ought to have expected it… he'd been the one to initiate John's return, after all, and in Ororo's book that probably made him responsible for John, as if he were a puppy Bob'd brought home or something. Yeah. As if.

"Busy..?” Once John gets past the initial gut reaction – that Bob’s finding any excuse not to be trapped in the Danger Room with him (which, sure, kind of makes sense… and stings more than it should) – it’s… still not really comfortable but more believable. Ororo hasn’t told him. ”Yeah. That's me…. Didn't get the memo?"

Bob shakes his head. "Not really, no... 'ro just asked me to work with one of the new students on 'creative applications of their powers'. Didn't tell me who. Actually, I'd sorta thought it was gonna be Laurie." Which wasn't really true, except that Laurie was the only one of the new students he'd actually met and they'd talked some about how she might use her powers… Bob's not entirely sure why he mentioned her. After an awkward pause, he adds "But, um, OK... may as well get started, I guess?"

John half-laughs, though it’s more a half-cynical lapse in the ‘trying not to care’ than anything born of amusement… and something he shrugs off "Figures..” (because… yeah, it sort of does. Obviously telling Bob who his new student was going to be would be all sorts of bad, right? Whether because of bad blood or, erm, something else between them… neither combination was likely to meet with staff approval) ”Who's Lau" he starts, in something between an abortive attempt at normal conversation and a straight inquiry (and he hates himself for needing to ask who Laurie is, and by extension how Bob knows her and why it makes sense she should be here and… and a million other stupid pointless questions he has no right to ask any more) before Bob cuts him short.

"Right. Makes sense..." John pauses, shifts slightly, sort-of intending to make with the *getting started* but… yeah, no idea how any of this works. *Development* had always taken a back seat to *control* as far as his Institute training went and neither were of much interest next to just, well, burning stuff… so this whole thing, regardless of all the other inherent awkwardness, sort of has him… stumped, really. "So.. 'creative uses'... um, right”

[Pyro]

John's response brings a ghost of a smile to Bob's lips, though he's not sure he gets the joke. He forces it back and concentrates on business. " Um.. Right. So... well, you mostly just use it to burn stuff, right?"

The eye-roll and disparaging smirk snap into place as if some weird stupid-question-detecting autopilot has been activated. Because it is a stupid question, really, and the *just* is pretty insulting, as if what he’s been doing isn’t anything even remotely special, which is obviously bullshit…."No shit Sher..." … and it takes a second or two longer – just long enough to start on an equally stupid and catty response – for him to do a double-take and decide now, that’s not the best idea and yes, the floor really is very interesting, much more fascinating than making eye contact… nothing at all to do with any embarrassment or anything at the lapse into old territory. John shrugs, and takes a second stab at answering the question. "Yeah.. Point, click, burn."

Bob scowls… he's really had enough of John insulting him, really. " Right. Well, I'd sorta figured I'd spend the first session just kinda getting to know, um, establishing power parameters, " he's not sure why he's suddenly talking like a textbook, and it doesn't occur to him that he's unconsciously adopting a number of Scott's speech patterns from back when he used to run these sorts of sessions,

"…but I guess we can skip that stage. So, um... hm. Well... is there anything in particular you want to work on? I mean, there's the whole fire-starting thing... I know that's a real problem for you... and there's your whole semi-solid fire trick, which frankly I've never understood... or, y'know, we could work on range, or on other kinds of combustion... " Which, now that he thinks of it, is actually a brilliant idea. "Have you ever tried controlling anything besides flame? Like, I dunno, rust, or just turning things to ash directly, or stuff like that?"

It’s starting to feel like maybe he should get a scorecard or something, because Bob’s really sticking the knives in (and hell, he knows exactly where to stick them, doesn’t he?). The comment about *fire starting* of course provokes a brief scowl – because okay, that is a problem, fine – and sparks some comment John luckily this time manages to catch and bite back as the glower is replaced by something nearer bemusement, most of what Bobby’s saying of course going straight over his head (though whether that’s because he doesn’t understand, or because of the tone which for some reason just makes concentrating difficult (almost reminiscent of Scooter’s *lessons*, or what little he can remember of the maybe-three-ish which he didn’t totally cut…) is up for debate) "Point, click, burn. That's how it works. What the hell are you on about? Cos I'm sort of missing where this bears any relation to... anything."

[Pyro]

Bob sighs. Under other circumstances he'd be irritated, but, well, that's John. Dense as a brick whenever it suits his purposes. But it's too good an idea to let him brush off like that. "Well, it's all oxidation, right? Least I think that's right. Fire, rust, that sort of thing. And you don't just burn stuff, you control flame, right?" That should work… appeal to his ego, get his not-inconsiderable smarts engaged.

…. Bob’s lost it, John decides. "Why would anyone want to control rust? … You sure they let you out with an all-clear? Because I’d get another brain-photo-scan...-thing, and.." He’s cut off mid-whatever (not totally sure where he was going with said whatever, because the mysteries of the human brain and medicine and such things pretty much elude him) by the comment about controlling flame which sparks something weirdly like pride because if he didn’t know better it would scan as almost a compliment… or something. "Okay, obviously it's a little more complicated... Yes, I control... flame..." The last three words come out as something between duh… what did you think I did? and yeah, and?, a combination which somehow reads as *still not getting it*.

Bob saves and closes out the database-update window he was working on when John arrived and looks up the wikipedia entry on oxidation. It's a bit more involved than he'd originally expected, all this stuff about electron transfer and oxidation numbers and electronegativity, but the basic principle seems right… rust and fire and metabolizing sugar and a bunch of other stuff are all basically oxidation processes; if John can control one, stands to reason he should be able to affect others… except suddenly the idea of explaining that, and working out exercises to get it to happen, seems like way too much work, especially in the face of John's ongoing mockery.

"Um... OK. Maybe we start with something simpler. And it's called an EEG, by the way. And yeah, I'm all clear. Except for the whole flatliner thing. And the shoulder's mostly better, thanks for asking. " He frowns at himself; that came out snippier than he'd meant it to, and he really shouldn't be letting John get to him like that. Yeah, he hadn't been thrilled when John and Marie just wandered off and left him in the medlab, but he was over that, right?

"Anyway... OK, hold off on the whole redox-reaction thing for a while. Start with something simpler. Can you put fires out?"

[Pyro]

John’s trying not to let anything Bobby’s said get to him, which somehow ends up more with him more irritated than neutral, but at least it's not an admission of any guilt or affection or anything… "Yeah..." However much he tries to downplay it (though to be honest it’s not much, since this is rapidly becoming old and irritating) John can’t quite mask the why would you want to? beneath the word, because… well, why? Starting fires, sure, if they could work that one it would be quite possibly the greatest thing ever. Making existing ones bigger’s also fairly awesome. But putting fires out? (Okay, he’s not so far gone he can’t see the use but… nah, not something he’d opt to waste time on, really)…

One word’s not going to be enough, though, is it? Not with Bob carrying on about reactions and oxidation and… stuff. Obviously John’s going to have to put in a little more effort when it comes to explaining how these things work… which is annoying as all hell because he… doesn’t think about it, really. It’s all instinctual rather than rationalized like this. "If I take one down really small, sure... fairly simple manipulation" He shrugs.

The irritation in John's voice is more enjoyable than Bob expected, and he tries not to show it. He nods. "Great. How 'bout keeping one from starting in the first place?"

Pausing again, John thinks it through, almost going to a headshake before rethinking… a categorical ‘no’ isn’t quite the right answer, really. "Honestly? No idea.." And again there's the whole why? thing, though this one he at least manages to mute because yeah, that's probably not totally sane... or something... in any case it’s lost beneath a half-sulkiness which leeches in at the old control, not create admission "I'm guessing not, since there kinda... has to be a flame there for me to mess with.” yep….not happy with that limitation... Shrug. Again. "Like I said, don't know" … Could that be he’s mildly embarrassed at this apparent ignorance of his own powers? ... tcha right. No way

[Pyro]

Bob manages not to sigh at John's collection of disparaging facial expressions and gestures. Just cut it out, John. We're going to get through this if I have to tie you to a – " Well, let's try it, then... see if we can get that to work. " He calls up the Danger Room's props menu, selects a revolver, digs into the comments on the simulation code for a second to confirm that it actually works like a real revolver, then instantiates it, feeling the coolness of the hilt in his palm. "Way I understand it, there needs to be a spark in the shell casing before one of these goes off, right?" He points the revolver at John for emphasis, and frowns at his own reaction to that, the way he suddenly becomes more attentive to everything. He's not quite sure why that is, and he's not quite sure why it disturbs him, but it does. Maybe we shouldn't go with guns just yet. He returns to the menu and replaces the gun with a lighter. "Let's start with something simpler, though. " He flicks the lighter open and a two-inch flame appears. "Kill the flame?"

In retrospect it’ll seem pretty ridiculous, given that this is just, if he’s brutally honest, an untrained (or so he assumes) flatliner with a small, not real gun, but right now John can’t help but tense at the revolver, and just as he's controlled that, again at it being pointed at him – "Look, Bob.." -though that's stupid because... okay, maybe not that stupid... but... erm. right. focus.

"Right" The flame flicks up... and John watches it for a second or two, possibly a moment longer than need be because, dammit, it’s a flame and he hasn’t exactly had free range to indulge his appetite for fire recently… and then cocks head sideways, an involuntary half-smirk sparking as the flame dies.

Bob nods, trying not to let his face show his enthusiasm. "Cool. Again... faster this time." He flicks it again.

He bites back the instinct to ask who died and made Bob the new Scooter because… yeah. The flame goes out again, this time leaving a now what? expression.

(flick) " Faster." Bob doesn't look away from John's eyes, his stare becoming intense.

Mildly pissed off by now? Definitely… though whether at new!bob, or being ordered around, or how this is becoming uncomfortably... not difficult but, erm, not quite like breathing either, is up for debate. "Fine" (out)

"Again. Faster." He almost coughs, his throat slightly raw as he speaks. (flick)

This time it’s out almost before the click has finished, John facing down the weirdly intense thing Bob has going on with a what more d'ya want? half shrug, half-smirk.

Bob becomes aware that he's been holding his breath, and lets it out, trying to breathe evenly as they repeat the exercise several times. Eventually he nods and replaces the lighter with the revolver again, which he carefully points at the ceiling this time. " OK... now the real test. Can you keep it from going off when I squeeze the trigger?" He aims slowly at an arbitrarily selected target and slowly, deliberately, pulls on the trigger.

[Pyro]

He gets the sense that this should be... kinda easy. yep. no challenge after that, right?... and less of the thinking, more of the concentrating... which goes.. erm. Yes.

It’s not as easy as seems, despite fact whole of John’s flame-control depends on concentration. Because it's easy to concentrate on flame, whereas this... It takes a phenomenal and (perhaps more notably, given the whole instinct/rationale thing) conscious effort not to slip up... and.. John almost misses the trigger-squeeze, and isn’t anywhere near focused enough to do… anything. "Fuck!"

Bob doesn't let the explosion or the temper tantrum distract him. "Forget it... just takes practice, is all. Like blocking a punch... if you can do it at all, you can always do it faster. Try again." He points the gun at the ceiling and slowly squeezes the trigger again, taking care to keep his breathing steady despite his strange inclination to start panting.

It’s hard to see the point – it didn't work, therefore it should be left rather than revisited - but whatever; better not to let first training session go to hell, right? "Fine." Again he misses the explosion, which grates, though he's concentrating enough to notice a second spark, though not to do anything about it.. "Shit… 'kay... try it again, right?""

The explosion almost makes Bob jump this time, but he tries not to show it, and nods. "You got it. If at first you don't succeed, and all that inspirational crap." He meant to grin as he said it, but it doesn't show up against his intense expression as he slowly squeezes the trigger a third time.

[Pyro]

"Yep, all that..." Take 3. This time (and it's taking a chance, because damned if he knows how a gun works... but whatever) he opts to ignore the first explosion, using it as a signal for the second, which... yep, out, easy. John waits for the bang anyway, and... nope. looks like it worked... Cutting short his hell yeah air-punch, a whoop dying in throat, he slips into a yeah, whatever... no problem. Pfft shrug before Bob can notice.

Oddly, the lack of a bang sparks Bob more than the previous bangs had, and he cheers and grins. "All right! That's how it's done. " John's attempt to hide his own enthusiasm makes Bob grin even more broadly, and he flips the gun to him. "All right, then. A bit of practice with that and you might get to be as bulletproof as you think you are." He frowns at that comment, realizing it gives away more of his resentment at John than he'd really intended to during this session. He reaches hastily for a way to change the subject. "Which reminds me... how's the arm?"

John’s little taken aback that Bob's giving him a gun - okay, so it was Josh who confiscated the lighters but still… Idly pointing the gun in random directions – half punctuating his speech, half just doing what comes naturally and (perhaps unwisely) messing with the gun the way he instinctively can’t hold anything still – he thinks might be kinda getting the hang of the training mentality... sorta "Yeah, provided the enemy's shooting one gun at the ceiling... lotsa guns at fleshy parts might be a.." A swift double take leaves slightly more taken aback at the bulletproof comment… is that…? No. Probably nothing. Definitely nothing. Nope. Bob’s numb, isn’t he? He’s been driving that point home since the thing with Rogue back in the Med Bay….

"Arm?" – a half-grin at… the change in tone. Yeah. Not at any sign of concern or anything…. "S'fine... going to take more than that to fuck me over, right? And they let you out... how you holding up?" And okay, it feels kinda stupid asking that, since he's already been picked up on not-asking, but whatever…

[Pyro]

Bob watches the gun carefully as John waves it around, slightly irritated with himself for how he flinches and shifts every time it comes anywhere remotely near pointing in his direction. He frowns and returns to staring at John, trying to remember what he said.

"Sure, you'll have to improve your response time, but that's just a matter of practice. Like doing a kata... you take it slow, get good at the rhythm of it, then you speed it up to where y'can use it to really protect your, um, fleshy parts. " He wishes he hadn't flinched at that last phrase, and hurries on to avoid any snide comments from John. "I'm holding up OK. Hardest thing to get used to is being cold all the time, y'know?" He pauses for a long moment, unsure if he wants to say the next thing that comes to mind, then decides to go ahead. "Kinda makes me sorry for all the shit I gave you about that, back when we were, um, you know, roommates. It sucks. "

Which is suddenly too honest, too serious for this conversation, and he shakes his head and looks again for a way to change the subject. "Anyway... glad you're OK. And, um... hrm. Actually, thinking about bulletproof... hm. Can you show me that firewall/bulldozer trick you used on the Madrii, back when, um, back at your, um, at their HQ?"

[Pyro]

”Right.." This would be John… totally missing the metaphor. "Just like a… whatever you said. Exactly" Sympathy insists on a small flinch in counterpoint to Bob’s own at the *fleshy* reference (yes, it’s a sympathy flinch and not an independent one, of course. John doesn’t flinch at things like that, ever… right?)… though he doubts Bob would be thinking that even if he still had reason to.. moving on…

Things hardly get less awkward with the topic change "Yeah… about that…" – it feels like he should be bursting to say something now – isn’t that how these things are meant to play out, with wailing and gnashing and endless speeches and all? – but John’s grateful to be cut off, really, because he doesn't know what he'd say even if he knew what he was, erm, saying… yes. Words are not forthcoming in this kinda situation… At the mention of the *trick* he’s initially eager to show - and barely manages to suppress a grin at Bob's your/their stumble because it's good to know he's not the only one struggling with that - because nothing distracts better than fire… but...

"You sure that's a good id… erm… you sure?" (unusual or what? Both that he's reluctant to burn stuff and that he's thinking about this – the side of caution usually being Bob’s territory) "Now you're not… Now you haven't got the ice-thing going on… It's not something I've, erm, done, really. It just… does it" And yeah, that would be John admitting to not being able to control things (although John-logic says no, it's just, erm, a friendly warning. Everything's under control) and… yeah, worrying about losing it and hurting Bob, which part of him feels he should be beyond worrying about… while another part thinks such a lapse definitely shouldn’t be possible.

[Pyro]

Bob frowns, annoyed… he was not going to let John needle him about his powerlessness. (He frowns again, annoyed by his own choice of verb.) "I didn't especially mean at me. Think we've met our quota on that. " He winces fractionally as that line escapes his mouth. "Sorry. Uncalled for. Anyway... hold on, let's spice this up a bit. " His attempts at distraction have been singularly unsuccessful so far, but he tries it again, summoning several Madrii from the Enemies menu. After a moment he relocates them to the other side of the room, so that John is between Bob and the clones. "How 'bout that? I can have 'em try to shoot at you if it makes this easier." He wonders if he's joking.

An almost glare accompanies John’s wince at that… though his own response – initially framed as an attempt at lightening the tone, but an exceptionally badly chosen one – doesn’t exactly score any higher on the *sensitive, appropriate and well-thought-out* scale. "Haven't tried to kill you in… forever, pretty much, Drake. Besides, we're on the same side now an' all.. A tangent best dropped? Probably, yes… Thank god for distractions, even if they too touch on uncomfortable territory. "I'll pass… Not bulletproof yet, remember?" On instinct goes he goes, of course, for the Zippo in his pocket, snaps it open and sparks up a flame.

Yeah, you haven't mutilated or hospitalized me for at least a week now. He knows it isn't fair even as he thinks it, knows John wasn't trying to hurt him. On some level he even knows John was trying to protect him, in some weird demented John-like way, and knows it ought to make him feel more… well, more like he used to feel. But it doesn't… because really, no matter how much he tells himself otherwise, he can't think about, about, that without remembering that damned needle, and waking up cold and confused, and that crazy old man nearly ripping his arms off and just standing there, and all because of John. And… well, maybe he isn't being fair, but he's just not ready to forget it all and make everything like it was when they were, were, dating. He wishes for a moment he could just say all that, just ask John for some time… but he can't. And besides, he didn't waste any time going off with Marie, anyway. It's not like he cares all that much, so why the hell should I? He's back, after all, and that's the important part. Right? " OK, then. Push me out of the way, like you did before – I mean, push them." He points angrily at the Madrii

[Pyro]

John forces himself to brush off the what the hell is wrong with him? moment… No reason for any weirdness… okay, no reason for an escalation in weirdness. Gotta stop being so bloody paranoid around Bob. Anyhow… right. Same thing he did back at HQ… back at Brotherhood HQ. This is "HQ" HQ now, right? … Right. Back at BH HQ…

That whole incident isn’t exactly something he’s keen on remembering… but the way things have played out so far fate’s decided escaping it isn’t on the agenda just now. Forming the heat shield and punching out, just like before, he can't stop the rush that comes with it despite the feeling that it should feel bad. Not just because he's a good guy now and therefore should not be taking maniacal glee in torching anyone, but because it seems grossly wrong to be excited about anything power-related around Bob…

[Bobby Drake]

Bob does his best to ignore John’s obvious enthusiasm for this part of the exercise… he’s sure it’s just the rush of using his power to its fullest, and not actually that he gets off on burning people to death.

Or, well… fairly sure. He hates himself for allowing the doubt to creep in, but it’s there and doesn’t seem to be going away.

John’s not a casual killer, he reminds himself fiercely. Hell, John’s not a casual anything. It doesn’t help much. Sure, he always knew John’s probably killed more than a few people during his time with the Brotherhood… he just tried not to think about it, before. Now, he can’t help it. And it shouldn’t feel like yet another betrayal, when it’s really got nothing to do with him at all, but the fact is it does.

And it’s not like any of this is news, it’s just he’d tried hard not to think about it when he and John were together. Which is another thought that throws him: does that mean they aren’t together anymore? Maybe. Probably. He shakes his head to clear away the image of John and Marie in the medlab, going back to her room… he’s got no right to complain and he knows it. It’s just… awkward. Yeah, that’s a good word.

With a jerk he returns his attention to John. Focus, Drake. You’ve got a job to do here; woolgather on your own time. The whole point of this exercise is to help John come up with non-destructive uses of his powers, after all.

"OK, cool. You think you can kick up a wall like that and just hold it in one place? Or does that take too much control?" He frowns at himself – questioning John’s ability to control flame is a great way to motivate him, granted, but that was way too blatant. The point here is to prod John’s ego, not to pick a fight with him. (Right?)

"Go ahead and do that, and get it as hot and as hard as you can… I want to try something." He pokes around in the Props menu some more, and a collection of miscellaneous objects materializes at his feet.

[Pyro]

The wall dies not with a clean break or a rush but a sputter, as if hastily displacing itself under the weight of Bob’s poorly hidden discomfort and John’s awareness that flaming death probably isn’t meant to be fun (not that he’s enjoying the flaming death or anything. No. This is just… erm, excitement at making progress, or something. Something normal and sane that’s meant to happen in these things… which he’s just having a little trouble placing because it’s all new. Yep), an unwelcome reminder, given Bob’s comment as to control or lack of it, of just how interdependent emotion/concentration and exercise are when it comes to powers (or at least when it comes to John’s… because he hasn’t spent much time, truth be told, thinking about anyone else’s mutation because… well, why would he need to understand? For all the *proud mutant* stuff he still hasn’t quite got past thinking of anything other than his own gifts as, well, just plain odd)

A regular clicking punctuates the first half of Bob’s question, a slight smirk edging in as John starts to feel more like himself – or rather what he assumes is *himself*, because that whole area’s a little hazy and best not explored – but both are frozen by the second, and both the lighter and the grin edge downwards into something nearer a scowl, the ”Fuck you, Icicle” sneaking out unbidden, though luckily snarled mostly under his breath, at the dig. Because… well, why is he taking a lecture on control from Bob anyway? Fat lot of god control’s ever done him… Boston, the cure clinics, Alcatraz… shit, thinking about it, even the thing with Bobby, while it lasted; control, of course, means either sitting back and watching and letting the world go to hell or missing out on the last train out of there when it does. Whereas losing it… okay, stop it… that’s Pyro-the-terrorist-lapdog talking, right? (One thing he’s semi grateful to Magneto for is giving him a failsafe excuse for any improper thoughts, because that’s just the indoctrination speaking, the ideological bullshit making it’s way out, and obviously not his *real* opinion. Obviously)

< Go ahead and do that, and get it as hot and as hard as you can… I want to try something
And now we’re taking orders from him? No fucking w… Stop it

John sighs – click, fwoosh – and the requested wall goes up, with the sense that this is more going through the motions (both of obeying Bob and of exercising any sort of power) than being at all motivated… or at least, that’s the sense at first. Because keeping this thing in place is… more difficult than it should be. Fire doesn’t do that, after all, doesn’t *like* being held in one spot (and okay, since when did what the *fire* wants become a priority? Because that’s skirting dangerously close to the idea that his power defines him instead of… whatever, and, well, no.) Hot and hard isn’t a problem (though probably not the best choice of words… nope, not allowed to think that either. All those sorts of words go back to their *normal* meanings now, don’t they? And there’s definitely no place for any semi-flippant comment as to what exactly he’d rather be making hot and… No. Definitely no place. Back to this stupid flame wall and whatever master plan Bob has.)