Are you there, God? It's me, Bob.

[Bobby Drake]

(( OOC: Timing is shortly after Bob is released from medbay; post-bobnap Open to anybody who might be in the same spot; alternatively it can just be a one-shot.))

It takes Bob a minute to identify the room he’s wandered into as a chapel – it’s sparsely decorated, dimly lit, and understated, but the crucifix above the small altar in the front does give it away – and he jumps a little in surprise when he does.

Not that he’s never been in a chapel before, of course… even though his family was never especially religious, they did go to church on holidays and stuff. But he hadn’t realized the Institute had one down here, and it’s startling to find yourself in one when you’ve been aimlessly wandering around, trying to figure out your purpose in life. It feels like a sign from God, a little.

Of course, Bob knows better. The reality is he’s just been doing a lot of wandering lately in the out-of-the-way parts of the Institute. Still, it’s startling.

In the old days he’d have wandered the grounds, but ever since the Cure he’s been having real trouble getting accustomed to the cold. Actually, he hasn’t gone outside for more than a few minutes since they let him out of the medlab; no matter how warmly he dresses it just isn’t warm enough.

And the gym and Danger Room are out until his shoulder’s fully healed. He could just hang out in the kitchen or the rec-room or something, but the truth is he’s been avoiding the more populated areas this afternoon… he’s just not ready to handle all the hubbub right now. Not that he wants to avoid the other students, exactly – it’s just that he’s not really sure how to interact with them.

It’s not like he really belongs here anymore, after all… he’s not a mutant, and it’s anybody’s guess whether he ever will be again. But he can’t actually say that to anybody… they’ll just fall all over themselves telling him how he’ll always be part of the team and there’ll always be a place for him at the Institute and all that. And it’s not that he thinks they’re lying, or anything… he knows these people, knows they’ll always be there for him when he needs them, and if they haven’t given up on him after the way he’s been acting for the last few months, he’s pretty sure they never will.

It’s a nice feeling, usually.

Not right now, though. Right now, the idea of listening to another cheery “you’ll always be one of us” speech makes Bob’s stomach churn. Which drives him into the quieter parts of the Institute, which is why he’s in this chapel now. Not a sign from God, much as it feels like one. Just one of those things.

Which doesn’t stop Bob from crossing himself quietly and kneeling by the altar. He hasn’t really been to church since that Christmas Mass fiasco a few years back – well, there were the funerals, but it’s not really the same thing – and he’s realizing he’s missed the ritual of it. Not that he was particularly religious, or anything, but it’s comforting in a way he doesn’t entirely understand.

"So, um… it’s been a while." It feels strange to be talking out loud, and Bob’s not really sure who he’s talking to, but in a strange way that makes it easier. " I guess I just haven’t been thinking too much about, you know, God and stuff. Been concentrating more on the X-Men, I guess."

Well, that’s a weird thing to say, Bob thinks, but on second thought maybe it isn’t really. Being one of the X-Men had been his, well, his mission for a long time now. It had given him a sense of purpose. Which is what a lot of people go to church for, right? So maybe it makes more sense than he’d thought.

"But, well… that’s over with. For now, anyway."

After some time his knees start to hurt, and he realizes he’s been kneeling there without really saying anything for a while. "Well, anyway… I guess I just wanted to say ‘Hi’. And, you know, thanks for my not dying, and stuff." He laughs quietly… his family’s priest had always been a great fan of giving thanks to God for the good things, even if you don’t really believe in God, and for the first time Bob thinks he maybe understands why. " Guess it’s funny I haven’t said that before. Been so caught up in what’s gone wrong, I haven’t thought about what’s going right."

He’s silent for a few minutes more, and adds " Thanks for clearing out Marie’s head. I know, she’s still kinda disoriented about it and stuff, but it’s better this way… she’s more her, y’know? And for… " he chokes a moment and shuts his eyes tight before continuing " …for bringing John back. I mean, I know you supposedly don’t approve of what we were doing, but… well, he belongs here, and if that’s what it took, well, you can send me to Hell for it if you want, ‘cuz he’s already been there and back again, y’know? "

Bob becomes aware that his voice is rising, that he’s on his feet now, pacing, his hands balled up in fists. It’s a strange feeling; it’s like he’s angry, but he doesn’t feel anger, or anything else. It’s almost like he’s floating a few feet behind his own head, watching himself be angry from a distance. "And hey, while we’re being all chummy and everything… you mind telling me just what the hell you were trying to pull with that whole business with Jean? Kill her, bring her back, kill Scott, kill the Professor, make Logan kill her again… what was that? Is that how you get your fucking kicks, putting us all through our little paces like this? You… "

His voice trails off, and the tears stop, and he wipes his face on his sleeve, and whatever that weird little episode was it appears to be over, and it still doesn’t feel like him who said any of it." Yeah… um, sorry about that. Not sure what got into me. " He shrugs. "Guess I should be going."

[Laurie Collins]

[[Sorry if this is overly long or I'm butting in when I know nothing of this plot line but the post was very pretty, drew me into wanting to play heh.]]

Laurie’s never really thought about religion much, there’ve just always seemed to be more pressing matters at hand somehow. Her mother used to read her stories from the Bible and its history was included in her home school tutelage along with some other religious texts but it was a sparing education, pretty verses from the Psalms, the story of David’s faithless son when she’d asked about the title of the Faulkner novel, nothing about belief or faith. She’s never been to mass or synagogue or temple or anything like that, but looking around the room she’s wandered into now she can see the appeal. It doesn’t take much to conjure the image of the faithful kneeling in supplication with their palms pressed together, no need to look for futures in the lines of their hands, all trust in the man looking beatifically down from his sanitized execution site. It would be nice to feel as if your life had been pre-ordained, as if you were a chess piece under the guidance of a master player. You might be the sacrificed pawn but you knew it was for the good of the whole and you basked in your martyrdom.

She shakes her head to clear away the thought, running her thumbs absently up and down the spine of the book she has clutched under one arm, the selected poems of Rainer Maria Rilke. She’s been looking for a quiet place to read for an hour or so, drifting past the library when she saw the crowds of students inside studying and muffling their giggles behind their hands, and continuing along the maze of corridors, choosing her next turn based on which one seems most silent. It had led her to the basement eventually, not the top-secret basement she’d heard whispers about with danger rooms and metal and chrome and antiseptic smells from the med lab, but a basement like that of a normal school- broken desks, an antiquated furnace, a globe, musty textbooks someone tossed into storage, and through one door a makeshift chapel. It wasn’t much to speak of, mismatched wooden benches covered in dust, a small crucifix over a plain alter, but it is what it is and its simplicity lends it some authenticity, meaning beyond the gaudy Sistine imitations or modern “faith centers” most institutions build. It’s neither the bustle and light of the human world nor the shadow and glint of the mutant intrigue she’s beginning to discover and for that it’s exactly where Laurie wants to be.

Sliding into a nook near the back that might once have served as a makeshift confessional, a curtain still half drawn across it, she curls up her legs and cracks open the book to the middle:
Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.
Words of advice from the random page of a notoriously religious man’s book in a chapel I didn’t know was here. Oh goodness. Laurie thinks wryly, letting a small smile steal over her face for a moment.

“ And hey, while we’re being all chummy and everything… you mind telling me just what the hell you were trying to pull with that whole business with Jean? Kill her, bring her back, kill Scott, kill the Professor, make Logan kill her again… what was that? Is that how you get your fucking kicks, putting us all through our little paces like this? You…”
She claps a hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp, she hasn’t been alone in this room for awhile now judging from the cadence of the voice rising angrily from the area by the altar, it sounds as if the speaker has been working up to his current pitch for at least a few minutes. She remains seated, frozen, hoping he’ll just leave without discovering her, for what could he think other than that she was hiding here spying on him? At least her pheromones haven’t given her away, if she gave any off in her shock he probably didn’t notice amongst his own obviously strong emotions.

"Guess I should be going."

She sighs in relief and her shaking hands move to close the book on her lap. Nervousness, however, has unsteadied them beyond her estimation and the volume slams decisively, echoing in the silence, announcing her presence to anyone in the basement and certainly anyone in the too silent chapel.

Well, there’s nothing for it now but to come out and own up… and she steps from the shadows, face timid and sheepish.

“I’m sorry… I-I didn’t want to disturb you.”

[nightcrawler]

Whoever had this little chapel built was a mystery, more than likely the Professor, but no one had ever seen him come here nor had he ever mentioned it. Was it maybe built for a long gone student....or perhaps for one that was still here? One could ask questions like this for hours and still not find an answer, sometimes God just worked in mysterious ways, in ways we could never understand no matter how much we tried to wrap our small minds around the situation at hand. The only think Kurt knew was comfort, that was the feeling he found here in this small sanctuary, in this refuge from the grinding world around him. He had thought about reopening this chapel, but something had stopped him, not sure what but it had. It seemed that this chapel was a private place, after all, sometimes that's what we all needed, and as such, Kurt respected that and so kept it that way.

The small sanctuary was dimly lit, a few candles burning here and there, one in particular behind the small alter at the front, a ritual of Kurt's particular faith. Kurt himself sat in the old abandoned confessional, the red and faded curtain pulled across the priests side, a desire which Kurt never fulfilled. He had given thought to joining the church several times over the years, but it seemed his path just wasn't meant for that, so he did the best he could and hoped he was going in the right direction. He wore a pair of black wide bottom pants, vest and his long black coat, a combination when combined with his body's natural ability to blend into the shadows, made him nearly invisible to the naked eye. It was this which probably hid him from the eyes of one Bobby Drake as the boy talked to an unseen Maker, loudly voicing his anger and questions.

Kurt felt.....pity...and sadness for Bobby, for the boy seemed more lost than he had ever been in his life. Sure Bobby had a family who loved him, but powerless or not, he was still a mutant so he knew they would always regard him with a judging eye. The depowered bit is another thorn, Kurt was sure, after all, being a mutant is what made Bobby Drake..well...Bobby Drake and having that so rudely and unjustly ripped away must have been like losing a part of his soul. The fall of the book Laurie had picked up startled Kurt, for some reason he had missed her entirely.....strange. The would be priest jumped a bit, his bright yellow eyes jerking around to peer through the small holes of the confessional, clearly seeing the visage of the young girl just as she stepped forth from the other side of the confessional. Maybe this one could offer some words that Bobby needed to hear right now....or at least provide him with some company? So, using his tail, Kurt slowly pulled the curtain in front of him back just enough to see out into the chapel. He was curious as to how Bobby would handle having someone listening in on his confession, even if it was accidental.

[Bobby Drake]

As Bob prepares to resume his peripatetic meandering, mildly embarrassed by his own maudlin outburst, he’s startled by a SLAM from the shadows. He dives for cover without a second thought, then screams in shock as much as pain when his still-sore shoulder hits the hard floor.

By the time he gets clumsily back up to his feet, he’s figured out that he’s not under attack and hasn’t broken anything more important than his pride… and perhaps his dignity. Guess we add “noticing people in the dark” to “not feeling cold” and “being any damned use in a fight” on the list of things I’ve gotta get used to living without. Great.

> “I’m sorry… I-I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Bob nods. "Yeah… it’s OK. " It isn’t, not really, but there’s no point in worrying about it now… and asking her how much she’d overheard would just make him look even more pathetic than he already does. Better to just gloss over the incident, he figures, and walks over with a friendly hand out.

"Um… have we met? You don’t look familiar… but I’m on way too many painkillers for that to mean much. I’m Bob Drake, a… um, a student here. " Bob stops short about ten feet away and puts his hand back down, looking the new girl over carefully. He’s suddenly nervous and agitated for no reason he can determine, and he’s learned to trust his instincts about that sort of thing… something is wrong here.

It occurs to Bob, a bit belatedly, that Magneto might very well send a team in to get him back (or John back… or both of them… or who knows what?), and wandering alone in dark corners of the Institute may not be the smartest thing he’s ever done. Might this be Mystique in disguise? Um… Josh? Sheppard? Anybody out there listening? I may be in some trouble here…

(( OOC: No reason to apologize, Laurie – post is great, thread was open, and glad my post drew interest. In case it isn’t obvious, Bob’s being affected by Laurie’s agitation and pheromones but doesn’t realize it and is jumping to conclusions.))

(( OOC2: To the telepaths – no particular reason you’d pick up on Bob’s thought, it just seemed like something Bob would do in that moment. ))

[Laurie Collins]

Laurie flinches sympathetically as she gets her first look at Bob and his pained stance pierces the jangle of nerves resounding all through her. From the way he’s holding himself, especially his shoulder, he has to be hurting. She remembers guiltily the sound she heard as she emerged from the confessional, the thump and scream and worries at her already scabbed lower lip as she waits for him to collect himself and respond, fully expecting to burst into flames or turn to stone or suffer some other extreme punishment an angry, pained, mutant could inflict.

"Yeah… it’s OK. "

She crosses her arms defensively over her stomach and hunches her shoulders slightly, the old, safe stance like she’s sheltering herself from a wind. He’s lying about it being okay, she’s scanned the faces of everyone she’s encountered searching for disapproval or disgust long enough to know from the tiny tells in facial expressions when someone is displeased with her at all. He has every right to be upset with me though, even if I didn’t mean to I overheard something private. He’s evidently not going to be overtly angry with her though, he’s actually looking friendly now, advancing with his hand extended and pleasantries, or what passes for them under the circumstances, issuing forth.

"Um… have we met? You don’t look familiar… but I’m on way too many painkillers for that to mean much. I’m Bob Drake, a… um, a student here. "

At that she relaxes slightly, though her face is still earnestly contrite, and the takes a step forward to meet him at the same time that he suddenly stops and looks discomfited perhaps even on the edges of fear. She swivels to look behind her for the threat then realizes mid-motion what must have happened. “Oh!” she exclaims, swinging back again as a flush blooms from her cheeks and spreads across her pale face. “I’m scaring you now on top of making you hurt yourself again and everything. I’m sorry, I am, it’s just I have these pheromones, they get released when I’m nervous or upset or happy or well…anything but calm really… and they’re influencing you. I’d stop but I don’t know how.” she takes a few steps backwards again as her agitation increases with the added emotional cocktail of sadness/guilt/shame that brings up its familiar bile in her stomach at an accidental use of her power to harm.

“Um, and no, I don’t think so” she answers his first question belatedly after a few deep breaths to steady herself and hopefully calm down a bit, “I just got here yesterday. I’m Laurie Collins and…sorry again, really. If you have some sort of, er, wind type mutation you can blow them away. My pheromones.” she adds, waving her hands vaguely to demonstrate and watching him carefully, caught between the urge to run away and to ask if he’s alright, find out why he’s sad and jumping at shadows.

[Bobby Drake]

> “Oh! I’m scaring you now on top of making you hurt yourself again and everything. I’m sorry, I am, it’s just I have these pheromones, they get released when I’m nervous or upset or happy or well…anything but calm really… and they’re influencing you. I’d stop but I don’t know how.

Bob blinks a few times as he processes that, then a few times more. He’s been in a lot of “Hi-I’m-new-here-and-these-are-my-mutant-powers” conversations over his years at the Institute – it’s rather the local version of “Hi, what’s your major?” – but that definitely qualifies as the most compressed version he’s heard so far.

"Oh. Um… OK, then. And here I was thinking I was scared ‘cuz you might be a ridiculously hot blue-skinned shape-shifting mutant assassin. I like your version better." Of course, she could still be Mystique in disguise, but it’s not like there’s much Bob can do about it if she is, so the hell with it.

> “I just got here yesterday. I’m Laurie Collins and…sorry again, really. If you have some sort of, er, wind type mutation you can blow them away. My pheromones.”

It’s hard to think clearly past the combination of anxiety and painkillers, but after a few moments Bob manages to get himself straightened out. "Right. Supercharged mutant pheromones. Bet you’re popular at parties. Anyway, welcome to Xavier’s, Laurie." He offers a handshake again, this time less hesitantly.

After a moment he adds " Um… so, you’re like officially here, right? I mean, like, signed in and stuff? Sorry if that’s a stupid question, I’m just not used to running into new students hanging around the basement. Of course, that’s mostly ‘cuz I don’t do a lot of hanging around the basement myself. Or, well, didn’t. I do now. Too cold outside. Didn’t used to be. "

He stops abruptly, annoyed at himself for babbling like this, and sits down in one of the small pews, taking a deep breath to try to get himself under control. It doesn’t help – just makes him feel more anxious. Right. Pheromones. Real bright, Drake.

" Anyway, sorry… no mighty wind. No mutation at all, actually – as of this morning I’m the token flat-scan. Hope that doesn’t freak you out or anything. Believe me, wasn’t my idea. And I don’t know how much of my little apostrophe you overheard just now, but if you’ve got any questions or anything you might as well just get them out of your system now. "

[Laurie Collins]

"Oh. Um… OK, then. And here I was thinking I was scared ‘cuz you might be a ridiculously hot blue-skinned shape-shifting mutant assassin. I like your version better."

Laurie stares at him, completely bewildered. “Oh…well, uh, no definitely not…that. I…hope?” she manages rather awkwardly, her tentative tone turning the last sentence into a question. She reluctantly unfolds her arms when he offers his hand again, giving him the quick clench and release version of the handshake one would expect from someone who didn’t make the gesture very often and was over thinking it by leaps and bounds, how hard do are you supposed to press? How long do you hold on? Do you move your hand at all? Her face stays solemn and slightly strained even at his light comment about her popularity at parties, the levity apparently failing to register with her as her only response is to blink a couple of times in mild discomfiture and rearrange her body into the arms-crossed, shoulders-hunched posture of earlier.

" Um… so, you’re like officially here, right? I mean, like, signed in and stuff? Sorry if that’s a stupid question, I’m just not used to running into new students hanging around the basement. Of course, that’s mostly ‘cuz I don’t do a lot of hanging around the basement myself. Or, well, didn’t. I do now. Too cold outside. Didn’t used to be. "

Another few blinks as she processes all that. She wonders, peripherally, in the way people wonder the most inane things at the most inauspicious times if she’s spelling anything out in Morse code with all her taken-aback eye-blinking. I suppose this is what people feel like when I babble on nervously, she thinks. “Yes, I’m here officially,” she answers as the flash of idle thought runs its course, “At least I met with the headmaster. I’m just down here because I was looking for a place to read,” she untucks her book from the crook of her arm and holds it a bit more prominently as if preparing to produce proof, “and the library had people in it so I just wandered around looking for a place to be alone. I’m sorry if I’m not supposed to be here but it was nice not like a-“ she cuts off, apparently thinking better of what she’s almost said, “It seems farther away from everything than just the distance of a staircase.” she continues instead, “All this probably.” she wipes a fingertip over the dust coating of one of the pews, leaving a trail of clean, dull oak in its wake. “A good place to read The Book of the Monastic Life.” She’s never thought it might be odd, apologizing with every breath for her very existence but spouting off things like that.

She sits when he does, lowering herself carefully onto the edge of the pew across the aisle from him. She can see her pheromones are still affecting him and takes another deep breath just calm down and now with her conversational partner evidently not about to kill her and her initial fear at the shock of their encounter subsiding she can a bit, or at least bring it down to her normal level of anxiety. Hopefully enough to stop broadcasting her fear.

" Anyway, sorry… no mighty wind. No mutation at all, actually – as of this morning I’m the token flat-scan. Hope that doesn’t freak you out or anything. Believe me, wasn’t my idea. And I don’t know how much of my little apostrophe you overheard just now, but if you’ve got any questions or anything you might as well just get them out of your system now. "

Her cheeks flush again at the reminder of her accidental eavesdropping. Flat-scan? They found a way to cure him? But he doesn’t look happy about it… “Um, I just heard you shouting, I hadn’t even realized you were here before that. I’m not very, ah, alert sometimes.” she fidgets for a moment then speaks again, “But, I’m sorry for asking if it upsets you, you don’t want to be cured?” she looks amazed at the idea, always knowing logically that some mutants hadn’t sought out the cure but never thinking anyone would be sad to be rid of their mutation. She’s tempted to pipe up, ‘Want to trade?’’ but controls the impulse, venturing another question, “And why would you think I was a mutant assassin? Someone told me yesterday that there’d been trouble here with someone named Stryker but they didn’t mention assassins.” she looks rather alarmed at the thought.

[Bobby Drake]

> “Oh…well, uh, no definitely not…that. I…hope?”

Bob chuckles at the questioning tone. "I imagine you’d know. Though that would be one hell of a catch… how much you want to bet there’s some poor sucker out there whose power is to shapeshift into other people but then he forgets he isn’t actually them? Now that would suck."

It’s random, but it brings back memories. When he was little, he used to fantasize about having superpowers, but the Institute version of that when he first arrived was “mutant powers that suck.” Like being able to burst into flame, or phase through the ground; that sort of thing. They’d stopped playing it when Marie started hanging around with them, since, well, it kinda stopped being funny. Except it is, now.

> “I’m just down here because I was looking for a place to read, and the library had people in it so I just wandered around looking for a place to be alone. I’m sorry if I’m not supposed to be here but it was nice…”

Bob waves that last part off. "No, no, it’s fine… at least, I think it’s fine. If you’re not supposed to be here, neither am I, and I won’t tell if you don’t. "

> “A good place to read The Book of the Monastic Life.”

"Ah. That’s the new Harry Potter, right?" He shakes his head at his own goofiness. Jeez, Drake. Way to make a first impression, there… she probably thinks you’re on drugs, or something. Which, it occurs to him, he actually is… which might explain the randonless running through his mind. Or maybe that’s the pheromones. "Sorry… not actually funny, I know. I think maybe my sense of humor was part of my mutant ability; it seems to have disappeared, too. You’re right, though, this definitely seems like the place to read ‘The Book of the Monastic Life,’ whatever that is. "

> “I’m sorry for asking if it upsets you, you don’t want to be cured?”

Bob shrugs at that. "Wasn’t sick." He lets it go at that, though… the last thing he wants is to get into the Cure argument with a new student. Besides, he can sympathize a little with mutants like Laurie and Marie who can’t control their powers wanting to get rid of them… it’s not like that idiot at Starbucks who thought all mutants should go in for “treatment.” If he were in her position he might feel the same way – he kinda did, he remembers, back when his powers first manifested.

> “And why would you think I was a mutant assassin? Someone told me yesterday that there’d been trouble here with someone named Stryker but they didn’t mention assassins”

Oh… right. New girl. Nobody’s let her in on the whole X-Men gig. It suddenly occurs to Bob that it has been a very long time since he’s talked much with new students… he’d taken to spending most of his time with the same old clique. Bad habit.

"No, Stryker’s old news. Nothing to worry about in general… just me. I’ve, um… made some enemies lately. Was dating a guy they didn’t approve of… or, well, actually I guess it was me they didn’t approve of… or something like that. It didn’t make much sense to me at the time, to be perfectly honest. So I’m jumping at shadows, a little. Didn’t mean to spook you."

[Laurie Collins]

"I imagine you’d know. Though that would be one hell of a catch… how much you want to bet there’s some poor sucker out there whose power is to shapeshift into other people but then he forgets he isn’t actually them? Now that would suck."

Laurie doesn’t smile, it just isn’t a reflex with her, but some of the tension leaves her still serious expression as the idea skitters its amusing course through her mind. Though that might be sad, imagine thinking you’re someone, really believing it, then having your entire identity undermined every time you— she barely stops herself physically shaking her head to clear away the thought, Do you have to make a Greek tragedy out of everything?

"Ah. That’s the new Harry Potter, right?” She looks at him uncertainly during the momentary pause then relaxes slightly as he shakes his head and admits his joke- "Sorry… not actually funny, I know. I think maybe my sense of humor was part of my mutant ability; it seems to have disappeared, too. You’re right, though, this definitely seems like the place to read ‘The Book of the Monastic Life,’ whatever that is. "

“It’s poetry.” she supplies quietly, “By Rilke? It’s mostly about God as a beginning Christian or someone simple, he wrote it as a Russian monk might have I think, but even though I’m not religious or anything it’s really nice. Things like,” she flips the book open quickly to the section she had been reading, “Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.” She bites her lip and looks sheepish as she finishes, “Though you probably didn’t need to know that at all and I sound really pretentious now. My mom, she’s immune to my pheromones, she’s always home schooled me and she’s a literature person down to the bone, she gave me this book when I was twelve.” she explains. “…and I think Harry Potter is kind of a jerk. Ron’s nicer.” she adds, wrinkling her nose rather comically in distaste.

"Wasn’t sick."

She takes that for what it is, nodding slightly. I wonder what he used to be able to do, maybe he could fly like that man on TV. That’s harmless and fun… even I’d be sorry to see wings go. “Well, at least it’ll come back right?” she says, trying for optimistic, “It didn’t take long for me after I was cured… less than three months.” she looks almost wistful for a moment.

"No, Stryker’s old news. Nothing to worry about in general… just me. I’ve, um… made some enemies lately. Was dating a guy they didn’t approve of… or, well, actually I guess it was me they didn’t approve of… or something like that. It didn’t make much sense to me at the time, to be perfectly honest. So I’m jumping at shadows, a little. Didn’t mean to spook you."

Her eyes drift back to his shoulder at that and widen slightly as she reaches the obvious conclusion. The 'spookiness' from someone who seems like he is usually confident is another tell and she feels a twinge of disbelieveing indignation on his behalf. I don't think I'll ever understand anyone. Human or mutant. “Who’s they?” she asks softly, then ducks her head, “Sorry, I really don’t know anything about any of this… I’d never even talked to another mutant until yesterday and my mom was kind of overprotective about letting me find out anything.” she pauses then hurries to come to her mother’s defense, even from herself, “Not that you could blame her. When I get upset or scared there tend to be, uh, riots.”

[nightcrawler]

Kurt listened quietly, staying in the shadows and out of the way, something he was far too used to anymore, but slowly that way of life had been changing. Kurt had been making himself more known in the Institute, actually coming to dinner with the others instead of eating alone in his room and making an attempt to join in on some of the activities that seemed to be taking place on the grounds. The conversation between Bobby and this new girl really didn't concern him at the moment, so he just watched, hoping Bobby might find the outlet he needed. Talking was often the best cure for depression or anger and perhaps with someone new, it would be easier, for he wouldn't have to worry about the way he might be seen by her, after all, Bobby was a blank slate to the new girl.

Kurt was a bit mixed on the whole situation of being 'cured', given the obvious physical reasons. Lately Kurt had come to terms with what he was and how he looked, but it was still hard to accept sometimes, the looks he got when he went out to the store and even from some of the other students. He knew the stares were unavoidable, but that fact didn't make it any easier.

The talk of pheromones and such was lost on Kurt who was still trying to make heads and tails of the fast spoken English taking place, but the one thing he did pick up on was the subtle mention of Mystique, his birth mother. This was the secret Kurt had discovered when he left the Institute a while back, the very thing he sought to discover and now, well...he wondered if he really wanted to know. No one else knew about the relationship between he and Mystique, at least not right now anyway. The actions he took back on Alcatraz might have thrown that into light now, seeing as how Kurt had teleported Mystique away from the battle and away from the X-men. Perhaps this was the best time to make himself known and hopefully steer any conversation concerning recent events into a new light.

"Zen perhaps ve should change the subject," Kurt said as he leaned forward, one foot finding the floor followed by the other as he stepped from the shadow of the confessional. He glanced up at the crucifix hanging on the wall above the alter, instinctively finding the small crucifix hanging from the chain around his waist with his hand and rubbing it slowly. "Miss Collins haz enough to vorry about mister Drake vithout you telling her stories vich do none of us any good to dwell upon," he said as he bright yellow eyes fell on Bobby, "After all, the past is just that...the past," he added, smiling faintly, glancing to Laurie.

[Bobby Drake]

Bob listens curiously to Laurie’s recitation. His education for the last few years has been somewhat ruthlessly practical; contemporary German poetry somehow got left off the curriculum.

Still, the name sounds familiar. "Rilke… “Letter to a Young Poet”? Same guy, right? The Professor gave me that to read a few years ago, back when I was still trying to get, you know, everything, under control. I remember something like that there too, about not being able to do anything with the answers until you’ve lived the questions."

He frowns thoughtfully. "Guess that’s not a bad way to look at it. Beats yelling at empty rooms ‘cuz things aren’t turning out the way you want them too, anyway. It’s not really my style, though… I prefer getting the answers. Never know when they’ll come in handy.
How about you? You a “get the answers” kinda girl, or an “appreciate the questions” type? Or is that too personal a question on thirty-five seconds’ acquaintance?"

> “I sound really pretentious now.”

Bob shakes his head, grinning. "Now I know you’re new. Believe me, you’ve got a long way to go before hitting the pretentious bar around here. Try having a conversation with Dr. McCoy one of these days, you’ll see what I mean." He notices that his anxiety has mostly faded… which means hers probably has, too… which is cool. And it’s nice talking to someone who doesn’t know all his backstory, isn’t constantly comparing him to what he used to be.

> “Well, at least it’ll come back right? It didn’t take long for me after I was cured… less than three months.”

Bob nods. "That’s the hope." He decides not to share his anxiety about it… there’s already been enough of that. Besides, he recognizes that wistful look from Marie, during the days after the last time he woke up in the medlab (he chuckles a little bitterly at that, hoping he isn’t establishing a lifetime pattern of dating people who end up putting him in the hospital). "You really just wanted it to go away, huh? Your mutation, I mean. Guess I can’t blame you, but… y’know, pretty much all of our students learn to control their powers one way or another. And yours could be pretty useful, once you got them under control, don’t you think?"

> “Who’s they? Sorry, I really don’t know anything about any of this…”

Bob shakes his head again. "Nah, I’m the one who should apologize… didn’t mean to be all mysterious and stuff. It’s kinda a long stor -- " He cuts off startled as Kurt steps out of the shadows. Jeez! How long as he been eavesdropping back there? He bites back his annoyance, though, not wanting to make Laurie any more anxious than Kurt’s sudden appearance probably already has.

> " Zen perhaps ve should change the subject. Miss Collins haz enough to vorry about mister Drake vithout you telling her stories vich do none of us any good to dwell upon. After all, the past is just that...the past.”

"Oh, I don’t know about that, Mr. Wagner. Some people get a lot out of old stories." His nod to Kurt’s Bible is unmistakable, his smile only a little forced. "But, sure… we can change the subject if you want. You a fan of Rilke, Mr. Wagner? We were just talking about him… but I guess you know that, if you’ve been listening."

[Laurie Collins]

"Rilke… “Letter to a Young Poet”? Same guy, right? The Professor gave me that to read a few years ago, back when I was still trying to get, you know, everything, under control. I remember something like that there too, about not being able to do anything with the answers until you’ve lived the questions."

Laurie’s face lights up at his recognition, making her look almost pretty for a moment as she smiles without the usual shadow of nerves. “That’s exactly where it’s from actually! That page isn’t supposed to be in the Monastic Life section, it got ripped out and I just stuck it back in there.”

"Guess that’s not a bad way to look at it. Beats yelling at empty rooms ‘cuz things aren’t turning out the way you want them too, anyway. It’s not really my style, though… I prefer getting the answers. Never know when they’ll come in handy.
How about you? You a “get the answers” kinda girl, or an “appreciate the questions” type? Or is that too personal a question on thirty-five seconds’ acquaintance?"

She shakes her head shyly at the question, hair flying around her face and cutting through the dust motes in the air before settling back down against her cheeks. “I think the point is that we can fight it and maybe we’ll feel better… but if we just do what we can in the moment we’ll do better. Um, or something like that. So I guess I appreciate questions?” His reassurance that she isn’t pretentious seems to pacify her, but she looks as if he’s been slightly sacrilegious when he criticizes Dr. McCoy. Ambassador to the UN, gosh, I guess he’s got a right to be as pretentious as he wants.

"You really just wanted it to go away, huh? Your mutation, I mean. Guess I can’t blame you, but… y’know, pretty much all of our students learn to control their powers one way or another. And yours could be pretty useful, once you got them under control, don’t you think?"

Her face is inscrutable for a moment during the first part of his statement, but when he suggests the benefits to her power her eyes widen and she sits up straighter, “No!” she exclaims vehemently, then subsides and bit and bites her lip, “I want to control them but at the same time… there was someone…he…” she’s flustered again now, “I just don’t want to have this kind of power. I’m not a terrorist or a superhero or anything like that, I’m just normal, and normal people shouldn’t be able to control someone else. What would ever give me the right? I hope yours comes back soon though if you want it... you seem like you would actually know what to do with it.” her imagination, sharp in other ways, obviously can’t fit itself around how her mutation could be used for anything other than manipulation.

She’s leaning forward to catch his next phrases when out of nowhere another unexpected mutant appears,
" Zen perhaps ve should change the subject. Miss Collins haz enough to vorry about mister Drake vithout you telling her stories vich do none of us any good to dwell upon. After all, the past is just that...the past.”

He’s blue and his eyes and…it’s rude to stare stopstopstop. Her heart has started up again at a gallop at Kurt’s entrance, her composure shattered, and she clutches the edge of the pew with white knuckled hands, trying not to be any more rude than she already is by reacting more obviously to the other mutant’s presence. She looks anxiously at Bob as he makes a fairly irritable reply to someone she thinks just might be a professor or at least an adult.

“Hello? I guess you already know my name, uh, sir?” she greets him timidly. “Sorry about the, um, pheromones.”

[nightcrawler]

"Forgive me for my intrusion Bobby, my listening vas totally accidental," Kurt said in a quick attempt to apologize for upsetting Bobby and for intruding on such personal and private thoughts. His eyes darted away nervously, as usual when Kurt was confronted like this, and he smiled faintly although it was more of a nervous one. His tail dropped low to the ground and he lowered his head as well, making sure to side step Bobby, not wanting to upset the youth any more than he already was. Kurt was a bit more paranoid than usual, no doubt the added effect from the pheromones that Laurie was emitting, and the way he held himself, the way the moved showed every bit of that. Kurt seemed to be his old self again, the very paranoid and frightened creature he was when he first came to the Institute.

Laurie's soft voice and semi-nervous tone interrupted Kurt, sparing them all any more bumbling apologies and what not, catching Kurt's attention and making him smile just a bit more. Her rapid and really unclear statement about pheromones made Kurt realize he was reacting as Laurie was feeling and he did his best to calm himself in some vain attempt to calm the girl, of course, his appearance apparently wasn't making that easy. He resembled a demon more than anything, a cruel fact that Kurt had to deal with every day, but one he was getting used to and learning to deal with. Of course, maybe his physical appearance would shed a bit of light on Laurie's problem, making her see that maybe she didn't have it as bad as she thought she did, after all, she wasn't blue and didn't have a tail flipping about every where.

"Sorry if I am not very talkative," he said as he crouched down closer to the floor, flashing Laurie the best smile he could, "but I've been feeling a bit....blue," he quickly added, glancing to Bobby and laughing somewhat, doing his best to bring some levity to the situation at hand, "And you can call me Kurt...if you vish," he threw in as his laughter died down, nodding to Laurie warmly. Kurt was a very sympathetic creature and he hated to see any of those around him upset and right now, Bobby and Laurie seemed to be the epitome of pity.

[Bobby Drake]

> “No! I want to control them but at the same time… there was someone…he…I just don’t want to have this kind of power.”

Bob nods in sudden, albeit deluded, understanding. Sure… makes sense. Young girl, accidental emotional manipulation, has a crush on some guy… messy. She clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, though, so he leaves it at that.

> “I’m not a terrorist or a superhero or anything like that, I’m just normal, and normal people shouldn’t be able to control someone else. What would ever give me the right?”

Bob’s on more secure ground here; this is basically the question Professor Xavier spent two years asking all his Ethics students over and over again. "The same thing that gives anyone the right to influence anything, ever: the well-founded belief that the consequences of inaction will make the situation worse. Knowing that if you don’t use your power to calm them down, the stadium full of rioting hockey fans will trample someone to death. Knowing that if you don’t use your power to frighten them off, the armed muggers will hurt you or some other innocent person." He shrugs, trying to make the whole thing seem casual, though he knows perfectly well how difficult it is to accept. "Knowing you can make a difference, that you can make things better. Best reason in the world."

> “I hope yours comes back soon though if you want it... you seem like you would actually know what to do with it.”

Bob smiles sincerely for what seems like the first time in forever. "Thanks. I hope so. On both counts."

> " Forgive me for my intrusion Bobby, my listening vas totally accidental,"

"Sure… no worries, Mr. Wagner. Guess I should’ve figured a place like this’d be your hangout. Hope you don’t mind my barging in like I did." Bob tries to maintain a pleasant tone despite his growing anxiety and irritation, which he suspects has as much to do with Laurie’s biochemistry as anything else. The way Kurt curled in on himself helped calm him down too; it’s like he expects to be whipped or something.

> " Sorry if I am not very talkative, but I've been feeling a bit....blue"

Bob snorts despite himself. " Yeah, I can see that. You and Dr. McCoy. Well, and Mystique, I guess… at least some of the time, right?"

He’s surprised to realize Kurt and Laurie haven’t previously met, and completes the introductions. "Laurie, this is Kurt Wagner…" he adds in an atrocious attempt at a German accent "ozzervize known az ze Amaszing Nightcrawler!"

In a more normal voice he adds "He works here, as, um, well, " He’s somewhat bemused by the realization that he doesn’t actually know what Kurt’s job is, and adds hastily to cover the gap " he works with the students. "

[Laurie Collins]

"The same thing that gives anyone the right to influence anything, ever: the well-founded belief that the consequences of inaction will make the situation worse. Knowing that if you don’t use your power to calm them down, the stadium full of rioting hockey fans will trample someone to death. Knowing that if you don’t use your power to frighten them off, the armed muggers will hurt you or some other innocent person. Knowing you can make a difference, that you can make things better. Best reason in the world."
Laurie nods slowly at this, he has a point, she knows he does. But if I have the power to do that then I also have the power to manipulate someone and that’s the point… how do I trust myself not to? What if I cross the line? How do I know I’m a good person, or will remain one? I could make things better sure, but I could make things worse too. For a moment she considers actually asking all this, Bob is one of the only people she’s met who can say the sort of thing he’s just said with such calm authority that she can believe it. It’s the one thing she could never discuss with her mother, she’s never wanted to be a reminder of her father in any way and her pheromones are the ultimate reminder. Now, however, isn’t the time and so she tucks this away in her mind for later and turns back to Kurt as he and Bob exchange greetings and apologies.

At second glance the older mutant reveals that he isn’t nearly so frightening as he had appeared to her in that first startling moment. True he looks more like a monster from the closet than anything else she’s ever seen but once she looks past the blue and yellow of his skin and eyes she can see the gentleness in his expression and movements.

" Sorry if I am not very talkative, but I've been feeling a bit....blue"
The joke releases the last of her tension- she gives a genuine smile instead of a shyly polite one and her fingers uncurl from their grip on the edge of the pew. She takes a steadying breath, hoping her pheromones have faded from the air as she can tell they’re affecting Kurt at least from his posture.

"Laurie, this is Kurt Wagner…ozzervize known az ze Amaszing Nightcrawler!"

She giggles softly, the sound muffled behind her palm, at Bob’s attempt at Kurt’s German accent. “It’s nice to meet you.” she says softly, unable to reconcile herself to calling someone who may or may not be a teacher (Bob’s remarks haven’t shed any light on that) by their first name but not wanting to call him Mr. Wagner and seem too formal and so leaving names out of the equation all together. “What do you teach here?” she adds politely. Meeting new mutants is getting easier, a little while ago Matthew had scared her just a little by being tall, now after her initial surprise she’s relatively adjusted to Kurt who is much more unusual in a much shorter time. Maybe I’ll make it here after all she allows herself to think for the first time.