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Post by Bobby Drake on May 19, 2007 21:24:44 GMT
Bobby has been pacing back and forth outside Sheppard’s office door for quite a while now.
Granted, it’s not obviously pacing… he’d walked past it the first time to stick his head into Storm’s office, despite having just seen her in the kitchen. Then he’d walked past it again after “discovering” she wasn’t there. Then he’d turned back around and walked past it a third time on his way to the bathroom at the far end of the hall, and never mind that there was a closer one by the stairs. Then he’d walked past it again. Then he’d turned around again, and then passed the door (five!) to go back to the bathroom, patting his pockets as though he might have left something there, even though he hadn’t and nobody was actually looking.
So now he’s outside Sheppard’s office for the sixth time in about as many minutes, nervously fingering the list of names and numbers he’d gotten the last time they’d spoken. Of course, that hadn’t been much of a conversation: Bobby’d been pretty closemouthed, and Sheppard had gotten the idea pretty quickly and had withdrawn with good grace, leaving the list behind “in case he would rather talk to someone else.”
The thing is, annoying as it is for Bobby to admit, he’d actually seemed like a pretty cool guy during that exchange. Hell, anyone who was willing to put up with him after the last year or so rates points just for that, let alone for trying to help sort out his head.
So why am I heading down the hall again? he asks rhetorically, realizing he’s walked past the door yet again. OK, this is ridiculous. I’m not twelve and he’s not my dad. This is just… business. Right? Before he can answer himself, suspecting that his answer will be “No,” he takes a deep breath and walks back to the door (Seven! cheers a voice in his head) and knocks firmly.
"Um… Mr. Sheppard? It’s Bobby Drake. Can I talk to you for a minute?"
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Post by Jake Sheppard on May 19, 2007 21:58:51 GMT
”Look, I know it’s an unusual request… Yes, I fully understand that, but if you’d just… No, I don’t have a warrant for it – do they even do those? - but…” Jake sighs, and wonders, not for the first time, exactly how weird it is that they don’t have a student here who can handle the Cerebro-2 construction. Hiring in contractors – even when the order is split up Batman Begins style, to supposedly allay suspicions (heh, that’s working…) – isn’t exactly going all that well, as this phone call – the third of the morning, urk – serves to testify. ”Okay, I’ll just fax you the designs and you can get back to me, okay? Okay bye. Bye now. Hanging up now.” He slams the phone down as if it’s going to bite if he holds on a minute longer and sighs again.
Well, he tried, right? And that counts as productive. More so than he’s been in a while – planning having gone a little awry once grape-rebro was replaced by the scale cardboard model and that, in turn, populated by the latest range of the X-Men Action Figures… But things are on track, sort of, and so he feels more than qualified to take a well deserved break…
< Um… Mr. Sheppard? It’s Bobby Drake. Can I talk to you for a minute?
… or not. Headmaster-ly duties call, as does wondering idly whether Bobby’s secondary mutation is knowing when’s a bad time to interrupt. Going back as far as their *disagreement* over the Mutant Camps back in - bugger, when was that, November? – whenever. And while their last meeting was civil enough, you’d be forgiven for thinking that Bobby’s control over coldness extended to mood…
… which isn’t really fair on the kid, because he’s had – to put it incredibly mildly – more than enough to be dealing with, and it’s a wonder his brain hasn’t outright melted. Fingers crossed this is just a quick update as to actions taken, obligatory thanks for setting him on to the right people, yada yada… but if not, Jake is forced to remind himself, he is technically one of the most qualified, and it is sort of in the job contract…
”Sure.” he replies, at first overly breezy in his desire to come off welcoming, then, clearing his throat, trying to sound something deeper, calmer and more professional. There’s none of the usual scramble to seem like he’s doing anything other than hardcore procrastination; one thing, it seems, which ‘The Project’ is good for is giving him lots of complicated and important looking diagrams to have spread out as if he actually knows what they mean and often refers to them. ”Come on in”
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Post by Bobby Drake on May 19, 2007 22:30:40 GMT
> " Sure. Come on in. "
Bobby walks in hesitantly, feeling inexplicably as if he’d been called into the principal’s office instead of having come here on his own, and closes the door. "Um… thanks. Sorry to interrupt your, um, " he waves vaguely at the blueprints and the “action figures” before shoving his hands back in his pants pockets and fingering that damned piece of paper as if it were some weird kind of talisman, "…work."
He stands near the door for a while, as if not quite entering the office despite the closed door behind him, as the silence grows awkward. "I just… um, well, I’ve been thinking about what you said before." Which is a lie, really, as right this moment Bobby can’t remember a single word Sheppard had said, other than vague generalities about stress and counseling and things, but it seems as good a place to start as anywhere. "And… well, I dunno, I guess I just wanted to apologize, and stuff." He shrugs. "I’ve been kinda a dick to you, I think, and you probably don’t deserve it."
Yeah, that was smooth. Why not follow that up with a critique of his choice in clothing or making fun of his dolls, as long as we’re doing selected clips from ‘Awkward Social Faux Pas; Mutant High Edition’? Bobby sighs and shrugs again, his eyes never quite meeting Sheppard’s, and realizes he’s fisting his hands in the pockets of his jeans, crumpling up the paper. He pulls it out, somewhat chagrined, and tries to smooth it out surreptitiously.
"So, anyway… I, um… well, I’m sorry for that, and I appreciate you giving a shit." He shrugs yet a third time, rather more as if it were a nervous tic than a genuine expression of anything. "So, you know… thanks."
He’s aware that that sounded quite a lot like the end of a conversation, despite it having been more of a monolog, and it feels vaguely like he ought to leave now. Either that, or actually walk into the office and sit down or something, indicate that he’s actually interested in talking. He does neither, though, just stands awkwardly by the door like he’s fourteen again and getting up the nerve to ask some girl at a party to dance.
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Post by Jake Sheppard on May 19, 2007 23:11:22 GMT
< Sorry to interrupt your, um … work
”Not to worry.” he replies, quickly, trying for a tone as far removed from intimidating as superhumanly possible. Not that the idea of him being intimidating is anything less than ludicrous, but… well, it’s a fairly non-patronising take on reassuring, or something. Whatever. It doesn’t look like it would take much to give Bobby an excuse to bolt. ”Really, it’s no problem”
It doesn’t take a telepath (in fact, Jake makes a mental note to deliberately not listen in on anything other than the words right now – Bobby’s brain is no doubt one hell of a mess, and it’s a mix of courtesy, professionalism and, to an extent, self defence, not to go snooping into anything he’s not ready to try and articulate) to note that the kid is far beyond uncomfortable. Congratulations, Jakey-boy. Seems that degree came in useful after all…
From thereon in it’s all fairly textbook – sitting back, and listening, and – which he would mock mercilessly were he watching, but right now doesn’t seem all that amusing – even doing that stupid little understanding nod, just letting Bobby talk, fighting the urge to burst in with self-deprecating no, it’s okay or no need or anything to let on how much he’s cringing inside at the repeated apologies. There are other little things that they don’t put in the textbook – like how he’s learnt to look down, as if in thought, so it doesn’t feel like there’s a gaze Bobby can be avoiding (yep, totally to do with helping Bobby feel more comfortable, good little resident therapist that he is) – and later he’ll no doubt be congratulating himself on handling this at least without a serious ballsup. Give it time, though…
< So, you know… thanks
It doesn’t feel like the end, and for a moment or two he hangs on, expecting the confessional to continue, before almost jumping when he realises – ”Oh!” – way to miss your cue, there. Not exactly ‘textbook’ now – ”Hey, it’s no trouble. Any time.” He smiles brightly, waiting for Bobby to say something else…
… and that, ladies and gents, would be an awkward silence. And still more of said silence, made more uncomfortable by how nothing’s happening. Well, big surprise there; it’s not like he’s just going to spill everything that’s wrong so you can say something wise-yet-meaningless and get a gold star and a pat on the head for being a friendly ear. You’re going to have to do some actual work… Said work isn’t as much of a problem as usual, of course, not when his gaze strays back to the sad little figure in the doorway, because dammit, he kinda actually sorta maybe really wants to help the kid… but it’s still work and… ech.
”How did you…” he starts, fishing for a way to get Bobby talking again, that miracle conversation starter, the thought invested meaning the words are drawn out, staccato as he stumbles on them in the quest to form a decent sentence before tumbling once he figures one out as if they’ll escape otherwise. ”Get on with the list? No one got back to me… not that they would have, of course, what with patient confidentiality and all, but…” shut up, you’re babbling. ”Ye-ah, I’d like to know… things going okay with... whoever?” Content that that’s sort of salvaged, almost, he sits back, gestures for Bobby to take a seat if he wants.
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Post by Bobby Drake on May 19, 2007 23:32:29 GMT
> " How did you…get on with the list?"
"List?" Bobby looks at the piece of paper in his hand foolishly, rather as if he had no idea what Sheppard was going on about, at first. "Oh, um… right. List. Well, um…" he trails off, increasingly disgusted with himself. Oh for God’s sake, Drake, this has gotten absurd.
He shakes his head to clear it, almost resembling a wet dog for just a moment, and takes a step or two closer to Jake’s desk. "Well, the thing is… I kinda haven’t called anybody." He picks up one of the dolls hanging off of the strange cardboard thing – presumably Warren, he’s guessing from the wings – and makes a show of inspecting it. "Yet."
They got the wingspan wrong, he thinks irrelevantly. No way could Warren even get off the ground with these…
"Actually, that’s kinda why I wanted to talk to you," and that’s another lie, because he actually has absolutely no idea why he’s here, and he sits down to cover his uncertainty when he realizes he’s not sure how to follow that up. He puts the Warren doll back down on the desk and picks up a somewhat generic-looking teenage-boy doll in an X-Man uniform to inspect it. Is that supposed to be Josh?
"Well, I was actually wondering… " and Bobby nearly cheers when the second half of that sentence occurs to him "…how much these guys actually know about, you know, what we do and everything." He waves the possibly-Josh doll vaguely at cardboard-rebro and his surroundings. "I mean, I don’t want to “out” students who aren’t public mutants or anything, or give away secrets, but… well, I mean, the point of…" and he stumbles over the word, realizing he’s never actually said it out loud before, "…of therapy is that you’re supposed to, well, talk about stuff, right? So, you know, um… I wasn’t quite sure how that was supposed to work, you know?"
He feels a little foolish waving this doll around, and puts it down next to Warren’s, then giggles a bit at the image. "Hey, do you have one of these of me?"
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Post by Jake Sheppard on May 20, 2007 2:21:50 GMT
< I kinda haven’t called anybody.
… why isn’t he surprised? Jake does his best not to show the strange resigned-disappointed hybrid (although he’s amazed to note that he has to, because that’s a teacher-y thing, isn’t it? The ‘I’m not really disappointed but you know yourself you could have done better’ routine? Bloody hell, maybe he really is getting the hang of this!), settling instead for a faux-understanding nod, followed by a variant nearer but of course at the ‘Yet’.
< Actually, that’s kinda why I wanted to talk to you
… he can’t quite hide the slight blanch at that, though, because it feels uncomfortably like Bobby’s going to ask him to do something (which makes his criticism of Bobby’s inaction all sorts of hypocritical… not that it wasn’t already). The *eek* is forcibly stretched into an *oh, right* and then into an attempt at a smile. ”Go on…”
And then it’s back to the *understanding* attention-paying thing, which he can do – mainly because it takes that much effort not to let his mind wander back to the adventures of diddy!Warren and mini!Josh once Bobby starts playing with the figures, or to stray off into any one of the million other daydreams, that acting like he’s making an effort isn’t a stretch at all. Actually coming up with an answer, though… that’s the difficult part, because when it comes to how ‘this whole mutant thing’ (c&tm) works, exactly, then he’s about as deeply in the dark as Bobby, probably more so.
< … you know?
”I’m not an expert…” – hah, understatement of the year – ”To be honest, you’re probably better off asking Or-Miss-Storm,” (he makes a note, for what has to be the millionth time, to check the damn protocol on names) ”if you want specifics…” And there he goes again, shifting his work over to her. Not that she’s protested. And to be honest she’s probably far, far better than him at it; she’s got that maternal thing downbat, genuinely gives more than a damn about any and all of her charges, and is more than clued up about pretty much everything. While he…
… is totally bloody useless.
It’d be nice to prove to her, though, that that’s not the case… right? And what better than helping a star pupil through the mother of all crises rather than running to her the moment it gets complicated? Besides, this is technically his area of expertise… ”Speaking generally, though? That whole patient confidentiality thing covers a lot… so unless they’ve snuck in some law that you have to spill about muties same as you do murderers and the like?” Okay, probably not the most reassuring line to go down, not with the MRA back in the news – not that it’s ever out of the news – but… shut up, Jake. Back on track. ”Plus there’s bound to be a… one of us doing this kinda thing, right?” Better… you’re on a roll ”Find an ex-student or a known supporter or something… hell, I’m qualified, so it can’t be that difficult to get…” Ah. Too much roll! That almost counts as an offer, doesn’t it?
He’ll leave that with Bobby, he thinks.
< Hey, do you have one of these of me?
Ah, topic change. And to something he can genuinely enthuse about. Jake grins, and shakes his head. ”Just those three and the special limited edition Ambassadorial Hank… Guess they’re saving you for the second line-up, in time for Christmas” He sobers slightly, though the excitement is still there (eee, action figures!) as he tags on a more serious ”Really it’s just the publicly outed team members, though. Wouldn’t be surprised if a few of the riot crew showed up sooner or later, but I think you’re safe unless they release a Kaytraz Revisited playset or something”
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Post by Bobby Drake on May 20, 2007 4:38:10 GMT
Even distracted as he is, Bobby can’t help but be annoyed by Sheppard’s attempt to palm him off (again), or startled when he seems to change his mind and actually answer the question with something vaguely resembling a tone of confidence. Wow… how did that happen?
> " Find an ex-student or a known supporter or something… hell, I’m qualified, so it can’t be that difficult to get… "
Wait up… did he just imply…? And that’s even weirder, because Bobby can’t remember the last time Sheppard actually offered to do something. And the irony is, now that he’s being offered help he didn’t ever think he’d be offered, he realizes it’s not quite what he wants... or, rather, not quite who he wants it from. Not Sheppard, not anyone at the Institute, not anyone who has actually dealt with him for the last year.
Bobby remembers his end-of-semester interviews with Professor Xavier, back when he was headmaster. Once Bobby’d gotten used to the idea of an actual telepath, he’d never understood why the Professor bothered with the interviews when surely he could pluck the information he wanted out of his students’ heads. Finally he got up the nerve to ask, and the Professor had just smiled that strange little smile of his and said “Bobby… I’ve known you were going to ask that question for quite a while. But if I’d answered it before now, you wouldn’t have known you were going to ask it. And that’s far more important.”
Like a lot of the Professor’s answers, it hadn’t made much sense at the time, but now Bobby thinks he gets it: actually having to say it makes it clear in his own head, and that’s what matters. And if he’s going to make sense of what’s been happening to him lately, he suspects he’ll do better actually having to explain it than talking to someone who went through it themselves, who thinks they understand… and who maybe didn’t quite experience the same thing Bobby did.
He can’t think of a polite way to explain any of that, so he just lets the subject drop and latches on to something else Sheppard said that rings a bell. "A ‘known supporter,’ eh?" He looks over the list of names and points to one. "What about this Sean Garrison guy? I’ve heard his name before, he’s a pretty well-known mutant supporter… he even took a bullet over it once. And Josh mentioned he was at that riot in Times Square, nearly got taken down by the Brotherhood, and offered his services… says Warren was pretty impressed with the guy. What do you think?"
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