Backdated: Teacher's lounge: Betsy, Jean, and Nate.

[x-psylocke.livejournal.com]

Backdated to May 7th.



Walking into the teacher's lounge, Betsy plopped down onto the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. She tilted her head over to Nate, sitting on the chair next to her. "My head is killing me and there isn't enough aspirin in the world to make it go away."

"What's wrong?" Nathan said, glancing up from his book. He'd been looking into a couple of possibilities for a summer course. One summer course, mind you, and he wasn't even sure he'd do that in the end. Depended on what he came up with, he supposed, and how much
interest there was in it.

"I'm a bit agitated." Betsy replied, returning her gaze back to the ceiling. "And I can't get myself to relax like I'm waiting for something to happen."

"And here I thought I was the precog." He gave her an assessing look. "You look like you need some physical activity to wear you out. Hit the gym, maybe?"

"I'm tired of physical activity." Betsy whined. "I'd do better with a day treatment at a spa right about now, but all the local spots are booked for the weekend."

Betsy raised up, looking over to Nate. "Oh ho, and what are you plotting over there?"

Nathan waved the book at her. "Course for the summer. Maybe. Depending on whether I can get a syllabus drawn up that will attract more than the faithful few who seem inexplicably drawn to my teaching style, for whatever reason." He shrugged. "It wouldn't be too much work," he said, "and I hated not being able to finish out the term properly. I don't want to not teach at all for the next few months..."

"Maybe that's what you need, Nate. A respite of sorts not an itinerary filled with coursework and bothersome assignments." She quirked her head, grinning at him as the thought hit her. "Oh, now that would be something."

Nathan gave her a moderately suspicious look. "I don't trust that grin. What are you thinking?" He gave her shields an experimental poke, more to prod her to spill than an actual probe.

Betsy didn't give to the mental push, but her grin did grow. "Don't know if I should, you might go into hiding. But I am thinking heating rocks and little towels would do you some good, Nate, my friend."

His eyebrows headed for his hairline. "I suspect I'd be a little out of place," he said wryly. "But I suppose I should thank you for thinking of me. Don't worry, though... I'm getting used to the perpetual back pain."

The problem with walking into a room with a pair of fully trained telepaths in it, Jean realized half a second after she crossed the threshold, was that there was almost no mental noise to signify that here was a room that one might want to avoid if one wished to not encounter a certain purple-haired ex-model. Of course, having already entered the room, there were only two options - turn around and retreat (less than optimal) or push on. "Afternoon," she said, continuing into the room to set her papers on the table.

Nathan hesitated, then smiled warmly at Jean. "Afternoon," he said, determined not to buy into the tension between the two of them. If they wanted to hiss at each other with exquisite courtesy, let them; he was fond of both of them, and he wasn't about to take sides.

Well, that was reassuring and Jean smiled back. She might want Betsy universally hated, but was smart enough to know that it wasn't going to happen and (when being rational) to accept 'not taking sides' as being far better than 'taking Betsy's side'. She pulled out one of the chairs and sat down, spreading the papers out to look over them.

"Hello," Betsy managed curtly, doing nothing to hide the roll of her eyes, as she tried to engage in some civility. "So, what brings you here today, Jeanie? Come to play?"

"No, actually," she said to Betsy not bothering to look at the other woman. "I'm afraid I've got too much work to lounge about and please myself. Oh, but you were saying something about a spa trip?"

"And a headache," Betsy added. "One that seems to follow me wherever I go, no matter how many pills I take."

Nathan coughed before Betsy could continue, then smiled blandly as the two of them both looked at him. "Don't let me interrupt you. I mean, if you'd prefer, I could even step out and let you stick pins in each other in privacy."

Jean bit back the reply she had been about to give Betsy with an audible snap of her teeth. Nathan was a brave man to get in the middle of a 'discussion' between pair of angry telepathic women. It didn't help, either, that he was right. "I apologize," she said. "We're being childish, of course." And if he agreed with that in any way that Jean could hear, she was going to poison him.

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "I don't think the two of you are being childish," he said, responding to Jean's unspoken warning. "In fact, you have good reason to cordially hate each other." He turned the page of his book. "Doesn't mean you need to indulge yourselves and do it."

He had a point. Jean didn't like to admit it, but he had a point. Of course, not sniping at Betsy was so much easier when Jean didn't have to look at her, but Jean didn't really want to quit the 'field of battle' so early. Instead she pulled the pen that was tucked behind her ear out and uncapped it. "True enough," she said to Nathan, quite ignoring Betsy as she turned back to her papers.

"Glad you agree," Nathan murmured, paying attention to his book instead of the two of them. There was a lot not being said here, but sometimes that wasn't such a bad thing.

Alright, then. Looking about the two older telepaths and feeling like the younger spoilt brat, Betsy kept from her instinctive need to stubbornly tuck her arms and pout. "So, as I was saying," she resumed her conversation with Nate. "I really think you're in need of a break and so am I, why not try it for a few hours and if it's such a horrible experience you can leave. No questions asked."

The two continued their discussion as Jean worked, the tension ebbing out of the room but never quite disappearing entirely.