xp_logs | Hank, Jean, Wednesday noonish

After talking to Charles, Hank slips out to the conservatory to get his thoughts in order. He's tired and feeling a little silly, but the problem has been found and dealt with. Jean stops by to ask what was up, and they talk it over. His sense of humour seems to be back.

Hank had headed out to the conservatory in search of quiet - no time like the present to start practicing the mental exercises the Professor had given him. Calming down, focusing on the present, convincing his mind that no, really, there wasn't anything he had to be doing right at this moment.

He really wasn't surprised to see Jean, though, when she approached... entirely aside from the fact that she was a psi, they'd known each other for long enough for her to know that he liked to talk things over, that it helped him settle things in his own mind. And with no-one in the medlab, she didn't really need to stay down there until he came down, when lunch was to be had. "Hello, my dear," he said, smiling up at her as she approached. "Have I mentioned that I missed you?"

"A few times, yes," Jean answered, smiling as she settled into one of the chairs next to his. "Congratulations on finishing the baby's room, again. It really is terribly cute. Love the duckies."

"I've always liked duckies." Hank smiled at her. "And I'm feeling a lot better. Someday I'll learn to go to him when I start to worry about something." He shook his head, smiling ruefully. "Genius I may be, but I can still be dim about some things, can't I?"

"We all get dim about some things, and unreasonable about others - that's human nature. But, learning from life is also human nature, so I'd say you're two for two."

Hank smiled, reaching over to give her hand a little squeeze. "I... feel a little silly," he said softly. "I imagine you've picked up the edges of my growing frustration and turmoil. I'm sorry for that... still, I wouldn't be an X-Man if my brain didn't get a little broken now and then, would I?"

She nodded, squeezing his hand in return. "Don't apologize, Hank, it's ok. I'm just glad you've moved into the silly range - you feeling silly is easier on me and, more importantly, on you than the frustration was."

Hank smiled ruefully. "It really is." He shook his head. "Want to know why I was tying myself in so many knots over such minor problems?"

"Yes," she answered simply, as much because he wanted to talk about it as because she was honestly curious.

"I was stressed because I wasn't stressed," Hank said simply. "Up until a few months ago, I was working eighteen hour days, six or seven days a week. My own research, commercial projects, the X-Men, the school... I was trying to do everything, all at once. I... had an epiphany, of sorts, in which I realized how much I'd drifted away from what really mattered to me - the school, my friends and my work here. So I put the other projects on hold, or let them be passed to others. Came back here, made the school and the team my only focus." He paused, and smiled ruefully. "And found that... well, suddenly my days weren't as full as they had been."

He shook his head. "And while I enjoyed the downtime at first... and, to my surprise, discovered that I'd been too busy to notice the exceptionally lovely lady hiding in the Medlab.... I was... too accustomed to the habit of overwork. Every waking moment, I had the vague feeling that I should be doing something. And there was so much downtime, with so many people here now, that it just got worse and worse. I was so used to being stressed that when it suddenly went away, I didn't know how to cope, and my subconscious started creating its own stress."

Jean leaned over to wrap an arm around his shoulders for a hug. "Hank, you are absolutely my favorite fuzzy blue doofus, but you're a bit of a doofus. Not that I don't understand about creating work and stress when you feel like you're not doing enough. Scott's taken to distracting me every time my lesson plans for next term get too elaborate, and I'm expressly forbidden from teaching too many classes on top of medical work by Charles."

Hank nodded. "I am a big blue doofus. I've had several lovely ladies call me that lately." He smiled, hugging her back. "But I've worked out what's up, now. And I'm going to start doing a little of my own work again... not enough to start wearing myself out again, but to keep me interested and doing things." He grinned at her. "I am so, so tempted to see if I can find a way to combine our psi-sensitive technology with an alarm of some sort. I don't know about you, but I think those of us who aren't currently getting any would find it vastly amusing if a bell chimed every time an orgasm got its wings."

"Bah," Jean said, smacking him on the shoulder. "You're terrible, and really, the children do not need to know that sort of thing. For that matter, I don't need to know that sort of thing about them, given that so many of them are convinced they're not children. Whatever other work you come up with to entertain yourself, I will be interested in the results."

Hank grinned. "With all the teenage boys in the house, it might turn out to be a perpetual-motion bell." He snickered happily. "Perhaps I could set it to chime at different pitches for male or female..." She smacked him again and he grinned. "Oh, all right, I won't. What about a whine-ometer? Any voice reaches a certain pitch and a siren goes..."

"And you can promise the siren won't be more obnoxious than the whine, how?"

"Oh, it won't... but it will draw so much attention every time a whine is produced - I'll have to put a locator on it too - that the whiners will be too mortified to ever do it again. It's a brilliant plan." He grinned. "Remember the Cast Iron Alibi I invented when I was young?" The Cast Iron Alibi had actually been a small, clumsy robot which flung pies and then hid, at times when Hank had both hands in view of an independent witness.

Jean laughed. "I do, indeed, remember the Cast Iron Alibi, and it's magnificant, magnetic ending when 'Ro hit it with a lightning bolt for pie-ing her new silk blouse. That's the trouble with sicking robots on mutant teenagers, I think."

Hank's eyes gleamed. "You know, it's been far too long since I played with robotics... even the giant robotic squid was mostly for Forge's benefit."

Jean's eyes narrowed at Hank. "Giant. Robotic. Squid? And you say you haven't been playing with robotics?"

"I didn't build it," Hank said virtuously. "I borrowed it from a friend."

"I'm still not seeing how even borrowing a giant. robotic. squid counts as not playing with robots."

"I did it for Forge. He did most of the playing.. every young genius should have a robot to take apart and examine." Hank grinned. "Besides, you know me. My favourite toys are the ones I build myself."

"Very true. All right, but if you're going to make a hunting robot, make one that goes after students this time. Or, rather, make one that goes after students, now that we no longer are students."

Hank grinned. "Maybe," he said teasingly. "Or maybe I should make it a Pants-Stealing robot, have it carry on my great work..."

"Oh, God, no, not the pants war..."

Hank snickered. "Like I told you last time, just keep wearing short skirts and you're perfectly safe," he said, grinning impishly.

"Entirely safe from the robot, sure, but then I'd never get any work done."

"Wants to be dressed AND working, I don't know, women today..." Hank laughed and hugged her again. "I'll be fine," he said affectionately. "And so will you. And so, judging by the grin that keeps appearing on his face, will Scott, you little minx.

"Take it as read that I'm avoiding any and all comments about 'aiming to please' and so on." Jean grinned at Hank. "And yes, we will be fine, and you will be more fine when we've got a schedule that hasn't got you and Maddie playing ships in the night. Or rather, ships in the early morning."

"Breakfast is a good meal, but it'd be nice to share others," Hank admitted. "Thank you for agreeing to take Thursday's shift... we're going out for dinner. Alison picked her dress. I may need to take a bucket to drool into."

"Not a problem, really. Doing my bit for the cause and all. The bucket might come off as uncouth, but you're right, might be needed."

"I'll take a collapsible one tht I can tuck into my pocket for emergencies." Hank grinned. "And, lunch being over, it behooves me to trot along and man the medlab once again. You are free to go." He flipped a hand at her, grinning. "Go make Scott giggle some more or something." He paused. "Not that I know whether he still does. My awareness of what you two do when you think you're alone is limited to my past experiences in the library when I happened to be screened by the Geology section." He grinned wickedly. "Many years ago now, but the memories are oh so clear..."

"Hmph. We are adults - we don't go giggling in the library anymore. That's what offices and private suites are for." Jean winked. "Go on, get downstairs. Want me to send something hot down around dinner time?"

"Please." Hank grinned wickedly. "And if you could get her to bring me some food, that'd be nice too."

"Sure, steal my lines why don't you," she said, echoing his grin. "And I don't know, food and the hot girl, that would be a surfeit of riches."

"I'll settle for the girl, then. Food I can find on my own." He grinned, and gave her a quick hug. "I think I could get the hang of this 'happy' thing. It's new to me, and a little strange and uncomfortable at first, but I think it has potential."

"It's like a swimming pool - you dip your toes in and get all nervous about it and then, before you know it, you're diving in over your head... Ok, no, that was an analogy that was never going to work. Please forget I said anything at all."

Hank hugged her reassuringly. "Or perhaps more like a rollercoaster," he suggested. "It looks frightening, and getting on is nerve-wracking, but once you get going you don't want to stop."

Jean's mind flashed back to the last time she'd been on a coaster with Scott, and her eyes sparkled. "Yes, that's much better. It's warm enough... I think there needs to be an outing to an amusement park."

Hank grinned. "I think there does! It's been ages since I got hyper and verbose on cotton candy."