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xp_logs2005-06-30 10:38 pm
x-cable.livejournal.com) wrote in xp_logs2005-06-30 10:38 pm
Nathan and Betsy, backdated to Thursday night
Betsy finds Nathan getting ready for his trip to San Francisco, and offers an apology for her behavior during Saul's visit (behavior that was sparked by a similarity to someone she used to know). This does not mean that she approves of his weekend plans.
He needed a new passport, Nathan thought a bit bemusedly, sorting through the half-dozen sets of papers he had stored in the small safe in his office. Hell, at this point he might as well get a legal one under 'Nathan Morrow'. Since he had an identity and all, now... and Charles would probably do what he could to facilitate that, Nathan reflected.
"I think I like your real name better," Betsy interrupted. The younger telepath stood inside the doorway,. Her head quirked to the side and her back propped against the door frame, she looked the model picture of disapproval. "Going somewhere?"
Nathan blinked and looked up at her. "My real..." No, not going there. "San Francisco," he said with a good facsimile of a cheerful smile. "Just for the weekend."
"Visiting a friend?" She asked, already knowing the answer from Nathan's thoughtful expression.
"No. My father." He raised an eyebrow at her, silently daring her to make an issue of it.
"Funny," she said, making her way over to him and looking very hesitant. "I came here to apologize for my....behavior. While he was in the room, it was like nails on a chalkboard, Nate. And all the time, you mentioned your father, you never mentioned he was a mutant." And his whole demeanor and countenance reminded her of someone else entirely and Betsy couldn't help but tighten her expression a little more.
Nathan sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Apology accepted. And honestly, Betsy, I didn't know he was a mutant until Moira and I were on our way back from the airport with him." He smiled a bit weakly. "He wasn't... like that, the first time I met him. I could sense a little of his thoughts. I wonder if it was some side-effect... he said something about having made metabolic adjustments to make flying easier."
"He wasn't like that the first time you met him?" Betsy echoed. "I don't know, Nate....." Her jaw tightened and decided to keep her mouth shut on the matter. It wouldn't change his mind anyway, regardless of how she felt. "I have a taser, in case of emergencies. 150,000 volts if he toes one foot out of line."
Nathan stared at her for a long moment. "Do you know why he didn't tell me he was a mutant until he got here?" he asked. Betsy didn't answer the rhetorical question, of course, so he did it for her. "Because he felt guilty. He said he'd had so many years of relative peace, despite his mutation..."
"Well, he was one of the lucky ones, " Betsy said, tiredly. "Nate, I'm not claiming to know the man, or what ordeal he has gone through. He simply rubs me the wrong way. And the fact that his "changes" to make his flight a bit easier to handle, also makes it impossible for anyone to know if he's full of shite."
"I didn't scan him in the cafe," Nathan said, his eyes on the passports on his desk. "I don't think I'll be scanning him this weekend, either, Betsy. Call that stupidly stubborn if you want, but... I believe him," he said more softly, and then looked up at her with something close to a glare. "And whether or not I accepted your apology, you were acting like a lunatic the other day. I don't think anyone can be expected to be on their best behavior in the face of that."
"I didn't say a thing," Betsy protested. "Mostly."
"You don't really believe that."
"There are a lot of things I don't believe," Betsy said, matter-of-factly. Her hands clasped firmly together, looking all the more sheepish. "I did say I was sorry."
"You did." Nathan's expression smoothed a little. "I want to believe him," he said quietly. "Most of me does. Unless I have a reason not to... why shouldn't I?"
"No, you don't," Betsy said, her face darkening as she spoke. She walked over, placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Have a safe trip."
He needed a new passport, Nathan thought a bit bemusedly, sorting through the half-dozen sets of papers he had stored in the small safe in his office. Hell, at this point he might as well get a legal one under 'Nathan Morrow'. Since he had an identity and all, now... and Charles would probably do what he could to facilitate that, Nathan reflected.
"I think I like your real name better," Betsy interrupted. The younger telepath stood inside the doorway,. Her head quirked to the side and her back propped against the door frame, she looked the model picture of disapproval. "Going somewhere?"
Nathan blinked and looked up at her. "My real..." No, not going there. "San Francisco," he said with a good facsimile of a cheerful smile. "Just for the weekend."
"Visiting a friend?" She asked, already knowing the answer from Nathan's thoughtful expression.
"No. My father." He raised an eyebrow at her, silently daring her to make an issue of it.
"Funny," she said, making her way over to him and looking very hesitant. "I came here to apologize for my....behavior. While he was in the room, it was like nails on a chalkboard, Nate. And all the time, you mentioned your father, you never mentioned he was a mutant." And his whole demeanor and countenance reminded her of someone else entirely and Betsy couldn't help but tighten her expression a little more.
Nathan sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Apology accepted. And honestly, Betsy, I didn't know he was a mutant until Moira and I were on our way back from the airport with him." He smiled a bit weakly. "He wasn't... like that, the first time I met him. I could sense a little of his thoughts. I wonder if it was some side-effect... he said something about having made metabolic adjustments to make flying easier."
"He wasn't like that the first time you met him?" Betsy echoed. "I don't know, Nate....." Her jaw tightened and decided to keep her mouth shut on the matter. It wouldn't change his mind anyway, regardless of how she felt. "I have a taser, in case of emergencies. 150,000 volts if he toes one foot out of line."
Nathan stared at her for a long moment. "Do you know why he didn't tell me he was a mutant until he got here?" he asked. Betsy didn't answer the rhetorical question, of course, so he did it for her. "Because he felt guilty. He said he'd had so many years of relative peace, despite his mutation..."
"Well, he was one of the lucky ones, " Betsy said, tiredly. "Nate, I'm not claiming to know the man, or what ordeal he has gone through. He simply rubs me the wrong way. And the fact that his "changes" to make his flight a bit easier to handle, also makes it impossible for anyone to know if he's full of shite."
"I didn't scan him in the cafe," Nathan said, his eyes on the passports on his desk. "I don't think I'll be scanning him this weekend, either, Betsy. Call that stupidly stubborn if you want, but... I believe him," he said more softly, and then looked up at her with something close to a glare. "And whether or not I accepted your apology, you were acting like a lunatic the other day. I don't think anyone can be expected to be on their best behavior in the face of that."
"I didn't say a thing," Betsy protested. "Mostly."
"You don't really believe that."
"There are a lot of things I don't believe," Betsy said, matter-of-factly. Her hands clasped firmly together, looking all the more sheepish. "I did say I was sorry."
"You did." Nathan's expression smoothed a little. "I want to believe him," he said quietly. "Most of me does. Unless I have a reason not to... why shouldn't I?"
"No, you don't," Betsy said, her face darkening as she spoke. She walked over, placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Have a safe trip."