LOG: Betsy and Scott; Thursday Afternoon (backdated)

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Scott comes to thank Betsy with her involvement in Sangue Puro.



The door to Betsy's office was very slightly ajar, and Scott paused in front of it, clearing his throat - entirely unnecessarily, he suspected. Unless she was very deep into whatever she was doing, and he doubted that would be the case without a locked door. He hadn't forgotten her habits.

Smiling up at the shadow projected inside her room by the hallway lights, Betsy sat back in her chair, folding her arms across her waist. "Come in," she said gratefully. Because anything that got her away from these ruddy files was indeed welcomed.

Scott opened the door, smiling. "You're going to start withering away for lack of sunlight, you know," he chided lightly, seeing the slightly bleary-eyed look she was giving him. "Not that I have much room to talk. And with me it's literal."

"With Remy gone and Jake making trips overseas, I've been trying to keep up with....." Betsy shook her head and waved it off. "Nevermind. Probably not anything you want to hear." She looked up at him. Her smile tightened slightly, trying not to show that knowing expression of hers and managing it well. "So, how have you been?"

"Since yesterday? Not so bad. Prior to yesterday, kind of strung out." He sat down in the chair opposite her desk, shrugging more or less cheerfully. "This is what happens when I immure myself in the hangar for the better part of three days. Although I'm glad I got the plane fixed, given that we needed it on Tuesday afternoon." He shook his head. "I knew that would happen," he said a little triumphantly.

"And because you get to tinker in the underbelly of the Blackbird makes you feel all the more like a man," Betsy said jokingly. Besides that, she didn't push further. It wasn't like she hadn't known about his episode, or felt it, but more that it was not any of her concern, at least not anymore. Betsy sighed inwardly. "I would think you'd be feeling a bit more triumphant about what you achieved this past week."

"What we achieved," Scott corrected her almost automatically. "And that includes you. The updates you sent us on the flight down were almost as helpful as the briefing itself was." It struck him that he'd avoided the implicit question, but oh well. It wasn't as if she wasn't used to that, from him.

"Ever the same, Scott," Betsy said with a shake of her head but dismissed it with a smile. "Right, yes. So, we achieved a great thing though I provided a wicked paper trail that saved the day and no actual field work to boot." Betsy said, as she began straightening up her desk. "Well, I think I've lucked out on this matter entirely."

Scott didn't ask what it was; she looked disgruntled, in any case. "Take a break?" he suggested, then laughed. "Yeah, listen to me. Do as I say and not as I do." The self-deprecating amusement turned a bit wistful as he watched her. "I wasn't just thanking you as a pro forma thing, you know..."

"Formality would explain the nature of the visit," Betsy answered. She was actually making some headway as she found the top of her desk and let out a breath of relief. "Let's face it, luv. We've rarely been anything but formal these past few months." Meeting Scott's gaze with a remorseful one. "Not that I've helped matters any, but truth is truth. I'm simply glad I could contribute some."

"Do you want to..." Scott paused, biting his lip, and then lowered his shields, mentally extending to her the memory of the faces of the students as they'd been led out of the school, running into their parents' arms.

Her face twitched as she embraced the memories Scott gave her and the guarded emotions he wrestled within him. She'd felt them before when he'd returned from the mission earlier this week. No matter how guarded he'd been with his thoughts, a person couldn't hide their pain from anyone else, telepaths included. "Thank you," she said, her voice subdued. "I.....it means a great deal."

"Just thought you might like to see it," Scott said, his expression distant for a moment as he relived the memories himself. Then he gathered himself with a little shake, giving her a quick smile. "Of course, I was falling over at that point and all I could think of was how badly it could have gone wrong..."

"I know," Betsy replied quietly. She averted her eyes, looking down for a moment, fortifying her resolve. This was the good fight, she repeated to herself. Over and over again until she believed it. "You know, all that time I hadn't realized you were contagious."

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Crap," he said amiably, "check me into quarantine now, then..." But something about the look on her face made him frown. "Betsy... you all right?" he asked more gently.

"Mostly,” Betsy said with a shrug. There were other things on her mind, private matters that didn't concern him and she was rarely the sort to bog him down with more problems to trouble himself with, Betsy decidedly remained quiet on the matter. "I’ve had a little trouble sleeping the last night or so. Guess I’ve been a bit restless."

"A lot on your mind, I'd imagine," Scott said quietly, his gaze flickering around the office. "You really have been immuring yourself in here..." He looked back up at her. "Do you really need to, or is there a little bit of you that prefers to be in here?"

"I prefer it, actually." Betsy replied honestly. The situation was pretty amusing. They were actually managing a civil conversation but only with a desk between them. "There isn't much I can do to contribute out there." She tipped her head behind the door, toward the rest of the school. "Not unless I remain behind the scenes and churn out reliable information. It won't happen much elsewhere besides in the field or pouring over my contacts and notes here."

Scott gazed at her a bit regretfully. "When did that happen?" he asked somewhat obliquely.

Betsy blinked. "Do what?"

"When did you start thinking that the only contribution you could make was this?"

"Not sure, exactly,” Betsy’s lip twitched. "Since I've been back, I guess. I also had a few things help me realize where my gifts actually lie."

"Your gifts are one thing," Scott said. "Thinking that the only thing you're good for around here is what you can do is something else entirely. That way lies exhaustion and paranoia and drugs in your coffee. Trust me."

"But I'm much better at hiding my dysfunction than you are,” Betsy said with a snort. "There are some things I pride myself in and that being one of them. I'm content with the way things are, thank you very much."

"Yes, well, I'm not." Scott got up and came around the desk. "Come on," he said, pulling her desk chair out far enough so that she would have room to stand up. "You and I are both going to go for a walk. We need sun."

"No,” Betsy said decisively, turning around and looking up at him. "I don't. I'm British. And we don't particularly believe in the sun even during moments when it decides to show itself. Besides, 'm quite content on staying indoors where it's cool."

Scott gazed down at her for a moment, and then gave her his very best appealing grin. "Keep me company? Please?"

"Bloody hell," Betsy rolled her eyes and reluctantly stood up. "You're worst than Jamie..." Her expression darkened lightly before she reached into her desk drawer for her shades, placing them on with care. "Alright, a walk and some company."

Scott tried not to look too smug as he led the way out of her office.