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xp_logsThese logs are backdated to Thursday, August 18th.
The information was churning in from the Hungarian government faster than Betsy could keep up with. Realizing she left something in her quarters, Betsy took a mild jog from the first floor to her quarters. She retrieved the dossier she'd been looking over last night and made the quick romp back to her office. She'd have to talk over what findings she'd made with Remy and still prep an adequate report during the interim.
“It never ends,” Betsy muttered to herself. Tightening her hold on her paperwork once she reached the foyer, she made a B-line for her office to retrieve her laptop.
"Hey, there you are!" The arm looping through hers wasn't a surprise, or the slight whirling motion applied to change her direction – all things Alison had done several times before after all, though perhaps it had been a while ago. "You got a few? I've got something to ask you
and if you spend any more time in that office of yours, we'll be prying you from the chair mummified soon enough..."
"Yes, here I am!" Betsy said with mock cheer and not missing a beat, tried twirling herself back towards the direction of her office. "I'd love to chat, Alison. Honest. But I don't have a minute. Can we perhaps talk....later? I’m due for a meeting in…” She looked at her wristwatch, “…less than an hour."
"Hrm." Tapping her chin, Alison considered that for a moment. "There's no missions today. No rush on any debriefs, that I know of. Course, hey, what do I know?" Shrugging casually, Alison took a step back and considered Betsy idly. "So I'll make it short. Nathan's already hinted at being good for it in the journals and Jean's all for it, so there's going to be shielding classes for non-telepaths starting up next term. Since you've already given that type of class, only makes sense that you're part of the whole thing too."
"What?" Betsy's eyes went wide, her cause forgotten. Lips parted, mouth opening and closing like a surfaced guppy. She finally cleared her throat and shook her head. "Absolutely not," Betsy managed after a few moments. "I’m lucky enough to no longer be responsible for molding the minds within these walls. And I'm sure Nate and Jean can manage on their own."
A flat look greeted that statement. "Gee, being a teacher was that much of a hassle to you? Funny, you didn't seem to mind all that much before." Crossing her arms and looking generally unimpressed by the reaction, Alison shook her head slightly.
"We-well," Betsy stuttered. "I do now." She tightened her hold on her folder, looked down, and gathered her resolve. Feeling determined, Betsy looked back at Alison. "It's a hassle now that I'm involved in other demanding projects...."
"Other demanding projects? What, you quit teaching, you quit the team - and without so much as a thank you or goodbye, don't think that wasn't noticed..." Raising an eyebrow, Alison snorted quietly. "So, let's see. Teaching is a bore and the team isn't good enough for you.
That's going to be your excuse for hiding in your office like that?"
"Yes. Demanding," Betsy said, exasperated. "Besides, we both know that I was on medical leave for most of my time with the team. I did more leaving it than I ever did to contribute." Betsy’s hand went tiredly to her forehead, swiping a few errant strands from her face. "And in all honestly, the courses I taught were not anything worthwhile and rather unmentionable. I don't have that flare for teaching that you do, Alison. Now, if you'll excuse me...."
"Oh bullshit." Somehow, Alison managed to make it sound more like something that should have been said long ago to Betsy by someone, as opposed to an attack. "Please. 'I did more leaving it...' That was running away. And you're still doing that now. You want to justify
quitting the team when you were perfectly suitable to be on it that way, fine do that. Lie to everyone else about it that way too." Shrugging, Alison took a step back. "But at least admit to yourself that you won't be able to hide behind Kwannon forever. Not without her owning you body and soul all over again, even without being there to do it."
There it was again that sudden feeling of air being evacuated from her lungs and not likely to come back anytime soon. "I---" Betsy started. "I haven't been hiding behind her. “Still unable to say that name out loud was a sign, but Betsy pushed that thought out of her mind. "Simply because I've changed over the years, you think that it's because of....of what happened."
"Of course you've changed. We all have, all for different reasons. Some good, some bad." There was a faintly ironic edge to Alison's smile, just then, though it vanished in an instant. "But if you're going to try to convince people that you haven't walked away from all you had before Kwannon? You're going to have to convince yourself of that first." Alison shook her head slightly. "And you're not even close to being there yet. And if you think lying to yourself about it will help... geez, Betsy. You know better than that."
"Stop it!" Betsy snapped. "I haven't walked away from anything," she hissed, feeling a wealth of anger building at the constant needling. And at herself. “I don't need to convince anyone of anything. I don't have to teach classes, or join the team...and fuck all." She heard the dam within her snapping, releasing its' burden, as she spoke. "I'm not going to take that chance again and be responsible.....and hurt them.... again."
"Uh huh," taking another step, Alison turned and started to head down the hallway. "Okay. Sure thing. No more taking chances. I'll let you go back to your office and while you do that, I'll be going to go let Jean know it'll be just her and Nathan for the psi-shielding classes."
“You do that,” Betsy said loud enough for Alison to hear. Fuming quietly, Betsy turned sharply on her heel, walked purposefully toward the faculty hall, trying her best not to slam her fist into the wall.
Betsy dropped her clipboard loudly onto her desk and collapsed bonelessly into her reclining office chair. The soft tendrils of dark purple hair pooled down to her shoulders and she shifted impatiently in her seat, trying to focus on anything but the incident in the hall. The window curtains drawn up, kept the unrelenting sun from superheating the room, but left it perpetually dark.
Noticing the mail nestled comfortably in her inbox; Betsy leaned forward and idly picked them up. She pulled her letter opener from the top drawer of her desk and began sifting through the stack of envelopes. Her hands stopped over the edge of a manila envelope, catching the registered post on its’ face. Falling back into her seat with a thump, Betsy turned over the envelope and ran the sharp edge of the letter opener deftly along its’ side.
Pulling out the legal documents, Betsy dropped them onto her desk with a look of disgust. She reached a little lower on her desk and the loud creak of her bottom drawer being pulled open was followed by the sound of glass clinking together, liquid being poured into a container, followed by the satisfied sigh of a desert traveler.
Eyeing the phone on her desk for a moment, she picked up the receiver and started dialing a number with too many digits to be anywhere within the states.
“Hello,” a familiar voice intercut over the slight haze. “Bets?”
Despite herself, she smirked into the phone. Brian always seemed to know when she was calling. But while they’d been growing up, she had entertained the idea that he always answered the phone, calling out her name. “Yes, it’s me.”
“So?” He asked, questioningly.
Betsy began refilling her glass. The soft sounds of chinking glass seemed to echo off the walls and into the phone recevier. “So,” she repeated. Feeling the hedge in his voice, smothering his words, keeping him in check. It’d be only a matter of time before he asked what he needed to ask
“You receive the package from Stanley, then?” He paused for a moment.
She picked up the package and in disgust threw it back onto the desk. “Yes, it would seem congratulations are in order to the new owner of Braddock Manor.” Betsy grimaced, as she took another deep sip from her glass. “Father, would be ever so proud.”
“Lizzy,” Brian pleaded.
“Don’t you dare …” She snarled. “You could’ve told me. He’s my brother too…”
“I couldn’t,” Brian voice interceded.
“I could’ve handled it, Bri.” Betsy said, half-heartily. “I should’ve been there for him.”
“It wasn’t my choice, sis.” Brian said sadly. “It was his. I’m sorry.”
“And so am I." Betsy slammed the phone back onto cradle. Her fingers were bone-white wrapped tightly around the receiver, bone white. And she sat there forcibly, holding the sobs at bay.
The information was churning in from the Hungarian government faster than Betsy could keep up with. Realizing she left something in her quarters, Betsy took a mild jog from the first floor to her quarters. She retrieved the dossier she'd been looking over last night and made the quick romp back to her office. She'd have to talk over what findings she'd made with Remy and still prep an adequate report during the interim.
“It never ends,” Betsy muttered to herself. Tightening her hold on her paperwork once she reached the foyer, she made a B-line for her office to retrieve her laptop.
"Hey, there you are!" The arm looping through hers wasn't a surprise, or the slight whirling motion applied to change her direction – all things Alison had done several times before after all, though perhaps it had been a while ago. "You got a few? I've got something to ask you
and if you spend any more time in that office of yours, we'll be prying you from the chair mummified soon enough..."
"Yes, here I am!" Betsy said with mock cheer and not missing a beat, tried twirling herself back towards the direction of her office. "I'd love to chat, Alison. Honest. But I don't have a minute. Can we perhaps talk....later? I’m due for a meeting in…” She looked at her wristwatch, “…less than an hour."
"Hrm." Tapping her chin, Alison considered that for a moment. "There's no missions today. No rush on any debriefs, that I know of. Course, hey, what do I know?" Shrugging casually, Alison took a step back and considered Betsy idly. "So I'll make it short. Nathan's already hinted at being good for it in the journals and Jean's all for it, so there's going to be shielding classes for non-telepaths starting up next term. Since you've already given that type of class, only makes sense that you're part of the whole thing too."
"What?" Betsy's eyes went wide, her cause forgotten. Lips parted, mouth opening and closing like a surfaced guppy. She finally cleared her throat and shook her head. "Absolutely not," Betsy managed after a few moments. "I’m lucky enough to no longer be responsible for molding the minds within these walls. And I'm sure Nate and Jean can manage on their own."
A flat look greeted that statement. "Gee, being a teacher was that much of a hassle to you? Funny, you didn't seem to mind all that much before." Crossing her arms and looking generally unimpressed by the reaction, Alison shook her head slightly.
"We-well," Betsy stuttered. "I do now." She tightened her hold on her folder, looked down, and gathered her resolve. Feeling determined, Betsy looked back at Alison. "It's a hassle now that I'm involved in other demanding projects...."
"Other demanding projects? What, you quit teaching, you quit the team - and without so much as a thank you or goodbye, don't think that wasn't noticed..." Raising an eyebrow, Alison snorted quietly. "So, let's see. Teaching is a bore and the team isn't good enough for you.
That's going to be your excuse for hiding in your office like that?"
"Yes. Demanding," Betsy said, exasperated. "Besides, we both know that I was on medical leave for most of my time with the team. I did more leaving it than I ever did to contribute." Betsy’s hand went tiredly to her forehead, swiping a few errant strands from her face. "And in all honestly, the courses I taught were not anything worthwhile and rather unmentionable. I don't have that flare for teaching that you do, Alison. Now, if you'll excuse me...."
"Oh bullshit." Somehow, Alison managed to make it sound more like something that should have been said long ago to Betsy by someone, as opposed to an attack. "Please. 'I did more leaving it...' That was running away. And you're still doing that now. You want to justify
quitting the team when you were perfectly suitable to be on it that way, fine do that. Lie to everyone else about it that way too." Shrugging, Alison took a step back. "But at least admit to yourself that you won't be able to hide behind Kwannon forever. Not without her owning you body and soul all over again, even without being there to do it."
There it was again that sudden feeling of air being evacuated from her lungs and not likely to come back anytime soon. "I---" Betsy started. "I haven't been hiding behind her. “Still unable to say that name out loud was a sign, but Betsy pushed that thought out of her mind. "Simply because I've changed over the years, you think that it's because of....of what happened."
"Of course you've changed. We all have, all for different reasons. Some good, some bad." There was a faintly ironic edge to Alison's smile, just then, though it vanished in an instant. "But if you're going to try to convince people that you haven't walked away from all you had before Kwannon? You're going to have to convince yourself of that first." Alison shook her head slightly. "And you're not even close to being there yet. And if you think lying to yourself about it will help... geez, Betsy. You know better than that."
"Stop it!" Betsy snapped. "I haven't walked away from anything," she hissed, feeling a wealth of anger building at the constant needling. And at herself. “I don't need to convince anyone of anything. I don't have to teach classes, or join the team...and fuck all." She heard the dam within her snapping, releasing its' burden, as she spoke. "I'm not going to take that chance again and be responsible.....and hurt them.... again."
"Uh huh," taking another step, Alison turned and started to head down the hallway. "Okay. Sure thing. No more taking chances. I'll let you go back to your office and while you do that, I'll be going to go let Jean know it'll be just her and Nathan for the psi-shielding classes."
“You do that,” Betsy said loud enough for Alison to hear. Fuming quietly, Betsy turned sharply on her heel, walked purposefully toward the faculty hall, trying her best not to slam her fist into the wall.
Betsy dropped her clipboard loudly onto her desk and collapsed bonelessly into her reclining office chair. The soft tendrils of dark purple hair pooled down to her shoulders and she shifted impatiently in her seat, trying to focus on anything but the incident in the hall. The window curtains drawn up, kept the unrelenting sun from superheating the room, but left it perpetually dark.
Noticing the mail nestled comfortably in her inbox; Betsy leaned forward and idly picked them up. She pulled her letter opener from the top drawer of her desk and began sifting through the stack of envelopes. Her hands stopped over the edge of a manila envelope, catching the registered post on its’ face. Falling back into her seat with a thump, Betsy turned over the envelope and ran the sharp edge of the letter opener deftly along its’ side.
Pulling out the legal documents, Betsy dropped them onto her desk with a look of disgust. She reached a little lower on her desk and the loud creak of her bottom drawer being pulled open was followed by the sound of glass clinking together, liquid being poured into a container, followed by the satisfied sigh of a desert traveler.
Eyeing the phone on her desk for a moment, she picked up the receiver and started dialing a number with too many digits to be anywhere within the states.
“Hello,” a familiar voice intercut over the slight haze. “Bets?”
Despite herself, she smirked into the phone. Brian always seemed to know when she was calling. But while they’d been growing up, she had entertained the idea that he always answered the phone, calling out her name. “Yes, it’s me.”
“So?” He asked, questioningly.
Betsy began refilling her glass. The soft sounds of chinking glass seemed to echo off the walls and into the phone recevier. “So,” she repeated. Feeling the hedge in his voice, smothering his words, keeping him in check. It’d be only a matter of time before he asked what he needed to ask
“You receive the package from Stanley, then?” He paused for a moment.
She picked up the package and in disgust threw it back onto the desk. “Yes, it would seem congratulations are in order to the new owner of Braddock Manor.” Betsy grimaced, as she took another deep sip from her glass. “Father, would be ever so proud.”
“Lizzy,” Brian pleaded.
“Don’t you dare …” She snarled. “You could’ve told me. He’s my brother too…”
“I couldn’t,” Brian voice interceded.
“I could’ve handled it, Bri.” Betsy said, half-heartily. “I should’ve been there for him.”
“It wasn’t my choice, sis.” Brian said sadly. “It was his. I’m sorry.”
“And so am I." Betsy slammed the phone back onto cradle. Her fingers were bone-white wrapped tightly around the receiver, bone white. And she sat there forcibly, holding the sobs at bay.
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