xp_logs | Friday evening, Manuel, Terry

Friday evening, Manuel takes an interest in Terry's not so subtle upset and has some interesting theories and advice for her. She's not really sure she believes him but does accept his offer of solace.

Manuel happened to be walking past one of the suites when he felt a blast of sorrow and self-doubt that impaled him right between the eyes. Curious, he poked his head into the suite, seeing only a splash of red curly hair around the back of one of the chairs. "Theresa?" he said, staying right where he was. "I felt that from out in the hallway. Is anything the matter?"

Terry jumped and set down the book that she hadn't really been reading while she did her best to not think about…anything really. Twisting around in her chair, she peeked over at Manuel, face pale and miserable. "I'm fine. It's nothing." No point really in lying to an empath but then again it wasn’t like it mattered. "I'm sorry I bothered you."

Manuel walked into the rec room and sat neatly upon a chair near where Terry huddled. "Tell me what's bothering you." he said softly. "You're miserable, and I would like to help you if I can."

"You're going to bring Forge and Lorna back, send Tommy away and make Bobby want to be with me again?" Terry looked him over closely, pretending deep scrutiny, "Funny, I thought you were just a mutant, not a miracle worker." She sighed and shook her head. "I'm just having a bad day." Week. Month.

Manuel thought about it for a moment. "Convince Charles that I can use Cerebro safely, and I could do the first two of your requests. The last, why, that I could do now. What's wrong?" he asked sympathetically. He was fond of Terry - her sunny outlook, her friendliness, her ability to drink people not named Manuel under the table, and she was pretty, in a stereotypically Irish way. All in, a very complete package. "What did he do to offend you so?"

The trouble with living with psions was that no thought was totally safe and Terry blushed as she tried to figure out how to explain it without actually explaining it. "We had a…disagreement. It wasn't his fault; I'm the one who screwed up. I assumed…but I was wrong and now I don't know what to do." Other than feel like a fool and miss him.

Manuel reached over to take one of her hands in both of his. She needed the reassuring, and he wanted the additional insight. "You don't need to feel embarrassed." he said gently. He'd felt and seen the spike of want ... no, need, in her. "You asked him to bed, and he somehow gave you the wrong answer. I doubt he turned you down flat, but knowing Bobby he dithered. Deferred. Did not give you the answer you wanted ... no, needed to hear. Am I right?" he said gently.

She pulled her hand away and made a face at him, not offended that he'd read her because that would be like being upset that he'd used his eyes to see, but just because the description was accurate enough to be painful. "He asked me about fifty different ways if I really wanted to sleep with him. Because apparently when I asked, it was a moment of madness that I was going to take back."

Manuel smiled at Terry. "He is a very great fool. You are ... delicious." he said, leering gently. "But I suspect I might know where the problem lies. You are aware that he is not exclusively into women, yes?" he asked gently. If she didn't know, it was better to find out quickly, lest something truly ugly happen. "It is possible that you are not manly enough for him. I don't know, I would have to scan him to know his heart in this."

Terry blinked at him, trying to form a response that wasn't an incredulous 'what?' It took several tries, her mouth working soundlessly. "What?" Okay, not very successful. "Manuel, he dated Jane! Can you imagine anyone less manly?" She shook her head, "I don't think that's it. I know he's not exclusively straight, no one is really. But this wasn't because he doesn't sleep with girls. It was me. He didn't like that I asked and doesn't want me."

Manuel smirked at that. "Are you familiar with the concept of the beard?" he asked calmly. "Yes, he "dated" Jane for a while. A total amnesiac innocent with no memory. You, you've got full access to your faculties. And while I don't want to slander the boy, who knows what he and Jane did - if anything?" he said calmly.

Terry shook her head. "That's not it. I'm sure of it." And she was--she didn't doubt that up until Tuesday, Bobby had been very much interested in her. "I did something wrong and I don't know what it was. Should I have waited for him to ask? It's just that he'd said before that he wanted me to be ready, first."

Manuel shrugged. "Americans. Who knows what they really think?" he said with a smile. "But I can tell you this. If I was Robert, and you told me that you wanted to go to bed with me, we would not be having this conversation. We'd be just over there..." he said, nodding towards her room "... and, quite frankly, fucking like there was no tomorrow. The fault is not yours." he stressed. "I would wager you a night of screaming passion that young master Drake is unaccustomed to women who take initiative, who express desire and take delight in themselves. Women like you."

Even miserable, Terry wasn't immune to Manuel's suggestion and there was just the tiniest bit of temptation to take him up on his wager. But she just shook her head, smiling slightly. "That doesn't help me figure out what I'm supposed to do about it. Even if it wasn't my fault, I still don't know what happened."

Manuel caught the temptation, and filed it away for another day. "Well, in terms of what happened - in crude, American terms, you came on too strong, too fast. I'll bet that men like him - and I use the term loosely - want to feel like they're in control. Your mistake was being open and honest about your intentions. But then again, the Irish are not known for their subtle natures." he said with a grin to soften the blow of his joke. "Do you want my advice?"

Resisting the urge to blow a raspberry at him, she just nodded. "Aye, though you'd give it even if I didn't want it, I'm sure. I hate not being able to just go to him."

Manuel let the slight pass uncommented, but he did shoot her a disgusted look. "If you want him in your bed, play with him. Turn up the heat until he is mad with desire for you." he said simply. "Play the tart, as much as your upbringing will permit." Ireland was right up there with Spain on the Excessively Catholic end of things, and he didn't know her well enough to say how liberated she actually was. "If he's not responding well to plain speech, then make his blood boil until he breaks and begs you for your favors."

"You just said that he didn't like women who took the initiative." Terry frowned. She didn't at all like the idea of playing the tart. "And what's wrong with being honest with him? I shouldn't have to trick my boyfriend into wanting to sleep with me."

"From my perspective? Absolutely nothing. From his? Apparently there is a problem, as he reacted confusedly to your indecent proposal." He said with a grin. "And what he doesn't want to hear is brazen straight-up invitations. Give him the illusion of control - let him believe that he is the one taking the initiative, and that you are ... receptive ... to him, and all you desire will be yours."

"Or he'll play the gentlemen, like always. Why can't he be more like you? You'd never worry that I'm not sure of what I want." Terry sighed, frustrated, "It doesn't matter anyway. He'll barely touch me now which is very different than before."

Manuel felt his own hot surge of temptation, but he managed to beat it back. Body said yes, so it was up to his mind to say no. "Thank you." he said modestly. "I think. And give it time. He'll come around. Continue to be with him, near him, around him. Be yourself - you don't like the idea of tarting up, and the key to being a successful tart is believing in it yourself. But don't go cold on him either." He smirked as he thought of something. "Going cold is, after all, what he does best."

"It was mostly a compliment." Well, half and half anyway. Terry smiled. "Aye, that he does. It's, uh, actually quite attractive when it isn't strictly metaphorical." She rested her chin in her palm, "Kitty was going to talk to him for me. So that I know what went wrong."

Manny quirked an eyebrow at that. "Interesting." he said. "I would be honored to act as your agent in this, if you'd like for me to speak with Bobby. Kitty might be more socially adept than I am, but she cannot know his heart at a glance like I can." he pointed out.

"If Kitty can't figure out what's wrong, then I might ask you. But she's like our sister--if Bobby won't talk to her then things are really wrong." Just the thought was enough to sent her worrying again. "For right now, I don't think you need to get involved. He'll just be more upset if he thinks I'm just talking to everyone about this."

Manuel nodded at that. "I understand completely. And since sitting here crying about things does no one any good, I'd like for you to come back up to my place with me. I have a bottle of Spanish cider - the good stuff, from the back-country - chilled and waiting for an excuse to drink it. I'd like to share it with you."

Terry had been waiting for Kitty…but sitting here miserable didn't really sound like a very good plan and it would be nice to spend time somewhere not the suite. She smiled, "That would be nice, thank you. They don't make real cider in America, it's been ages since I've had any."

Manuel stood, grinned, and then offered her his hand. "Mademoiselle, if you would..." he said. "Cider awaits!"