xp_logs | Nathan and Paige, Friday afternoon

After a training session, Paige notes that Nathan is seeming a little 'off'. Nathan is indeed feeling a little off, as well. They come to the mutual agreement that a trip to medlab would be in order, especially given his close encounter with a certain new arrival last night.

"I kicked your tail. And while normally I would crow about how very awesome I am, I never kick your tail. At least, not that badly."

Nathan and Paige's sparring session had just ended with a melodramatic powerdown followed by a little beep; they had chosen simple one-on-one today, nothing fancy, but the Danger Room always did enjoy making a little bit of a show. Pulling at her hair, Paige simultaneously pulled off her husk and undid her hair from its ponytail, shaking it out. Forge's suit managed to keep her decent with a little push of a button at the cuff around her wrist, a marvel she'd probably never get over, and so she set to the task of moving over to the benches so she could unwrap her ankles.

"I mean, you're a telepath. It's pretty much set in stone, no pun intended, that there will be no tail kicking from my end," she continued, saving her ego a little as she sat down.

"Blame it on the truck," Nathan murmured, wiping his forehead - okay, why was he sweating this much? - with a shaking hand. "Maybe I'm rushing things, I don't know... although that doesn't make any sense. I've been working up to things gradually, and this is the first time I've had trouble like this..."

"And, since you seem to be unwilling to admit it, Moira is threatening serious bodily harm to you if you screw up the 'gradually' this time. Therefore, you truck defense doesn't make sense." Paige, especially blunt after getting to use some adrenaline it seemed -- you didn't didn't mess with Moira on purpose -- finished on one ankle, rolling it around slowly, inspecting it's movement, and, satisfied, went to work on the other. She paused, however, to give Nathan a polite glance up, as was due in polite conversation, the whole eye contact thing, and ended up making it more of a stare due to circumstances. "You're pale. And flushed."

"Pale and flushed? That doesn't make sense," Nathan said, without really thinking about sounding dismissive. It was just that there was pale, and there was flushed, and generally one didn't combine the two. Did one? Maybe he'd think on that. After he sat down. The bench Paige was sitting on looked nice.

He went to step off the mats, and either they were a lot higher off the ground than they were supposed to be or the floor was moving, because the wobble turned into a totter, which turned into sitting on the floor before he could express his distaste for the whole idea.

"Mhm," was all Paige had to say to the entire spectacle before her; the brush off of her observation to the rather obvious almost faint that led to Nathan plopping onto the floor. She hoped he hadn't hurt his tailbone, mats or not. Rotating her left ankle a single time, she got to her feet, stood on tiptoes, fell back on her heels, and took up a stance that more than said 'I told you so'. She almost smirked, but stilled it. This was Nathan after all, and she liked him; she just also really, really enjoyed getting to be the one to be right. "You. Should go see the docs."

"... in a minute." Passing out in the Danger Room was definitely not on. Maybe if he just sat here for a minute the feeling like he was going to would go away, and that would be good. "If this is the flu or something, Moira's going to kill me," he said miserably, waiting for his head to stop spinning. "I hate my immune system."

Paige almost said, 'and I hate mine', before realizing that today was not going to be about her, and this moment was not going to be tinged with the melodrama she seemed to constantly carry in her pocket. "Do I get to carry you to the lab this time? I mean, leaning was fun, but carrying... well, that'd be a real treat," she teased gently, smiling as she walked over to him, bare feet silent on the cool, metal floor, and crouched next to him, hand instantly going to his forehead. "And you are hot, Nathan."

"I'm awkward to carry. All overly... tall and stuff." Nathan flinched a little at how cool her hand seemed. "And I am? Shit." He took a deep, experimental breath. A wheeze, but nothing really worrying. Still... "Maybe we can try take two with the leaning?" he asked a bit wryly, looking at her.

"And I'm overly strong and stuff. Admit it, you just don't want to be carried by a girl," Paige replied easily, covering her worry with banter. She's good at banter, she's got back into the habit in the last few days – that still made her shriek happily inside – and fussing was never met well with men anyway. Boys. Such babies. "But, since I'm so kind..." she continued, straightening before offering him her hands up.

"Well, there is that. Male pride." Nathan closed his eyes for a moment, and then pushed himself carefully to his feet, not hesitating to take the offered hands. He might have his adolescent moments, but only intermittently. "Overabundance of testosterone and all..."

"I need to find a way to remove some of it. Jono won't let me carry him around either, and I swear, I'm really good at the fireman carry," Paige continued, letting him lean on her and not commenting one inch about how considering how much weight she's supporting, she's practically carrying him anyway. "Maybe one big, giant needle," she pondered out loud, as if she doesn't know a thing about the brain and how every single part of it functions.

"You should tell Moira you're interested. I'm sure she's been... pondering the problem for years. Matter of personal interest and all..." Nathan shifted, wincing as the leaning put a little pressure on his bandaged wrist...

His wrist. Oh, shit. Nathan froze, his mind trying to sluggishly process that. "Oh, damn. I bet you this isn't the flu... it's that kid, whatever he did to me yesterday..."

"In which case, we'd better get you to the labs double time, hadn't we? Stat, I believe the medical term is," Paige replied calmly, sure that Nathan, had he been more conscious, would be able to see the way the patterns of her mind just shifted and started churning at a dangerous rate, going completely against her tone. "Are you sure you won't let me carry you?"

"I can manage the hall, I think," Nathan murmured, then mustered up a very strained little smile. "And it's this... thing, I have. If I have to go to medlab... again... it makes me feeling slightly less homicidal on the subject if I can at least pretend I'm getting there under my own power."

"I understand," she replied, with word and smile, because she did. She had every bit as much of a sense of pride as Nathan did, if not ten times more, and would not take very well to being carried anywhere, thankyouverymuch. But she had to ask. "Can't blame a girl for trying, though," she said out loud, a cheekier version of the thoughts in her head.