xp_logs | (no subject)

Marie-Ange does the sneaky girlfriend thing and takes Doug out to lunch, and then to someplace he's been forgetting about ever since the upgrade project. Doug learns a few tough lessons.

Almost all the monitors in Doug's array of computers were dark, which Marie-Ange took to mean he wasn't doing anything more important than 'farming for deviate fishies', which is what his away message had said. She wasn't at all sure what a deviate fish was, but it couldn't possibly be important. Sure enough, as she got closer, she could see that all Doug was doing was playing a game, and snickering every time one of the odd fish-men he was fighting made a gurgling noise. Sometimes, she thought, she had a very, very strange boyfriend.

She leaned against the back of his chair and rested her chin on his head. "Are you very busy with your gurgling fish-men, or can I drag you away from the computers to go out?"

Doug jumped up in his chair, slightly startled. "Ack, girlfriend aggro!" he joked. He logged off of World of Warcraft with a few quick mouse clicks, then smiled at Marie-Ange. "Not busy at all. Just having some fun.Where are we going?" he asked curiously.

"To lunch, and then a secret.." Marie-Ange answered crypticly. "I have some errands to run, and I think you need to get out of the mansion. You have been at that computer too long." And at other computers, avoiding people and besides, technically everything she said -was- true. Techincally. She had worried a bit at how angry Doug might be once the day was done, but it wasn't something that could be avoided any longer.

"Ooh, a secret!" Doug said as he bounced in his chair. "Is it a good secret? Will I like it? Is it bigger than a breadbox?" The word 'secret' had had that sort of effect on Doug for as long as he could remember. Patience tended to fly out the window.

"Yes, silly, a good secret." It was, in the long run. And Marie-Ange tended to think in the long run most often. "Yes, possibly, and absolutly, in that order, I believe." She held up a set of car keys and jingled them in Doug's direction. "To the garage with you? And Ithink I will drive. I do not drive often enough, and I need the practice."

Snatching at the keys did no good, as Marie-Ange merely whisked them out of his reach and chivvied him out of his chair. Doug pouted momentarily before bouncing along down the hall asking more questions about the surprise.

She almost felt bad for him. If she hadn't known better, Marie-Ange would have felt guilty about tricking Doug so blatently. But, she thought, he would forgive her, and she could take him to a nice dinner after. If he wasn't entirely worn out and exhausted. And maybe even if he was.

---

Doug blinked as they entered the parking lot. This looked familiar. Then he saw the store front they were headed to and raised his eyebrows at his girlfriend, who was carefully avoiding looking at him. He smelled a setup. "I take it this is the surprise?" he asked neutrally.

"I never said it was a surprise you would appriciate immediatly." Marie-Ange answered carefully. "You assumed that part." She tabbed the lever on the dashboard that opened the trunk of the car and then opened her door. "I will absolutly make this up to you. It was unfair to trick you." she offered. "Even if it was necessary."

And that was the problem with dating a precognitive. Not that she pulled the 'this is going to be important at some point in the future' card very much at all, and she was almost always right. But it was impossible to be mad in any way when she was like this. And she was offering to make it up to him, too, which was like a double shot of anger-elimination. Resignedly, he looked at the entrance to the jiujitsu school he'd attended for a while, but simply avoided since around the time Mr. al-Rashid had been repaired. He'd been unable to talk, so it wasn't like he could call in to tell them where he was...

And he was in for -so- many pushups. Assuming he didn't just get turned right around and walked out the door again. But with Marie-Ange asserting how necessary it was, he doubted that would be the case.

"I suppose my workout gear is in the trunk?" he asked after a long pause.

"Of course." She hadn't been sure what he would need, so she'd simply packed..all of it.

---

Marie-Ange wasn't quite sure what to think of the school. It didn't seem to fit any of the stereotypes she'd seen on television or in movies. The students were a mix of teenagers and adults, and even a few older men and women. She'd spotted more than one head of grey hair in the group that was stretching.

No one had really reacted when she came in, not until she sat down in a chair. Then, the assembled students went quiet, as their instructor caught sight of Doug, standing behind her, looking entirely and utterly like he wanted to bolt for the door.

The instructor, a small middle-aged Asian man, assessed Doug for a long moment before turning to one of the black belts assisting him.He made a gesture, indicating that one should take over, and looked back at the lobby. "Douglas. My office," he said simply.

Doug swallowed audibly. Somehow his brain made his legs move his body to the small adjoining office rather than sprinting for the door. Not that running away would have done any good. Angie had the keys. Setting his workout bag next to the door to the office, he entered and sat hesitantly in one of the chairs facing the polished hardwood desk.

Entering just behind Doug, his instructor seated himself. Folding his hands calmly on top of his desk, he looked at Doug silently, watching the young man fidget. Finally, he raised an eyebrow. "To what do I owe the honor, Douglas?" he asked calmly.

Doug winced. Master Lee had never needed to raise his voice to make someone feel about three inches tall. It was like some sort of super-secret Asian martial arts mojo. "Uh, I...that is..." he stammered.

"Yes?" Master Lee asked, not bailing Doug out at all.

"I'd like to begin training again, sir," Doug said softly. In fact, he'd rather have been anywhere but that office, as much as he knew what the benefits of getting back into martial arts would be.

Master Lee steepled his fingers and looked at Doug impassively. "Why should I let a student who stopped training and could not be bothered to call me back into my school? Perhaps you can enlighten me." He didn't sound angry, or upset, simply...interested, and absolutly unimpressed.

The long pause before Master Lee had responded, and his unimpressed tone, caused Doug to shift uncomfortably in his chair as he weighed exactly what he could and could not, and also what he -should- and should not, tell his instructor. He weighed what he knew of Master Lee and his opinions on various subjects from speeches and discussions he'd had during class time, and made a decision. "Well, for one, sir, during some of that time, I -couldn't- call in. Did you watch the CNN special on Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters?" he asked in an apparent non sequitur.

"I did, yes. You couldn't call in?" Master Lee gave Doug a long look, as if to say "Please, go on, continue to explain." He could tell, just by the way Douglas sat in the chair that despite the on-the-surface disrespect of not calling, that something else was going on. And he was fairly sure the answer would not surprise him.

"I'm a mutant." And there it was, right out in front of God and his head instructor (and some days, Doug wasn't sure which order those two should go in). "My power deals with pattern recogntion, which, as a result, means that I can communicate and understand in any language. That includes computer programming languages. One of our instructors relies heavily on advanced cybernetic technology because his power burned his legs off when he manifested. That technology was almost completely destroyed in a physical confrontation with another mutant," Doug talked very quickly to gloss over that aspect, not comfortable about revealing the existence of the X-Men as working out of Xavier's, "and I had to assist a small team in recreating that technology as fast as possible. As a result, I pushed myself and my power so hard that I was unable to communicate in any fashion for a significant amount of time."

Master Lee let that digest for several minutes. He wasn't surprised, strictly speaking. Douglas might have assumed that he didn't know, but on the boy's enrollment card was an address, and that address was the school he went to and dormed at. It didn't entirely excuse the not calling, but he could understand, if not sympathize. Being a martial arts insructor had taught him two very important things. When to be sympathetic - and when not to be. "The next time that something like this occurs, Douglas, you will remember to have someone else call for you. Your teachers, your dormmate, your girlfriend."

Doug tried very hard not to sigh in relief. Master Lee tended to be inscrutable, even to someone who could read body language.O nly the most obvious sorts of things tended to show, like when he was really well and truly pissed off at someone. And thankfully, that wasn't showing. It was obvious that he was somewhat disappointed in Doug not finding a way to communicate his absence, but at least he wasn't getting tossed out on his ear. "Yes sir," Doug replied, swallowing his nervousness and attempting to speak evenly."It won't happen again."

"No, it won't." Master Lee said, nodding. He made a gesture over Doug's head, towards the windowed wall seperating the rest of the dojo from his office. "You owe me pushups, young man. With Master Ricards.." As he said this, one of the black belts appeared in the doorway. "You gestured, Master Lee?" he asked, with an all too cheerful look on his face.

"Take Douglas in the back, have him change out, and then.. educate him on why we call out when we cannot make it to class."He stood up, obviously indicating that everyone needed to vacate his office, and then paused. "And when you're done, bring him back to me. Douglas and I need to talk about his other requirements for returning."

Stifling a groan, Doug stood up from his chair. When Master Lee said 'you owe me pushups', he generally wasn't talking about 20 or so. It generally meant that you were going to stay on your knuckles doing pushups, while the blackbelt in question lectured you for as long as they felt like it. Walking across the floor of the studio, bowing to black belts and then to the flags before heading back to the locker room, Doug could feel every eye in the room on him, wondering what the story was, and whether he had the guts to stick out the punishment that was obviously coming his way.

---

Master Lee had no illusions that once the assigned pushups were over, that Master Ricards would then have Doug join the the class in progress. Which was fine by him, it would give him a chance to confirm a theory that he'd been harboring for some time.

Once the hour-long review of kata, blocks, sweeps, combinations and joint-locks was over, and he had dismissed the class, Master Lee indicated to Doug that he was to be in the office immediatly after changing back into his street clothes. Faster, if possible.

When Master Lee indicated he wanted you in his office as fast as possible, you didn't linger in the locker room.As much as Doug might have wanted to. So he practically ripped seams getting into his street clothes, even though his arms felt like they were going to fall out of their sockets after the number of pushups he'd been subjected to.

"Pattern recognition, Douglas?"Master Lee wasted no time in getting right to the point. "Would that apply to kata, or are martial arts an exception?" He knew what the answer would be. He'd suspected it, and confirmed by the simple act of asking. Doug's girlfriend had been all too eager to tell Master Lee that, yes, Doug's power lent itself to dance, and his kata, and physical activities of a similar nature.

Oh dear. Doug swallowed heavily. He wondered if he was in trouble for having such an advantage over the rest of the class. "It applies to kata, sir," he said softly. "And combination strikes. And..." Well, it was going to come out sooner or later. "I can read body language. Sort of. It's far from perfect, but sometimes I can see what people are about to do in their body language. Which helps in sparring."

"So, you could say that you have a natural advantage here that the rest of your classmates do not share?" Master Lee asked plainly.

This was so not going to end well at all. "Yes, sir," Doug replied, his eyes falling to the desk in front of him.He'd gone through over a hundred pushups, and then an entire class period of workout, just to get kicked out.

"Did you know that your classmate, Jeremey, was a gymnast until he started training here?" Master Lee asked, seemingly randomly. Then he shook his head briefly, and added."No, you would not have, of course. You were absent. He would have been a white belt when you stopped."

It was very hard not to wince at the reminder of how irresponsible Doug had been. But he kept reminding himself that Angie had told him it would be necessary in the future. Lord knew it wasn't a lot of fun to sit through the lecture, though.

"Jeremey can do a full side split cold, Douglas. Can you?"

Doug's eyes narrowed in confusion. "No, sir," he replied. He was confused as to where exactly Master Lee was headed with the discussion, but he was starting to think that maybe it -wasn't- going to end in him getting kicked out of the school.

"It could be said then, that Jeremey has an advantage over his classmates?" Master Lee asked. He could see the flickers of realization on Doug's face - but he was still going to make him figure it out himself.

"Yes, sir, I would imagine it does," Doug said slowly, suddenly making the logical leap that Master Lee was obviously waiting for him to make. "Everyone has advantages and disadvantages, things they are better at, and things that they aren't so good at. Right, sir?"

"Exactly." Master Lee said, nodding. "That does not mean that I am going to ignore your advantages, Douglas. Nor am I going to ask you to not use them. There are black belts here that could put you on the ground twice before you could blink, young man. Without special DNA. Do you know why?"

He didn't let Doug answer, instead leaning forward to look him in the eyes. "Because they came to class and didn't go away and hide for four months because they lost their voice!"

He did his best not to flinch, but Doug couldn't keep the flash of shame and knowledge that Master Lee was correct out of his eyes. "Yes,sir," he said levelly.

"I expect a great deal from you, Douglas." Master Lee said, implying worlds with his words. "You have a gift, I expect you to use it here. To your fullest." He steepled his hands once again, and continued. "I am only going to explain this once, so pay attention. Your talent will let you learn the kata faster than everyone else."

He waited for Doug to nod, and then went on. "I expect you to do them better than everyone else." He gestured out of the windowed partition seperating his office from the dojo floor, where two black belts were doing one of the more complex kata. "Expect to be held to their standard, Douglas. Starting tommorow."

At times, there wasn't much to be said but a simple 'yes sir'. Doug nodded. "Yes, sir," he said, with the realization that the workout he'd been put through was the first of many to come.

"Good. Now get out of my office." Master Lee said, with a smile. "Go let your girlfriend feed you dinner, go home, get some rest."

As Doug stood to leave the office, he added. "Because I expect you here tommorow, making up for those months of classes you missed."