xp_logs | More checkins. Scott and Marie-Ange

Scott checks in on one of his newest X-men, who is doing as well as can be expected. Which means bone-tired, thirsty and hungry enough to eat MREs. (Which all really do have tiny little bottles of Tabasco sauce in them. At least, all the ones I've ever seen do.)

Seattle had taught her a vitally important aspect of her power. Recreating something that already existed was in one way, far harder than creating images out of pictures or drawings. But it was also easier. She wasn't tied down to her cards, or what pictures she could find, or what she could sketch hastily.

The barrios had taken some of the worst damage, buildings not designed to withstand an earthquake, compounded with overcrowding meant the rescue workers had more to do here than many of the other areas of San Diego.

A wrecked moving van, that had carried, of all the things, sofas and recliners was the source of most of her supports. Steel, or the ectoplasmic equivalent, and a cargo door that opened. Marie-Ange was positive she'd recreated just the cargo door to the truck a hundred times, shoring up doorways or holding up floors until the rescue workers could get people out of collapsing buildings.

It wasn't any easier the hundred-and-first time, and at the signal from the workers, she let the image dissolve, almost shuddering as the tension from holding it in place lessened in her shoulders and neck.

"You look you could use a break," Scott said, coming up behind her. "And possibly something to eat." He handed her an MRE with one of those 'I will brook no disagreement' looks he had.

Normally Marie-Ange would've made a face at the food, or at least made some comment about the military needing to hire Lorna. But after most of a day of rescue work, the only thing on her mind was that the last time she'd eaten was sometime around breakfast. And it was at least well past noon. The time zone change had thrown all her sense of the day off.

And there were cheese crackers in the MRE pouch. Easy to open after she got the MRE package itself open. "I do, yes, and merci..." She said, waving the little packet at Scott. "The death toll is less than I feared. I was hearing horror stories about Japan from some of the rescue workers."

"It's bad enough. But yes, it could've been a lot worse than it is." Scott shook his head a bit quizzically, then went over and sat down on the remains of... well, something that would serve as a seat, and tore open his own MRE. His blood sugar was clearly getting a little too low, too. "Room enough for two," he said, pointing to the concrete beside him."

Marie-Ange sat down on the chunk of concrete, and balanced the MRE container on her knee, inspecting the contents. No M&M's, but that was probably a good thing, in the long run. The chocolate wouldn't be a good idea in the middle of rescue work. "Getting people out of the buildings before they collapse has helped. There was some worry about fires, I think they have bulldozers making firebreaks after we clear the apartments.."

"A lot of these buildings are write-offs," Scott said, looking around as he tore open the package of beef jerky. "I was talking to Cain about that... um, a while ago." He wasn't exactly sure when. "This isn't usually a quake zone, so they weren't built to take it..."

"Most buildings are not. It makes them much more expensive to be quake-proof." Marie-Ange agreed. "The roads also. I spent most of an hour this morning keeping an overpass up so that they could get an oil tanker off it before it collapsed." She dug around in the MRE until she found the package of drink mix, eyed it suspiciously, and then put it right back in the pouch. Her bottle of water could just -stay- water.

"You're doing a good job," Scott said. "No," he corrected himself almost immediately, "a really great job. You really are." He looked sideways at her, mustering up a tired smile. "Insert more eloquent praise here. I seem to keep repeating myself, in any case."

Marie-Ange ducked her chin, and blushed a little. "I am trying to. Thank you." The praise was a little embarrassing, she'd just been doing what she could. For lack of anything more to say, she continued investigating the contents of the MRE pouch, dumping out the mi nature bottle of Tabasco sauce into her hand and looking at it oddly. The one with her food this morning hadn't been this funny. "I must need to eat, if finding this is funny. " She said, struggling to hold back an entirely inappropriate giggle.

"Well, this is the Southwest... kind of? Hence the spicy stuff... here, give me that," Scott said, taking the tabasco sauce from her and squeezing a little onto his beef jerky. "This should clear my head a little..."

Marie-Ange made a face, and made sure not to watch Scott eat the beef jerky. "Or set your mouth on fire. One of those. Maybe both." Beef jerky was bad enough without tabasco sauce. She was very grateful to have gotten an MRE with ravoli, and not ... whatever Scott had gotten. "How is everyone else holding up?" She asked, between drinks of water.

"Actually, I'm pretty fond of spicy," Scott said first, then chewed and swallowed a piece of the beef jerky before answering her question. "Well as can be expected," he said. "Starting to wear down. Especially the people who've been here since the quake."

"And Nathan? And Bobby, and Shiro? And the others who were here first?" Marie-Ange asked. "I only heard some of the reports before I came here myself." She frowned a little. "None of them are trying to come back, and do more, are they?"

"Everyone who needs to be staying put is staying put," Scott said with a little smile. "Now, their definition of 'needs to be staying put' probably differs from mine, but I'm not in the habit of defining other people's stopping points for them except in very special cases."

Marie-Ange smiled tiredly, and nodded. "Good. I do not think coming back to, oh, I do not know, Dr. MacTaggart having locked Nathan in a Nathan-proof hamster ball would be a good thing." She finished the bottle of water, and stood up, stretching out her arms. "Mine is when the sun goes down. If I cannot see clearly, I cannot do much more." Not to mention that she'd been up since dawn. "Or when someone tells me that all the dangerous buildings are empty. Whichever comes first."

"When you are done, head back to the Blackbird for the evening," Scott said. "I'm liking this whole 'everyone checking in in person' thing."

"I will." Marie-Ange agreed easily. "I do not intend to run myself into the ground utterly." Just until she wanted to fall over and sleep right on the ground.