xp_logs | Rahne and Pietro, with newsfeeds (Reply)

Backdated to lunchtime on Friday. Pietro stops by the boathouse in a quest for information. Rahne is surprised.

It was shading toward lunchtime before Pietro made his way down to the boathouse, and he was not in the best of moods, having melted his third processor of the day already in his continuing quest to upgrade his computer into something approaching usability. The whole affair was coming dangerously close to making him miss Toad, which only irritated him more.

Even without a decent computer (or, indeed, any computer at all beyond the school's public terminals, just now) it was past time he started reconnecting with the world again. The worst part of his weeks on the run was how it had put him dangerously out of touch with current events; the hunger and lack of hygiene had been very annoying, true, but the not knowing was what had gnawed at him. Happily, that was one problem he was now in a position to solve. Pietro rapped on the door, then leaned impatiently against the porch railing.

Rahne would normally have been preparing to head for one of her university classes at this hour, but to account for potential travel delays and inevitable jetlag she had arranged to include today as an absence. Since she had to keep checking the windows to remind herself it wasn't early evening, she suspected it was just as well.

The knock came when she happened to be alone in the office. Rahne swallowed a yawn, hopped up, and went to open the door.

She had never met this person before, though he looked vaguely familiar. She didn't think she was supposed to have been expecting an appointment.... "Hello. May I help you?"

"I certainly hope so," Pietro replied shortly. "I've been out of touch for the last few months, and I'm used to a rather broader perspective on mutant affairs than can be found on CNN. Unfortunately, until I can track down an uncompromised bank account or two, the number of active subscriptions I can afford to maintain is . . . limited." He smiled dryly. "In the spirit of neighborliness, do you suppose I could borrow a cup of international newsfeeds?" Shaking his head suddenly, Pietro extended a hand. "My manners are atrocious; it's been a long morning. Pietro Maximoff, Wanda's brother."

"Oh, thank goodness," Rahne said, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. She had seen him as the latest addition to the journal system. "Come in. I'm Rahne Sinclair, and I was afraid an appointment had got lost in the shuffle somewhere." She went back to her computer to bring up a new window. "Which I wouldna normally think likely, except we just got back from Smichov and only left on about a week's notice, so there was more shuffling than usual."

"That's actually what brought me down here, in a roundabout fashion," Pietro said as he followed her inside. "I was following the news coverage and found myself alternating between wanting to throw things at the self-important talking heads and waxing nostalgic over my old database and monitor bank. I'm starting with the alternative that doesn't require leaving the campus."

"More informative than throwing things at people," Rahne said, "if possibly less satisfying. Well, here's the list, what all did ye want?"

"Let's start with everything and start from there . . . no, wait," Pietro replied, eyes raking down the list. "There's at least two different languages here I don't speak; I'm tolerably impressed. The rest, though, ought to tide me over nicely." He snorted. "Though I hope I won't be imposing on your good nature for more than a week or two. This whole situation keeps finding new and unexpected ways to annoy me."

Rahne glanced up at him. "As I doubt Smichov is going to resolve that soon I take it ye mean the more personal one."

Pietro applauded dryly. "What a keen grasp of the obvious you have. Is there going to be much trouble getting me those copies?"

Rahne raised her eyebrows and left her hands folded in her lap. Well, then. Not as if she'd been intending to pry, anyway. "Not once ye get around to telling me which languages to leave out. The extra subscriptions are mainly in case Nathan wants them for lessons, but I'm thinking we can spare one. Although, if ye want to start with back archives, the download should give ye time for dinner." She glanced at the window. "Lunch."

Pietro flipped through the list again, a little more thoroughly, and his eyebrows ratcheted up another respectful notch. "More than I thought . . . let's see, none of the Asian or African subgroups, and light on the Middle Eastern, I'll have to find translations for those. Or finish learning, but languages are so tedious. Archives of all of it as well, starting from July 7." He met Rahne's gaze again. "That all right?"

"Aye, should be." She moved back up to the keyboard to sort and select. "They'll be hooked to your Xavier's login once the next update hits."

"Excellent." Pietro's posture relaxed, just a little. "It will be good to be in touch with events again, even if I'm just reduced to watching them unfold. You've been very helpful."

"That's the general idea," Rahne said lightly. She piled a set of multicolored pens methodically back into a drawer. "I expect even if we'd not had the extra class accounts we'd have found a way to manage it, but I'd probably have had to ask Nathan how."

"I would have petitioned Xavier if this hadn't worked out, but I'm just as glad it did." Pietro's lips thinned. "I owe him rather more than enough as it is."

"Don't we all." Although he sounded as if it weighed on him possibly more than most. "Are ye coming in for lunch? I've got a venison roast that ought to be ready about now." Rahne grinned suddenly. "I've no idea why they let me have a single suite all of a sudden, but it means I have an oven nobody else is going to need."

The offer was tempting--how long had it been since he'd tasted a good venison roast? But after a moment of indecision, Pietro pulled back offering Rahne a half-apologetic smile. "Best I start on this right away."

Something about the smile did a lot, in Rahne's mind, to counteract the earlier snippiness -- even if Pietro's version of a moment of indecision wasn't quite long enough for her to notice. "Ah, all right then. I can bring ye a tray if ye want it?"

"Ha. Well, Summers did warn me." Pietro shook his head. "I'm doing well enough with what's available in the kitchen, I don't need anyone to go to any special trouble for me."

"'Tis not so much trouble, but as ye like. I made more than I was going to eat, and the rest will end up in the kitchen anyway." Rahne paused. "Warned you about what?"

"Oh, that I'd be offered food by the well-meaning." Pietro shrugged, then gave her a thoughtful look. "Though I might as well let you know--I don't have any particular dietary requirements. I've heard of people with my power who need to eat like hummingbirds to fuel it, but I don't share that particular drawback."

"I'll keep that in mind. At least that means you're not one of the ones who needs to eat like a hummingbird and does not!" Rahne looked irritated for a moment, then grinned. "But aye, I'll not try to stuff you."

"I've always been glad not to be numbered among the complete idiots of the world," Pietro said wryly. "I only starve myself when I have no other choice."

"That's reassuring." Rahne left the computer and started for the door. "I suppose I should add my own warning -- if there's nothing in particular ye canna eat, ye might be asked occasionally for taste tests."

"Hm. Well, as long as it's asking, and not cornering . . . I suppose that might be all right." Pietro shifted, restless on his feet. "I'd really better get started on those archives."

Rahne gave him a mildly puzzled look and held the door open. "No cornering. Even if I could, I think having to do it would be a bad sign about the food."

"True enough. Enjoy your meal." A gust rattled the windows as Pietro vanished.