LOG: [Nathan, Marius] Flying lessons

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Nathan and Marius do a small stint in the Blackbird, where the fact there was no actual crash means less than you'd expect.



If Nathan's hands were a bit white-knuckled on the Blackbird's controls, he thought he could be forgiven for it, given the flight he'd just been through. He eased the big plane down into the hangar, in a landing that Scott himself couldn't have faulted. Precision was good. He felt a need for precision just not, and not crashing. Only when he powered down the engines did he trust himself to speak to the young man sitting in the co-pilot's seat.

"I think, maybe, a little more simulator time might be a good thing," he said. Mildly.

"Actually I thought it went rather well," Marius replied as he unbuckled his the safety belt with the carefree attitude of one far too used to the availability of a flatmate with a healing factor. "I was fully aware of those trees, you know."

"In that case, you left correcting for them a little late," Nathan said, undoing his own harness. "Unlike me with my exoskeleton, the Blackbird clipping a wing on some trees is not likely to end with a comical plunge into the lake." Why had he volunteered to do this? On what fateful day had he moved from 'trusted not to crash the Blackbird' to 'trusted not to lose my sanity while teaching other people not to crash the Blackbird'?

"A proactive exploration of the Blackbird's physical dimensions, not bein' so gifted with an inherent awareness of such." Marius rose from the chair and rolled his shoulders. "It now occurs to me I've never yet experimented with legitimate self-powered flight. I feel this to be a rather blatant temptation of fate. Of course, there is the possibility the subject shall never arise, but after I've fallen to pulpy demise I imagine it will be a bit difficult to tender remonstration."

"Have you ever thought of going into law?" Nathan asked, running through the post-flight checklist. "You have a definite gift of the gab." He wondered if supervising Marius during a tactical review would be more or less unpleasant an experience than their adventure this afternoon. Possibly more. Less potential death, but more talking.

"As a staunch capitalist, I feel my talents are better applied to my chosen field of public relations. No offence to the pursuit of the greater good, of course, but I'm not precisely one for bringin' about social change via protracted legal battles. It runs contrary to my need for instant gratification. I prefer the direct approach. Viz., that which involves judicious application of my fists." Marius began stretching his arms across his body to uncrick his back, not so subtly attempting to look at the form over Nathan's shoulder. "Speakin' of which, any chance of gettin' a good word in for me when the mission rosters are done up? It gets a bit lonely on the bench."

Nathan shot him a look that could best be described as semi-amused. "A good word for you? What makes you think I've got anything resembling say when it comes to rosters?" God spare me from the young and eager...

"Worth a go, right?" Marius grinned, lacing his fingers behind his head. "Did you have to go through the whole trainin' bit, or did you just sign the waiver an' take the blacks?"

"I was a reservist for about... six months," Nathan said, stopping to think about it for a minute. "I did train, but not in the way you're training. I had other things to learn." And unlearn, although he wasn't going to volunteer that part. He was not up for sharing time with the boy. "They did a lot of picking my brain. I've been working with other mutants in small units for twenty-five years. Not all of that experience transfers well to the new context, but a lot of the fundamentals did."

Marius, vaguely aware of Nathan's previous credentials, just nodded. "Suppose you would. Me, I just have lessons taught me by rugby an' football. Though I do notice several distinct similarities in the physical punishment one is encouraged to inflict upon the opposing party."

Nathan pushed himself up out of his seat, clipboard tucked beneath one arm. "Never having played team sports, I wouldn't know," he said. "Although I like to think I would have been good at hockey." He gestured for Marius to precede him back towards the ramp. "So why are you so eager to get out there?" he asked. "Australia really that exceptional an experience?"

Marius shrugged as he followed the older man. "Ah, just want to do somethin' of worth, you know? I've powers an' that, but they aren't precisely the useful sort in everyday life. Feels wrong to have them an' do nothing, somehow." He patted the side of the Blackbird as he cleared the ramp. "Additionally, I shouldn't mind movin' closer to 'perpetrator' than 'perpetrated upon'."

"One of these days someone's going to come along who wants to be an X-Man just because it's fun." A flicker of telekinesis had the ramp retracting, and Nathan gave the Blackbird a critical look as he stepped out from under the plane. "Oh, look," he said with a perfectly straight face. "Scratches from your close brush with the trees."

"What?" Marius whirled around to scrutinize the undercarriage. "Bugger, now it'll be my CO an' one of my mates takin' turns on me with a bat--"

It was a petty sort of revenge, but it felt good. "My mistake - just the lighting in here. Moira keeps telling me I need reading glasses," Nathan said, sliding out of his jacket with a faint smile playing on his lips. "Although not to worry - if you really had scratched the plane, Scott wouldn't have bothered with a bat."

Marius gave him a scowl. "The peril of Mr. Summers at least carries the necessity of a physical presence. Forge, on the other hand, needs only five minutes to rewire the toaster an' position himself at a safe distance."

"Full points for tactical threat assessment," Nathan said cheerfully, swinging his jacket back over his shoulder. "Although I think that's a natural talent."

"Living here, a lack would've seen me dead long ago." Marius rubbed his hands together. "Now, who's for lunch?"