xp_logs | LOG: [Marie, Haller] Not in Margaritaville, but looking for the exit

Though Haller feels the need to talk after his conversation with Laurie, he forgets that getting someone else with training in psychology to discuss your professional woes only sounds like a good idea at the time.

". . . in conclusion: I fail at professionalism," Jim said, his voice muffled by the table. Though his embarrassment was severe enough to drive him to the extremely close inspection of the table's woodgrain, a tiny corner of his mind couldn't help but wonder what the tacky substance soaking into his forehead was. A coaster he hadn't noticed before putting his head down was beginning to create a crease.

"To be fair, she did kinda catch you off guard. And sounds like she was feeling fairly entitled to knowing something kinda personal. It's not like we walk around with signs on that say 'Beware: Crazy.' That information tends to be on a need to know basis and she didn't really need to know before now," Marie said, gloved hands cupped around the empty glass in front of her.

Jim lifted his head from the table. It took a moment for the coaster to disengage. "Yeah, I know. I'm just angry my first instinct was to cave." Jim glared at the fallen coaster, his blue eye briefly fading to green. "I still have problems getting me to just tell someone to mind their own business. The others can all handle it. Which is great until we're in a situation where they can't come out."

Marie watched the coaster fall to the table, waving to Harry to send another round of drinks their way. She had a feeling the pair were just getting started. "Except when they do it, you still are caving, just in a different way."

"Yeah, I know." Jim finished the final dregs of his beer so the glass could be claimed and replaced. He stared at what remained of the foam as it crawled down the inside of the glass. "It's okay when it's planned. It's kind of awkward, but at least I've got warning. Ambushes make me feel like I'm back on Muir, when I used to try to make friends before they could find out I was there for mental reasons instead of physical. And that didn't usually go over so well." Jim made a self-disgusted face as Harry delivered the new drinks. "I took being in a place where people don't look at me like that anymore for granted. I should know better than forgetting the trust issues are constant even when the environment's changed."

"Yes and no," Marie said, taking a sip from her new glass. "Trust issues will always exist...doesn't mean it's not good to kinda forget they do sometimes. Otherwise you'd never relax," she said, looking at Jim through the amber colored liquid filling her mug.

Jim smiled faintly as he clasped the beer. "Yeah, and we're so loose anyway." He sighed and swirled the contents absently, watching the head rock back and forth in the glass. "I just feel bad about Laurie. I get the feeling she's regarding the school as family, which is good, but makes things a little complicated considering the staff/student relationship isn't quite the same. I also get the feeling she feels responsible for me since, um, stopping my heart. I think I kept the boundaries fairly clear, but I didn't really factor in the bond of accidental death." He looked up at Marie, brow furrowed. "Which we might want to work on, since we seem to have weirdly many around here."

"Accidental death. It'll get you every time," she said before draining her glass. She tilted her head to look at Haller. "Actually, Ah guess Laurie and Ah have that in common. Ah remember it was weird after Ah kinda killed Logan for a bit. To be fair, he had almost killed me way before so maybe that balances things out." Her eyes brightened. "Maybe that's what you need to do. Keep it balanced."

"No. That would be cathartic, but raise different trust issues. Also, it's probably karma for attacking you guys that one time." Jim thought for a moment then added, "Your hair looks nice now, by the way."

Marie self consciously reached up to pat her hair. She noticed that Harry thought she was signaling another round and didn't bother to correct him. Her glass was empty anyways. "Ah, uh, yes. Don't do that again. Please. It just got back to a good length. Ah don't want to have to through a hat phase again. Though Ah did see a cute one at Macy's. But Ah can just wear it on top of my hair." Happily accepting the next glass she took a sip before speaking again. "Laurie's gonna have to get used to stuff like this though. It's what we do. We all get used to it. Your teammates attack you, friends become enemies, enemies become allies, and right sometimes becomes left."

"But with all that it's too easy to start thinking the only way to protect yourself is not to trust or open up to anyone because of what might happen--" Jim paused and squinted at something that did not exist outside of his own mind. "--now I'm getting laughter because I don't do that anyway, quiet Cyndi, we're working on it and you know it -- it's a hell of an environment to grow up in. Not being able to trust that the people taking care of you won't attack you, I mean. Or even always be there for you."

"There are too many people at this table," Marie said, setting her glass down and rubbing her temples. "And you have to get used to that. People leaving. Because they always do." One hand dropped to twist the chain around her neck and pulled the dogtag out from under her shirt. "They can't seem to help it."

Jim opened his mouth, then shut it again. Physically. Mentally, there was self-inflicted head-smacking.

"Marie, I'm sorry," Jim said. It seemed like the only thing he could think of.

"'sok. Ah should be used to it by now. It's not the first time it's happened. And Ah can bet it won't be the last." Marie shrugged. "Plus, around here, well, could've been worse." Picking up her beer, she took a slow sip. "And the thing is, even if you can't trust that a certain person will be here for you...well, you can guarantee that someone will be."

"Yeah. There is that." Jim studied her carefully, not liking the sudden shutdown in her body language. Feeling like he was skirting the edge of a pit, he looked into his glass and added, "Although just knowing someone's there isn't the same as letting them be."

Marie raised any eyebrow. "A valid point Ah'm sure - one you probably need to remind yourself of at times. And Ah'm trying, since Ah know that look. Ah haven't run off myself and Ah'm not telling Gar that he'd be better off without me or anything."

Jim countered with an eyebrow of his own. Yeah, the game just became afoot. "That's good. And I'm sure you're not doing the more subtle stuff like, I don't know . . . emotionally retreating while you deal with Logan leaving again or anything either, right?"

"Would Ah do something like that?" Marie asked, though her voice came out flatter than she had planned. "And anyways, walls are a good thing in my world. Keeps the crazy in." Propping her head on one hand, she narrowed her eyes at Haller. "And that was a nice redirect, but Ah believe we came here to talk about you. And that whole blaming yourself for things you shouldn't thing."

"I think you should try to remember that it's only your hitchhikers that need the walls." He felt he had to get that parting shot in, at least. The irritating thing about talking to someone else with a background in psychology was that they usually noticed the manipulation. Jim rubbed the back of his head. "But fine. I just have mixed feelings about the nondisclosure. It didn't work at Muir, so finally I just started telling everybody upfront. My social life was almost nonexistent, but at least I didn't have to deal with people feeling betrayed. I tried to split the difference at Xavier's, at least with the students." His eyes fell back to his beer again. "And to be honest, maybe enjoying that they didn't know a little too much. I'd say that's some kind of emotional backsliding if I'd ever grown out of it in the first place."

She ignored the parting shot, including the gruff voice in her head that told her to listen to the man. "Is it emotional backsliding to enjoy a situation that makes you feel normal? Especially when you barely ever had that? It'd be one thing if you lied about it, or weren't open with anyone...but since when has full disclosure to everyone become the right path?"

"When not having it could be dangerous. Though yeah, I know, that's not an issue anymore." Jim took a drink and sat back. "Oh well. I complain, but I do know I did the right thing in not disclosing to the students. In the absence of the real thing, at the very least I'd like to give them the illusion of stability." He made a face into his beer and muttered, "Although it'd be nice if the rest of the world would get over the hate and fear enough that we didn't have to worry about the balancing act . . ."

Marie nodded, satisfied that Haller had admitted he had made the right choice. "Now that's a whole different issue. Ah'd like to think we'll see that time come in our lives, but Ah doubt it."

Jim snorted. "I second that. Um, unless one of us turns out to be immortal, which would figure." The telepath considered, then frowned. "Movies always talk about people trying to become immortal, but I'm not sure it'd be worth it. I mean, what would you do for eternity? I always got a feeling it'd end up being less if I didn't have built-in mortality deadline."

"Not it," Marie said. "Ah think life for an eternity would be boring. And lonely." Sometimes Ah wonder if that's why Logan blanked things out. It's the only way to survive an incredibly long lifetime.

Now the telepath gave a soft laugh, more sad than derisive. "I think it has that in common with a normal one sometimes, unfortunately."

Marie tilted her head ever so slightly, brown eyes meeting a mismatched pair, quietly waiting for Haller to continue. Silence was sometimes a better response than anything when the other party seemed to have something in their mind.

Jim looked up from his drink and grimaced when he saw her expression. "I said 'sometimes,'" he pointed out, setting down the beer which he now very much suspected was intentionally getting him into trouble. He straightened up and met Marie's gaze. "If you can tell me, in complete honesty, that you've never felt apart because you're the only one in the room not alone in your own head -- then you can give me that look. If not . . ." he smiled. ". . . let's just keep drinking our beer of mutual non-hypocrisy."

"Touche," she said, lifting her glass. "Except now Ah've found a place where Ah'm not the only one with head voices. So perhaps a toast before we continue drinking?" She paused, then winked at Haller. "To finding a place where anything you've done or been through, someone else probably has as well. And to not looking at that as a challenge."

Haller laughed and raised his glass. "I can get on board with that. Cheers. Thank you, Nathan Dayspring, for that tribe of dead ghosts in your head. May you never be surpassed." He touched her glass with his, paused, and then added fervently, "Especially by us."