Constructive Criticism

[x-juggernaut.livejournal.com]

Marie, having made a resolution to keep her temper and try a clean slate approach, put on her boots and steeled herself to go out and find Mr Marko. The man just /grated/ on her nerves and she knew it was mutual. -I am mature and calm,- she repeated in her head, the perfect mantra for the moment. It wasn't good for the children in the Mansion for people to be at odds around them, so she was determined to make things go well. Coat, scarf, gloves... -tranquilizer gun... no, bad,- she told herself. -Probably wouldn't work anyway.- She headed outside to find him.

Cain folded his arms, looking out at the tennis courts, then back at the drawing, shaking his head. "Man can't even PLAY tennis..." he mumbled to himself, remembering the old horseshoe pit that had been overtaken by four full-size tennis courts. Shrugging, he went back to checking the measurements. If he had the figures right - and he figured he did - the ice rink would be easily big enough for the kids who wanted to skate and -- oh crap, he thought to himself as he saw the distinctive stripe of hair bouncing as Marie walked towards the shed.

Hands in her pockets, Marie crunched along the path to the shed, assuming that was the most likely starting point, scanning the grounds as she went. She was partway there when she saw Cain and she gave him a wave, stifling premature irritation at the sight of him, and made her way over to him. "Hi," she said, when she was close enough for him to hear her. "I had the same thought this morning." She indicated the tennis court and the papers in his hand alike.

Awkwardly, Cain nodded. "Right, um. Looks like this should go together smoothly. We've already got enough concrete to mix and set up forms for the ice." He pointed to a diagram on the paper, intentionally avoiding Marie's gaze. "The concrete foundations go on runners, see, so you can roll 'em off in the summer."

"That works," she said, looking at his sketches. "That's nice and big. We can have part of it for hockey and part for just skating. What were you planning to put down to protect the court surface? We don't want the court damaged from temperature differences or seepage." She looked up at him expectantly.

Breathing a silent sigh of relief that the girl wasn't out to make a scene, Cain nodded. "Concrete'll act as an insulator, but still, we're gonna use a fiberglass liner on the inside, and form the concrete with clearance underneath, so it doesn't actually rest on the court. Still," he added, "figure some tarps and caulking'll keep i dry as a bone."

Marie nodded. "I think we'll want to make sure there's more than three inches of ice, given some of our kids - me included some times, God help me - who don't know their own strength or who might slip up some other way. And, it's kind of late in the year for this, but maybe if this flies, we could look into some proper boards next year for half of it." She shrugged and tossed her hair out of her eyes. "The more exercise the kids have the better behaved they all are - me included." She gave him a mischevious smile at that.

Cain nodded enthusiastically. "No argument there. I swear, what kind of school doesn't have a football team, y'know?" He sidled up next to Marie and indicated some additions he'd made to the blueprint in pencil. "Your boy, whatsisname, Drake? Freezes stuff. Figure we can cart the water straight over from the lake that way. Otherwise, it'll take forever to fill with the hose. Forms say three inches, I was figuring eight. More skaters, ice melts faster."

Marie winced at the 'your boy' comment but her expression smoothed almost immediately and she leaned in attentively to see what Cain was showing her. "Eight's wise. I don't know how Bobby will be with all that water. We could use at least one ice-rake to hook up to a hose for helping him and for maintenance. I don't think we have the budget for a Zamboni, no matter how much Kitty wants one." She laughed at that, remembering the discussion of replacing Scott's prized car with one. "Scraping and spraying can be shared among the kids."

"Fair enough." Cain smiled. "Way I hear it, kid made a wall that stopped machine guns out of water vapor back when Stryker stopped by. That's gotta be, what, twenty, thirty cubic yards?" Cain rolled his eyes back, doing the math in his head. "Shit, four or five chunks of ice that size, let it melt then refreeze? Easy as pie."

Marie closed her eyes briefly, wondering if there were some 'secret Marie trauma file' the man had access to somewhere. "Bobby hasn't been himself lately. And he was under extreme stress then," she said, keeping her voice pleasant. "I agree that he's got the capacity, I just don't know whether or not it's available at the moment, see?" She looked up at Cain steadily. "Then again, it could be great practice for him. I'm just not counting on it."

Cain paused, catching the note of concern in Marie's voice and filing it away for future reference. He shrugged his shoulders. "Hey, there's always the long way. Don't think Chuck wants to make any of you kids too dependent on your powers for shortcuts, right?" He looked Marie over from feet to head slowly. "What with this being a training school and all that."

Marie stepped back half a pace at his scrutiny. "That's absolutely true. We need to balance these things; power and mundane skill." She looked down at herself and then up at him. "Something wrong?" she asked mildly.

Cain paused, then figured -what the hell, might as well speak his mind- "You ain't much to look at you, but you're a tough little spitfire, ain't you?"

Marie stared at him for a long moment and then shrugged, crossing her arms across her chest defensively. "I am what I have to be," she said flatly. "And what things make me."

Cain barked a quick laugh. "And what do they call you when they bust out the leather, Cryptic Lass?"

That won a ghost of a smile. "Rogue." Marie held her gloved hands up. "I'm a bit of a thief."

"Yeah," Cain drawled, "I heard about that. You snatch a body's powers and memories when you touch 'em, right?" He took a look at the gloves. "Suppose you can't turn it off, right?"

"And life. Can't forget that one. Some of it, I get to keep, like it or not." Marie put her hands back in her pockets, looking over Cain's shoulder at the distance, her eyes dark. "It's not just the hands, it's all of my skin. And no, it didn't come with an off switch." She looked back at him then, pale and calm.

Cain smirked, "Ain't that just the way. Look on the bright side, you still look normal. You can walk down the street without one of them holo-whatsit doohickeys." Cain waved a hand at the mansion. "At least a dozen of the folks in there ain't got that. But then again, they can touch folks without knockin' 'em out. Just goes to show, you never can tell, huh?" His voice trailed off, almost as if he were talking to himself. "Yeah, never can tell."

"I live for the bright side," she said dryly, rocking back on her heels a litte. "No. You never can tell, especially not by looking at anyone. Life's a bitch in multiple, creative ways, eh?"

Cain snorted. "Don't need to tell ME twice. If I had a nickel for-" he paused, looking over at Marie. "What the hell, are we going over construction or are we bonding here?"

"Hell." Marie gave an exaggerated shudder and then laughed, running her hands through her hair. "Can't have that. You want to argue over how much cement we need or something?" She planted her hands on her hips, watching his face.

For a moment, Cain looked over at the bags of cement in the shed, reaching for his pencil and paper, then did a double-take. "Yeah, all right, smartass. Figure we're about done here. I'm about ready for a beer, what about you?"

Marie burst into giggles but quickly contained them. "I'm too young to drink on this continent," she told him, eyes bright with amusement. "But maybe you should have one, even if it is before ten. Or at least some coffee. I haven't had mine yet."

Cain checked his watch, shaking his head. "Shit. Still on Hanoi time." He narrowed his eyes at her briefly. "You don't drink the same coffee that Scottish madwoman doctor does, do you?"

Marie made a face and shook her head vigorously. "I'm afraid I'm a little too responsible to go near mood-altering substance with my mutation. I like coffee that doesn't eat through the cup faster than I can drink it. Come on. There's probably a pot of something normal on in the kitchen. If there's not, I can make some."

Cain shoved the plans and drawings into a deep pocket of his jeans, rolling his shoulders as he stood fully upright. "If the coffee's normal, that'd be a first for this place. Wonder if anyone's made pancakes yet?"

"Let's go see." Marie flew over a snowdrift and landed back on the clear path. "If not, I'm sure we can come up with something." She bounced a little on her toes, waiting for him, wind blowing her hair unruly. "Breakfast's easier than ice rinks. Though if you're the cement expert here, I'm supervising the pancakes."