xp_logs | Off School Grounds on a Saturday Evening

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Scott finds Betsy after they've gotten the kids back to the mansion. They're both probably a bit overloaded on kid exposure. But still, it was a good day.

Scott: "Betsy, can I interest you in a nice quiet drive in a fast car?" The smile comes through in his voice.

Betsy: "Aren't you tired of fast rides, yet. And don't say you didn't enjoy yourself, because we both know that's a lie."

Scott: "I won't. But I do enjoy peace and quiet, too." He offers her his arm.

Betsy: She pauses for a moment and smiles. “I'd love to,” she takes his offered hand.

Scott: "Follow me." He leads her out to the one car he's disabled, his favorite, so no one else can take it.

Scott: "Just give me a minute to fix her up." Scott opens the door, helps her in. It's a low, sleek car.

Scott: He pops the hood, pulls some wires out of his pocket, and reclips them to their proper locations.

Betsy: tries to hide her smile from his meticulousness, his obsession.

Scott: "Since Logan left my Mazda in Massachusetts, I've been more careful about what I leave available."

Betsy: "Mmm-hmm," is her only reply.

Betsy: "So, where are we going?"

Scott: starts car and revs it a bit, then hits the switch for the garage door opener, and drives out the moment it's up.

Betsy: a thrill of excitement runs through her and she makes a grab for Scott's arm.

Scott: closes the garage door, as they head out, hugging the corners tightly at speed.

Scott: laughs. "This is my version of an amusement park ride." He looks down at her hand on his arm, smiling. "Are we Marie-Ange and Jono now, and leave marks on my arm? "

Betsy: smirks, "You could've given me some warning...."

Scott: "What, you couldn't tell what I was thinking?"

Betsy: "I was....distracted." Betsy tries to hide her smile.

Scott: his smile is wide, as he whips the car expertly around another turn.

Scott: "Hmmm... and I thought we'd just see where the roads lead us. Unless there was a bar you wanted to trash...?" He asked with a question at the end, still amused.

Betsy: "I, we, no one trashed anything." Betsy flounders for an excuse. "It was just a misunderstanding and...just driving seems great. How did you know I was at the park?" She asks suddenly.

Scott: "I thought you were going with the kids. But I couldn't find you when I went looking."

Betsy: "I was abit preoccupied. But I was there, taking in their faces, their smiles. They seem better, happier."

Scott: "Yeah, but not all. Kitty still seems down. But I wanted to talk to you about Alison first." He slows down for a bit, and then finally whips into the left lane, obviously passing someone.

Betsy: "I knew there was a reason for this excursion. We've never 'talked' before, or have never needed to."

Scott: lets out a short laugh. "Well, I find that we're shorter staffed than we'd like, and I need some advice. But that doesn't mean that, if time allows, I wouldn't want to take you on a drive, Betsy." He reaches out to touch her arm, giving it a squeeze.

Scott: "So, Alison. Do you think she's ready to be made staff? Your comment the other night in the van was very interesting."

Betsy: tries to focus her thoughts on Sam and Alison and pushes back her choice words for the two. "In time, yes.” She pauses, “but she needs to learn. Alison needs to have the same confidence in her powers as she does in her ability to sing. I have no doubt she'd do well as an X-Man, but not now."

Scott: nods, slowing down as the car starts climbing up some hills.

Betsy: sighs. "She's probably going to kill me for saying that."

Scott: "Oh, she almost killed me at the park. We had a difference of opinion."

Betsy: turns to him, "How did it go, she voiced hers, which went against yours, and you had duked it out. Possibly, but Alison trying to kill you, not likely."

Scott: "I'm going to start training her more with her powers. She hasn't really had that much training with them, all self-taught. No, not really killed. We...had words. But I think she was on the edge of losing some control..." Again.

Betsy: bends her head at catching that last comment voiced, psychically. "I've started tutoring her in learning more mind control. For an artist though, she relies on strong emotions to guide her. She became emotionally involved and lost control. Alison needs to learn to separate the two, and it's damn hard and not just for her."

Scott: agrees. "Yeah, especially from what she's told me of them.” He pauses again, then adds. "Do you trust her? Not her personally, but her ability to control her powers in stressful situations?"

Betsy: shakes her head at it all and smiles. "I will only if I know you'll help her. You tend to inspire the hopeless, even if not intentionally.”

Scott: blinks, is very surprised, then laughs, short, sharp. "If only to prove me wrong, of course." The car picks up speed again, leveling out, still hugging the corners.

Betsy: "Hrmph, you doubt your leadership. You shouldn't."

Scott: shakes his head. "I've not done a good job of leading lately."

Betsy: "With good reason. Even Charles has chosen to take a break from the podium, what's happen has even affected the infallible."

Scott: "I don't like it that he's in Cerebro day and night. That can't be good for him, Bets."

Betsy: "It's not, but you try and talk him out of it,” she says the next part, exasperated. "Stubborn git."

Scott: "He shouldn't blame himself. But look who's talking? Pot, kettle here. You're black." The car slows down, pulls off the paved road onto a dirt and gravel path. The trees close in on either side from the sounds of things.

Betsy: grabs the door handle in shock at the change of terrain and the sound of the gravel spitting off the tires. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

Scott: "Me? Staid, old, stick-up-the-ass Cyclops? Surprising? Well, I'm trying to be different now, I guess that's surprising."

Betsy: says over all the noise. "I thought this was suppose to be a nice, quite ride?"

Scott: grins, shows in his voice. "It is. Just taking you to a great spot."

Betsy: unnerved by the change in terrain, she asks. "How far out of the way is this *heavy sarcasm* great spot."

Scott: says quietly. "I took Jean here, a couple of times. She said it was peaceful. Not a lot of thoughts intruding."

Betsy: bows her head, curses her thoughtlessness. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.”

Scott: "You didn't. I just ... well..." He shrugs. "You can decide for yourself." He stops the car and pulls on emergency/parking brake. "We're here."

Scott: gets out of car and goes around to open the door for her.

Betsy: nervously gives Scott her hand and rises from her seat, pauses. "Thank you."

Scott: "You're welcome." He guides her to the front of the car. "There isn't much to sit on except the car, but it shouldn't be too hot or dirty. I promise to pay for your dry-cleaning if anything is mussed."

Betsy: gives him a slow nudge. "Never mind that,” taking in her surroundings and grateful for the silence she says, “I just never thought you of all people would understand." She pauses and decides to continue. “All those voices, all the time, can become a strain. It takes actual effort to block them and after a while, it gets damn tiring." She unconsciously rubs her left shoulder with her right hand and lets out a nervous laugh. "But this is...nice."

Scott: has known all along that it is pretty peaceful here. The voices that are there are muted, distant. Maybe the occasional thought from the road far behind them, but otherwise it's just the two of them. He nods. "Live with a telepath for a while, you get to know the type." He says this with some asperity and some humor.

Betsy: nods understandingly. She feels a slight wind move the trees, and hesitantly reaches for her shades, to feel it on her face. But she turns away, deciding against removing them.

Scott: "Feel free to take them off. God knows I wish I could." He takes her hand in his and squeezes it reassuringly.

Betsy: “I can't.” Her shoulders slump slightly, she points to her eyes. “I've never willingly let anyone see these.” She tries to hold onto the feeling of his hands over hers. From somewhere deep inside her, she resolves to let go. Betsy takes her right hand, removes her shades, and looks up. A deep blanket of blue covers her irises, but she quickly closes her eyes, slightly ashamed, yet also afraid of what he may think.

Scott: "Hey, don't..." He takes his other hand, puts it on her cheek "And what's so bad about those, Ms. Braddock? Hmmm?"

Betsy: "They're a reminder of a stupid, brash woman, who didn't think before she leapt into something she couldn't handle. She stops for a moment, realizing she's about to admit to something she's never voiced before. "I've felt what others and *scoffs* my family, have thought about my eyes and I don't want to ever have to go experience those feelings again."

Scott: brushes her hair back from her face. "Right. But they're not here, and it's just you and me. Feel how quiet it is, how still. Let yourself /be/, Betsy. Glasses or not."

Betsy: sighs. "It's been so long...I think I've forgotten how to be me."

Scott: leans back on the car, keeping his hand on hers, and just breathing.

Betsy: opens her eyes, slowly and turns to face the man lying next to her. She braces herself and leans back next to him, as she does so, she's slowly removing all the mental guards she's built up over the years...and sighs out loud.

Scott: smiles next to her, very happy, very pleased at Betsy's sigh.

Betsy: "been too long," she says distantly. She gives a small squeeze of his hand and 'sends' waves of appreciation to him, a simple "thank you" for what he's just given her.

Scott: lets her be, and lets himself be, something he also hasn't done in a long time. He also lets his walls down, and there, of course, is Jean. But the sadness is lessened, because he's doing something she would approve of, which helps.

Betsy: braces herself against the slow ebb of his emotions, riding the wave of his sadness and carefully washing them away. Content at their surroundings and the comfortable silence. I don't think I want to go back.

Scott: We can't hide forever. Believe me, I've tried.

Scott: turns to look at her, the trace of tears along his cheeks, where they leaked out from behind his visor. But the sadness is old stuff, not new. Old tears.

Betsy: not thinking before she acts, tilts her body to face him and wipes away the stray tear. "You're allowed. We're all allowed this." She runs his tear through her fingers, as if working them away.

Scott: "I don't let too many people see my tears. Alison caught me after the memorial service. And besides the breakdown on the jet, I think the last time I was close to crying was when Mystique poisoned Cerebro and hurt the Professor. But thanks. I need to be reminded every now and then." He gives her a small smile.

Betsy: a protective surge finds itself within her and she wishes to take it all away, but she fights it, this is better, she realizes, this is what he needs. "Sometimes, we need to know we can let go, even if we don't want to."

Scott: "I don't want to let go. It sounds so ... so final. But I don't want to cling, either. I think...maybe put away. Something to keep, back in a corner, to look at every now and then. Something that you find when you aren't looking for it either. It can surprise you, but in a good way. Never quite forgotten."

Betsy: shocked at his insight and perception, she shares his smile, "Well said.” Betsy gives Scott a poignant look and then lets out a small chuckle.

Scott: "What? I'm not capable of some depth?" He grins and laughs back at her. "It's just something I've been thinking about, a lot, lately. Of course."

Betsy: "And we all know how you like to brood." She leans back against the car, but this time, she winds up lying on his outstretched arm.

Scott: slides arm underneath her, around to her side, as much as he can. "That's me. Known for my angst-ridden silences. What's that TV show...Angel? Brooding vampire-type? Woe is me for I have a soul attitude?"

Betsy: "I don't believe I can see you as the woe-is-me type."

Scott: shrugs, which accidentally moves them closer together. "No, I'm more a man of action. Or was. Not that I'm not, but well. That made no sense. I don't brood. But that doesn't mean I don't think. I have been dwelling a bit more than I used to."

Betsy: understands more than she wishes. "Ok, so you don't brood, but you can't say you aren't perceived by some of the others as a bit, uptight. Man of action,” she says with a smirk, "notwithstanding."

Scott: "I know. And I don't care. Because you know, it's all about keeping them alive. Safe. So, I'm a dick. I can live with that. As long as they keep living."

Betsy: "No, Logan's the *coughs* enforcer. As many situations as we've all been in, we're lucky to have you keep us....safe. And we've never really thanked you for it...."

Scott: shrugs again. "That's not a problem. I know it. That's what really matters." He moves arm that's under Betsy and pulls her into a half-hug, then releases her.

Betsy: as she’s pulled into the hug, apart of her wants to pull out of his reach, but she fights this urge. She hasn't felt so relax and content and she partly revels in his touch. “You're what they need, even if some don't know it.”

Scott: falls quiet again, content to just lay back and relax.

Betsy: puzzled at how a simple conversation changed so quickly, thinking of what brought them here in the first place, she asks into his arm. "What do you plan to do about Alison? Are you going to tell her about your ideas for her?"

Scott: "We start training this week. I've spoken to Logan, and I'll be doing her physical and powers training for the time being."

Betsy: "That's a wise....choice." Laughs harder than she means to, " I don't think Logan's the right person to teach Alison."

Scott: "No, he's not. And he admitted that he's not the teacher for everyone. She'll go back to him, when she's ready to handle it. I was just wondering if you were worried about her. Your comment in the van..." At this, he turns on his side to face her, sliding his arm up under her neck. "...made me think you were."

Betsy: involuntarily shudders at his hand touching her skin, but chooses to look up and face the darkness behind her own eyes, then to face him. “I was...worried.”

Scott: "About what?"

Betsy: pauses. “About her lack of control when she gets rankled, it's no longer an issue, but for a moment, I was more than concerned.”

Scott: "I know about her hands, Betsy."

Betsy: She pulls back and faces him now. “But, I wasn't suppose to know, was I? She didn't want to tell me, not at first. She didn't want anyone to know because of some infatuation. And I don't blame her...” She says the last part, barely above a whisper.

Scott: "She didn't have much choice. I saw the bandages. And she told me what she needed to."

Betsy: "Yet, if you have the two of them tell it, it was an improptu session with Logan. She says bitterly. “I got the hint, finally. I don't know why they had to make things so damn complicated.”

Scott: "Fear. I don't know of what in Sam's case, but with Ali it was fear of hurting someone she loves. Of losing control. Hence the lessons in control.” Scott lets out a long sigh. “And maybe he was just trying to protect her."

Betsy: Her emotions waver slightly and a darkness comes over her thoughts, before she carefully pulls it back. She's still facing Scott, defiant. “And maybe he was being a sodding idiot. He could've gotten more than a bruise, it was stupid."

Scott: "Agreed. But they're both alive, and relatively unharmed. And know better now." He awkwardly rubs his hand under her neck along her back, shoulders, trying to ease her tension.

Betsy: slightly shocked at being reminded of his touch, Betsy let's her anger falls by the wayside. She slowly closes her eyes, focusing on his hands alone and surprises herself when she lets out a sigh of pleasure.

Scott: "Sit up." Scott moves to sit up himself.

Betsy: in a daze, stutters. "What?"

Scott: "Sit up. Let me work your shoulders."

Betsy: "Scott, I don't think...I'm fine, really."

Scott: "You need to relax. I can feel the tension. It's just another way of letting go, or putting away. Save the tension for later. It always comes back." He says as he smiles at her.

Scott: takes Betsy and lets her back face him, as he moves in behind her on the hood.

Betsy: "Fine," Her words voice her reluctance. And for a moment, she thinks she hears him voice to her. Don't worry, as she turns her back nervously towards him and leans against his hands.

Scott: slowly, since this is obviously bothering her, puts his hands on either side of her neck, resting on her shoulders. He then starts to knead, working the muscles along her shoulders, neck, and the back of her head, fingers sliding along, looking for the knots.

Scott: then moving down to her shoulder blades and out, back to the shoulders, seeking the tension. One hand slides down her spine as well to the base of her back, and the other joins it to coax away any knots and tension.

Betsy: tries bite down on something as it tries to escape from within her.

Scott: continues, moving up her back again, and down her arms, starting at the upper arms but moving all the way down to her fingers.

Betsy: Her body relaxes under his touch and a slight moan escapes her lips, but she doesn't pull out of his reach. She wants this, the crickets, the nightingales, and him.

Scott: He then goes back to her shoulders and neck and back, working out any remaining spots of tension.

Betsy: wants to pull away, but instead turns her head slightly.

Scott: softly, resting his chin gently on her back, his hands still rubbing small circles in her shoulders. "Better?”

Betsy: "Hmmm," is all she can manage
.
Scott: "Good." He smiles smugly, self-satisfied.

Scott: "I think the secret to giving a good massage is being tense yourself. You know where it hurts most of the time, and can recognize it in others. That, and professional training." He slides his palms down her arms, then back up.

Betsy: a small smile teases at her lips. "Training, really?" Her body follows his hand, falling victim to its' whims. When the warm air from his mouth, grazes her cool neck, her breath hitches. He must know what he's doing to her. He has to, she thinks.

Scott: nods against her back, his forehead touching her shoulder. "I asked the Professor. If we're going to be working people into knots with our training, we need to know how to get them unknotted afterwards. He agreed. Storm can do it as well."

Betsy: "Figures," she says absentmindedly. Storm has quite the following. "Hmm, Dangerous man, our professor."

Scott: "Not surprising. She's an attractive woman. Or so I've heard. Ororo's really not my type. And she's more of a sister to me. Can't think of her that way.” He shudders slightly at the thought. "Ugh."

Betsy: despite being lost in his hands, she laughs a bit at this. Wanting to change the subject, a dangerous thought flits across her mind and she lets out another wide smile. She decides to project her feelings. His touch, how his hands are making her feel. Relaxed. Safe. Slightly Scared. Attracted. She wants him to know he's definitely having an affect.

Scott: smiles into her back, so she can /feel/ it.

Scott: then..." I don't want to use you. I fear that I'm doing just that." His words spoken softly, his smile fading.

Betsy: broken out of her thoughts, asks. "How so?"

Scott: "A substitute."

Betsy: Jean, the word echoes from him in waves. Betsy quickly pulls back from their connection, as if burned by some unseen force.

Scott: frowns, at himself, upset. "I'm sorry, Betsy. I didn't mean..." Scott trails off.

Betsy: looks down. “It's alright. Maybe we can go back....I'm just a little tired...” She feels the cool metal and glass in her hands and realizes, she’s still holding onto her shades. Betsy quickly puts them on.

Scott: mentally kicks himself at this. "Right. Me too. Tired that is."

Scott: gets off the car and offers a hand to help her.

Betsy: is slowly builds up her mental blocks to prepare herself for their return to the school. Returning to the cacophony of voices that will in time, overwhelm her. She slowly takes his hand, "Thank you, for this," she motions to their surroundings.

Scott: "Anytime. Let me know when you want to come back."

Betsy: Instead of replying, she simply nods her head.

Scott: finally helps her into the car again, and can't help himself when he lets his hand linger in hers.

Betsy: pauses slightly at his gesture, but nevertheless closes herself off and removes her hand from his grasp. Her stupidity is what brought this on her, she shakes her head at it all. Substitute.

Scott: closes the door, gets in, and drives them back, at less speed and more silence, to the mansion.