xp_logs | Nathan and Jean, Saturday evening

After returning from DC and spending some quality time getting his head checked out by Charles, Nathan is distracted from his brooding by Jean, who has some productive suggestions to make.

The headache had died to a dull ache. Part of that was undoubtedly due to the nice analgesic he'd taken a while ago, but there was also the unavoidable oddity of his shields. His steady, stable, remarkably... concrete shields. Nathan sighed and rubbed at his temples, staring out at the back lawn. The smoker's porch was thankfully empty. With his luck, Angelo would have been out here. Definitely, no telling the boy about this. He'd have to let Scott and Ororo know, and Forge too, given the possible security breach... but that was it, he thought. Except for Moira.

Charles had done a deep scan, to make sure that whoever had been in his head hadn't left anything nasty behind. Thankfully, they hadn't. In fact, they'd left nothing at all behind that could identify them. Not even a single psychic 'fingerprint'. Somehow, the fact that that it had apparently been an expert who'd gotten the better of him didn't make him feel a whole lot better about the situation.

The missing hour bothered him maybe the most. Like I don't have enough holes in my memory.

Jean had just been stopping in the kitchen to grab a drink when she spotted Nathan out on the smoker's porch. Given the lack of Angelo and the fact that he himself didn't smoke, that left only one explanation as far as Jean was concerned. Poking her head out the door she arched an eyebrow at him. "You're moping, aren't you? I was expecting this. If Charles ever indulged my really childish impulses I'd have bet him it would come to this. Luckily for you, he doesn't."

Nathan's eyes narrowed, but he managed not to grumble at her. "I got my ass handed to me by another telepath - again. I think I'm allowed to mope," he muttered, turning his attention back out to the grounds. "See, the way I figure it, I have a sign hung on my brain. 'Hopeless excuse for a telepath. Please feel free to fuck with.'"

Jean opened her mouth to say something reassuring, but then changed her mind half way through and what came out was, "Truth? You kind of do." She took advantage of his brief moment of gawking at her to step outside and settle back against the porch railing. "By which I mean to say that your mind has that organized flavor to it of someone who's at least trained with a psi, which sticks out. Aside from Scott and anybody else who's been working at it for all those years, most people's minds just don't feel like that. Which makes you stand out, just like any other psi. But... you don't react the way more comfortable telepaths do. It's second nature... no, it's not even second nature for Betsy or I, and certainly not Charles. You hesitate, though. It shows, sometimes."

He eyed her for a long moment - not quite dubiously, because what she was saying made too much sense. "Too much defense, not enough offense?" he asked brusquely, but then went on before she could answer. "You sound like the talking plant in Wakanda - which may or may not have been my own subconscious. I keep coming out on the wrong end of the fight when it's happening up here." He tapped his own temple. "I may be getting a little too used to it."

"Well, I wouldn't put it like that, but the point has some merit." Jean shrugged. "I'm not saying offensive telepathy needs to be your first recourse, well, ever, but it seems as though it's always your last, simply because you're uncomfortable and unwilling, regardless of the needs of the situation."

Uncomfortable wasn't the word. The whole concept of offensive telepathy still... Nathan swallowed, and thought about his next words very carefully. "Is it possible," he said, "to do something about that in a more... limited way? I can't start using telepathy as a weapon whenever the opportunity presents itself, Jean. I just can't." It touched too closely on issues he was starting to realize there was actually no getting over, no matter how much therapy or time one had. "But I'm tired of other telepaths using me as their chew toy." His smile was faint, not all that amused.

"No, definitely not whenever the opportunity presents itself. I find the idea distasteful, I can't even imagine how thoroughly you don't want to do that. But I do think that one of the steps to you not being so vulnerable to those tactics is understanding and learning them."

".... that's probably not a bad idea, you know," he said, and it didn't even sound grudging. "I've never really wanted to hear about it even on the intellectual level. Askani used to get thoroughly annoyed with me that I'd never listen to her on the subject."

"Mmm, yes, I know. It came up a few times." Jean grinned unrepentantly at the face he made; she'd not had anywhere near as long to study with Askani, which was unfortunate. "There's something kind of worrying about the fact that Scott has a better intellectual understanding of offensive telepathy than you. Although the personal stuff aside, that's useful on a tactical level for him."

Nathan's peevish look faded into something more thoughtful, and he rubbed at his jaw, looking away from Jean. There was still enough tension in the way he was sitting to make it clear he was not at ease with any of this, but when it came right down to it, this latest incident, whatever the hell had actually happened, was one too many. Really. So done with people screwing with my head...

"There's something to be said for putting it in nice, stark terms like that," he said. Trying to think of it tactically, too. "If a team ever went out with me but not you and we ran into a hostile telepath... I'm not sure how much help I'd be if they got the drop on me."

"So, this mean you're at least willing to entertain the thought?" Jean asked, smiling a little. "I promise to not be too evil. I won't even suggest that you train with the Cuckoos; their restraint leaves much to be desired but they have an alarmingly instinctive understanding of offensive telepathy."

Nathan's eyes narrowed again, although the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth was a dead giveaway. "I think I would be open to the idea of imposing on you for some initial discussion," he said, his tone not quite deadpan. "And yes, let's avoid leaving me at the mercy of the little blonde spawns of Satan. Densensitization is one thing, throwing me into shark-infested waters is another."

The smile widened into a full on grin. "Right. So we'll leave that for lesson number two, then."